True and utter heartbreak.

cw/tw: loss, grief

My cat passed a few days ago. And now there’s a hole in my heart and my life.

Actually, there are holes all over the place. Everywhere.

I know grief. Deep, painful sorrow. But this feels like a whole new level of it. Because my cat, my handsome boy, was everywhere. Is everywhere.

I had to spend a couple days at my parents’ place because I couldn’t bear to be at home and be oh, so very aware of all the places that I wouldn’t see or hear him. And all the little things will really fuck you up. The grief made me tired so I tried – and often succeeded in – not being awake when it would’ve been his food or medication time. But it’s the things that you’re unaware of that will squeeze your throat and your heart. The things that you say or do before your brain can even compute that it’s not necessary anymore.

Like when I sat down to write this. I had taken my laptop to my parents’ house but not touched it in days, instead opting for my mobile phone. Consciously? Subconsciously? I don’t know. But once I’d set up my laptop, connected the keyboard and sat down, my first instinct was to tell him “you’re not supposed to sit there” because my boy, like cats do, loved walking across and sitting on my keyboard.

And there it was. That red-hot pain instead of the cold, creeping one.

It’s the silence that will get you.

This isn’t it.

[[Big, fat trigger warning right here]]

Haven’t been here in a while. Probably because my life is – and has been – quite literally on fire. Every aspect of it has gone pear-shaped in some way and I am struggling. I’ve been crying for days now because my body just…can’t stop. ED recovery has been relapse after relapse. Dermatillomania flares all over the place. And that’s just the physical things that I can see and feel at this moment. The very tip of the iceberg, so to speak.

I’m trying to do my best but honestly? Sometimes I wish people had let me kill myself almost thirteen years ago. Because this? This isn’t the future that was promised to me if “I just held on” or “stayed strong” or “kept going”. This isn’t what people mean when they say “it gets better”. And it sure as hell isn’t the life I fought for.

Why does it feel like I have to sell my soul or part of myself or whatever you might believe in to make it work? I constantly have to prove that I am worthy. Of love, of acceptance, of support, of help. And I can’t just say it. I have to yell it. Over and over again. Until my voice is raw and my body can’t do it anymore. It feels like everyone wants something and what do I have left to give? Nothing. Literally nothing. I don’t have anything. And even that is something I have to prove.

I’m tired. Of trying to convince people that I exist the way I do. Of trying to convince people that I exist the way I do and that I am still worthy. Despite.

I’m right here.

Look at me, for fuck’s sake. Look at me with my tear-stained face and my chapped lips and my wrecked body and my bloody hands. Because this is what life is like for me at this very moment. And it doesn’t matter whether you believe it’s “real” or “not an issue” or “not that bad” or that “other people have it worse”. Because this is it. And I will make you see it. I won’t let you look away.

Loss.

I heard about someone’s death a few days ago. I won’t go into details because it’s really not my story to tell but they hadn’t been doing great for a while now and even though I didn’t actually know them that well anymore, I did feel sad about their passing.

Ever since then, I’ve been getting hit with random grief waves. I know those waves and I know how to deal with them (and myself) when feeling particularly sad but I’ve been thinking about loss a lot lately.

I’ve not experienced many big and/or painful losses in my life so far but the ones that I have experienced really made me feel like a hole had suddenly opened up in the middle of my chest, a canyon of grief, threatening to swallow me whole. And it was very acute, too. Boom. Pain.

But in the past few days, I’ve been thinking about how some losses are not like that at all. Some of them are very slow and almost…imperceptible. You only notice what’s happening when you really look at the situation. And that’s because it’s not a loss caused by death. Not in the general sense, at least.

I used to have a friend. Met them about 12 years ago, I want to say. I didn’t have friends back then. Only one, really. And them, of course. We were close, I’d like to think, sharing huge parts of our lives for a very long time. But we had our own paths to carve and monsters to slay so sometimes communication got a little slow or one-sided. It was fine, though. As I said in my other post this week, I want my friends to succeed always. And they were so important to me, I couldn’t even bring myself to be jealous or envious of their life going well. I was genuinely so happy. Celebrated every little victory.

Unfortunately, and I don’t know why, all communication has slowed to a halt now. The last time we spoke was a quick exchange on New Year’s. And even before that we hadn’t really talked in months except for a short message here or there.

I’ve sent messages, just to ask how they’re doing. They read them, I can see that they did, but I’ve gotten no reply. And I generally don’t want to pressure people into replying immediately because real life happens sometimes. But it’s been over six months now and I don’t think I’ll get one.

And that’s the kind of loss I’m talking about, I guess. I think that’s what makes it so painful, too. Because there wasn’t a life-altering event like a huge fight or death (as in “one of us dying”) that means “this is the end”. I don’t know what happened. I reckon it just stopped…being something, at some point.

