I've mentioned before that I have an ex.
This really isn't a particularly revolutionary piece of news (though in the blogosphere it definitely seems like us singletons may be in the minority- but I will happily be corrected here).
He broke up with me back in October, Thursday the 4th, if you want to get really specific. There was no cheating, no big blow-out arguments, just a change of feelings (from his perspective). Naturally, I was left feeling pretty devastated. I went through all the typcials- struggled to sleep, couldn't eat (and lost half a stone in about four days in the process), and shed a fair few tears.
But I was three weeks into a new job, so I couldn't just curl up in a ball and let the world wash over me. And in some ways, it came at a really good time- one of my best friends came home the Saturday after it happened, and the following weekend I had already planned to go an see my closest uni friends. This did mean I had to explain what had happened OVER AND OVER (it was a bit of a bolt from the blue for them, and for me to be honest).
But so many people have commented on how well I dealt with it. How strong I was being. My god I didn't feel strong. I felt like the smallest gust of wind would blow me away while I tried to pretend it was just another time apart (it had been a long distance relationship). And I didn't WANT to feel back to normal. I wanted to miss him and be sad about it.
But slowly, I started to get used to not hearing from him. And my stomach stopped flipping every time his name cropped up on my Facebook or when I got the occasional text from him. And now, all that's left is a wistful sadness when I remember the time we had together, a small amount of anger about the way he dealt with his change in feelings (which is not something I am going to discuss), but really, just a feeling of... peace, maybe? Back-to-normal-ness? Some sort of OK, at any rate.
My only real residual sadness relates to the fact that I'll never get to go to the beautiful place where he lived again (which was in the British Isles). The photos peppering this are ones I took on visits to him. Because I'm hoping that if I share them with you all, they won't be clogging up my brain.
But yeah. I'm OK now. I think I'm getting my muchness back, after four (nearly five) months without it.