Shattered again
A lot of things happened last week… I can’t get into details, in case somebody actually reads it. I can’t talk about it to anyone, I can’t write about it, I have to carry the burden all by myself.
Bottom line is that it’s been too much for me to process. I’m shattered into tiny pieces again. The pain is sometimes unbearable. And this is better than feeling nothing at all, at least I feel a little bit alive… and sometimes I just don’t feel anything I play the most emotional music I know and then it kills me piece by piece. I don’t know how to go on.
Broken
I don’t know who I am anymore.
I stopped talking with myself a few months ago. I seek out things to do to kill time, to kill thoughts. To live with myself. To go on.
You think that everything will be ok and that you’ll never love anyone else again, because you’re happy. Or you should be happy. And then, suddenly you’re in love again, with all the passionate thoughts I can’t really describe, but my stomach flips when I think about it. And you find yourself loving one person and being in love with another…
Don’t ask me how it’s possible.
Feeling nothing
I look at my love… and I feel nothing. None of that usual warm and comforting feeling inside me. I look at my cats… I should have missed them when I was away… and I feel nothing. I think about my family… and I feel nothing.
Just empty sadness. Or sad emptiness. Whatever.
I’ve kind of broken my own heart. I wanted to feel something. And I felt something for a little while, now it’s just nothing.
I wonder if it’s temporary. Is it just because I’ve returned to normal life after four weeks and I need to adjust again? Or have I shut all the emotions and I have to start all over again? Do I have to spend another few months (years?) regaining them?
It was nice to feel something, even if it hurt. It gave me energy. It made me creative. I loved. Now – I don’t know. Maybe it’s just today. Or this week. Maybe I’ll be better tomorrow.
Random thoughts
I don’t really know what to write.
I’ve been blocking my feelings again, so I could function normally. If I weren’t, I’d be crying in bed all the time and wouldn’t leave my bed.
I’m trying to go on: the job hunt, a small contract, video games, some art or photos from time to time, getting familiar with the city, with another country. There are many things I love about living here, but there are times when I just see the reality clearly and I can’t get myself together again. I see that I’m missing the life.
I’ve stopped practicing the things my Good Wizard had taught me. I don’t see a point in all this. I miss him. I haven’t seen him in eight months and I miss him.
Now my good friend T has come over to visit for the holidays, and instead of being happy, I feel even more lonely and lost, because I see what I’m missing all the time.
And on the top of all of this I’m having serious doubts about myself, my self esteem is going down, I’m not certain about my feelings, and my libido is playing tricks on me.
Liquid cotton
I had thought that when I get things done at home and finally go to Dublin to my husband, I’d be calm, happy, productive and everything would be fine.
It’s not.
Instead I’m showing more and more signs of depression. Not the silly one, that you can treat with a movie and a chocolate bar. It’s the one that’s made of liquid black cotton.
I’m still doing stuff and I want to create things, which means it’s not a major breakdown, and everything will probably go back to normal when I find a job, but most of the day I sit in front of my computer and do stuff online, chat to people or mostly wait for my friend T to appear online; also sending some resumes and seeking job. And I lost my appetite.
My job search is quite chaotic; I can’t get myself to start a proper search, I just send a CV to anything that has a “graphic designer” and “Dublin” in it, I don’t even check all the requirements.
I like Dublin, it’s a very beautiful place really. I wish I liked going out alone, I’d spend more time outdoors, photographing maybe or just walking, but I get bored without company way too soon.
And everyone I love and like but one person is so far away. I miss them very much.
Heart
Sometimes… one little heart… can bear more love… than one regular brain can handle…
Quick update
I haven’t written anything for a while, I know. I wish I have. I’ve been very busy, very tired and quite lonely too.
My relations with my parents have improved a little bit since I moved out about two months ago. My flat is still in mess, but the whole renovating is over, I just have to clean the mess, sort the stuff and pack the boxes that I’ll need when I finally move to my love: clothes, books, blankets, pillows, all the stuff we have gathered during all those years.
