Regret – to feel sad, repentant, or disappointed over something that one has done or failed to do.
I could have made it work with my ex-fiancée – we were happy(ish) together for almost 10 years before I lost my way. She loved me and I loved her, now she must live never knowing exactly why the man she loved walked away, and her children will grow up having lost not one but two father figures.
I should have resisted the urge to take that to which I had no right, even when it was offered to me on a plate. Yes Inamorata used her boundless sexuality to taunt and seduce me, but I gave in; I made the first move, and I knew it was wrong to do so.
I would have thought twice if I’d known how it would turn out in the end. I’ve never felt as alive as I did in Inamoratas arms, but now that it’s over loosing her as a friend is bitter blow. I console myself with the thought that she is now happy and settled with her husband, but without the trust and communication we once shared I suspect my hopes for her happiness are just another illusion I’ve created to ease my anguish.
I didn’t think of the future though, of how my actions would affect those nearest and dearest to me – I thought only of myself.
Regrets are easy to acknowledge – its living with them that’s the hard bit.
Every day is a fight
A fight against the depression and black thoughts that try to drag me down
A fight against the urge to destroy Inamoratas marriage so she can feel as lonely and miserable as I do
A fight against the darkness within me.
The pain in my physical body is easing, perhaps it mirrors the slow healing of my shattered heart.
I slept relatively well last night, and I took no painkillers yesterday, although I suspect this is due to learning how to sleep properly.
The last few days haven’t been half as difficult as I’d expected, no depression, only a few minor emotional breakdowns – maybe I’m finally letting go of the hurt.
I know this upward climb won’t last forever, nothing does, but I’m grateful for it, and plan to enjoy it as long as it lasts.
Little victories, that’s what keeps us going
Eyes open, conscious, but not yet awake
She smiles back at me, whisperers ‘I love you’
I smile at an empty space
And then I truely awake
Still the vision lingers
Dissoriantation, was it real?
Reality bites, cold, hard
I am alone
Left only with fading memories
And a feeling that I’ve lost something I know I never truely had.
Beneath calm waters I am a seething tempest.
I make no secret that I suffer from depression – everyone who knows me is aware, either directly or indirectly, and they don’t ask anymore – they see the sadness in my eyes and they know.
I used some of the dozens of lieu hours owed to me to get out of work early today, I felt the icy grip of another dip wrapping tighter around my consciousness and had to escape.
Maybe it was the email from my estate agent saying my buyer is keen to complete early in the new year, or maybe it was the slow realisation that this Christmas will be my last in the house my father so lovingly transformed into a home for my mother that brought on this drop – whatever it was I was close to tears again when I walked through the front door, and only now, several beers later, am I able to coherently articulate the storm of emotions inside me.
I care for her too much to tell her the truth. I am alone for Christmas, soon to loose yet another part of my mother’s legacy, and soon after that to leave a job I have spent the best part of a decade dedicated to, all because a misunderstanding :
I thought she wanted a ‘real’ relationship…
Some dark primal part of me still yearns for revenge, but I swore to take our secret to the grave, and for the sake of what little humanity have left inside of me I intend to keep my word.
I will sever the tie soon enough – I have given so much that a little more will make no odds, but I have also set a limit.
Once the house sale is complete I will find a new job and hopefully start afresh, free from the constant reminder of what was, and what can never be….
After a chat with a friend today I realised I made a simple yet fateful error in almost all my dealings with Inamorata – I judged her by my own standards.
Looking back its clear that when this all started she was looking for a bit of uncomplicated fun – we had a great friendship before everything fell to shit, we made a great team – but in those first few weeks of our liaison I made the mistake of believing that she wanted what I wanted, a real relationship.
I know now that I was wrong, that my every thought and action was coloured by the idea that we would end up togeather because, dispite her constant denials, I believed that we would make a great couple. In some ways I still do, but the waters have been muddied too much for that to ever be the case now (not that it ever was a real possibility).
Maybe this insight is the first step on the road to acceptance and forgiveness (both of her and of myself) – time will tell – but I fear that, like so many things in my life, true understanding has come too late, and opportunity has passed me by.
If by some miricle we can salvage something of the friendship we once shared then all the better, but if not I’m content to have learned another valuable life lesson – the litany of loss is long enough, its time to start moving on.
