I have blocked so many scenes from the past few days. Only now is it starting to trickle in and it’s making me emotional. My dad cried, My brother too. My mother remained close lipped, trying to be strong and I wish I had stared at her more and took her in. There is no perfect goodbye, no hug tight enough, its all like sand. I keep picturing my parents and brother standing at the lines near the check in point as I looked back to wave goodbye, the light blinding me, I could not see their faces as I made my and kept looking backwards, only saw silhouettes. The Curl of my mother’s hair, the tallness of my father, my chubby sweet sweet brother. Handing in my boarding pass, I looked back and waved goodbye till I disappeared into the unknown.
It’s night 3 in this foreign land. Tonight, I don’t feel well. Parts of me still think I am home but when I look outside and walk these pavements and look up at these bright fucking lights, I am reminded that I am so far from home and no matter how homesick I get, I have to toughen up. There is no option.
When I got here, my emotions were still blocked. 3 planes, Culture shock. Nobody could pick me up from the airport and I had to navigate my way at night. When I got here and I was so underwhelmed by what I saw and the place I would be living in. I deflated and felt like I was imposing. I felt this instant regret and I realised the magnitude of the decision I had made. He then called me, my boyfriend or whatever I can call him now, he called and we spoke for almost an hour and that calmed me tremendously. He is the antidote. The next day we skyped constantly and then this morning we spoke for an hour. Today he was busy and could not talk and then we had a fight, I sunk to these depths… Jesus fucking Christmas. Why.
I am in this tiny bedroom, sleeping on a mattress without a base. I have enough money to go on for a while but I need a job soon. The girl I am living with came to grab me so me, her and her former dodgy male boss could take us to dinner. This, I found vaguely weird.
The statement “a new life” used to fill me up with such joy but I find myself dreading it at the same time. How can I start a new life when parts of me are still longing and wishing for things that have long passed and will never be. That boy remained with parts of me that I will never be able to take back. I feel as though something has been drained from my spine when he is absent. Do I move forward with these gaping holes in my being and accept that this is who I am now. Is it okay. Is that how it works.
I recognise myself inside these walls, I know who I am, here. Firm roots which I felt have restrained me but now suddenly cherish. All these ornaments, this bed in which I have shed many tears in, healed in and fallen apart all over again. This bed knows all my deeds… all the darkness, gluttony and shame. And this room which knows all my secrets. This house, that chair, my chair. That rock outside, my mother, father and brother, that random cousin, this street, store, shopping centre.
I can’t let go. It’s as though the song has not yet been fully sung. I need more time. To absorb it all. More time to cherish.
My mother, her laugh, her voice, our Saturday trips- another ritual severed. My big brother and how he reminds me of a teddy bear, so gentle, kind, patient and my best friend. The series we watched, the inside jokes, the understanding, the fights. I will miss those fights, I was always the volatile one and he remained calm.
This is the last time I will ever sleep in this bed, this house, this city, country, this continent.
I can’t process this sense of loss, this great pain that comes with change. I can hold back my tears when in a state of disbelief, it has not sunk in. It does here and there, lately the spaces between believing and not have become wider. I’m really out the door.
Is this how it feels to have wings. Heart in stomach and on the verge of tears
My biggest dream has come true and it all happened so sudden, I don’t know what to do with all this progress, I’m not used to this. All I’ve ever known are sealed doors and the ones that close shut abruptly as soon as my foot draws near. All I’ve known are illusions and big dreams. I can’t rearrange this matter in a way that makes me believe it’s really happening.
I wish tomorrow would take its sweet time with its arrival. I need more time inside these walls.
I am in bed having breakfast. Is this really me.
It is by no means adequate but I am eating nevertheless. The ED patterns are still evident. Dissecting a muffin and eating only the top part whilst leaving out the rest. This is very abnormal but it’s the only way I can do this eating and retaining food thing. I still feel embarrassed when someone looks at me whilst I am eating which is why in public I only consume fluids, less chance of looking like a greedy big hipped gal but eating is good an appetite is nothing to be ashamed of. This is something I need to change.
