Hello World,

Just another blond girl here, reporting on the ups and downs of living in paradise…

I’ve disappeared for a long time. I had to disappear. I needed to close me eyes and be held for a while. I didn’t have another choice. Maybe we need that sometimes, just to hide under the covers of another person until we are ready to move forward again?

I wrote this more than six weeks ago. I’ve been afraid to write and share it. I haven’t wanted to admit my truth to the world – that I’ve let myself down. Despite shame, fear and confusion, today I am ready to speak.

Thank God for airplanes.

Air travel exists to sweep us away at the exact moment we need to escape, (even when we don’t realise we need to escape). That’s exactly what an airplane did six weeks ago, delivering me to the safety of my sisters fluffy living room carpet in Perth. That’s where I wrote this:

The morning of my journey, I sat in the Sydney Domestic Airport lounge puffy-eyed, traumatized by disappointment and feeling exposed amongst the general neutrality of the travelling public. Despite my vulnerability, I was too exhausted to construct another protective wall around myself and so I managed to call my Dad and share my heart-wrenching experience in spite of the bustling suits and prams. 

He hesitated to say it. In attempt to lighten the mood he recycled the comment that my sister made a few years prior. She was considering factors that made her liable for experiencing debilitating heartache…

“Karma is a bitch”!

It did make me laugh. Maybe only for a second but I think I smiled? It led me to question whether this was My Karma? I did, after all, leave my beloved first boyfriend thirteen years ago to jump into the arms of my beloved second boyfriend only a few days later.

I wonder if I have to feel what my first boyfriend felt? Maybe that’s only fair?

Maybe it’s only fair that my current ex is eligible for karmic revenge too? He told me that he has felt this pain at a point in his life also. I’m not sure how any of this works? I’m not, and I imagine we probably need to experience an array of these devastating circumstances to properly know every corner of this life thing we’ve apparently agreed to.

So here I am stuck in the pain and well I guess I understand this one now? One of my best friends said I will get one percent better everyday and so in one hundred days I should feel one hundred percent better. Well about ten days in, I’m not so sure I’ll handle making it to one hundred.

As I’ve reflected on this love affair, lasting about seven months of my past year and destructing the scaffolding built around my heart, it wasn’t ever calm.

Not even from the beginning. It was thrilling but never calm.

My friend, one of my best friends who knows me very well, described it in terms of water (I understand water). She guessed that I feel depleted because I’ve been swimming sideways in a riptide for the past seven months. Was I ready to admit this? Maybe in some ways I was? Maybe in some ways I am?

The crazy thing is that love was so strong in this encounter that the riptide seemed manageable, almost exciting. Was there something in this suffering beneath the surface iced with ‘love’ that I was liking? How else could I have allowed myself to remain so unsettled for so long?

Maybe I just wanted to feel what it was like to fall this deeply again? I say ‘again’ but maybe I haven’t opened myself to this depth of feeling ever before?

I certainly must have known on some level that I was trading with the enemy? I knew that many of my needs were being unfulfilled. Yes, by him, and also by the missing demand to have them met. I could easily feel ashamed and frustrated with myself because on some level I knew, but then he was holding me every night and that was fuelling me in another strange way that felt safe.

…And now, as I have to, I am letting him go and it’s agonizing. I ask myself why, if I did know how shallow some elements of this relationship were then why must it be this painful?

(I must mention that many elements of the relationship were beautiful and fulfilling and special. I refuse to allow the destructive ending to ruin those parts)

I presume I can answer myself by saying, “That’s how love feels”. Despite logic, I allowed myself to love unconditionally and within that, I disrespected my values and let it rule. Maybe, when I completely hand myself over to love, and if it is only love, without a sandy foundation to sink my feet into, then eventually love gets tired.

Even love can’t sustain itself without oxygen and earth.

Where do I go from here? I guess I feel the daily percentage of missing evaporate from within me and as cliche as it sounds, refocus the love back into myself.

As my good friend said, “Love didn’t do anything wrong here. Don’t be angry at love”. Love kept me above the surface in this rip tide the whole time. Love gave me the strength to swim, while laughing in the salty waves.

Love is still working around me, through me, in spite of me. Love is healing me, strengthening me and telling me the truth.

Love is still holding my hand. It hasn’t gone anywhere.

Well I think I’m out of the rip now and although so much of me desperately wants to get sucked back in, I know that’s impossible. The only problem is that I haven’t yet reached the shore. I’m still out here, floating aimlessly, hoping I can touch the sand soon because I’m afraid of being stuck here in the middle of the ocean for a long, long time. I hope the tide brings me in and the beach can hold me safely because right now I feel anything but safe.

…And that’s just being honest. Right now I’m floating around in limbo, not allowed to go back home because it no longer exists and not knowing where my new home will be. I hope I can see it soon, that’s all, I hope I can see it soon.

PS. Six Weeks later, I’ve endured another forty-two days of evaporation and I am better. Much better actually. I feel strong, and light and clear and the truth is that I also miss him everyday. I’m still in pain and I still have nightmares and despite the hurt I feel and the fact that he doesn’t deserve this – I still care about him. I want to hate him, but I don’t. I still love him and maybe that won’t ever go away. Life will go on and I will feel happy again and I will still love him. Some people get our love and it’s not fair and that’s ok too.

You may be drawn to ask me if I am willing to do this again? The answer is:

YES. Of course I am. 

BEING HAPPY IS NOT HAVING NO SHIT.

SHITLESSNESS IS NOT A MEASURE OF MY HAPPINESS. 

Life is all of it. I’ve strapped my seat belt on and I’m not getting off of this rollercoaster until it’s time, so let’s go again world, let’s go again…

xx