The breakup already feels like a lifetime ago.
It started with me straightening my hair in my ex-bedroom, looking in my ex-mirror, toes curled into my ex-rug. Cuddling him on my ex-bed, smelling the dip in his shoulder blade as he tells me he’s proud of me, asks me if I’ll always let him look after me. Like he would a sister.
Perhaps the cuddling is wrong, but it’s so necessary.
I had two therapy sessions today. My session with T was weird; I really wanted to ask for a hug and I really needed to sob into her and allow all this pain to flow out into that space. Instead, I sat on the sofa and talked about the split like an outsider observing; I don’t think my voice even cracked once. I wish I had the brain space to analyse why I could not fall apart in front of her, but I don’t. Answers on a postcard please.
My ED session with M was good – he says lots of positive things about this split, was encouraging that I’m doing well, and also felt that despite this crisis, my eating has been ok this week and he’s pretty impressed. I got to him with the most pounding headache – pure dehydration, I’ve been restricting water since yesterday morning – so I was drinking water (because T told me to) and trying to concentrate on his words. He has encouraged me to make a plan to push me into eating regularly – even if it’s only a mouthful of something, it’s regular energy boosts and it’s something I can use as fuel. I am going to try to start that. Really though, I wish I could just starve myself until this fat disgusting person that I don’t recognise in the mirror goes away, and maybe I can rebirth from the brittle bones and crepe paper skin of the skeleton I wish I could become.
This afternoon I saw a flat. The agent neglected to mention it was effectively a cupboard. I cried. I’ve booked a more hopeful viewing for Monday. I need to move out from here. The sadness is overwhelming me and I need to rip the bandaid off in one go.
Gave LittleDog a squish. Wonder if he will miss his mummy. Kind of hope he won’t even remember. I don’t want him to wonder where I am. Their worlds should be full of fetch and toys and sticky gross bones.
Drank wine and caught up with a friend I’ve not seen for years tonight. Was so nice. Feel like I’m slowly remembering what I enjoy.
In bed now, he’s downstairs and the tears are falling thick and hot and fast, gulping sobs into my pillow.
The reality of living the next phase of my life in a cupboard sized hell hole has hit me hard.