“I understood myself only after I destroyed myself. And only in the process of fixing myself, did I know who I really was”
While we’re on the subject of the past, let’s take a little trip back to almost one year ago. We’re going back to china for this one. It’s January 27th, I’m lying in a bed in a tiny hotel room and I am completely alone. The curtains are shut, the ashtray is overflown and the phone is ringing off the hook.
The last thing I wanted to do was talk to anyone, so whoever it was could go away and stop bothering me, for all I cared. Eventually, after the 10th time they called, I answered. It was my wake-up call, which id arranged for 8am, so as to leave me enough time to double check my suitcase and get a bit of shopping in for last minute gifts. It was the day of my departure from china.
I hadn’t slept a wink. I lay there all night staring blankly at the ceiling, without blinking. Time seemed to stop and my breathing seemed to be louder than normal. The bed was surrounded with empty water bottles. After the breakup, my body went into shock. With that, the stress and malnourishment of the last however many months, my body just stopped in its tracks. I had run it into the ground. My entire system was flushing itself of all liquids, food and emotion that I had in my body.
The night before, which was my last night in the city I was living in, my ex came to my hotel room to see if I was ok. I begged and pleaded with him to stay with me for one last night. Just so that I could hug him, as I loved to do. I wanted one last night of compassion before I would start my journey in life, and on a plane. He declined the invitation, which now, I am grateful for.
I met him at the local café around the corner form my hotel, early that afternoon. I was incapable of speaking. All I could do was cry, cry and cry some more. We then did a bit of shopping at the electronics market, where I also spent the entirety of the time crying and coughing up bile from the insane amount of cigarettes that I had been smoking. After that, we both went back to my hotel to collect my luggage and to call a taxi to take me to the airport.
My last minutes with the man that I loved lasted about an hour, but felt like a minute. Before I knew it, the taxi had pulled up outside the hotel and my eyes started to swell again. I was riveted to the chair, unwilling to move and incapable of motion. Eventually, I made it outside, with the encouragement from him. The taxi driver had loaded my stuff into the car leaving me stood, looking into the eyes of my now ex-boyfriend. Those eyes had no feeling behind them. There was no puffiness, no sorrow, no remorse, just emptiness, which made me feel even worse. There was no denying it anymore. The time had come for me to say goodbye. I went to get in the taxi ran back and took him in my arms. It was so, so hard to let go. I got into the taxi and we started to go. I text my friend in England as soon as we started to move:
“I can’t do this. I can’t do this alone.”
The car drew further and further away and I lost vision of him in the crowds of the busy street. That was the last time I saw him.
Sitting on the plane, on the way home, I was about to land at London Heathrow. I took a deep breath. It was now or never. I had a choice: I could either stand tall and accept the help from those who were offering it, or I could continue in my denial and telling myself that we were going to get back together one day. I touched down, collected my belongings and walked through the door into the arrivals lounge. I could see my mum and my friend, waiting for me, eager with anticipation. I saw the look on my mums face as soon as she clocked eyes on me, which confirmed everything I knew. I looked like shit. I waddled over to her with every last bit of energy that I had, dropped my suitcase on the floor and collapsed in her arms. I made it.
A few days after I returned home, I was sat in the living room with my mum and some friends. Our friends left, after dinner, and she went downstairs to see them out. I went to stand up. All of a sudden my head went dizzy, my vision became blurry and the next thing I know, I was on the floor, coughing up all sorts of crap and straining to breathe. I was put to bed and mum kept a close eye on me. That night, I came close to death. The years of abuse, torture and pain had finally caught up with me. I was done. The lights became dimmer and my breathing shallower. My body was firing up a temperature so hot that you could have boiled an egg on my forehead. I didn’t know it then, but I was close to the edge. My mum put her hand on my forehead as I wept that I couldn’t go on anymore. I had nothing left to live for. She caressed my hair and told me that she loved me and that she was going to look after me, and with that, I fell into a deep sleep which lasted for days.
A couple of months later, I made the decision to cut my ex-boyfriend out of my life for good. The longer I spoke to him, the more I reminded myself of all of the horrible things that had happened during our time together. I didn’t deserve that torture anymore. When there is poison in your life, you need to get rid of it, no matter what the cost. We haven’t spoken since the summer.
It has taken me a year to get to where I am today, but it didn’t come without struggle. I look back on pictures and Facebook updates from the past and I don’t recognise myself. There is still, as I’ve said before, a part of me that will always remember the man that I once loved, but there is a bigger part of me that remembers a time where I lost myself completely, along with all sense of hope. When we don’t have hope, we have no reason to function. Now, I am full of hope, I’m full of ambition and I’m full of experience.
I had originally planned to write this to coincide with the one year anniversary of the breakup of my relationship, but I feel like it is relevant to post now. It takes a good amount of strength, courage and ‘balls’ to muster the ability to say goodbye to everything that you’ve ever known. I have said goodbye to every aspect of my past life up to now, except one: My ex-boyfriend.
This is where I say goodbye to him and the life that we once had. Good times and bad. You have to let go of these things, for if you don’t, then they will control every fibre of your body. I’m not going to start a “new year, new me” thing, as I find that everyone is doing that, with little or no effort to actually achieve it. Instead I am going to stop writing about my past relationship and concentrate on the present. I am sure that along the line there will be things that I bring up, for example purpose only, but as of now, it stops, and I have to let go.
Goodbye, my lover
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