Letter number 26: Slowing down

Dear Alexandra,

Obviously with the events of the last week I’ve been taking the advice of the doctors and slowing down. I’ve signed myself off work this week, I’ve stopped playing football, I’ve not driven anywhere. I’ve become a prisoner — denied all the things that were helping me to keep the likes of Negative Bert and Sherlock Bert quiet. And they’ve been getting a hold of the conversation in my head a lot more.

We had more dialogue of course, which possibly wouldn’t have been a help to me. Whilst I did share some more of my pain with you, it’s always with a layer of trying not to hurt you too much. You’ve not replied to my last long message, the one where I actually ended by reminding you that I love you and I want you to be happy. That’s okay, I think, if it means you’re actually trying to see through your blinkers and move yourself forward.

Your Mum told me that you’d said that the P. family hadn’t included you in the invitation I mentioned in a previous letter, which I know is a lie. You lied to her about me selling Hamilton tickets without telling you too — I’m not sure why you seem so keen to present yourself as abandoned when you’re not, maybe you think you deserve to be. On some levels, perhaps — not by your friends though, you deserve to be abandoned by me on many but I haven’t done that — petty not replying to messages when I was poorly aside.

So Sherlock Bert has managed to get a bit of headspace, I did lapse into looking at Twitter, you’ve not been very active on there. He has, he’s adjusted his profile — no more reference to moonlight, he’s removed the sun emoji from his handle too. Maybe you have realised that whatever it was going on with him wasn’t serious, that you were setting him up for a fall. It’s really not my business — but of course I’m curious, I think anybody would be.

I know a week or so ago he sent you some toy Alpacas — the one I bought you years ago is a central character in your streaming persona.

He’s also determined that you’ve blocked me on Facebook having deactivated earlier in the week. That hurts a little, but also it’s reassuring that perhaps you are engaging with other real people on there — but for whatever reason finding it tough to see my updates. Again, it shouldn’t really matter — for whatever motivation I’ve established you’re not good for me mentally, maybe a clean break, whilst harsh, is the way forward?

I do hope it’s not permanent. I remain convinced that you’ve lost your self somewhere and that wonderful girl I fell in love with, who fell in love with me, is still reachable for you. The girl who could be happy, who enjoyed life — real life, outside life. I really want you to find her again, to find someone to love, to break you out of this insular cycle. That person won’t be me, but I’d still like to think that we can be friends, and that within limited bounds you can turn to me for help.

I checked in with your Mum, she’s actually scared to confront you with the fact she knows you lie to her habitually. Kind of good in a way, because if she did you’d work out we’ve been talking (selfishly). Your Dad isn’t very stable emotionally which won’t be much support, and I don’t imagine you’ve confided in Eleanor. That’s why I worry, you’re alone with what’s going on in your mind — left with a therapist who may or may not exist, and if she does hasn’t proven very effective for you, or an online world who god knows what they think is your reality.

As for me, slowing down has been hard. I feel okay physically, just vulnerable. But I have been tired — I’ve been napping during the day, today I’ve resolved to try to get my sleep pattern sorted out, I went to bed early last night and I was up at 7:30 this morning — it’s still early now, I’m planning on popping out for a walk when the cleaning ladies arrive, just a short gentle one. I think that I’ll try to get Stop Thinking Start Living finished today as well.

It really helped me initially, maybe I need to reconnect to it again to try to relearn those habits I’d been picking up — because clearly the last day or so I’ve definitely relapsed into following the negative thoughts, the curious thoughts, the ones that awaken Sherlock Bert. That is still underpinned by the resolve that we’re not going to rekindle our relationship, at least — so that is progress of sorts.

On some level I think it’s okay to worry about you, but — without sounding mean — I don’t want it to be consuming quite so much of my brain space. By not having distractions of work, football, being able to drive somewhere and see someone, I’ve let that spare brain space have a bit too much free run whilst resting and it has circled back to, not quite obsessing, but dwelling at least on things that aren’t likely to help me.

I’m principally interested in your online romance because I think it’s a terrible idea for you, a way of distracting yourself and feeling good having someone doting on you. And ultimately it will end with this guy getting hurt (which I don’t actually want, well, maybe a little bit) and you feeling terrible for it. But it’s really none of my business. I know there’s no point in trying to get answers from you because you’ll evade and, frankly, lie. Whether you’re lying to yourself too, maybe.

Of course there’s the analytical sides of me that just wants to understand, whether it be from a salacious gossipy perspective or just to try to rationalise what happened. When you said you’d fucked up do you mean that you wish we were still together? Or that you went about things a bad way? It doesn’t really make any odds, I know — the outcome is the same, but well, on some level it would be nice to know.

But ultimately I’m coming to accept that I’ve got to get out of the mindset of trying to move heaven and earth to try to help you. You need to help yourself, you need to give yourself time to do that, just as I need to give myself time — and work on ways of not letting that time get filled up with the more negative aspects. Sherlock Bert did note that you’d done a few streams, I managed to stop him from actually watching any back. I’m going to try to stop him from looking again.

It’s a signpost to where your outlets are though — the virtual world, the one where to some I didn’t exist, to others who knows what kind of person you described me as. I don’t even know if he was one of the few that you admitted I existed. I’m guessing not. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about it, to be honest, it really doesn’t make any difference. I do worry that’s the only place you feel you can turn though, largely because you are shutting off real life alternatives and pretending that they are shutting you out.

I wonder how you are coping with other reminders — does your ‘main’ Alpaca remind you of me when you are doing your streaming stuff and people reference him? Have you taken photos of me down from your wall display? Do you ever play the ukulele I bought for you and think about me? Do you still sleep with the sloth toy I bought you as a substitute cuddling partner when we’re apart? Why do I even care about these things?

That is my curse I guess! At least I’m consciously questioning how helpful these lines of thought are — if I stick to my resolve of building up a bit more mental resilience again I’ll be able to dismiss these kinds of thoughts more readily, I’ve fallen into this trap because I have too much time on my hands — so I need to be a bit more proactive in filling that time within my current confines. More reading, less moping. That sounds like a plan, right?

I hope you’re okay, Bert