Yes, these virus times are horrifying, terrible, weird.
Yes, these virus times are weird, transformative, full of potential for change.
Yes, these virus times illuminate privilege, selfishness, and inequality on a global scale we can truly see.
And these times also suck for a break-up.
But after two years (minus the upcoming fortnight), my ‘Comet’ love just imploded.
Which finds me sobbing at 5.30am, having been awake since 3, thrashing over recent emails in my mind, composing a wide variety of
healthy destructive neutral unnecessary replies.
I’m 53, nearly 54: I’ve done a shit ton of break ups. I know about all the stages, in no particular order- the denial, relief, shock, sadness, rebound fuck, period of isolation, anger, care, ‘let’s be friends’, reunions, accusations, apologies, gratitude etc etc.
Some break ups evolve to friendship, and some certainly don’t.
But this fresh period right now, this stomach-churning, grief-stricken, anxiety-ridden, anger-fuelled maelstrom is exhausting.
One good thing though: the gag order about romance blogging has been blown up. I can write whatever the hell I want again.
Which of course I won’t do, because I’m 53, nearly 54, and I’ve done a shit ton of break ups.
However, I’m dancing every day, sometimes multiple times, to this song. Join me if it makes you tap your toes:
I know you may feel concerned about me. Trust that I am well-supported by dearest friends, have an excellent counsellor I can check in with, am well-resourced with YouTube philosophy clips on the poor choices we make because of our faulty attachment systems, and am being cuddled by my superb son ‘Nearly20.’
I will be OK. I know this.
But right now, I am going to channel my energy into creativity, so come along for the ride if you’ve missed me.
In gratitude for the release of writing & dance, G xO