Bad liver and a broken heart

In a weird way this is probably the most free I've ever been, or ever will be.

"People are always saying you should be yourself, like yourself is this definite thing, like a toaster. Like you know what it is even."

3 days back in Sweden. I'm starting to feel some kind of... calm? I guess that's it. The immense LIFE-stress is subsiding and my heart, which has been on par with the one of a hummingbird, is starting to go back to a normal heart rate. Swimming in the sea, burning my legs in the sunshine, drinking red wine with my auntie and sitting in my friends house feeling welcome and missed. Riding my dad's bike back home from town at 1am, in the pitch black with the sound of the wind and crickets drowning out whatever feeling I'm still carrying with me.
I could even read the text I got from him without dying a little bit.
I'm sure there will be more of that dying feeling though.
I think of any life-changing event like this as a massive earthquake. Destruction, ashes, fires and tears. And just like with an earthquake there will be a series of mini-quakes following. The big quake will set of more destruction, perhaps not as dramatic or devastating, but enough to leave you feeling winded and scared.
So I guess at the moment I'm enjoying the cal before the next mini-quake. Gathering emotional supplies and strengthening my defences.
 On Monday I will drive down to Berlin. Maybe that's my next city.

Lucky strikes reminds me of my friends down on the west coast

Back home.
Home, where after a while you lose track of the days, and eventually don't know if its sea water or tears causing that salty taste on your lips.

Darling, darling you're good to go

Packed, all cried out and ready for the next step. Sort of, anyway.
It's almost more difficult to say goodbye to my friends than it was saying goodbye to my ex. Maybe because NOTHING GOOD will come from saying goodbye to my amazing, lovely, clever, all round best friends. Nothing whatsoever. So I'm hoping for plenty of Scandinavia-trips for them, och plenty of UK trips for me. And less tears. I'm so sick of the tears.

He called me today and it remains so hard to hear his voice and not get completely taken over by love.

"This life has been a test. If this had been an actual life, you would have received instructions on where to go and what to do"

Opening up my windows, wide to let the air in. It's raining, again and the sky is dark grey. The weather is so insanely depressing and I guess this will go down in history as the summer which never really started. "Summer 2012: The most depressing few months of your life!"

My mum is arriving today. My clothes are packed. I could do with a g&t and got an overwhelming urge to dress in flannel and listen to grunge (that last bit is probably linked to my 90s binge).
I have this need to re-invent, refine myself. I want to throw my clothes away and buy a whole new wardrobe, (I guess that is breakup 101?) but what if I do in an emotional fit of insanity and then regret it once I come to my senses again? I'm slightly concerned I will wind up taking the kitchen scissors to my hair and go back to some kind of weird 90s grunge goth look. Loads of eyeliner and dark lipstick.
Better stay away from my kitchen drawers and my wardrobe.

If all else fails I'm moving to Kiruna to work in the mines

I need to stop focusing on the things I will miss and shift my focus onto the things which I will be happy to fly away from (see: rubbish in the streets, crap job, the snoring and the lonely Saturdays).
It's my last few days here and I still can't allow myself to break down and cry, I can't stop and feel how much it hurts and I can't allow myself to stay in bed with the duvet over my head. I'm terrified of letting go and feeling all this SHIT that's surrounding me. I don't want to and I simply can't afford to.
So yeah. Shifting focus. Bad things. Like his constant farting and the rain.

Curing heartbreak with falafel

Packing is a lot harder than I thought it would be. It actually physically hurts and I just want to lie flat on the floor and cry whenever I find something which reminds me of us. I Christmas card addressed to the both of us, a print out of flight information, a receipt from a restaurant... Every little find hits me like a slap in the face and leaves me angry.
Yes, angry. I feel so royally pissed of that I hurt in this way. That I thought we were in it for the long haul, that I thought I had found my rock.
He's not my rock.
He might become a friend, but as far as trusting goes that's pretty much gone. So yes, I'm pissed off, hurt and mad that it didn't work out. And I'm furious at myself for being so deeply affected by it.

