I’ve been pensive of late.  It’s a milestone sort of time – I reached the one year mark with the beautiful ‘a’ on the weekend, and the days of my twenties are numbered.  Such things make you think.

I’m tired of being a ‘glass half empty’ sort of girl.  I have so much in life to be thankful for.  I could list them all, but I’m sure they’ve all been mentioned before.  So why, in the midst of all this loveliness, do I still seek out nasty things to hold on to?

Hate and jealousy are really ugly emotions and I reckon I’ve nearly done them to death.  I’ve been with ‘a’ for a whole, fun, wonderful, glorious year.  Why do I still focus on the things that happened before we got together?  Things that are of no relevance now.

It’s funny how we grow up, and we gain confidence and we start to judge ourselves on our own merits.  And all it takes is one flirtatious popular girl and we’re the high school misfit again.  And all the confidence just seeps away.  And we see all the things we’ll never be.  The boobs we’ll never have and the boys who will never be interested in us.

I’ve been there, and I’ve done that – for way too long, and now it’s time to move on.  I can see the stupidity of making comparisons.  I can see that sometimes the image is just that.  I can acknowledge that it is ok to admit you don’t like/respect someone (as long as you don’t hate them – because that’ll just eat you up inside).

I’m closing that particular chapter of my life effective immediately.

I saw the beautiful Stephen Fry give a talk at the Regency Theatre recently.  He spoke of his compulsion to write, and how this had existed in him since he was very young.  I think I used to feel a similar compulsion – growing up I can’t recall a time when I didn’t have a diary on the go.  Sure, sometimes they were neglected for months or even years on end – but I would always return, driven by an urge to capture the moment.

There are so many different ways to do this now – diaries, letters, emails, blogs… I find myself drowning in the possibilities.  And I find that I have lost the ability to express myself the way I once could.

If only I could dispel any inhibitions and write it all out of me – all the hurt and insecurity and insanity… and be rid of it.

-The Children’s Book by A.S. Byatt, p. 376

Finally, unrequited love is requited.

Finally.

Sometimes you spend so long imagining something that you are sure that if you were ever to live that something, it could not possibly be as good as you imagined it to be.  But sometimes, just sometimes, it’s even better – because it’s real, and you couldn’t have possibly imagined all the tiny elements of it that you would love so.

It’s not perfect and unblemished.  It doesn’t make everything in your life perfect.  You still have your hangups, insecurities, irritations… but when you think about it, you feel happy.  Not some manic ecstacy that surely can’t last, but truly, blissfully, contentedly happy.  Because after following a bumpy road, with no GPS, minimal navigational ability, break ups, break downs, tears in front of your boss, attending events that made you cry, and putting away the drawings that you could no longer look at, you have got to where you wanted to be, and every single bit of it was worth it.

Sometimes I think I forget just how much I have to be grateful for. Even the little things – listening to a happy song, reading a beautiful paragraph, the purr of my cat in my ear as I slowly fall asleep…

I definitely feel like I am going through a phase of endings, and hopefully new beginnings too.  Last night was the Lucksmiths final gig.  It was wonderful, and I don’t think I’ve enjoyed a gig so much in a long time, but it did leave me feeling hopelessly nostalgic.  I fell in love to their music, and I suppose I fell out of it too.

Certainly feels like a chapter has ended and the time has come to move on.  The Lucksmiths are no more, it is nearly spring.  I have started to rebuild the CD collection and am taking Maude’s advice:

Harold: I love you

Maude:  Harold…that’s *wonderful*.  Go and love some more.

I think I’m ready to love some more should the right person come along.  I’m really lucky with the way things ended between me and Owen.  I got so much from that relationship and it ended at the right time.  It didn’t break me.  It made me a better person. The prospect that there might be another first kiss out there for me is a nice one.

I have been rather lax with taking the happy pills and today I find myself all out and cannot for the life of me remember where I put my script.  It is going to be a bad week – a punishment for the rather lovely weekend, no doubt.

All the self-confidence I spent years building up is slowly oozing away.  I had convinced myself that I was happy with who I am.  The slow realisation that I will most likely be single for the rest of my existence is not being received by me in quite the way I had hoped.

Now all those nagging questions start to creep in… Do I just reject all those feminine things because I know even if I tried I wouldn’t be pretty?  Do I just tell myself that I am happy with things because I am too scared to change?  What is it that I really want anyway?

I feel like I’m trapped in a Smiths song.

I am finally enjoying the bliss of singledom, although it is tinged with some melancholy.  But the joy of listening to whatever you want, having time that is all your own, all this time to read and write and dream -  I love it.

There are things I miss, of course – mainly having someone to hug when you’re down, and waking up to next to someone you love, and someone who loves you.  But there is something blissfully liberating about waking up in a queen sized bed and stretching out sideways.

There is also a peace about knowing that you have done what is right.  And that is something I do know.  There are things I miss, but there is no sense of regret.  And there is also infinite hopes and dreams for an unknown, unmapped future.

My flirt with unrequited love was painful and not nearly as romantic as they make it out when they write about it.  And while I cringe at the girly-ness of myself, I am proud that I took the situation in hand, and I was honest and did not let the moment pass by (even if the moment did not turn out quite as I had hoped).

For a while it brought back those painful highschool insecurities, but I know I’m not that girl anymore.  I’m not content with being anyone’s second best or back up plan.  And I’m also not going to lose a true, close friend because of it.  I fucked it up a little but things are not unsalvagable.  And those feelings have not just gone away, but I’m not going to sit and wallow in my own hurt.  Maybe one day it will happen.  But it probably won’t.  I think I am starting to be ok with that.

I suppose I’m a bit mad at myself too.  I thought I would have had a bit more pride, or, at the very least, a bit more common sense.  I always prided myself on not being too ridiculously girly when it came to boys.  Seems I was saving it all up for now.

I really thought there was something going on.  I think there was something once… but I missed it.  And rightly so.  Now why can’t I just get over it and move on?

Things are quite different now.  Almost everything is different now.

Me and Owen broke up mid January.  It was a mutual decision and we both know it was the right one.  Things are amicable, the children and possessions have been fairly divided and we are still good friends.

While ultimately it was not meant to be, I can’t help but be anything but grateful for what was, for the most part, a wonderful five years.  There are so many things that I gained from that relationship – self-esteem, independence, confidence, the courage to embark on a career I love, amazing friends, and lovely memories.

Of course, it wasn’t all rosy, because if it was we would still be together.  We had hugely different ideas about what we wanted from the future (and from each other).  Next time I’m definitely going for a homebody!

It just got to the point where the differences were causing too much tension and that was affecting everything else.  I guess it ran its course and we were lucky enough to have the sense to end it before animosity set in or before we impacted too much on each other’s dreams.

Things have been good since then.  I have had my difficult moments, but overall it has been easier than I anticipated.  Not to get too fatalistic, but life really does seem to provide what  we need when we need it.  When we first broke up I was absolutely stunned at how many people got in touch to see if I was ok – messages and calls from everyone from primary school friends, to friends halfway across the world!  It has been a real catalyst for getting reconnected with people I have lost touch with.

So now I am living in a great place with my friend, Melin, and Master Steerpike (who is currently rubbing up against my computer screen).  I am still loving my job, and I am starting to enjoy all those little things in life – a good podcast, a sunny tram trip through the city, a perfect passage from a book, an impromptu dinner with old friends.  I think life really is about those little things.  I hope so, because I’m generally not so great with the big things.

So that’s the general gist of the year goneby.  I’m hoping to get into the blogging a bit more.  I like the idea of a blog (it’s the practice that I have trouble with)!