Yesterday, after exactly 15 months of loving romance, and 18 months since we first met online, I posted a parcel back to ‘H’. It held a few things, but most importantly our ‘connection ring’. I had to get it out of the house. Because a month ago, after ‘H’s last visit for Valentine’s Day (which was wonderful), things went pear-shaped, and despite our love and care for each other, we simply couldn’t get ourselves back to a place of unity.
I’m so sad. We both are of course. But I have to keep writing here as part of my process, thus ‘H’ has unfollowed the blog.
I’ve been dreading articulating this, as it makes it all the more real. I’ve definitely just had the most wonderfully unique relationship of my life; being met on a creative level was profoundly satisfying, and ‘H’ was the sweetest, kindest person to spend intimate time with.
I regret not one second. Despite the painful disagreements, and the challenges of distance, I am utterly grateful for every lesson, every joy, and the connection of two kindred souls. It was a difficult process, but finally we realised we needed to move onto new paths separately; a mutual break up has to be the ideal one, right?
I had actually drafted a post a while ago announcing ‘H’s impending move up to this area; long distance is not ideal, we all know that. So we had aimed for March or April. But it seems the mounting pressure of the upcoming change was not comfortable for either of us, and those goddamned Attachment wounds so easily rise up to take over the rational brain…
I’m not going to elaborate any more for now, out of privacy and respect for both of us. It feels like our pasts defeated us though, and I personally intend to keep working on my baggage with my friendly neighbourhood therapist.
Right now, I’m just in mourning, and very sad. ’17’ is being very sweet, as is our cat, and of course all my dear friends are checking in and reminding me Life goes on eventually.
But I’m simply trying to feel all my feelings, let the tears flow freely, and write copious pages of tortured self-reflection in my journal, like a good, sensitive woman.
I know you’ll all be shocked and sad for me, as I am for myself. On top of the stress about Mum, before my cousin reassured me, I’ve had a pretty crappy time since coming back from Tasmania to be honest… but the pulse of Life just beats along, and I can’t not follow.
In gratitude for the gifts of Love, even when they move on, thereby hopefully creating space for the new, love G xO