I’m working away from home, in Cornwall. Normally Matt would be here with me, keeping me company, even though he didn’t have to be. He just wanted to be where I was, so he was. He’d help with the work bit, hang out with us for the après work bit. And then after all was said and done we’d hang around down here and do beach things, and then we’d head home together.
So I already knew it was going to be difficult. Doing exactly the same thing I was doing this time last year, but without him. And it was. I could feel him not being there. I could see him in all the places he was before. Memories/flashbacks aplenty. And it’s also really hard to do my job when you’re not feeling happy and confident and chatty…but I still did it. I did my best. I’ve done enough, and possibly more than. That at least is good.
I didn’t last all day though, more than partially because the wifi was rubbish and I could do more work coming back to the house the team are staying in than I could at the show. But also because it was all, slowly, cumulatively, getting to be too much. I just couldn’t be there without him anymore, I needed to get away and have some time and space on my own.
And then I shot myself in the foot.
I had packed to come away yesterday. Usual things in usual bags. Spare shoes and waterproofs etc. just in case, all thrown in the car. One part of which was Matt’s stripey jacket – I use it as my waterproof now (Tash has run off with mine) and I like it and it was his and it makes me think of him and, well, whatever.
So today I left work, and came back to the car, not entirely on an even keel, and there it casually was on the back seat, so distinctly his, just like it would have been last year, and like it would have always been doing this kind of thing, and for a tiny bit there my brain rebooted, and life was ok, and there’s his coat, and he’ll be right behind me, and we’ll head off and…
…before reality came crashing down on top of me again and I lost it completely. It blindsided me. Even though it wasn’t like it’s news, it was like being hit in the face with it again. No, life isn’t ok. He isn’t here. He is never going to be here ever again. He isn’t just away. He is gone. Forever. I am never going to see him, talk to him, touch him, ever again. Never.
And then I cried a lot. I cried in the car park for a while, until I was ok to drive. I cried driving back. I cried when I stopped to take photos of all the cute lambs in the field along the way, because I wanted to be going back to him, to tell him about my day, to tell him what I’d just seen and how cute they were, and also because there is no-one to have those conversations with anymore. I got back to the house we’re staying in, where thankfully I was on my own, and I basically cried until I fell asleep, even though I should have been doing more work, because I don’t think my brain could cope with being awake anymore. It was all just too much. Overload. Unsurprisingly my dreams were disturbed and unpleasant and restless…
There is no-one to have those casual yet intimate conversations with anymore. No-one to tell about my day. No-one who really cares about what I think about how it went, how things are, how I’m feeling. I get by. I chat, I do my best with the people who come close. But I can feel myself saying less and less to anyone because, what’s the point? More to the point, what’s the point to anything? Why am I doing all this? None of it makes any difference to the baseline. I feel totally broken, and there is no fixing me, so what’s the point talking about it or in anything I’m doing? I’ve always had walls, and Matt knocked them down. He made me a more open, possibly nicer, person, because I was happy and relaxed and carefree and in love… But now they’re back up and then some, which is probably why someone described me as shut down lately. They’re not wrong. Because it’s just me now. All my thoughts, and feelings, and everything that was once shared is now not. So, unless I’m writing, it’s all inside me, and that’s where it stays, under control. Talking is all very well, but it doesn’t fix anything, so why bother? My life is getting quieter by the day. I can feel myself cutting myself off from other people. I’m adrift and lost and broken and I don’t think I’ll ever be whole again. And I guess I just have to figure out how to carry on living my life feeling this way, because I honestly can’t imagine a time when I’ll be happy again.
I just miss him SO much and I am SO f*cking lonely all the time. I’ve lost my soul mate. How does something like that ever get better? This is what my life is now. It is what it is, and what it is, is sh*t.