volcanic's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- clean if not happy So... Today's not a good day. It hasn't been a particularly bad day, either, but nevertheless, I haven't enjoyed it. I've been to work, and got very stressed about a Mental Health Review Tribunal (which is a very Serious and Grown Up affair) which was adjourned at the last minute, thanks to a very arsey solicitor (who had the cheek to say to me "Well, seeing as you're a nurse, I can't assume you've got any knowledge of the Mental Health Act"... Quite how he thinks I got to be a senior staff nurse on a bloody secure unit without said knowledge is beyond me, but there you go...) So yes, work was, well, work-y... One of my colleagues was asking me about the whole sordid Arthur thing, and she commented " You know, you're not at all as devastated as I was expecting you to be..." And she's right, to an extent. I'm not at all as devastated as even I thought I'd be. I did think that it would hurt more, and that I'd feel a lot lower, and a lot more hard done by than I do. I'd like to say that I've perfected the ACME patent prophylactic heartbreak treatment, but I haven't, I'm afraid. I kept a couple of little pieces of wisdom close by me, though. One of them was "facts, not feelings"- which basically means that I've kept the facts uppermost in my mind. It's very hard to feel like you've lost someone wonderful when you remind yourself of how very hurtful and difficult they've been. But y'know, I'm not some hard-faced old bag. I do still hurt at times. I think because I've retained some control and haven't turned it all into some kind of undignified melodrama that some people think I've gone past caring. And I haven't at all. There are still songs that I hear on the radio that get me thinking of me and him together. I drove past the Abbey on the way home tonight, and it's old and floodlit and beautiful, and it put me in mind of Amiens cathedral, when Arthur and I sat and watched the son et lumiere there in September, tired and stoned and hungry and very much in love. And one of our close friends- the one who introduced us- has just had a baby girl, so I've been round at their house this week, and it felt very odd just being there as single old me. I don't want him to be my boyfriend. I don't even know quite how he'd fit into my life as a friend, given that my friends, are mostly generous and thoughtful and emotionally intelligent and sorted people, who don't throw tantrums and sulk and act out all the time. But I do feel very, very sad that he stopped loving me as much as he did. I feel incredibly shocked still that someone's feelings towards me could change so drastically without me doing anything to precipitate them. I think, generally, I'm still hurting inside. And for once I don't feel the need to wear my heart on my sleeve and impose my doom and gloom on anyone else except a very select chosen few. But it still hurts. I'm lucky in that the opportunities to throw myself into my work have opened up over the past few weeks, and as a result I'm busy and occupied. But when I'm at home, and I'm on my own, and I'm back to contemplating weekend evenings in on my own, it all starts to feel very grim. It would be so easy to text him right now, because texting is very abstracted when you want it to be, and very short and sweet. All I'd need to say would be "Hey You! What're you up to?" or something like that. But I can't do it, because then I get into some kind of waiting game scenario, which is neither healthy or productive. Bollocks. I'm so bad at being patient and waiting for things to pass naturally, bad at letting the cycles move at their own speed. This sucks, big style. And now I'm going to have my bath, because tomorrow's another day, and even if I can't face it happy, at least I'll be facing it clean. 10:44 a.m. - 05.02.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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