Having insane period pains and an all-mighty hangover doesn't help either. Cheers, universe.

Part 2

So part one of this breakup is over. Now I've got the rest of my life to deal with.
I can't believe it's been a month since that discussion, since those words were uttered and we stared down the depths, right by the end of a huge fucking emotional cliff.
A month of tears, talking and planning. Of avoiding, confronting and holding on.
Now he's away from the UK for 10 days and I have the flat to myself, to pack, drink and cuddle my friends. To watch all of "My so called life" and stare at a map, trying to figure out where to go next.

I'm sitting about in my robe eating Japanese rice crackers, looking out the dirty windows and trying desperately to feel anything. But I'm numb and all I can feel is that I'm thirsty. Not angry, sad, melancholic or upset. Just thirsty.
The fact that it's that basic feels oddly comforting.

Goodbyes

Tonight's the last night.
And all I want to do is run away and hide in a dark room.

Ew ew ew.

Happy looking couples makes me want to scream. Scream, drink gin and turn into a female version of Dylan Moran in 'Black Books'.

All I want is to hide in Stephen Fry's library and have him read to me while I drink gin

I don't understand how I can love him so much and at the same time just want to erase him from my memory.
(Well, don't be silly, of course I understand that, I'm just not happy about the whole god damn situation).
I find myself waiting up for him just to make sure he's had a good day and at the same time counting down the days until he's gone and I can start the process of getting over him. It's hurtful, confusing, painful and pretty much sucks more than I could ever imagine.
No amount of cheese toasties and episodes of My so called life will help.

Meh.

Tear it up, bring it down, start all over again

One of those mornings when I just wanted to weep into my pajama sleeves and drink cold tea. Or watch WW2 documentaries and eat cereal. Either way I didn't want to go to work and deal with people's petty issues, but what choice have I got really.
The time is running away and before I know it he will be on a plane to the other side of the world, I will be on my own with my boxes and bags, with my fears and hopes and general misery. And when he gets back I will be in a different country, taking refuge in the Swedish countryside while taking stock of my life (LIFE. What. The. Hell).

Being close to him is still the most natural thing in the word to me, it has been since we met and this is how we've been since we met. Now, if I was staying here this would become an issue. I can see so clearly how we would fall into old patterns, re-hash old feelings and end up resenting each other.
I don't want that to happen, I don't want to resent anyone. I just want to wake up and feel content and happy. Fuck it, I just want to wake up and feel ok.
There is something about this which feels strangely empowering, while at the same time leaving me incredibly powerless. 
It's like I am two different people; the strong, sensible, hopeful woman with gallows humour and a strong belief that everything is going to be ok, and the scared as shit, red-eyed heartbroken girl who wants to hide underneath the duvet.
Meh.
MEH! That's all I can say. I will now turn my brain off for the evening and watch the history channel until I fall asleep on the sofa. Enough thinking for one day.

It's like, the new thing

I'm like TOTALLY dead on the inside (it's like SO hot right now).

And the city sunshine made me smile for a minute

Escaped Edinburgh for a day and winded up wandering the streets of Glasgow with two lovely friends. Glasgow Pride Festival was on and the sun was out, it was as if the universe tried to cheer me up. I actually felt content for a few hours.
And sitting on my sofa back in the flat that night, with a cup of tea, talking to him, I felt closer to OK than I have been in a while.
Don't get me wrong, I think that the real hard part has only just begun. The breakdown is still ongoing and the re-build hasn't gotten my emotional planning permission yet. But the stone is rolling and there is no going back, no wishing it was different (I don't want to wish my life away) and the time to pack is getting ever closer.
Holy shit I'm terrified. What the hell am I meant to do with my life? (Funny. I asked myself this months back, I guess now at least I'm doing something. Without him, but for me.)

