I remember these feelings. They happened to me the summer I sat my A levels, between my final exam and waiting for my results. It must be something about knowing my life is about to completely change. The tight chest that leaves me gasping for breath and trying to ride out the clench-and-release pain without descending into panic. I know these are just panic attacks, or some relative of… that summer, nobody could believe it was actually my mind that was weak, not my heart, so I was prodded and poked and had every scan that was possible. It was not my heart causing the issues, it was my mind.
Except this time, my heart is broken too.
I had a lovely day at work today. The great thing about working behind a bar is that you’re everyone’s friend, and everyone feels like they know you. Today was fun and sociable and as I was writing on the chalkboards being teased mercilessly by a rather yummy boy, I felt real bubbles of excitement in my tummy; I’ve got my life back. I can have fun, go out with friends, laugh again. When I was at work, it felt so right.
Then I came home and he’s sad and that makes me sad because he is so much a part of me that I take on his emotions like a chameleon. The tightness is in my chest and he notices and asks me what he can do to help, and all I want to say is hold me. But I do not, because he cannot, and now he is lying above me, listening to my pillow-muffled sobs as they rise up through the floorboards separating my world from his.
I am scared, because if I could not make this life work, how can I possibly make another work? This life was beautiful; perfect home, animals, perfect man with the perfect job and the wealthy family. It should have been so easy to slot into place, to learn to keep up with the Jones’, but it was not. I could not be who he wanted me to be.
One voice is telling me that this is because I am rubbish. I’m a pathetic, lazy person and if I’ve just tried harder, I’d have been able to stick to the rules that make his perfect life complete. It is my fault this has failed, he provided me with everything and all I had to provide was the determination to be perfect, but I failed. I’ve failed again.
But another voice is telling me different. It’s a quiet voice (and it sounds a lot like T..) but it’s there. That voice is telling me that I have given everything I could. Even when perhaps I technically could have worked harder, the reasons stopping me were valid. It says that even though he is a really good man and he’s looked after me so well, he expected me to be somebody I could never be. To fit into a unique lifestyle that nobody could fit. I needed to be beautiful, successful, interesting and interested in his hobbies, keep a house and do all this while never getting it wrong or making a fuss. I really hope somebody can make this beautiful boy happy, but that someone was not me. And maybe that’s ok.
In the words of Cher;
And I hope you find it
What you’re looking for
I hope it’s everything you dreamed your life could be
And so much more
And I hope you’re happy, wherever you are
I wanted you to know that
And nothing’s gonna change that
I hope you find it