She said all I had to do was loose my morals,
So I did…
She said she didn’t like being the other woman in my life,
So I made her my only…
She said we had to stop, that she needed to do right by her husband,
So I stepped back…
She said we should stay friends,
So I’m trying…
But what about me.?.
I lost my morals, left my fiancée, stepped back so she could live the good life with her hubby,
And now I have to pretend like it never happened and be ‘just friends’.?.!..
If she understood or even tried to mitigate my pain then I’d be happy, but she is who she is, sympathy is not in her vocabulary…
I feel I’ve earned this bitter rage
But I won’t let it consume me
Bouncer messaged me the other day asking to meet up after I finished work, and from the way she worded it I knew what was coming.
We split on good terms, even sharing a laugh that she’d saved me the difficult task of breaking up with her, but it was still a bit of a blow to the heart. She blamed her busy lifestyle and the fact that she’s been alone so long that she knows nothing else now, and I agree – she didn’t have time for me as well as the job she loves, but it’s still tough to come second to a career.
I’ve reactivated a couple of my online dating profiles and will get back into happiness hunting game again in due course, but right now I just feel a bit too numb to be worrying about someone else as well.
It does feel good to be free again though.
‘You don’t always get what you want’ was a favourite saying between Inamorata and I – for obvious reasons – but it occurred to me today that my life has fallen far below even that pessimistic euphemism.
Inamorata wants to stay friends, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to live seeing the woman I gave up so much for flirting with anyone she likes before going home to her husband. I don’t want to spend the next few years living in the friend-zone – I had my time, now I want out.
Bouncer could possibly replace Inamorata in my heart one day – she has everything I’m looking for; looks, personality, moral and ethical standards – she’d be perfect, but unfortunately she just doesn’t have the time to spend with me.
So, right now, I’m left with a friend I don’t want, and a lover who I can’t have.
If only the world knew the truth, maybe then they’d understand my readiness to embrace the darkness.
Tonight is our office Christmas party, a night renowned throughout the company for its high spirited atmosphere – we’re a team that works hard and plays hard!.
This year I’ve decided to give it a miss though, the thought of seeing Inamorata playfully teasing any man that catches her eye is just to much for me to bear right now – no doubt I’ll be regaled with story’s of the nights drunken antics tomorrow, but tonight I’ve decided to distract myself with a task that I should have had sorted a long time ago – finalising my Last Will and Testament, and updating my final letters to friends and family, most notably my father, ex-fiancée and, of course, Inamorata.
For whatever reason I’ve always found writing such letters to be a cathartic experience – the pain I feel when writing reminds me of the pain that will be felt by others if I were to take my own life, and gives clarity as to why suicide is so often viewed as such a selfish act.
But these letters aren’t suicide notes – there my way of saying Thank You for being in my life to the people I care about in the event that I don’t get to say it in person before I pass.
With all the mental anguish caused by the rendering of Inamoratas and my relationship I am grateful for any distraction, even if it does involve temporarily masking one pain with another.
In my heart of hearts I always knew I was special even before my mother died. From early childhood I had always been different – a quiet child, polite and friendly but with few real friends; temperamental and with a habit of taking things literally; intellectually advanced but academically and socially sub average.
It was my mothers diagnosis and the ensuing years of treatment, relapse and repeat that I believe broke me though – watching my one true friend wither away in a hospice bed, self medicating to numb the pain that even now cuts almost as fresh and deep as the day I kissed her goodbye for the last time – and still 10 years later and dozens of hours in counciling later I struggle with that one heart-wrenching loss.
It seems odd to think that I’ve somehow managed to echo that loss through the intervening years.
Unresolved grief issues lead to a slow spiral into depression and suicidal ideation – a situation I could have resolved if only I’d faces upto my problems earlier.
But I didn’t, I sought escape and found what I believed to be the answer in my affair with Inamorata – the loss of my ex-fiancée being tempered at that time by what I thought was the beginning of a new life with my new love.
Things didn’t work out that way though, and now on top of never getting to hold, kiss or share my feelings with the woman I love I now have to face up to the fact that my actions have destroyed not only our intimate relationship but also the friendship that it grew from.
I’m glad Inamorata is now happy and seemingly settled once again with her husband – her happiness is the sole redeeming feature I can find in the epically tragic saga that has been the last few years of my life – I just wish I could let go, move on and find a little happiness of my own now.