Moving out / moving on

I carry my heart in my hands tonight, and I am holding it as if it were a pet or a baby. On nights like these, I force myself to re-learn how loving myself feels like. It's painful, but I have to do it.

Over these few months, adjusting my attitude and making the choice to be thankful for the little things has helped to stabilize both my emotional and mental states tremendously. When D told me I was strong, I didn't understand what that meant. Now I do. Georgie and Abi both told me the same thing, that I'm one of the strongest people they have ever met. I was shocked, then a quiet confidence crept in and told me, "Yes, you can."

I remember how much I'd cry as we lay curled up in each other in bed. Bare skin, raw emotion. I hope he knows I still love him even though we are both far away from each other. Somehow, I feel closer to him than ever. It's now that I love him the most; it's now that I am loving him at my hardest.

Tonight is the last night in this house, and he was a big part of the time I've spent here at 41 Elmbank. The other night, I thought I saw him standing at my door, waiting. There was no one. My heart sank so far down - it was so heavy that I couldn't even cry. So my legs eventually made it up the steps and put me straight to bed. I remember him walking into my room and sitting on my bed, watching film after film on his laptop. I don't think he knows how beautiful he looks when he's content like that. This was the person I fell in love with - someone who is in love with the world, with intelligent narratives, with beautiful images and beautiful people. I'm happy he found me beautiful, and I want him to know that I feel the same way about him too.

I asked Abi this tonight: Can you believe that hearts and relationships are breaking right now? At this exact point in time? Someone broke up today. Someone lost their greatest love today. And that brings me a slight bit of comfort to know that everyone around the world has/is experiencing heartbreak no matter where they are. This phenomenon tells me I'm not alone.

It might be the separation anxiety kicking in. Now that we're moving out of this house tomorrow, my brain is trying to hang onto what seemed like a good thing. It was, but it's gone now. The intensity of my memories with D are almost equivalent to the memories I've had with my girls - both experiences have been dream-like. Only that one ended with a lot of pain, and the other is a living celebration of God's unending favour and love. I can never fully grasp them again, I know, and that's why I have my heart in my hands tonight.

I can't guarantee that he's the first thought I have every morning, but he is definitely the last thing on my mind every single night before I go to sleep. It's either that, or what I should make for breakfast, really.