My metaphor is a grenade

I have been single for close to 100 days after having been in a relationship for close to seven years. In the past 100 days, I have experienced varying emotions - anger, denial, acceptance, fear, loneliness, regret and grief. The Han Chinese mourn for 100 days after the death of a loved one. What is 100 days in comparison to 2,000 days or a lifetime of having known somebody? Loss is colossal. Monumental. A life altering event. 

The best diet is called “heartbreak”, you lose kgs without even trying. I googled “heartbreak” the other day. It is apparently a real condition in which your heart literally breaks inside and your physical body suffers the same way as your heart. I should know. I have nights where I curl into a ball and cry into my pillow. I have days at work (when I should be at my strongest because work is the only place that remains untouched) where I find my thoughts flying in between memories and what-could-have-beens. I could not read emails prior to 1 January 2015 because these emails with a time stamp on it reminded me too much of who I once was when I was with somebody who loved me entirely and whole heartedly. And so I drift in and out of time as the seconds tick by, as the days pass by seemingly oblivious to my broken heart. 

I have in the process managed to drag my family and friends into my emotional turmoil and alienate them. To the point that my own mother has contacted he-who-shall-not-be-named to beg / convince / persuade him to reconsider and take me back. She was unsuccessful evidently. On one particular low day, I drove myself to he-who-shall-not-be-named’s house because I wanted to speak to him. I acted like a complete psycho on the loose. What could I possibly have said that will make things better? The word “sorry” appears to be somewhat inadequate after all the destruction I have created. I don’t know. I function on pure impulse and emotion. My genetic flaws. That was the day I was almost issued with a restraining order. The depths of desperation I went to, just to be loved again. I believe I am ultimately worthless unless I am loved. 

I was unsuccessful on all attempts at contact. Thankfully, my mother has given up. We had numerous conversations. Discourses. Discussions. Arguments even. Sometimes I think she is having a harder time dealing with the aftermath than me. She makes it known that I have blown my only chance at happiness and that I have no one else to blame but myself. We dissect my character to great detail - my impatience, my selfishness, my indecisiveness. My inherent inability to love, honour and sacrifice. 

The path to redemption is long and hard. And if there is any lesson at all to be learned from this is - never take people (or love) for granted. They may not be around forever.