I don’t smoke and I barely drink. If you ever met me you would understand why those statements are odd. I look like the kind that does both and more. Anyhow, that is irrelevant.
New Year’s Eve for me usually means lights off at 11:30 pm with my cell phone switched off to avoid the inane, often vapid text messages of how I should have a happy new year. Yeah, whatever. But last night I told myself it’s the last day of yet another ridiculous year of my laughable life. And look at how it’s ended. I really went out in style, didn’t I? Brought on a spate of changes that promised to alter everything I’d held familiar up until then. My murderous job and my beautiful, precious but unattainable love. Gone. The only difference this time round was I decided to let go. Big move, but heartbreaking nonetheless. Now here is a lesson learned: it does not matter who does the leaving. It cuts both ways. The person who walks away and the person who is left behind. It hurts for both. I’ve been on both sides of the net- almost always the dumped one. This time I needed to go. But THE PAIN IS THE SAME.
This New Year’s Eve, I thought impulsively, let me try and do it differently. So asked a couple of friends over, bought some wine, food and smokes. Did it all. Felt like such a king. The combination of intoxicants made me feel fantastic. Then I went to bed and the nightmares began. I have been a nervous wreck all day. Inside there is crying. Outside, dry tears. I am aching to weep but nothing comes and then I feel like a zombie.
What is happening to me? This is worse than tragic catharsis. I am feeling nothing, everything, nothing. I am scared. Paranoid. Afraid of leaving the house. Suffocated within it…
And at the bottom of it all is my one simple truth – I feel alone and lonely. Nothing has changed at all. My life is the same. Still intact in its lifelong shreds. Except there is more mourning to do, new grief, and even more emptiness than I ever thought was possible.