Filed under: Relationships, Single life | Tags: death, depression, family, Relationships, single, stress
Today I heard that my grandfather has about three weeks to live. That is, unless he starts taking his medication. Which he won’t take because he so depressed that he’d actually rather be dead. The ironic thing is that he won’t take anti-depressants as he’s afraid they’ll kill him.
There’s nobody here to hug me and make this seem ok. There never is. I’m single, so I don’t have the luxury of splitting my pain two ways. I don’t even have a shoulder to wipe my tears on. My parents went home together, united in their anguish. My sister is putting the kids to bed, then she’ll sit down with her husband for the evening. A team, ready to battle against the sorrows of the world.
I’m alone. And I don’t think I’m any worse off for it. I find that during most truly sad occasions, there’s nothing anyone can say to take the pain away. Being held when you’re crying doesn’t make you want to cry any less. It just means you have to worry about your mascara or mucus ruining someone’s jumper while you cry.
I make myself tea. I think. I write. And I’m uninterrupted. I don’t have to listen to anyone else’s point of view, or pretend that their words of advice are having an effect. I’m not going to upset anyone by withdrawing into myself for a few hours, or hurt anyone’s feelings by snapping at their attempts to cheer me up.
Sometimes, we don’t need to cheer up. We need time to accept reality.
People in relationships develop ways of coping with trauma the same way smokers or alcoholics do. Stressed? Have a hug. Upset? Tell me about it. Anxious? There, there. The constant attention, the sounding board, the affection. These things become essential means of dealing with the vicissitudes of daily life.
What happens when you run out of cigarettes, or can’t get a drink? You realise you have no other coping mechanism. You’re helpless, waiting for someone to walk into the room or into your life who can help you deal with the world around you.
Filed under: Relationships, Single life | Tags: asshole, drunk, feelings, filter, pee, rebel, single, weekend
Oh dear. Occasionally my instincts betray me to such an extent that my basic asshole filter is compromised. The guy I mentioned in my last post, in the same paragraph as phrases like “my feelings towards him are still undecided” and “He’s hot” showed his true colours last night in a spectacular fashion.
He called me at 2.30am, asking if he could come up to see me. He had no way of getting home (he’s from a small town a very expensive taxi ride from here) and naturally, I let him in. Because I didn’t want him sleeping on a park bench, because I was awake anyway, and because he’s been trying to see me all week but I haven’t been able to accommodate him.
So he rocked up a few minutes later, looking a little worse for wear. He sat on the couch and launched into a booze-induced, profanity littered monologue about my previous relationships, the books I’m reading, his hometown, and his mammy. Oh dear. I extricated myself and left him on the couch with a sleeping bag, only to be woken by the sound of a stumbling drunkard at around 4am. I found him in the hall outside my room, disoriented, and obviously just after peeing against the wall outside The Pirates’ bedroom.
I chose not to mention it today, and I tactfully got him to leave as quickly as possible. He seemed oblivious to the events of the night, and had definitely sobered up, but the angry monologue continued this morning. His language makes him seem juvenile, almost as if he’s rebelling against grammar and courtesy the way teenagers rebel against their parents.
It’s interesting that our budding friendship would have wilted last night even if he hadn’t peed on my floor. As I’ve mentioned before, words are too important for me to settle for someone who can’t stimulate me with his vocal chords. Even then, the pee would have been unforgivable.
I hope this was a freak temporary glitch in the asshole filter. I’m not going to ask what the worst thing you’ve done drunk was, but I would like to know the worst thing that has been done unto you by a drunkard. Entertain me!
Filed under: LOVE, Single life | Tags: break-up, LOVE, pirate, rebirth, single
There have been a few tears, a lot of laughter and numerous pots of tea this past week. All steps along the way to readjusting to single life, I suppose.
Truthfully, it’s been a magical week. I’ve woken up every morning ready to embrace the day, and enjoyed every moment. Ice cream in the park, alone. Lunch in town, alone. Reading all the books I’ve been meaning to. Smiling at strangers. Laughing out loud at… the weather, other people’s children, life.
I spent a few days with my wonderful grandfather, and was grateul for the fact that I could really give my attention to him the way he needed. In fact, I’ve been able to give myself more fully to everything this week - I have no distractions, no plans, no commitments.
I feel as if life is an adventure again. And that’s exactly what life should be.
I don’t want security, I don’t want romance, I don’t want monogamy. I just want to live every moment to the full, enjoy all my friends as I should, and treasure my family for the wonderful people that they are.
I might sound like I’m over-dramatising the situation when I say I feel ‘reborn’ – but it’s the only way I can describe this wonderful sense of freedom and energy that I have. People have commented that I’m glowing, and I feel as if I am.
