The chime of loneliness

Hi guys, I’m tired of apologising for my tardiness here so, can we please just accept that I’ll write here as often as I can? Thanks for your understanding. Happy new month lovelies. Today, I want to share something rather personal with you, in hopes that if it helps allay the fear or depression of even one person, my goal is reached. 

Well, remember when I wrote the post about loving correctly? That was sometime in 2020/2021. I had a boyfriend that I’d been in and out of a relationship with for a while and at the time, we’d broken up. Well, news flash, we got back together and broke up a few times more until last year when he decided he was ready to come and meet my parents. This part’s heavy so let’s just get to the cusp of the matter; the time came and he was a no show. This was two weeks before my grandma who was also a constant in my life died. That happened two weeks to Christmas and I n the moment, I refused to break, matter of fact I had a story workshop at hand so I tried to channel everything into it. I would have moments with palpitations so bad that my arms would go numb but I refused to break a tear. I couldn’t, I kept saying if I give myself to feeling anything at all, I would break and sink and there would be no pulling me out of the depths of despair I would have fallen into, so, I did not cave. I refused to. 

The story workshop came and passed and two days later it was Christmas and people celebrated, as did I, refusing to feel. Numbing myself to the gaping hole that was building inside. I drank, I ate, I smiled, all beguiled. At night, instead of heeding to my need to cry, I consumed series and when the palpitations came, I looked up to heaven and said Lord keep me together, I refuse to break, I can not. The new year came and work began again, and I found myself busy and in all honesty, I felt all was good again, I had overcome the hurt, then I woke up one morning and I couldn’t stop crying and I couldn’t catch my breath, so I let myself cry because that must have been it, right? The pent-up emotions looking for a way out, so, I let them out. I figured this is what it feels like to move on.

Then February came, the month of lovers and the most dreaded month for the singles. All I felt during this time was an insurmountable hatred for my ex, so one day I pulled myself together and wrote him a letter, of course I never sent it but, here it is;

I forgive you, truly and wholeheartedly. I do not think that you set out to hurt me, I have practiced cringe therapy for a while and it helped, it was needed to wean me of any hopes and longings, but now to truly be fine, I look back at the good days, I laugh or smile and I’m okay. What would’ve been would have, no forcing or fussing. I’m thankful that we didn’t use sunk cost fallacy to push for something that would have hurt us forever. Feelings are ephemeral but marriage is for life or at least that’s my view on it. 

So, I forgive you and I wish you well. Thank you for whatever condolence message you sent per my grandma’s passing, I couldn’t bring myself to read it, I was burning with pain, refusing to deal with her loss much less condolences, or condolence from you.

Anyhoo, stay blessed.

I chose to forgive, to truly move on. I didn’t send it because I didn’t want to leave any cracks in doors or windows for another come back, it’s something we were really good at. I kept the letter however as something to look at, whenever that burning hatred surged in me, I would remind myself that I already forgave. I would cringe but it sufficed.

Then came March, all was well. I could even say his name and laugh at jabs from friends. Then my staycation at my cousin’s house happened and I saw how a man who loved me with his entirety loved the hell out of his woman that for the first time in our lives he put someone else above me and he did it seamlessly, I broke. It was in March that I realised that no healing had occurred. I only avoided the topic. Pretended away the hurt and assumed that the pain I felt from losing two of the most important people in my life could be ignored. I felt a loneliness that a crowded house could not fill. I tried to be around friends more often. To call people more. To go out more. To entertain flirtation more. To speak to my dad more frequently. To be a pillar of my mom more. To relate with my siblings more. To be more involved in church. To do more. Nothing worked. So, one day I stopped. I didn’t fight back the tears when they came. I didn’t stop myself from being angry when the need arose. I didn’t bite my lips or purse them when I wanted to talk about my hurt. I figured it hurt more to keep it bottled in than letting it go.

April. I was lighter. I decided to lay off the alcohol. I had teary moments. I could finally delete pictures without flinching. I didn’t feel the need to scroll through my phone aimlessly anymore. I even dared to think about attending a wedding (ps I didn’t go, but I attended an engagement party). I found a spring in my step. I smiled, ate, hung out and it wasn’t forced. It wasn’t to prove a point. It was plain old enjoying myself. I had streaks of good days. I even had a pillow-talk with myself. Every time I felt loneliness creep in, I welcomed it. It was proof that I had come to terms with my loss, I was no longer in denial, I was no longer hoping for the impossible or for disrespect or disregard, it meant I knew, body, soul and mind, I knew that both people had gone. 

Sometimes, the chime of loneliness is proof that we’ve moved on.