Like a book

On Sunday evening I was talking to a friend of a friend (who I'd probably now call a friend). In the course of the conversation we talked about splitting up with Niki.  She asked me how I felt now, four months later.  I started to say 'fine, happy, confident, enjoying life, etc' but couldn't.  I just froze.  How did I feel?  A whole mix of things I think but I don't know which one is the most significant feeling as they're all intertwined and it keeps changing. 

I feel a sense of loss regularly from all that we shared and no longer share.  I feel pain about the impact that it has had on me and her.  I can't understand a lot of things, particularly about how things have worked out.  I don't feel angry which surprises me at times and worries me at others, but I certainly don't feel apathetic.  I feel renewed - finding out who I am again and trying to be the person I feel that I am.  I feel free, but not sure what this freedom really means, or what I'm free from, or why I didn't feel free before, or whether I really was free before and I'm now overcompensating with other things to try and convince myself that life is better.  I feel hopeful about the future for me, and also for her.  I feel love from my family and friends.  I feel grateful that things could have been a lot worse.  I feel that my heart has been broken, and the tears I've cried have washed something out of me that will never be replaced.  I feel as though I've lost a benchmark that used to be an ultimate leveller in my life, but am finding other benchmarks - probably even more absolute and true.  I feel myself, but I'm scared to explore who I am.  I feel that I don't need to compromise who and what I am but that I'm probably doing that more than ever.  I feel ultimately selfish and selfless, sometimes both at the same time. I feel confused; the future is not clear; plans and aims and aspirations have all changed but I'm in control of the confusion and opting into it. I feel responsible and suddenly weighted with some serious things to handle by myself.  I feel alive, and yet sometimes all I want to do is curl up in bed pulling the duvet over my head and sleep until another day as I'm too scared to face the world.  I feel insecure.  I feel that I'm having more opportunity to find joy in the little things in life.

How do you say these things?  I obviously could not.  I stammered a bit, started to say a few things and then went quiet.  The hug she gave me told me that I didn't need to worry.  I think that I must have emotions which can be read like a book.  I obviously can't keep anything internalised.  As she said she could see how difficult it was for me I believed her, and if I tell the truth it is difficult.

Today I came back from a run feeling alive and well, cooked a beautiful quick tea (if I'm allowed to describe my cooking in this way) of grilled salmon with red pesto on top and crunchy beans, broccoli and spinach and sat down to eat at the dining room table in front of a vase of flowers that I'd bought myself to brighten up the dining room.  As Radio 2 played '...dry your eyes mate, there's plenty more fish in the sea' I simply felt alone.  It's at times like this that it's difficult and I just will the phone to ring.