Saturday, 11 June 2011

How do you mend a broken heart?



A few months back I wrote a blog post about how I'd decided I couldn't do relationships and that I was okay with that. Hmmm.

I proclaimed - because it did feel like a big announcement to me -  that I had had so much bad luck with previous relationships that I'd decided I was better off on my own. And I meant it at the time, I really did. I decided that it was too much to expect another relationship, and I was better off for it.

But really I was lying to myself. Actually no, I wasn't lying at least not intentionally, I was keeping up a facade that I'd been keeping up for years. That I didn't need a relationship, or a man, or love. And of course that's rubbish.

I don't know how it started but somehow over the past fifteen/twenty years I've been training myself to hide my feelings, and pretend that everything is okay as it is. When my marriage was falling apart I told no-one, not even close friends. I kept up the facade that everything was okay, even when it wasn't.

But it goes back even further than that. Before I got married I was in a long, tumultuous relationship - 9 years on and off. I recall the highs - and the lows, but mainly I remember feeling. I remember being totally in love with him, and wanting him to feel the same except he didn't.

When that relationship ended, and even though  I ended it, it hurt like hell and I think that's when I decided not to feel like that anymore. It was too painful, way too painful and it's much easier not to feel at all.

But recently I've been going over things in my mind, wondering why I've never been successful with men and relationships and wondering why the fact that I'm still alone after all these years is starting to grate with me.

And so this evening a friend shared a song on Facebook, a song that has particular resonance for me and it made me cry, a lot. It reminded me of all those feelings I once had, feelings of love and hurt and heartbreak and they all began to gush out of me.  Really, I felt like a bottle of pop that had been shaken up and was fizzing all over the place - so strong was the feeling of overwhelming emotion.

It's been really unsettling, not least because I have managed to keep my feelings so tightly controlled over the last few years, so well hidden, that I'm not used to confronting them. But out they came.

It is much easier to pretend you're not lonely, and it's also easy to pretend that past hurts no longer have any impact on us in the present. But they do, especially when you haven't dealt with them properly. And tonight, I realised that I'm going to have to deal with them in order to move on and I'm scared.