I still do buy secret food and eat it in my room. Biscuits, lollipops, ice cream. I get anxious if I don’t have a stash even if end up bingeing and purging it. At least I haven’t purged in days, yesterday was an exception, I needed that release and so I did.
I am contemplating eating cereal. I am going into dangerous territory. It’s only still 8am, I don’t wanna go off the edge now.
My appetite is back somewhat, I really have been forcing myself to eat regardless. My weight gain is now so much more noticeable. A dress that used to hang over me is now body hugging and my hips and bum are now protruding in ways that make me realise that I am a woman and its okay to have these things.
My face looks healthy, an eye bag here and there but I look restored. Maybe all this is just the interim, suppose I am too in shock or anxious about what is to come and because of that I am finding it easier to abandon these habits. I break easily when purging and bingeing. Everything is magnified, I lose my senses and disappear in plain sight. I don’t want that. I don’t need that.
I have been on zero contact with him for 48 hours. Yesterday felt a little like death, the without is always crippling. I shed some tears for the thing I don’t need but want and can’t have. I am hurting, I think of him every waking moment, my mind always reverts back to him. Getting teary eyed when shopping with my mother, laughing and then remebering him then choking on the lump in my throat.
In the midst of all this I am however at peace, my mind isn’t wondering about were I am currently placed in the map or order of his life. Am I still top order, middle order or low order. I want to let go with grace.
I have always ached for distant places as I have always felt trapped by geography.
It’s the environment I am in, I would say to myself. If I leave I will find it, whatever it is.
He came along and I stopped wanting. I found it possible to find my happiness and home in the confines of this small town. I thought I had made a breakthrough, why go halfway across the world in search of something, in search of inner peace, happiness and completeness if it’s here. I made a home in his eyes and his warm skin, my delusions have no limits. I stopped running away from myself when he was with me. That is why I never left in the beginning. Clinging on to that euphoria in the hope that things would change and bloom more than the current. The flowers never bloomed some more, I wilted and left.
I feel hot and cold at the same time. I am sick to my stomach and dealing with digestive issues caused by anxiety and heartbreak. It’s this nausea inducing strangeness. An ocean between us and I can feel the waters suffusing my lungs. I hate this alienation or threat thereof. So unforgiving, I am trying to move on and I can’t stop looking at his pictures and reading old message threads. I should not be doing this. I know this. I know this. I know this.
He was by no means perfect and we weren’t an obvious match but there was always something about the way he followed my blood around. The most delicate and attentive man I know. He is this kind of human that evokes wonder but in all his glory, he was spineless. Still tethered to his mother’s tits. Noble in thought, weak in action. I pity him sometimes. I love him for all he is and for what he is not but he never dared to fight for us and our relationship which wasn’t “allowed” in his system. Bullshit. He never fought for us because he didn’t want to. I did not fit the criteria. My race was all wrong, this was something I later came to find out. It was never about religion. Of course he vehemently denied this.
He tells me these things, how he wishes more than anything he could be with me forever. How he wants to wake up next to me every morning, have children and how he loves me more than I know. All these declarations, I tuck them inside this heart of mine but does it even matter, he still left. I thought he would come after me when I broke up with him. I gave him an implicit ultimatum- and that is to give me more- I no longer wanted to hide, I wanted to be with him in the eyes of all but he never flinched and I was out the door. He still kept banging down my door, in secret of course. He gives the impression of a man backed into a corner, so he can fulfil his traditional parent’s wishes and marry someone of his own kind. They would disown him he said. What a fable. Spineless.
Today is our anniversary. I was overly emotional at first now just spacey. My stomach is detached from my mouth and appetite. I can eat and enjoy but I feel sick. I used an old lotion I used to apply when we were together and that was how the landslide started this morning. I went back to our Saturday afternoons.