And I’m a bit torn, honestly. Because I’m currently in a state of “I don’t actually know”. I feel like I’m in-between, somehow. I don’t know whether it’s over. Because I really, really want to grant people the benefit of the doubt, you know? I’ve got no idea what’s going on in their life. Maybe something big happened and they need time? But I also don’t know. It could also be their way of saying “hey, I’ve grown as a person and I think I’ve outgrown this relationship but I don’t know how to communicate that”. Or, and I have other friends who deal with insecurity, they just don’t know what to say. Because we haven’t spoken in a while or whatever else.

I guess I’ll keep waiting.

It hurts, though. Because they’re not dead and gone. They’re out there, existing. And yet there’s a profound sense of loss and heartbreak. Because they were a really big part of my life for such a long time and I have a lot of love for them and I’d like to know what’s happening in their life. Even if just to share their happiness for a moment.

Their birthday is coming up at the beginning of November. That makes it even harder. The most difficult part is though when someone asks about them. Came up in conversation a few days ago. I almost cried then and there.

I kinda feel like I keep losing. Like… I never stop going through that moment of “oh, they’re gone now, I’ve lost them”. That doesn’t stop. It’s continuous loss and grief.

But I’ll keep hoping.

Tired.

I’m not entirely sure what to say. Mainly because I’m currently so depressed that my brain refuses to work properly and forming sentences takes ages.

I’d been doing relatively well. I can’t remember when I last checked in here but I think I talked about a possible job opportunity and also moving out.

Well. Both those things happened and both those things turned out to be somewhat nightmarish.

The apartment’s fine. (Sort of. It could use some renovations but the landlord’s an asshole, so. Chances of anything being done are very slim.) The upstairs neighbors are the real problem though. They simply have no consideration for others. I’ve been woken up by their fighting innumerable times now. Yes, even really early on Sundays. I’ve also been kept awake by their washing machine which, for some unknown reason, was going at almost midnight. No loud noises after 10? Doesn’t work for them. Also, they literally do not care. They insist they’re not being loud.

The roommate is the other issue. I’m not sure what their deal is but they, too, do not seem to care that they’re living with another person. At this point, I truly believe that they think it’s their apartment and I’m…a guest? Or…someone who just rents a room? Which is not true, of course. I pay half the rent. But they don’t seem to care. And I’m sick of it. Long story short, there have now been many things that pissed me off royally. And yes, I’ve tried making things better. I’ve tried all. the. things. But they don’t care. Just keep on doing things the way they want to. Could it inconvenience my roommate? Who cares?

So yes, I’ve been looking for a new apartment for about 8-9 months now. Mind you, I moved in last September. We’re getting real close to ‘unbearable’, at this point.

The job sucks as well and I’ll probably be quitting really soon. (Once I’ve gathered enough energy to make an appointment with my boss.) I simply can’t risk my health like that. It’s another long story that I cannot get into right now, but it’s basically a very stressful job (on my feet for about 8 hours, doing the work alone) and I’m so anxious about work that I stop eating. And sleeping. You combine that with constantly thinking about work, even when I’m not there and you get a mess of a human. And as someone who’s in ED recovery and has dealt with severe insomnia in the past, that’s just not something I can – or want to – do.

I did start a new hobby a while ago and it’s been going really well. I’m having fun and I met some great people. But recently I’ve been struggling. Not with being creative, necessarily. But being creative while friends are creative in the same space. Not sure that even makes sense. And my friends are a bit of an issue, as well. Not the people themselves, obviously. But knowing what I know about them makes it hard to exist in the same space, sometimes.

I know it’s not a race. We’re not competing against each other. And honestly? I want them to have everything. Therapy is working out so well for them that they’re not struggling with anxiety anymore? Fantastic. It really is. I’m so happy. And I’d never want them to struggle the way I do. I’d never want them to have to go to therapy for two years and only improve slightly because their issues run so deep. I’d never ever want that for them. But it is just….really overwhelming and discouraging and exhausting to exist next to someone who’s having an easy time of it, you know? Is it cool to see them create things in a matter of hours because they’re not being held back by anything? Of course. But it’s hard to watch sometimes when I know for a fact that pulling off the same thing would take me weeks. Am I glad they found and started a job two weeks after beginning the search? Absolutely. But it’s difficult to be there for it when I’ve been searching for years.

And again, I really want them to have these things. I want them to succeed and be happy. I’m just…sick of waiting. Waiting for the big chance to come around, for the dream to come true, for the good news. And once in a blue moon, when these great things do come my way, they turn out shit and it’s back to waiting.

(Also, just to clarify: I’m actively looking for jobs and apartments. I’m not actually just sitting around and waiting. But that’s kinda what it feels like. Because life is speeding by and I’m still here, waiting. And you might think: well, you need to do more. You’re not trying hard enough. And uh…I honestly do not know what else I could do. My brain is going 200 a minute, trying to figure out things I haven’t yet tried to make life better or different or build a future and I’m literally driving myself crazy with anxiety.)

Anyways…all of this to say. Hi, I’m not doing well. I didn’t know where else to talk about it.