Immediately after breaking up with The Fae Ref and Beautiful Lute I couldn’t cry. No surprise there, it felt like I’d been kicked in the chest and the rest of my body was a sponge of sadness.
Eventually I cried.
But the problem with being a grown-up and with breaking up just before Christmas is all the fucking festive plans, all the preprepared gifts. And good Christ the postal strikes.
FJ seemed surprised that I was sad today. It’s not like I’ve been sad all month… it’s also not like I haven’t been I guess. But it comes in waves over and over again with each email saying that such and such a gift wasn’t cancelled or with each of their gifts being delivered.
I love to share, I love to take pleasure in the small things other people love and I feel so extraordinarily happy with other people want to share the pieces of me that don’t usually get much attention.
Beautiful Lute was due up here the weekend before Christmas and I admit I had gone a bit overboard. I’d booked ice-skating, I’d planned on a Ferris wheel ride, hot chocolates at the Christmas market, fancy meal, also a really not fancy meal as an inside joke and because Potts Pies are gorgeous. I’d booked out a theatre studio because we’d planned on doing arty things… there was so much to cancel. I’d wanted to share how much I love advent in my weird pagan way, again, so much to cancel, most of that was doable but bits and pieces weren’t.
Her gift to me came today, it’s a mug and I love it. And I cried.
Ive just got to get passed my birthday, which is the last thing I’d planned for and then maybe I can stop coming across the little threaded beads of misery.
I hate the idea that people are thinking that I should’ve known better. I hate the fact that the moment I let go was when things shattered and I really hate how drawn out this all is.