Running away

There are days where I run towards things or people. And today I went to my first EVER group run event. I enrolled for the track and field club in my new uni.

I was horribly nervous; I'm not good at sports, never was. Last picked for gym and all that sob stuff. Who cares? New year, new resolution.

We ran 10K as warm-up, did some interval training and then ab exercices. Three hours. I was much slower than anyone else there, but I finished all the same.
So why can't I just feel proud instead of wasting my afternoon? I mean I have lots of work. But I feel depressed and lonely. I feel unfit to belong to this club. I feel that I'll slow everyone down and be an object of scorn or pity. All the procrastinating makes me feel worse. It's a spiral of self-hatred.

Shut up! I want this unproductive rut to cease. SHUT UP, VOICE.

But instead I fantasize about running away from everyone, everything, all my responsabilities, and just get numb again.

In olden days I used to go hug my boyfriend, he would be the voice of reason and of kick-assness.

Now I'm my own coach and sometimes it's rough. But if I manage to get myself out of this mire, all the success will be my own.

Time to pretend

I've just finished my exams. Only two weeks before I get the results and move on for good. This school year will be wrapped up and forgotten like all the previous ones, and my heart will sometimes turn over itself when I remember the funny and the annoying, the trivial and the serious.
I'll probably have to return to Lyon a couple of times next year since my thesis supervisor will be there. I've been doing very well for the most part, watching lots of crap movies with my sister and trying to plan a fun travel summer, with amazing stops to Germany and Belgium, museums, exercise and delicious bretzels.

My ex is currently having a drink with my mother.

Seeing him in my house was strangely disruptive, so I'll blog a bit, forget a lot, and forget even more than a lot. Repeat and rinse, repeat and rinse.

Celebration

More than two years ago, I tried to kill myself.
I had absolutely no will to live.
I can't explain this feeling to anyone who hasn't been very depressed-numbness is the best word, although a numbness so steeped in self-hatred that it cannot truly leave you numb, only stunned.

Fast-forward two years later.

I have stood by my father as he fought for his life.
I have successfully fought my bulimia.
I have managed to fall in love and give my trust to another human being.
I have made huge progress in truthfulness.

I may be dumped. My ex may not want me anymore, may not fantasize about me anymore, hold me lovingly anymore. He may even hate me at times, he may fuck others, care for others, forget about me while I still yearn.

But I want to celebrate my pleasure in life. I enjoy living. Even this, this pain, is delightful in its intensity. I am alive. Yeah, I might still have low points and not be the funnest girl on the block, but this is so nigglingly inconsequential, so absurdly irrelevant to me, that I won't even consider it.

Live your life, love your life and reach out to others. Happy Friday.

Perplexity

X gave me a list (at my request) of stuff I did wrong, so I have an idea of patterns of behaviour I may not be able to perceive on my own. I agreed pretty much with everything, so I'm relieved I'm not entirely blind to my shortcomings.
I would never presume to reciprocate, so I'll write my own here, for my eyes only :)

Cons:
_Sometimes needlessly cruel when frustrated by work or something else.
_Cannot/will not apply common rules of decorum and courtesy.
_Huge flirt. Ladies, do not go out with him if you cannot handle it.
_Bad at communicating when things go wrong.

Pros:
_Funny as hell, sexy as hell.
_Loves music.
_Great conversationalist.
_Great traveller.
_Great lover.
_Cuddler above all.


In less saracentric news, my father is quitting the medication which gives him renewed energy. Meaning he will once again become ill and depressed.

Wishing him well.

Back to my usual schedule of unbridled optimism and loving irony.

Lonely

Well, I've always been a lonesome cowgirl. Struggling with it all, to tell the truth. Never sure if I was OK with being lonesome, or on the contrary haunted by my potential loss.
For the first time in years, I feel lonely.

I miss you. I miss being able to tell you everything, trusting in your loving affection. I miss kissing you for no reason, miss having sex with you, miss the nightly comfort of your body against mine. I miss you a lot. But I don't want you back.

I just want to stop missing you.

