Wednesday, 20 November 2013

I didn't know I was lost

Ava & I have been in our new place now for 3 months. Things are good. Financially we're on an even keel & I know we are going to be ok. I have finally finished decorating and Ava has so many toys laying around that they are now migrating to the living-room. We have a routine. There's certain nights that she almost always spends with her Dad and other nights where I know she will be with me. The fact her nursery is just along the road is a massive bonus and we've got our new little neighbourhood sussed. 

I should be happy. I should be pleased that things seem to be falling into place. I could still be trying to find a home. I could still be worrying about money or childcare. Or my relationship with my ex. But I'm not because all those things are going good.

Now I'm a bit older, I come a lot more from the fake it till you make it school of thought. I'll never be that girl you find at a party crying into her gin or locked in the bathroom sobbing on her mate's shoulder. I am much more likely to be the one standing at the bar getting the shots in and professing to the world just how FUCKING HAPPY SHE IS.

For the most part, when I am drinking those cocktails or eating those burgers, I genuinely am happy. I genuinely am having a good time. But the past 2 or 3 weeks have also brought with them a feeling of despondency that I can't quite shift. There's a sadness in the pit of my stomach that I keep waiting to go away. 

And I'm still waiting. 

When I get that last train home on my own at night it's there. A little nagging reminder that I feel a bit lost. Or when I wake up in the morning there's a small feeling of bleakness that no amount of coffee or loud Ocean Colour Scene will remove. Hangovers that were once an excuse for masses of pizza and a good old pyjama day have been replaced with feelings of dread and a desire to never drink again. 95% of the time I am kept busy which is just how I like it. But when I am left alone with my own thoughts I find myself desperate for distractions again.

I miss Ava. The hardest thing about splitting from her Dad is the time spent away from her. And it's only now that things have started to settle into a routine that I am realising just how hard it really is. She's close to  her Dad, they love each other implicitly and the time they spend together is massively important. But the truth is I would happily never have a social life again if it meant I got to have her sleeping in the room next to me every night or waking me at 7am every morning with that war cry of "Cheerios". The flat feels so empty when she isn't here that I have taken to closing her bedroom door tight shut so I don't have to see her little bed with her little pyjamas hanging over the end. 

I know that's not the only thing causing this (temporary) funk of mine. There's feelings of loss, sadness and confusion swirling around that no amount of nights out will fix. I know these feelings will go away. That I just need to get my head around everything. But I still can't escape that nagging down feeling. The complete frustration of not knowing what the right thing to do is. 

Of wanting to do the wrong thing.

I'm done with the dating. For now anyway. After cancelling 3 dates in as many weeks I have realised that I am forcing myself into something that I don't want to be doing. There are some pretty decent (seeming) guys out there and I realised I could barely muster up the energy to answer a text from them never mind go for a drink. So I have binned that chapter until I actually WANT to do it. It's a cliche and cheesy as hell, but I would genuinely rather be in my PJ's with a glass of good red and a bar of Green & Blacks than going on hot dates with random blokes I will probably have no desire to ever see again. It's just where I am in my life right now, and I'm pretty down with that.

All I want to do is go for nice meals with the girls. Cuddle Ava a lot and cook us healthy dinners at home. Snuggle up on the sofa in the evening in front of I'm A Celeb or finally book those yoga classes I have been saying I will go to for months. 

Things will get better in time. My optimism and excitement at not knowing what's just around the corner will return soon. I'm positive about that.

And in the meantime?

Well, I'll just keeping faking it.

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