A year from now

Yesterday, I had lunch with my friend Mel.  

I have several very good friends whom I would move mountains for, and whom I know would move mountains for me.  But over the years, there have been two that I can truly call best friends and who always have my back: Becky and Mel.

While Becky is a rational, safe, stabilising force for me, Mel is the friend who has managed to inject humour into every situation, no matter how bleak (and I'm sure she won't mind me juxtaposing her with some scallops).  Even when she's going through a tough time, as she is now, she finds some small happiness, sometimes with my help.  We've both been through many ups and downs this year, but each time we meet, we do everything we can to get a good laugh.  When my grandmother died in April and I cried my face off, she came to the wake and we hunkered down at a table, giggling silently over cake.  

Yesterday, we talked about lots of serious things but ended up horsing around, too.  She's going through some tough times and I admire how well she's holding it together.  We discussed what it meant to find ourselves after having been through a storm and how things can change at any time.  We talked about staying positive and what it meant for the future; how it was important that we stood up for ourselves.

She posed for pictures (thank goodness she isn't camera shy) and we went shopping.  Well, she shopped, I watched.  When she asked whether I wanted to buy anything, I pointed to the new Canon and said that I'd just spent a lot of money at once and was planning to hold off for awhile.

She considered this for a minute, then cackled with typical Mel mischievousness and said, "Yes, but who's going to the UK anymore?  Who cares?"  (My ex is from the UK and I had been planning an expensive trip up this November.  It turned into Krabi instead.)  We laughed a lot about that, and I felt better. 

Afterwards I came home and started on some work.  On a break, I stumbled across a blog and read this amazing post.  I'm not religious so I don't necessarily subscribe to other things she says, but when I read this story, realisation suddenly hit.

The truth is that I'm there myself.  I try very hard, every day, to get through work, to put my best in, to be a functioning member of my family but I'm so tired.  On the outside, I seem like I'm handling things well, but on the inside, I'm a crumbling mess.  And in all honesty, I just feel like there's a big dead space in the centre of my chest because I don't really care about anything anymore.  

The books and the people tell you that "one day you'll feel normal again" and "it'll creep up on you and suddenly realise you're okay".  Some friends say things like "one day you'll love again".  But I'm not even sure what that means.  I can understand this intellectually, but I can't feel it.  I can't even see myself being with someone else in a meaningful way.  I just keep going through the motions and hoping that no one will notice.  

For once, I just don't care.

In all my navel-gazing, I've figured out that it's not just because of one breakup but because of all the other relationships lined up before it and all the deeply co-dependent people I have ever known in my life.  I'm so tired.  I'm so tired of dating people who tell me they're depressed because they don't know where their lives are going or they have no clue where they see themselves in five years but aren't willing to at least work towards some kind of understanding.  I'm tired of having to be vulnerable with and put trust in these people anyway.

I'm so tired of being in a relationship where my other half whined to me that they didn't know how to study and so the nights before my exams were spent memorising facts for them instead.  I'm so tired of people telling me that they felt like I filled a hole if only for a while, as if I was dispensable.  And I'm so tired of vampires who only get in touch when they need help or a placeholder.   

I think there is nothing nicer than being in a partnership (even if it's with friends or family) and having someone to hold your hand and walk the difficult bits with you.  Maybe even carry you at some points.  And I am more than happy to return the favour.  It's a special kind of something to weather a storm with someone and it creates bonds that are not easily broken.   

But I've realised now that that's entirely different than actually walking the road for somebody.  It's not the same as having to wake up at six in the morning because someone is throwing a temper tantrum a thousand miles away, and needing to suggest solutions to a problem that's already occurred three times prior.  

I'm so tired of being with people that don't meet me halfway.

When you get desperate, you will try anything.  Enough is enough.  And I'm starting to get to that point where I feel like it's just better to be on my own and work on whatever I please and solve my own damn problems at last.  I spent so long fixing unhealthy relationships that I have a whole slew of baggage about not getting any help in return.  

It sounds whiny to say and maybe childish to have come to it so late, but I really do need to be my own person, and a whole person at that.  Even if I start off feeling broken and emotionally detached inside. 

Later, on the same blog, Chantel recounted how she had given herself a year to do whatever she wanted, just to feel like herself again.  I've been attempting this in bits and pieces with some success, so I thought I might as well see if I felt any better in a year too. 

There is no ambition for anything big. Just to develop personal peace and cultivate relationships with strong, problem-solving people who love me and are happy for me to be strong and problem-solving too.  I want to do all the quietly nerdy things I love without having to answer to anyone or worry about being a rock.  

And I've told myself that if at the end of this journey, a romantic relationship has no place in my life, then so be it.  Mel's right.  Who cares? 

Starting today, I am learning to let go of the hopes I had with all the co-dependent people and rebuild hope for myself, partner or no.  

Three hundred and sixty five days is a long time.  I hope I can make it work.