I’ve spent the last couple of years avoiding sad thoughts. Hiding from a pain that I’ve masked with a cheery smile and a distant gaze. Looking ahead, optimistically pushing on through. Denying the feelings beneath. Answering “fine”, every time, to those who enquire. It’s a behaviour I learnt growing up. We didn’t admit our feelings or that things were hard. Things were always just fine. Even when they blatantly weren’t.

But I am very much not fine. For when the tears come. They really come.

And today they are here.

At the intersection of various struggles and situations, it only takes one more thing to come along and they are here.

Today that thing was everything. Today everything got the better of me.

I had to take a psychometric test for a job application. I spent the previous 24 hours stressing about it. The truth is I’m terrible at maths. To the point where I need to take a dyscalculia test (the term for ‘numerical dyslexia’ as Google informed me while I frantically searched for a way out). In my current mood, I assume I wont even be bad enough to pass it, discovering that I simply have below-average intelligence rather than a no-fault-of-my-own disorder.

I spent so long practicing, building cheat sheets and generally just putting it off, that by the time I started the test it was a lot later in the day than I had hoped. The knock-on effect was I was late for a meeting with my ex, who then decided to cancel due to my tardiness. I’d been trying to meet him for weeks to discuss ‘the big D’, having finally got comfortable with the reality that there was no going back and that ‘it was time’. I also wanted to see our cat. Receiving his message while reading the results of my test was not a good combination.

Needless to say, I did not ace the test. All the prep was wasted and once again my job hunt got in the way of important personal stuff. Only a few weeks ago a last minute interview meant I missed a routine vet appointment. One of our cats was ill but it was still a shock to learn from my ex that the little one had gone. I should have been there and had the chance to say goodbye.

The tears are falling. Falling from the grief of losing my furry baby and desperately missing the brother he left behind, from the frustration at wanting to move on in life and remaining stuck in limbo, from the disappointment of not being good enough, even when I tried my hardest, and from the self-doubt that just maybe no-one will ever want me again, in work or love. One big overwhelming wave of emotion, enveloping me and the only thing I can do with it is to throw myself into bed and hide underneath the duvet. Hot tears soaking the covers as I try to self soothe and reassure myself that this is just a moment in time. And yes, it is. I know that. But it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like forever. Like this period of my life will last forever. Like I will feel like this forever.

This is the reality of my current reality. I don’t have a job, I’m looking for one. I am no longer married, but I am not yet unmarried. I don’t have my own home, anymore. I am in between everything. On my way to getting my life back on track, but right now I am derailed, of my own choosing. Side-lined while I wait for the right thing to come along. I have no idea when that will be. I must simply sit here and ride it out.

I’m post-rationalising though. Truly what pulled me out of the eye of today’s storm was a dear friend of mine.

As I write she is currently lying on the operating table. She is fighting for her life. And for her family. She is there for me today when I should be there for her. This is the second time she’s come to me when I’ve been struggling. She previously told me (although she doesn’t realise it) to let a job go when the alarm bells were ringing. “For life is too short to do things you don’t really want to do.” And tonight, she pulled me back again. Because perspective is needed. Yesterday she messaged our group to say that despite the surgery she was facing, two weeks ago she was expecting to be told she only had a year to live. And so, on the eve of life-changing surgery she viewed herself as “one up”. For her, her world has been turned upside-down yet she is grateful. For her, and her perspective, I am grateful*.

I am so fortunate. I have a place to live, even though it’s not a place of my own. I am able to take time to find the right job, even if it’s taking a while. We may not have started proceedings, but I am working on myself in anticipation of loving again. I may not have numbers, but I have words. And words I can do. Words make me happy. They make me feel like I have something good to offer this world. That there is a point to all of this. Words help me make sense of it all. In writing about today I am already feeling better.

Yes, today the tears fell. Today I fell apart somewhat. But it was just a moment and moments are allowed, as are feelings. And tears. Tears are a message. They tell you that “No things aren’t fine, not right now. But they will be.” Everything will be ok. I’ve taken that moment. I’ve listened to the message. I’ve honoured my feelings. I’ve been kind to myself. I’ve acknowledged all the good things I’m thankful for. And with that I’m back. I’m out of bed. Picking myself up, facing forward, and cracking on with the next job application.
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(*Thank you dear A, I am thinking of you tonight as you come through this x)