I also have to throw out a lot, which is somewhat difficult, but makes me a little bit happier every time I actually make a decision to throw something out. As I had written before – cleaning the physical mess makes it easier to make my emotions less chaotic. Maybe when this is over I’ll finally be able to concentrate on real work, reading etc. If only I wasn’t so lazy, it’d be over already.
Yesterday a friend told me that he envied my husband; he says he never knew a love could be so strong in a person, and he wishes his wife would love him as much as I love my husband. I don’t know how he knew it, I don’t talk about these things at all, but it made me cry. And I haven’t cried in a very long time. Maybe my eyes will finally stop hurting from keeping the tears inside.
Sleep
When a beloved one dies, one should probably feel sad.
I feel lightly.
I had to shut down my empathy for the last few days. If I hadn’t, I’d probably fall apart more than my father and my uncle, looking at them both. To feel such sadness from a loved person isn’t easy and I’m not brave enough to face that.
When a beloved one dies, you should feel more empty.
But I’ve been feeling emptiness after her for the last few years. I’ve started even before she stopped recognizing me. I was probably too impatient, I don’t know. I still feel empty, but I’m somehow not more sad than before.
Sleep well, grandma. <3
Music that makes me alive
There are songs, tunes and performances and performers, that go straight to my emotions without the analytical phase. They cut me open, shatter me to pieces, I feel a large ball of heavy energy over my stomach, I feel paralized, my hands and feet get numb. My mind gets numb. and I feel so sore like I was yearning for something that I don’t know of yet and I may never know. For something that could be just Right if it was here and I’d be in the right place.
And when I listen to them I feel like I’m alien to everything and everyone and everything is alien to me and only in this particular music everything is just right and I’m right. And I want to get inside that music, and I can’t, so I get even more sad. And yet I keep listening over and over, because it makes me feel, I feel more alive than I am without it. It’s like touching open wounds to feel the touch at all.
Everyone has their own inner music. Mine has a lot of air, as much fire, and a lot of great sadness. I see sounds in colours and feelings. I can touch the sound, feel its texture. I can see its colour and how it changes.
Robert Plant’s voice and way of singing is grey-blueish, smooth and steel-like cool and soft wind-like airy. It shatters me a little bit more every time. But I’ll keep listening. This is the cost of beauty awareness. If I didn’t hurt when I listen to music, I wouldn’t be aware of its beauty. It makes me seriously wonder about my life and my soul, and who I want to be, it makes me better. Or at least I think so.
Helping friends isn’t easy
One of my good friends doesn’t handle well being lonely. He usually is a wonderfully cheerful person, who makes everyone happy, laugh and have fun, until the great sadness takes over. He gets drunk and sadness pours out of him with every pore. And I can’t possibly help him in other way than just being there for him, online mostly, because it’s usually late night hours, letting him talk. And I can’t even hug him because I’m away. And besides, I seriously suppose that a hug from an attractive woman, which I very probably am, could even make it worse.
I feel so much sympathy for him, or even empathy, I feel his pain, I’d like to help and I’m not sure how. I know, everybody needs someone to take away their pain and ground it. I’ve been thinking about it for most of the time lately.
We talked online this morning; he hadn’t slept the whole night and I had just woken up. We talked about a lot of stuff, like tolerance, religions, life, etc. I like such talks. Each one makes me a little bit wiser. Talking online is sometimes easier. People don’t see you cry. You don’t see them cry, and after what he was saying yesterday I’m almost sure he did cry.
I only hate one thing. I’m there for a person that I very much like, I like hearing them out, I even talk to them first to check if they’re online, I don’t grab any breakfast for three hours because I’m busy with the talk, I’m something between a shrink, an elder sister and an Aunt Good Advice for them and then they say that they’d soon be away from the computer because they think that I dislike them or their ranting. Wtf? What did I do wrong?
