One of the reasons I initially started blogging was to provide an honest, vulnerable, authentic outlet. I think that in this day and age, there's a good bit of inauthenticity in the lifestyle blogging world. I'll admit that sometimes I feed into it - my Instagram is essentially a highlight reel and not always entirely accurate. But, anyways, I digress. I strive to provide an honest outlet that facilitates genuine connection - even if it's just one person who it resonates with.
I've always valued honesty - and this blog has been helpful in keeping me honest with myself (i.e. all my post-fracture feels), so what happens when I don't want to be honest at all? What if I don't want to be honest with myself? What if I'd rather sit in denial and run from the truth? What happens when I wish I didn't have all these feelings and experiences to share? What happens then?
I've pondered this question over the course of this last week, refusing to touch either my journal or a computer. If I wrote what was on my mind down - paper or electronic - it would make it real and that scares the life out of me. But, what's worse? Bottling up my feelings. So, here I sit, La Croix in one hand, tissues in the other, listening to Death Cab for Cutie. I'm not writing this for sympathy - and I don't want sympathy. But, if anyone else is struggling or has ever felt this way, I can empathize. And...not that I'd ever wish this feeling on anyone, but I certainly hope I'm not alone in feeling this way.
Woof. So, let's get honest (or as much as I can be at the current moment) with myself.
"If you have chemistry, you only need one other thing: timing. And timing's a bitch."
I'm grieving. Hard.
I'm grieving the loss of my best friend, my person, who was suddenly ripped out of my life without my control (because, don't we all want control?). I feel like I'm flat-lining, I feel like my entire future was just ripped out from under me and the person I want to help me up from my fall isn't there, I feel like everything is upside down and that I'm living in some sick joke...or that I'm waiting to wake up from just a really bad dream. I didn't know heartbreak could hurt so much. I didn't know my insides could literally be in pain.
I forgot how much I could cry and how much my feelings could overwhelm me when I am unprepared for them. I'm crying when I wake up, in the shower, before bed...in a Costco aisle. I'm anxious and feel like I'm suffocating under the weight of my anxiety and fear and loneliness and doubt and heartbreak. I went three straight days without eating I was so anxious. It's unhealthy to feel this overwhelmed...and simultaneously empty.
I'm taking my friend and family's advice - look at the silver linings, do all the things you love, just be patient, cut off contact and really feel through the grieving process. And sure, I can look at the silver linings. I have more free time, I'm seeing my quality friends more. I've been doing most things I love (with the exception of running - which is truly making the issue a little more unmanageable) - I've been walking with friends, visiting some of my favorite San Diego spots, watching Jane the Virgin. I'm (involuntarily) cutting off contact, letting myself cry when I need to and trying to prioritize long term satisfaction over instant gratification. And, it helps - briefly. I have moments - stretches of hours even - of feeling okay, hopeful, strong and resilient. Feeling like an independent woman who can bounce back. I have moments where I tell myself that I've survived heartbreak before, I can certainly do it again. But the moment I step out of the distractions or am served another reminder (which are basically everywhere - from restaurants to hikes to certain days of the week to every place in San Diego to laundry to books to certain TV shows), the pain hits all over again - worse than the time previous.
Everyone is telling me that I'm strong - I pushed through broken hips and so many health and relationship hardships. But, right now, I don't feel really strong. I want to lay in a ball and watch the next year go by while I lay in a sleep-ridden wait - or look into the future and know I'm going to be A-okay. At the moment, the pain and heaviness sitting in my chest is a little too heavy. The pain of my broken heart, the pain of not being able to reach out to your best friend and tell them every part of your day, the pain of waking up everyday and having it hit again, the pain of not knowing what your best friend is doing without you - or if they even care....well, it's a lot to handle and I feel weak under that weight.
I know that I will be okay in the end. I really truly know I'm going to be okay - whatever the ultimate outcome. I know I have friends and am not alone. I know I value myself on my own. I know that there were good times in the past. I get it, I do. But right now, this knowledge comes in waves - between other waves of feeling too overwhelmed, waves of breakdown and sadness and melancholy. Between waves of persistent social media creeping, waves of recounting every thing I could have said nicer one time or another, waves of drafting texts and waves of shaky nausea.
I finish by asking, as the infamous Carrie Bradshaw did in Sex and the City - when two people break up where does the love go?
Anyone - Bueller, Bueller?