Bonne fête...

Je ne pensais pas etre reveillée là tout de suite.

Mais bon, finalement, "your troponin is elevated. It could be a small hear attack or a clot on your lung". 

Du coup, je veille, avec un moniteur cardiaque pour la nuit. J'ai un peu plus d'anxiété que plus tot.

Et le dilemne de te contacter ou non semble bien un chouilla "first world problem".

Ma première nuit loin de ma Flora. Pour ta fête.

Bonne fête.

lose - lose situation.

Please don't reach out.

Don't contact me.

Don't let me know you're thinking about it.

I know you're thinking about it.

Words are too empty. I'm done with words. With wishes that life was what it's not. With not really being one of your priorities. I'm done with being an afterthought, an imaginary impossible alternative.

I'm actually real, you know.

Do you know?

But I suppose I don't matter that much, in reality.

And I suppose it's ok.

The moment has passed 

Please don't reach out.

Are you really going to stay silent?

Une parenthèse.

L'an dernier semble super loin tu sais.

Parfois j'aimerai bien te demander de m'offrir une parenthèse. Juste une nuit, juste une soirée, juste quelques heures.

Juste un moment à pretendre que rien n'a de conséquences. Juste un moment à s'échanger des mots d'amour. Juste un moment à imaginer ton coeur battre un peu plus vite en pensant à moi. Juste un moment à se laisser aller, à se replonger dans cette passion qui refuse de s'éteindre, alors même que je fais tout pour l'oublier. Juste un moment pour t'imaginer avoir envie d'être près de moi. Contre moi. En moi.

Mais c'est juste impossible. 

Et l'an dernier semble bien trop loin.

Anxiety night

Anxiety night and I've got noone to talk to.

Anxiety night and I have nowhere to write 

I need this place to be mine, to be unreachable. It's a coping mechanism. I NEED this place. So I moved it into a hidden space. Literally. I hope it's hidden enough. Is it hidden enough?

I'm feeling ridiculous - I'm thinking you wouldn't have noticed if I'd written anything new anyway. I'm probably giving myself too much credit there. You have better things to do than to check on my internal monologues to you. On my internal monologues to myself.

I feel so unseen & unloved. Forgotten. And ridiculous.

That's what anxiety does.

Anxiety rewrites everything in my mind, anxiety makes me believe all the distorted voices that have accumulated over the last 40+ years.

Pauvre conne. I'll call you if I'm bored. T'es impossible à vivre. As if anyone would ever want you. Noone gives a shit about you, seriously. You're a shitty parent. You have been forgotten. T'es vraiment ridicule. Stop crying, you're pathetic. Des crachats, c'est tout ce que tu mérites. You're such a bitch. If you think I'm enjoying being stuck with you. You're an abuser. We won't be meeting with you again. Sans moi t'es rien. Mon problème c'est toi. Si seulement tu n'existais pas, ma vie serait bien meilleure. Connasse. Je vais te donner une raison de pleurer. Ça va chier des bulles. Stop abusing me. I don't really care about you. Stop being so dramatic. Pull yourself together in front of the kids!

I don't know what to do with all of this. 

I'd like it to go away. It's never gone away. I don't think it'll ever go away. Could it please go away?

I'm not coping.

Writing isn't even helping.

I miss you Raphaël. I miss that you cared about what I felt or what I thought - even if I never thought you cared about what I needed or wanted. I miss you trying to reassure me. I miss you sounding like you cared about me.

I feel so unlovable.

I know I'm loved as a mum, of course. I know I'm actually indispensable to my kids, even if I constantly feel like a shitty mum.

But that's all I am.

And being a mum is also so draining. I'm so tired of holding everyone on my shoulders. I'm so tired of being responsible for everything. It's so scary too.

I almost wish I wasn't indispensable to them. I could just disappear. Noone else would care. 

And the anxiety would stop.

Please stop.

Spot on.

avoidance.

Tu sais, je t'ai effacé, un peu. Il a bien fallu. C'est bien que j'y sois arrivé, même. C'était pas gagné.

J'évite nos musiques. 

Je me distrais. 

J'étudie. 

Je me concentre sur le quotidien.

Tout sauf penser à toi.

Parce que quand je m'engouffre dans le manque de toi, c'est tellement douloureux que c'en est insupportable.

Break my heart again.

Sometimes, as I'm just getting on with life, as I'm plodding along, taking care of my kids, stuck into the nitty gritty of the neverending everyday stuff, I catch my breath.

I catch my breath and I realise that I'm missing you. And it hurts.

It's odd though. I don't really know what I'm missing. I mean, we're not the same people, we've both changed. I'm missing a dream, something that never was, something that probably never will be, something that I shouldn't be missing, since I've never really met it.

Something that might disappoint me was I to actually meet it.

Why the longing. 

Why? 

So not helpful. So painful.

I wish I could erase these last 7 months.

I really do.