Et... Un Mariage, Mais Pas Le Mien

On Sunday just gone, I learnt that on the Saturday Mr Flibbles had got married. I knew it was coming, but didn't actually know when. The first I knew of it was when one of my friends messaged me to ask how I was. When she explained that she was asking in reference to his getting married, my brain kind of shut down. 

Thinking about it a little I found that I felt a bit bitter. I found that I actually hoped that it won't last. I realised that at the back of my mind I still feel that he and I are connected, that something would put us back together one day.

It was my honest gut reaction, but it's a selfish one and I know that. Genuinely I want him to be happy, and I hope that Little Miss Smug can cope with him better than I could. Cognitively I do know that we'll never be together again; it's just that my cognitive brain and emotional brain are often not on the same page.

So, come today's therapy session, I was feeling sad, and I knew I was feeling sad, and told Mr Therapist that I was feeling sad. He's not used to me knowing how I feel.

We discussed it a little. I tried to not cry, a lot. I recognise that I don't know how to grieve. I didn't know that grieving is something we're taught; so I've basically learnt that grief = head in sand. Not healthy. 

And so, this week's homework is for me to write a goodbye letter to Mr Flibbles. And because I didn't know how to take the matter seriously, I've been given a format to follow. The result is below. It's probably a bit weird. You can't see the smudged ink on the screen, but trust me that you would if it were a printed page.

Dear lovely wonderful person with whom I wanted to spend my life,

I remember the way you had my back when I needed someone to phone stupid companies for me.

I remember the way you would reach across a table to take my hand, just to hold it.

I remember the way you obsess over one thing for a while, then totally switch tack to something else.

I remember the way you would push me away every time you were in hospital.

I remember the way you wouldn't make me a priority.

I remember when you invited all of my friends to stay for my first birthday with you.

I remember when you encouraged me to start my online shop.

I remember when you didn't want me at your birthday because you were embarrassed to be with me.

I remember when we were first intimate together.

I remember when we adopted Rufus. And Oni.

I remember when we let Mr Millionaire stay with us. Oops!

I remember how you looked when you graduated.

I remember how you looked when you were annoyed with me.

I remember how you looked when you learnt that I was seeing Mr CarCrash.

I remember when you told me about CF.

I remember when you told me you were proud of me. You were the first person to ever say that to me.

I remember when you told me that you would never be the one for me, that we'd never work, that I should be with FuckWit.

I remember when you told me to be with Kitsune.

The clearest memory I have of you is of your hugs.

The clearest memory I have of you is seeing how people are always drawn to you.

The clearest memory I have of you is the feeling of bathing in sunshine just by being around you.

The clearest memory I have of you, is of you taking Rufus' body, because I couldn't cope with it.

I wish I wasn't such a fucked up fuck up that I fucked everything up with you.

I wish that we didn't have such toxic arguements.

I wish I'd known how to soothe you, and show you how I cherished you.

I wish that Rufus hadn't died because of our stupid human relationship politics.

I wish that you were here right now, giving me a hug and telling me that all of this has just been a nightmare.

I always wanted to tell you that you're the only person I've truly fallen in love with.

I always wanted to tell you that you're absolutely amazing at everything you do.

I always wanted to tell you that I was never worthy of your attention, let alone to be with you.

I was afraid to tell you how angry I was at your parents.

I was afraid to tell you how much I absolutely loathe myself.

I was afraid to tell you when I wasn't coping, and needed you to emotionally support me.

I wish I had told you that DMX couldn't compare with you, not even a little.

I wish I had told you, when you were screaming and arguing at me, that everything was ok, everything would be ok, and just held you until you calmed down.

I wish I had told you that I knew that I was selfish and irritable, but that I didn't want to be.

I wish I had known that pushing me towards FuckWit was a defense mechanism.

I wish I had known how to fix us.

I wish I had known how to stand up for myself.

I also wish you'd have let me contribute financially.

I also wish we hadn't allowed Smev to attempt to mediate with us.

I also wish that we were still really close friends now.

