Off Guard/Recovery

I am feeling much better, and must thank all the people who have left notes. You’ve all been wonderful. I never write here for response, but for release; still, it is nice to know the dark isn’t empty.

I am finally listening to Sigur Rós! I’ve been looking to buy some of their albums for months, and finally a couple of days ago went to the cheap cd shop during my lunch hour and got the most recent one (Takk…) for less than £8, and the two before that (() and Ágætis byrjun) for £10 together. What a bargain! I’m just starting to explore them, but they haven’t disappointed me yet. I need two things at the moment: music that does not remind me of the last three months, and music I can lose myself in.

I have made a surprisingly good and quick mental recovery. The first few days of this week (including last weekend) were truly awful. I wasn’t sure if I’d seriously damaged myself (well, I’m still not, but I feel no different now than I did before). I decided to give up drinking until at least the New Year (which won’t be too hard – don’t expect to have more than the very occasional cocktail in New York, as I’ll be with my mother). This is partly because I don’t want to harm my liver further, and want it to recover from the last year a bit, and partly because I cannot totally trust myself at the moment if I end up getting drunk.

I missed work on Monday partly because my cold was still bad, but mostly because I was still an emotional eggshell. I’m glad to have gone back since, though, and the familiarity and nature of the work (mindless but requiring concentration) have acted as psychological analgesics. I feared my mother’s trip to my sister at first (she went yesterday, till Monday), but it’s ok now.

How has this been done? I’ve not made any particular effort. I haven’t tried to avoid thinking about what happened, and indeed at certain points, like the walk to work, inevitably turn my thoughts to it all. But it’s sliding into the past, like every joy and sorrow must do.

Guilt, shame, and despair have been replaced by bitterness, resentment, and distaste. My last email to Clive was as fawning as possible, because at that moment I wanted to keep channels open for the future (I was replying to an email signed off with word to the effect that he wanted no conact with me whatever from now on, which though not unexpected, was still deeply hurtful and shocking). However, by today I felt that honestly I had nothing to gain by ever contacting him again. I’ve come to realise that, whatever I did to hurt him over the course of our relationship, and however unseemly my behaviour after we broke up, his behaviour was nonetheless utterly shameful in itself. I was broken last week, and he made me feel like I had to beg just to remain his acquaintance. His reaction to my overdose was so hurtful that it took me days to realise just what it said about him. However much fun and however nice he seemed a few weeks ago, he’s since shown his true colours.

Another reason has been that I have remembered what I felt like before he split up with me. We never had sex, because I never really wanted to. That’s partly because I have deep self-image problems, but also because, if I’m honest, I never really fancied him after the night we met. These and other reasons led in part to him dumping me, but I must remember them too. I said I’d go out with him only because I thought it was the best way to make him happy, and because I thought I had nothing to lose. All the wrong reasons? I did my best.

Finally, if I’m going to grasp the nettle, I will never forgive him for starting a relationship the day after he dumped me with a man he’d pulled while we were still going out. Forgetting all the rest, it boils down to one thing: he dumped me when something better came along. Can he really be that nice?

So, that’s where I’m at. Except, I finally got up the courage to open my inbox this evening, and he had replied. I’d dropped a Christmas card with the money I owed him for the window through his letterbox the day before yesterday, and he emailed to thank me. He wished me well, and said he looked forward to hearing from me in the New Year. It was so warm and utterly unlike his last offering that it’s blown the wind right out of my sails. I’ve not lost my nerve, fear not, but maybe the phase I’m in now will itself have blown over by then. I harbour no hatred for anyone. I’ve never really managed hatred. It’s too strong an emotion for someone as (normally) equivocal and lethargic as me. I have loved – with a passion, as the pasges of this diary will tell. But hate… I never have. Maybe the best will come of this sorry situation in the end.

PS – I had an interview at work for another position within the company yesterday. My first job interview for… well, must be seven or eight years. Not conventional, given that they know me quite well. And there was a test – lord! A numeracy test involving such difficult tasks as – you’ll never believe it – subtraction, division, and multiplication – and they gave you a calculator! I guess I am a bit over-qualified for this, but I have nothing to lose by applying.