Regrets collect like old friends//Here to relive your darkest moments

Balancing on a very fine line between anger and numbness.
Oh, anger would make everything so much easier... It really would! If I could hate him, think of him as a selfish pig who hurt me and laugh at his shortcomings, well. It would be easier. Breakups are always easier if one person is a total dick.
But as he's not it makes it more difficult. I find myself looking for reasons to be angry with him, and then pulling back like I've burnt my fingers on a hot stove.

Anger, I guess, won't give me anything in the long run. So screw it, I'll revert back to being numb, leave Edinburgh for the day and try to stay out of the rain (rain, rain, rain, I swear to God, someone in this country better be building an ark.)

True that

"Future me needs to go back in time and punch present me in the face".

Today: A list

• Today's mood: numb with a touch of gallows humour.
• Today's craving: Creme Fraiche. And yes, that's just odd.
• Today's insight: I could probably do with a week off from live, socialising, mainly lying underneath a blanket in my parents house while watching Midsummer Murders.
• Today's escape: HBO's Girls. It really is just as good as everyone says.
• Today's plan for the future: Copenhagen. Maybe Denmark is the place to be?
• Today's addiction: My Harry Potter audio books read by Stephen Fry. I have not gone to bed without listening to it since this all kicked off and although I think it has kept my insomnia at bay it has also left me being totally reliant on it in order to sleep.
• Today's procrastination: Mapping out the way the soldiers in "band of brothers" went on Google Maps. It felt important at the time.
• Today's best: I haven't cried a single time.
• Today's worst: That's mainly because I am dead on the inside.

Tea, sleep and that strange numbness

I think I'm writing here for me to have some kind of proof of what I can get through. You know, a play by play analysis of the breakdown of one life and creation of another. I guess I'm still in the 'breakdown' stage (while anticipating the creation stage with an immense sense of fear).
I have no real idea as to where I will live in a years time. That's terrifying, but in a weird way I guess its a good kind of terrifying. I could go to Paris. I could go anywhere, technically. And when again am I to have the chance to just leave?

I know that emotionally I have shut down, I don't have any desire to confront loosing him. I'd rather imagine the possibilities I could create from this shit situation.
So instead of diving into the emotional rabbit hole I'd rather spend nights with my friends, cheese and wine. Cry, hug, laugh and listen to music. Sit in pubs and avoid the rain. Think about other cities and other feelings which will develop at some point, once I'm past the numbness.
Oh. And watch crap telly. You really can't go wrong with crap telly.

Like my coffee

I guess I am a lot stronger than I thought.

Maybe I'll move to Paris and learn French.
Maybe I'll finally earn some money and spend time drinking coffee in my Grandmothers kitchen.
Maybe, maybe I'll be fine. It has to be OK, it WILL be OK.

In a years time

I'm counting on sitting in the sunshine in a new city and toasting my amazing friends while congratulating each other for getting over the summer of 2012.

My neighbours are trying to drive me crazy

I swear to God, this building is a mad house (the thought of the Swedish house in the country becomes more and more alluring). If the next door-guy isn't having a screaming, swearing hissy fit then it's the people downstairs singing Bollywood songs and BUILDING something loudly.

Anyway. I guess that's besides the point.
It's just over 2 weeks left now. How scary is that? I haven't even started packing (but I have written an insane amount of lists). For someone who loves organizing things I find it utterly terrifying that I have to re-organize my entire life. I'm trying to ignore the emotional aspect of it all and focus on the practical stuff (e.g. where to live) and so far it seems to be a decent survival tactic.
Because that is what I'm doing at the moment. Surviving.
And I guess that is why I'm writing about it here, putting it all down makes me deal with it in a different way from when it's all just up in my head. Maybe I'm selfish, maybe I should keep this private and apart from the blog world.
I know that some people who read this will know me personally, might know my ex, even if only on a shallow level. And some people who read this will never have met me, will never even exist in the same space as me.
But somehow I don't, can't care. This is how I survive and this is how I make sense of the world. It helps. And in the spirit of my new, more selfish way of thinking, that makes me damn happy.