I wish you had known this me, who's moods are medicated more effectively.

When I was with you I usually felt at home. Comfortable. Safe.

When I was with you I usually felt irritable; I didn't know that the irritability was part of my depression / anxiety, and I needed a medication change. I didn't know that my mental health was sabotaging our relationship.

When I was with you I usually felt fairly positive.

I felt happiest when you spent time with me, especially if you showed attention.

I felt happiest when we shared rat o'clock in the evenings.

I felt happiest when we'd have deep long intelligent conversations.

I felt most loved when you held my hand.

I felt most loved when you showed that you understood me.

I felt most loved when we just existed together. I felt like we were a choreographed dance.

I felt angriest when you would make arguments out of the most stupid things.

I felt angriest when you made me feel second rate. 

I felt angriest when you wouldn't include me, but wouldn't even give me warning that I wasn't included.

I felt the most hurt when you blamed me for separate rooms.

I felt the most hurt when I woke up after overdosing, and found that you'd just left me there. Or you hadn't noticed that I'd been asleep for 48 hours.

I felt the most hurt when you let me go.

I felt the most afraid when you were in hospital.

I felt the most afraid when you attempted dating that woman.

I felt the most afraid when I thought I'd lose you.

I felt the most guilt when I ended up with FuckWit.

I felt the most guilt when someone I invited into our house accidentally killed Tinker.

I felt the most guilt when ... just always. Because of how things started. Because I hurt you. Because of my health being so crap that I couldn't contribute the way I'd like to. Because we were living in your parents house. Because I wasn't good enough for you, and our lives were on hold, and I was such an unstable nutcase.

I felt the most shame when we'd argue, and I'd reach the end of my tether.

I felt the most shame when I'd spend all day every day at home, whilst you who was hospitalised by your health quite frequently, were working 4 full days a week.

I felt the most shame when you'd bring up things that had hurt you, during arguments, that I hadn't realised were bothering you.

I wanted to make you happy.

I wanted to be important to you.

I wanted to spend my life with you.

I needed you to make me a priority. That doesn't mean drop everything you do, but communicate with me about what's going on 

I needed to be able to make the house our home.

I needed therapy!

I needed motivation and purpose.

I accept that you got married.

I accept that you have totally changed, and left me behind.

I accept that you are happy without me, and happier without me.

I accept that you have probably turned me into a villain in your head.

I understand that you went through hell with me.

I understand that you may remember things differently than I do.

I understand that you have moved on.

The last time I saw you, you didn't even make eye contact with me.

The last time I saw you, it pissed me off that your missus gave me such a smug, knowing, look, as you left.

The last time I saw you, I wanted to hold you and never let go.

When you left ... [it was me that left, so I'm going to change this one] ...

When I left I don't think I really realised that it was the end.

When I left I think I was kind of relieved to be going into a house that would supposedly be a home, but I hadn't realised how much of home was in you, and even in that bland giant house that I hated.

When I left I was still completely in love with you.

Since you’ve been gone ... [need to change it again] ...

Since we've been apart I still felt like we were together.

Since we've been apart I've grown in so many ways, but often thought of how I'd enjoy discussing them with you, and how impressed and proud you'd be.

Since we've been apart I've got really really fat.

I miss the way you always make everything look so easy.

I miss the way you would take my side, pretty much always.

I miss the way you hugged.

When I think about you now I feel so sad.

When I think about you now I cry.

When I think about you now I miss you with a pain so raw that it feels like it'll rip me apart.

I want to tell you I’m sorry about every fucking thing I ever said or did that hurt you.

I want to tell you I'm sorry that I have a screwed up bonce of mental health crap.

I want to tell you I'm sorry if I leant on you too hard, or made you feel that I was using you.

I want to thank you for the time we spent together.

I want to thank you for not just cutting me out of your life in one swoop.

I want to thank you for tolerating me.

Most of all, I want to tell you that I love you, but I don't want to anymore, as I know I need to let you go.

Yours sincerely,

Olana