Saturday, November 11, 2006

Recovery

The despair and loneliness of the day often pervade my dreams, manifesting themselves as nightmares. My mind currently seems to be capable of conjuring some fairly unpleasantly far-fetched scenarios, but it is the others, those with a much more probable degree of reality, that are much worse. I will wake and listen to the seemingly endless slow-moving goods trains that pass in the middle of the night, but sometimes the realisation that I’ve been dreaming is not much comfort when the reality of the situation clears into focus.

I cast my mind back 11 months or so ago, or look over some old emails or even some comment chess, and think how genuinely happy I was. I’d probably never been happier. It finally dawned on me this week that during that time I was being bullied in my last place of work – something that is not always easy to admit or want to realise, such is the stigma attached – but quite honestly at the time I neither particularly noticed or cared: I had a best friend to turn to, which meant I could decipher and dismiss such meaningless pettiness. It was the type of relationship and friendship which I could draw strength from and focus all my emotional energy towards, and that in turn highlighted the fact that everything that had preceded it had been, in comparison, quite pointless and unworthy of comparison.

Some of the memories I’ve been left with are nothing short of perfection. There were an abundance of special and unique times, but that is sometimes what scares me most: I don’t see how they will materialise again. It’s part of what makes something so precious, the fact that it is rarely found, and it’s a scary thought to sometimes wonder how long it might be before I come close to finding such wholesome fulfilment again. When I broach this apprehension with friends, they generally try to silence me, saying I mustn’t think like that. But I can’t help but wonder whether they say this because they sense the fundamental truth in my statement and don’t want me dwelling on it too much (or don’t fancy contemplating it themselves).

I’m not imbued with oozes of self-confidence or arrogance, but nor am I so diffident or falsely modest not to know that with just a little bit of concentrated effort within a week or so I could find someone to fill that gap should I want to, to spend those evenings with. But it would be superficial, and the shallow pleasures aside I know I would find myself not listening to their conversation, unable to take a genuine interest in their feelings and generally would be itching for them to leave.

Before, I’d come to understand that I didn’t need or desire the company of someone else just for the sake of it. I’m really grateful to Whitfud and his wife for providing me with this opportunity to live alone, and come to terms with everything in a comfortable and relatively stress-free environment. I need this time to myself to try and find my way back to that self-sufficient mindset.

The two places are miles apart though, so it could be a lengthy journey.

13 comments:

Cheri said...

Hey Huw, long time no read (of your journal). I hope things get better, although I am a bit confused :) I should try to keep up!

Go well.

Dancinfairy said...

When ever I have been in that place I have always craved solitude and invariably these have been the times where I have struck out and gone to live on my own. In fact the only two times that I have lived by myself have coincided with the two big breakups of my twenties.

Take the time you need to heal and to find who you are, without that person by your side.

You should never look to find that feeling again, something will come along at the right time and it will be so unique and special in its own way that you will be able to hold both that and the one that went before in your heart and you will be all the more whole for it.

Well, that is what I think anyway!

I also always find that a friend doing a comedy style tap dance is a great way to lift the spirits.

Tim-tambolini said...

I feel for you, Huw. Dancinfairy put it all quite well. So sorry you feel the way you do, but as they say, this too will pass.

Anonymous said...

I can complete Sudoku puzzles, even at the highest level of difficulty.

Dancinfairy said...

That is a very odd anonymous comment you have there.

I hate Sudoku puzzles. Give me a good old wordsearch any day.

AnonymousCoworker said...

Well, this is unfortunate. I'm not sure if it makes any difference, but I know how you feel, and I hope you get to your new point without too much unnecessary pain.

Will said...

I don't really know how you feel because I lead a charmed life, but you described it very well. Hope recovery comes more imminently than you're expecting.

LĂ©onie said...

I think you might be writing from inside my head.

I don't know what to say because I know that only time will make it any easier. Personally I am clinging to that scrap of an assurance.

becca said...

hey there sugarino

was awesome to see you at the weekend and to dance and drink and be merry - WE MUST DO IT AGAIN.

i've deleted many lines here where i have tried to write some soothing savlon words but all i can come up with is trite and poo-nuggetty. I agree wholeheartedly with dancinfairy, and my dancing shoes are on should you feel the need to timestep your way to happiness.

much love becca xxxxxxxxxxxx

Cleavers said...

Chin up, hon. I know it's absolutely no consolation whatsoever right now, but it does get easier, I promise. I didn't think I'd survive but I did and several years later, I'm happier and stronger for it. You will be too. Just give yourself time. ATB. Cleavers

Lucy said...

Well, I haven't been reading with as much attention as I thought. Terribly sorry to hear about all this, hope you're doing better.

Don't know quite what to say.

Sister Louise said...

Hi.I know that feeling. I used to lie awake listening to the cars on the South Circular and feeling incredibly lonely. I don't know whether it was because everything was still happening around me and I was in this nothing land but it was horrible and my sleep was plagued with weird, wretched dreams. I don't think you ever achieve the same moments with someone again, you just have something different but equally as good. No two relationships are ever the same. It's horrible, believe me I know. It's been 18 months and I'm still getting over it but it's much easier now. You'll get there. x

y-vonne said...

In life all things have a purpose. The hard part is that we are not allowed to know the purpose when things are happening. That is what causes the angst and frustration. You WILL know the purpose, just not when you think you are ready. All in good time. And you will heal. We always do. Best of luck. You are in my thoughts.