I went out for dinner with a few friends the other night. Nothing fancy, just burgers on Kloof Street. And as I sat there enjoying my meal, I realised that I had been in the same place with the same people about three weeks ago – just ten days after the breakup. And I remembered how I felt then. I remembered the numbness and the searing pain and the almost complete lack of appetite. And something imperceptible shifted in me at that moment as I realised things
had actually changed.
Sure I was still feeling deeply sad and a bit confused and angry. And of course I was still living with this great, big boyfriend-sized hole in my life. But as I sat there in the light of the tea candle, I realised that I really had moved on emotionally. Even if it was only just a tiny little bit.
The joy of discovering something about yourself by accident, the tentative emerging of hope for the future, these are the grand triumphs of my days at the moment. They seem like things we take for granted, or are of only minor importance in the landscape of a whole life. But for me right now they are the finger and foot holes in the scramble that I am making back up the slope of a life gone unexpectedly awry.
I have to say that The Therapist is certainly helping with this. It's funny, I always saw therapy in one of two ways – either as a self indulgent, navel gazing crutch for the weak or something I advocated for people I cared about who were teetering on the edge of total annihilation. I never really saw it for myself. My self-image has always been of a strong and resourceful woman, one that is a survivor and sensible enough never to get into a situation too deep to get out of. But somehow the emotional brokenness that I have recently come to identify with myself is apparently able to live side by side with these other personal characteristics.
And so once a week I have been sitting on a sofa and chatting about my life, the characters in it including family and friends, choices that I have made and the way that I feel about stuff. I have come to realise some pretty fundamental things about myself that are in no way earth shattering for anyone else. Like, I understand how much I like to be looked after – who knew that? It's not really something that anyone would identify with me, but there you are. It changes nothing really but my own understanding of myself. And almost certainly how I will move forward with any future relationship, my expectations of it, and the way in which I relate to the other person.
And that is where the real change has emerged. You see, I am actually thinking that one day I may find someone else with whom I will form a trusting relationship. I am no longer terrified of a lonely and empty next 50 or 60 years, without this one person. I am starting to believe that I may find someone else to love and nurture – and who will look after me.
And then I start to panic a bit. I am nowhere near ready yet to start that journey. But the first tiny steps have been taken the past week. I still cry all the time, but the tentacles of lightness and hope have started to form deep within. There is still much work to be done on that sofa and who knows what I will learn about myself and my relationships this week? I'll let you know...
Week 1: In the beginning...
Week 2: Cry me a river
Week 3: The angry phase
Week 5: Happy birthday to me
Week 6: More than 21 days