Letter number 9: Relapse

Dear Alexandra,

I felt like I had been making some progress with, well, trying to feel like I was actually living rather than existing. That took a bit of a hit today, it’s partly my own fault. I’ve been sleeping quite well, waking up early, functioning. I wouldn’t say I wake up feeling great but physically at least I do. I’m not eating enough, but seem to be getting through my football matches with good energy levels so I’m not too worried. But this morning after waking up, I’m afraid I failed.

I looked at his Twitter feed again. “Having date nights every night is a blessing. I love her so much”. It cut right into me, along with a picture of your respective avatars together in a Nintendo environment. Either this is totally at odds with your suggestion that you were still confused and working through things, or you’re toying terribly with the emotions of this other chap. Of course, it could be just him taking things too far in his head and giddily posting something — no, I can’t even believe that, as who is there amongst the ‘Likes’ — you are, of course. Validating his claims.

Again, I hate myself for looking. I fully acknowledge this isn’t healthy behaviour from me — I don’t think it’s that bad, it’s information that’s put out there in a public place, a public place you know that I’m aware of. Are you aware I’m likely to see it? Is that part of the plan to push me away without having to say it yourself? Without giving me actual closure, an explanation, an apology. You don’t have date nights every night if your hormones are driving you into an emotional dark place.

I kind of get it — it’s hard to hurt people, I don’t think you want to. I know, as I think I’ve made plain in other letters, it was naive of me to start considering the possibility of reconciliation — indiscretion aside, we had quite a few things to overcome, in both directions. On some levels, mostly logical but also emotional, I do actually think we’ve come to the right place — but in such a terrible way.

So at once I feel desperately betrayed, insanely jealous, confident whatever this new thing is won’t last and cause hurt to you both. I won’t lie, part of me thinks “Ha, good”, but it’s not the majority vote in the angry hive of my mind. I worry you’re going to damage this poor chap and yourself in the process, reinforcing this strange self-destructive pattern you so readily lapse into. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe this is your happy ever after. Part of me even hopes it might be.

Unfortunately resetting nearly six years is hard, it’s hard for me at least — but in the space of a few weeks you seem to have no only been able to do that but also move on to somebody else. That obviously hurts from a selfish point of view, to be cast aside so readily, but it also worries me because whilst of course it’s possible for something meaningful to develop in that time via remote means, it’s unusual. I’m worried about you, ridiculously I’m actually worried about this other chap too.

I’m torn between texting you, a little later because it’s your day off today and you’ll be asleep and asking if you’d rather I just don’t keep in touch to make things easier. Maybe even try to have the conversation that I know more than I’ve let on to you. I can’t decide whether that’s the best thing for me or you — it’s so difficult, you’ll be defensive, you’ll turn it on me being judgemental, which I guess I am a little, but I just want to know where I stand, I want to understand — I want to give myself permission to move on, if that’s the right thing. I think as much as I fight the notion even now it probably is.

I texted your Mum last night to see how she, and you, were. She said you’d not really talked to her. I hope that you’ve been able to open up more with your therapist and that you’re not basically leaving yourself only one avenue to process things, on repeated ‘date nights’ — doesn’t feel like the best way to get a total perspective of the things you’re grappling with. I totally get the appeal of wrapping yourself in an idyllic fantasy, if I had the equivalent I’d probably do the same. I have been playing a ridiculous amount of football, probably because it’s one of the few options I have of human interaction at the moment. Going into the office helps too.

Whilst I feel glad to have taken the step to admit I’m not okay to people, I am still desperately conscious of not wanting to be a burden on them. I’ve tried to be honest with people — not defaulting to “Fine thanks, you?” when folk ask how you are, people are checking in on me which I massively appreciate. But that this is going to take time, pain, introspection and processing feels so daunting.

I wouldn’t say I feel suicidal, but certainly the thought passes my mind a lot more than I’d like (like at all!), but I do go to sleep idly thinking that I’m not that bothered about waking up. That whilst I wouldn’t actively seek to harm myself, it sometimes feels like it would be quite ‘nice’ to get involved in a traffic accident or illness, just to be able to check out of reality for a while. It can’t be healthy to think that dropping into a coma for a while would be a good thing, can it?

At least whatever dark places my mind is exploring is thinking ahead to a recovery, and not inflicting whatever horrible thing I think of to myself. To fight this I’ve been trying to fill my days to give me a reason to get up — work helps here, I’m not sure how effective I am at work right now — I don’t feel very productive — but it’s a distraction. Mum is coming for a walk tomorrow morning, then I have a music video shoot with the band we met because of, which of course is bittersweet in some ways.

I think that contacting you will be a mistake, I think that I need to start to reframe my thinking that the best we can hope for is to be friends. That’s hard. You were the most important and central pillar of my life, to have that removed feels intolerable. But increasingly it feels like it’s a cold hard fact, I wish I knew that because you’d told me, not because I’ve had to turn into some kind of weird cyber-Sherlock. But since you know that’s how I found out about the extent of things, maybe that breadcrumb was left there deliberately to ease me along into doing the dirty work for you.

Or, more likely, you didn’t even give much thought to it. I know that I need to stop looking, the fact I am, the fact that — frankly — I’m saving screenshots like some kind of pathetic lovesick puppy would suggest that even if you turned around and said it had all been a terrible mistake and let’s start again, I probably wouldn’t be able to let it go, it would hang over us even if I never said anything. I think on some level that’s why you did it — to make sure there was no way back. And I think that might well have been a subconscious thing.

I’m getting so frustrated with myself for not being able to work through this — when you look with logical brain it’s simple. You cheated. Sure, not physically, but emotionally. I have a right to feel angry and betrayed, it’s a right thing for us to have ended our relationship. But then the emotions kick in. I love you, and was planning a future for us. And it just seems to easy for you to have cast that aside and moved on, and that really hurts. I’m sure it hasn’t been easy.

I think my intention now is to do a few things — I’m not going to reach out to you, I don’t think it would be a good idea. I’m going to resist checking in with your Mum, I have put her in an unfair position — maybe somewhere deep down in my subconscious I wanted her to know what you’d done because I was wounded, but it was mostly because I worry about you. I’m going to try really hard to stop looking on Twitter for breadcrumbs, because all it does is hurt me. I’ve kind of got the message from the last one.

It remains to be seen whether I can achieve these goals, but I will try. It’s so difficult when you’re stuck on your own, I’ve tried to have a few hours a day with my phone on airplane mode to tune out of the digital world. I think that’s probably a good thing, but it does cut off the limited ability I have to contact people. I think that I probably need more than anything to discuss all of this with a specialist, so when my therapy kicks in perhaps I’ll be able to find a way through.

I really don’t want to lose you from my life, part of me really doesn’t want to lose you as a partner even still, but maybe I need to face into the fact that that might be for the best, for both of us. I think you’ve come off Facebook and blocked me on Twitter not because you want to sever ties as such, but that you feel hurt and guilty when you’re reminded of me. I wonder if you’ve taken down reminders of me from your space like I have with you. I can’t help but on some level you’re trying to provoke me to do something horrible, like tell people what happened, to give you license to cut me out with justification.

I’m afraid that that’s not my style. I have talked a little to some people we both know, but I’ve always caveated things with mitigating circumstances, and only to people I trust not to gossip. I don’t want to compromise your friendships even if you seem intent on doing that yourself by cutting people out.

I love you, Bert