Red wine, dancing and sleepless nights (oh, and a whole lot of horrid drunk men)

Last night I remembered why I don't really like clubs anymore. They make me fee old, in spite of some people in the smoking area being old enough to be my parents, they make me feel tired and you're confronted by some of the dregs of humanity.
But drinking red wine, singing along to Bon Jovi and getting ready with a group of friends makes it worth it. It makes me a little bit sad that the pre-party is better than the night out, in my current state of mind it makes me draw comparisons with relationships (the start of them being great vs. the confrontation with the worst sides of humanity towards the end).
Anyway. Enough of my bitterness (but numbness/bitterness is a hell of a lot better than constant sadness).

I should get back to writing lists and planning my packing. Like, what the hell should I do with my CD's?

The odd feeling of numbness

Second morning in a row I haven't woken up with a crippling feeling of sadness, loneliness and anger. No tears, even. Just... numbness.
In all fairness I prefer this, this is tolerable. My comfortable non-emotional state is only temporarily disrupted by the occasional shiver of fear.
But maybe fear is good too?

In the midst of this I have never once doubted my decision to go home, I have been 100% certain that I am doing the right thing all along. That doesn't mean I'm not TERRIFIED. I mean, come on, I'm leaving the city and country which has been my home for 7 years to go back home to a country where I have technically never been a 'real' grown up. I don't know how ANYTHING works in Sweden, I couldn't even tell you what a carton of milk would cost you.
And I am leaving my friends. My beautiful, amazing, loving, caring, intelligent friends.... Yes, there are equally lovely friends over in Scandinavia but my Edinburgh friends have been with me since the start of my 20s and we have been through so much together.
So of course I'm terrified. I could actually pee myself with fear.

But the easy way out is not always the right way, and maybe it's time for me to grow up and tackle life on my own. Which I'm doing by moving back to my Mum and Dad. Makes perfect sense.

Friday blues and a lengthy rant straight from the heart

You turned around to me and reminded me that Friday was coming up. Because I'm always excited about Fridays, about the start of the weekend and that feeling you get when you leave the office on a Friday afternoon.
What you don't seem to understand, or perhaps what you don't want to understand, is that that person you think of, the girl who would smile brightly and get excited about the Friday night, is gone.
She disappeared that morning when you sat down with a sigh and opened up your heart, when you let all your worries about the future spill out.
She's gone. I cannot muster up any excitement, cannot seem to feel happy in spite of the future not being all doom and gloom.

And you need to realize this, you need to understand that you hurt me to the point that you changed me. I know it's horrible hurting someone you love, no one wants to be the cause of tears. But you can't shy away from this. I AM hurting, and part of me hope that when I'm gone you will cry as much as I have cried in the last week.
That girl who got excited about Fridays is gone.

I's sure I will find back to that happiness again, and I am sure excitement will find me, but you will not be involved. You had that girl. You had ME. I looked forward to the weekend because it involved sleep-ins with you, glasses of wine, time to talk and stay up late. But that is gone now and that person is locked away deep within me. Maybe someone else will lure her out, maybe other kind eyes and soft hands can revive that person I was who got excited about the little things.
But not you.
And I can't let you miss what you gave up voluntarily.

The story so far

• See the relationship you thought was 'the one' go down the drain.
• Call mother.
• Cry a lot.
• Quit job.
• Quit lease on flat.
• Buy flight tickets.
• Buy too many shoes.
• Drink too much wine.
• Smoke too many cigarettes.
• Await departure date.

Then what? I need a god damn guide book, like 'post-breakup life for dummies'. Such a shame popular psychology makes me break out in hives.

The value of glam rock

In spite of starting most days with a long cry I'm trying hard to get some kind of positive attitude in place. I haven't been able to listen to good music since this all started, out of fear I would break down to some heartbreaking indie love song. So I have dived in to the murkier sides of the music industry, The 90s manufactured pop, the 80s glam rock, the EUROVISION. So although my heart might be going all "All by myself" a la Celine Dion on me I'm trying hard to at least make my head go in a more... Whitesnake direction.

