The mother returned home from France on Monday evening. As a surprise for her, we painted the kitchen a fine shade of ‘Sienna’, and nailed up a few French looking pictures. Her face said it all when she walked into the kitchen , pure happiness washed over her and she thanked us all for our kind-heartedness. Of course, I only painted around the shelf and gave my opinion on which picture should go where. Not because I am lazy (or allergic to paintbrushes) It’s simply because my sister can decorate better than anyone and loves to take charge. Not that I was complaining, I wasn’t in the mood to change into my old paint stained combats from 1999. I was rather content lounging around, wearing my £3.99 pink Primark pyjamas.
How am I feeling? Well 6 weeks have passed by now and all of that sadness, hurt and despair has now turned into a sense of calm. I’m no longer dwelling on ‘us’, crying myself to sleep and staring at pictures of us together, smiling and looking happy. I am actually starting to really move on. I never hid my emotions away, when I needed to shed tears I let them fall. When I needed to be alone, I spent time with myself. When I needed to be with people, I surrounded myself with life. When I needed to talk, I voiced my thoughts. It’s never a good idea to pretend you’re ok. Just always go with your emotions and never swallow your sadness because it will only regurgitate itself in time. Of course I cleansed him from my system, but in a way in which I could cope and let him gradually fade away.
However, he sent me a text message yesterday afternoon (I didn’t reply) but later in the evening I found myself having a real conversation with him for the first time in ages. I spoke about life and what I want from it, he spoke about his music and how much he loves to play guitar (he did an Esmee Denters and youtubed). I admitted that I had a ‘date’ on Sunday. We discussed it for a little while but he soon changed the subject. I won’t lie, I wanted to see what his reaction would be but he never gives much away, he never did. He informed me that he might be coming home in around 3 weeks (week off you see). With him being a walk away, I can’t say whether I’ll see him or not. All I know is that longing feeling I once felt for him has washed away. Of course it would be good to see him but I don’t feel excited or have the need to count down the days on a calendar. I will never forget the hurt he caused me, but perhaps as I person I’m too ‘nice’ and like to keep my life simple and peaceful. I hate hating people and detest surrounding myself with negativity. In my ideal world we would all hold hands, sing happy songs and hug trees. In the words of Alanis Morissette ‘I’ve got one hand in my pocket, and the other one is giving the peace sign’
Contentment to me is listening to The Kooks, eating branflakes from the box, a sunny day, a smile and writing in my journal. I’ve been doing this a lot lately (due to all this free time) which of course has been really good. I remember working for 45 hours a week, standing in the pouring rain at 6:30am, doing a 10 hour shift, coming home, going out, coming home at 2am and then having to wake up at 5am. I was busy and rich(ish) and I loved it. My whole life has changed in the matter of months and instead of my usual routine and the running around, it has been replaced with freedom and care free walking. This will change very soon, but I have really enjoyed having the ability to just stop, analyse my life and catch up on some much needed sleep.
