I've been thinking about this since Creature Comfort (1st April 2016) aired. It was originally a one-shot but will now be a three parter of which I have almost finished part 2. I'm sorry if it's rubbish and for any spelling / grammar errors.
At first, its ok – or at the very least you can pretend it is. It's a skilled exercise in denial as you try to carry on as though absolutely nothing at all has changed. You don't really like to think of it as lying. It isn't as though you are committing it to words, or trying to bring other people in to it. It's just the way your mind chooses to work. You can think of how everything will go back to normal. You plan it out in your head – and it makes sense. Of course you have to ignore a few key points, and fight to quiet down the little nagging voice in the back of your head – but it's a small price to pay.
At one point you find yourself holding your mobile phone. You have the message screen up and a number ready and waiting. Your fingers hover over the keyboard ready to type a message. You want to enquire as to how their holiday is going. Even though you know full well it isn't a holiday; or at the very least it isn't a temporary one. But it's easier to think of it as being a holiday. You return from a holiday. You come back. And that is what you are hoping for. The text message is never sent of course. It's never even typed out either for fear that your finger would slip and hit send. But you sat there for far too long contemplating it.
It takes almost a month for your façade to break. To an extent you had been expecting it, but somehow the way it happened was almost disappointing. It wasn't something earth shattering. It wasn't even a point of note. Just a throwaway comment from a colleague that you couldn't get out of your head. They weren't even talking to you. You shouldn't even have been in that room. But now the bubble has been burst.
It's then that you become angry. At first you are angry with your colleague, though you know that is wrong – and that makes you angry at yourself. You hate feeling that way but the feeling won't leave no matter how hard you try. You don't want to give in to it. You don't want the emotion to feel the satisfaction of winning – and the illogical nature of your thought patterns makes your anger all the worse.
You are angry with them too. After all, if they hadn't left you this whole sorry situation would not have resulted. You very nearly delete their number from your phone in a fit of annoyance, and in a fit of temper – and with the thought that, this will show them – you very nearly unfriend them on social media. And in truth, they may not even notice that you had done so for some time; considering how infrequent your updates are anyway. And if they were to realise that would hurt their feelings, and you don't want that at all. And so you cycle back towards being angry with yourself first and foremost.
It is only when you move away from anger that you consider that you are working your way through the stages of grief. Not that you have experienced a death, but you feel that same pain at the loss. You fear it. You waited too long to realise how you felt, and now you have been left empty and hurting.
You flit back and forwards in to anger, and even cycle back in to your denial at times. You try to convince yourself that you aren't really feeling at all. That this is all just some big trick at your expense. After all what right do you have really to think this way. You want to deny the feelings you have, after all you managed to conceal them before. You had your chance, and you let it go. You let them go. So at the end, it all comes back to being your fault.
You don't even realise there is anything actually "wrong" with you until you overhear a comment at work. You aren't your normal self they say. Someone jokes that perhaps it is a change for the better, but they are quickly admonished. You've changed. There's something that needs to be fixed. But it's not something a practice full of medics have a cure for. They try though. They try to drag you in to different things, but your participation is half hearted. Your laugh is never quite genuine, even when you know something to be humorous. Even in the early days, you were not like this. You were easier to deal with when you were in denial. You were more like yourself then, though you were not fully in the present.
When you are pulled to one side by a friend for a quiet word, you try to put on an act. You laugh when they make a suggestion as to what is wrong. For a moment, you even try to pretend that you have moved on, but that only makes things worse. It makes you angry that you could think that way – and yet you feel you have no right to these feelings. That comment is what results in you being dragged out on a "lad's night". Plenty more fish – they tell you. Not even like you were in a relationship – they say with a smile. Someone even makes a comment about not being left at the alter, but that causes a sour atmosphere. It gives you the excuse to leave.
By the time six months have passed, you think you should be at the point of acceptance. You can't keep up this cycling through emotions. You cannot keep waiting for the day when you suddenly, inexplicable feel like yourself again. You try your own form of therapy. You try to cut down on the time you spend thinking about them, but it backfires quickly. You find yourself staring for too long at a photo of the two of you together. You don't even know how you came to have that photo in your hands, but you lost hours just staring in to the depths of it. As though you could sink back in to that time and place – as if you could go back and change things from that moment onwards.
But you know better than that. You replay moments in your head, and try to alter the ending. You think of that last goodbye. You think of how you should have prevented them going, and how you should have played it differently. But you know deep down that you wouldn't. You know that this is how your story was supposed to play out. That two people such as yourselves would lead lives that way. But it doesn't make it any easier. It's easier to play out the what ifs. It's easier to think of the way things could have been, than to think of the way they will be.
You wonder how life is for them. Whether they are feeling the same as you, and whether this torrent of feelings has plagued them in the same way. In some ways you hope that it has, but in others you wouldn't wish this on anyone – and least of all them. You want them to be happy, and to enjoy life – but you cannot quite contemplate how you are supposed to do the same.
At seven months, you see a photo on social media. You don't remember why you logged in, but it was the first time that came up on your timeline; posted just minutes previously. You lose yourself in that image. All of the feelings bubbling in your chest, as you take in each and every detail you are presented with. You feel a twitch at the smile on their face; how it almost splits their face. Eyes sparkling with a happiness you doubt you'll ever feel again. An arm slung around their shoulders draws your eye to another body. A male figure with a smile just as wide. They are dressed up; enjoying life; enjoying each other. You read so much in that one still shot, and feel the daggers against your heart. You consider leaving a comment, but your fingers feel numb. You just about manage to hit like.
It hurts that they've managed to move on. You want to be happy but how can you be really when that should have been your arm around their shoulders. A week after you go out. You get way too drunk and don't really remember much. You wake up with a phone number written on a scrap of tissue, and you cannot even bring to mind a face. You ring the number three days later, and arrange a date though you aren't entirely sure your heart is in it. But it's a start after all.
At 8 months, she posts a photo of the two of you. You don't even remember when she took it, but almost immediately your colleagues are liking it. They all tell you how good it is to see you looking so happy; how she is a lovely girl. You know what they are all thinking though; that it took you long enough. You know they are making comparisons because you make them yourself. You smile though. You act happy because actually things aren't as bad as before.
When you next log in to your social media though you freeze. One comment is all it takes. One comment and all you can hear is her voice in your mind. One comment that means little, but suddenly it consumes you whole. One comment is enough to send the house of cards tumbling down, though you cannot quite work out why.
Lookin' good Haskey