It's not like I'm BAILING out of the country

I feel like I'm constantly on the verge of breaking down in tears, wobbling about in life while trying to function. At times all I want to do is run away and hide in a bar with my friends, the next moment I just want to pull the duvet over my head and sleep for days.
There's so much stuff I have to sort out. Phone, new number, packing, address changes, clearing out all my stuff, making time for my friends, going to work, keeping on top of money and NOT HAVING A TOTAL BREAKDOWN in the midst of it. I don't even know how do deal with most of these things, I mean, why on earth would I know about shipping things across the north sea?
Oh I don't know. All I know is that today is the kind of day when I'd be better off in bed.

The cure

Emotionally unstable, the joys, the joys...

I make jokes about how my next boyfriend should be a well-paid Michelin-star chef (or Johnny Depp) and then I burst into tears over a cup of tea.
Great.
Awesome.
Mood stabilizers, anyone?

One day, one day, I'm gonna be ok

It's still grey in Scotland. I'm starting to think my mood is affecting the universe.
"Do you feel sad?" I asked him last night.
"Yes." He replied and then we both stared at the ceiling. The impending feeling of THE END creeping ever closer. In a few weeks we will be in different countries, and going from seeing each other every day for 2 years to not seeing each other at all will be one of the most brutal changes I have ever gone through.
I'm grateful I can talk to him.
And I'm very aware I haven't got the sole right to misery, fuck me, misery seems to be all around at the moment.
But there's no two ways about it, this is my 20s trauma. My Chernobyl. My massive earthquake which will cause mini-quakes for months to come. I joke about it, I go out for drinks, I go to work and I drop comments about how much I'm looking forward to being back in Scandinavia and how life might be better over there, once I can wake up in the morning without an insane feeling of DOOM.
But I can't deny this is hitting me pretty hard.

That sinking feeling

Fuck this. One moment I feel near OK, then in a heartbeat I realise that in a few weeks my whole life will be completely different, and he won't be in it anymore. I won't be able to go to him with my problems or concerns, show him silly things which makes me laugh or rely on a hug for protection and comfort. It will all be gone, it already is. And it hurts so bad it makes me want to be sick.
I just want to be at home, safe and far away from this feeling. I want to hide, forget and stop feeling like this.
I feel angry that I prioritized his happiness when he couldn't find it in him to prioritize mine, that I saw a future in spite of somehow knowing it wasn't the future he wanted. I feel angry with myself more than with him and I am so sick of this pain. I know they say time heals but it doesn't heal fast enough.

Quit your job.

I don't know who I would survive this without tea

All I really want to do is sleep.
When I'm not sleeping I'm thinking, thinking far too much. The grey weather sort of suits my mood and I feel like the sky is mourning with me in a way, mourning what we couldn't have.
Little things make me happy at the moment, breakups leave you with a distorted perspective. Solving my mobile phone contract-mess felt like the greatest achievement ever, and buying 4 pairs of new shoes instead of food seems perfectly natural.
I guess I SHOULD focus on finding out which city I want to live in, if I want to study or work, what I want to work with, saving money for a flat deposit... But at the moment figuring out what to bring for lunch to work is hard enough.

One day at a time

Drinking tea, eating some breakfast and trying to find some normality in the midst of the chaos.
I have been speaking to my Mum A LOT this last week, and now it's getting to the point that we have started planning the packing, the practicalities, the future in a way. It will be mad moving back to Sweden, completely mad. I have spent 7 years in the UK and I guess I haven't got a Swedish mindset anymore, in spite of longing for home this place has been IT for so long.
I'm ready to leave, I really am. If I wasn't I would have looked for ways of staying here. But it would have been so hard, too hard, and I would have felt lost for so long. And I would have missed him far too much.
This is better. My brain tells me it's better and that it will be a good thing in the end. But bloody hell I'm so scared.