Growing up

Several times, X has referred to our past relationship as his first "grown-up" one. Having only little insight on his previous relationships, I have no idea if this is true. I think I have grown up while we were together. I know loving him has made so much more aware of what I want in myself, and yes, of what I want in my friends too.
Why is it difficult to shed our old skins?
I laugh and banter with him, and I feel no pain yet. He does not love me and I am not shattered. Yes, the world is infinitely different now that I have no one in particular to share it with. But I no longer wish for a different outcome. I am happy with myself, and there will be good days, bad days, perfect moments and distressing anguish.
All in all, a life worth living.
I smile at him this morning during the concert. I wonder how he feels during Kodaly, and I enjoy my own enjoyment. Suddenly I no longer care.
I like it.
I walk back home in heels.
The scent of his skin. The weight of him on me. The colour of his eyes, crinkling up when he smiles up at me. Over.
My tenderness for him. Our complicity. Our senses of humour. His new life and future battles. Yes, I'll be in the sidelines, and someone else will be the sweetheart, the ferret, the beautiful girl, but I will be cheering all the same, so he gets what he fights for.
And now I must work.

Back in Lyon!

Yep, I'm back. And I'm not going to lie...It's nice. Just had my first driving lesson today, felt all the excitement of being behind the motor and controlling a machine, it was great fun. Not a huge success parking, but all in all I felt quite comfortable wheeling the thing. X seems ok, he was lovely and sweet with me, we had a giggly evening and cuddles, and I missed him a lot. I hope we continue this way and will strive to communicate as much as I can if ever one of us ceases to be happy with our living arrangement. I do love him, he's such a lovely person. And I'm happy and I want to spread it around.

talky talky

X is lost, I can feel it. He's unhappy with his work.
Yelena's gone, and music was his one solace that kept away from him the realization that perhaps he was not a chemist. Not a research one at any rate.
I would like to talk to him about that...How I wonder if he fell for Rebound Fuck because she's young and easily bossed around, and gives him the impression that he is a star again.
I wish he had realized that he was mine, that I would have been proud of him no matter what.
I wish I could help him, but he can only help himself and stop wasting his time as well as everyone else's.
Come on, X. Kick your own ass, since I can't do it for you.

Good

X and I had a nice talk last night. I managed to let him express himself, as oppposed to the usual sara-crapfest. Holding him, stroking his hair, I felt all the love I have for him become concern, not a selfish concern, but a true one, one made of years of friendship that transcend love and lust. Watching his huddled body, I no longer saw the ghost of Rebound Fuck all over him: he was himself, and I was there, and I felt privilegied to be there for him, to tell him that he needed to reaffirm what he wanted, that he could not get any friends if he didn't know, deep inside, what he wanted to give and how much he wanted to receive.
I have such hopes for him. He is the nicest, most lovable, beautiful man I have known. Right now, before my heart starts breaking again, before my system works overtime to get rid of him, of all the complicated emotions he stirs in my bruised body, I can revel in knowing that maybe one day, in months or in years, we will be there for each other, and be happy for each other, and treasure the secret past without neither hope nor bitterness.
To you, my darling X, I wish everything. But now, it is time for me to build my own protections and to find my own answers, it is time to leave him behind and to forget my pain for hours at a time.
To our future friendship, and to my present happiness.
To the future bonds we will have that will neither hurt nor scar.
And to me.
I'll drink to me this morning, before leaving for a week. Strong, beautiful, clever, resourceful, over-emotional, trick-pony, giggling, short-legged, lopsided-smile, imaginative, clinging me.
Happy recovery, dear girl.

Why?

Why are you breaking my heart in the most painful way?
Why are you destroying my beautiful memories by forcing on me the image of damn idiot E, who is nothing compared to Yelena or any number of your friends? Is it because she looks like your ex? Is it because she's young and immature? Is it simply because it's easy?
Couldn't you wait a few days for me to move out, couldn't you spare me the anguish and self-loathing?
Couldn't you choose someone valuable to be my successor?

Letting go I

I have to let go. It's easy to say. It trips off the tongue, doesn't it? I make an effort to think it in French, since French is my emotional language. Laisse-le partir, I whisper to myself, and I wonder when I will stop feeling empty.
Words have a way of filling me up. I write them down to comfort myself. I have a list of favorites I enjoy reeling off, for myself or when insecure.
But now they, too, are no longer mine. Each word I say echoes inside me and FLASH! I see his face, I see him with his new girl, I feel rather than see blistering misery churn inside me, replacing the dead matter floating around in me. I want to reclaim words and rid them of their meaning.
How can I let go of him without losing my memories?

I want to move on as fast as I can. Any amount of mourning, of course, might be necessary. But right now, I see his name inside words, and cannot share them with him.