The year of love

2018. The year spoken in the name of love. 
It wasn’t the best of years, but it was hellofalot better than 2017. 

While still sharing bed with my ex (we still shared for 7 months after breakup), I met Vicky. Who was so wrong for me, but whom I just couldn’t stay away from. The main part of the first third of the year was just struggling about getting his love, affection, attention or whatever. He had his own deep insecurities, but I needed him more than what he could give. I was completely and utterly devastated that he wouldn’t let me into his heart. It was like being heartbroken by the person you’d sleep next to every night. So close, but soul-crushingly far away. I cried most of the nights. 

Thinking about it, that had been my life since May 2017. 
Being heartbroken by the person next to you. No wonder I’m a trainwreck. 

This progressed even through the meeting of Simon. Simon just stumbled randomly into my life a day before I left Malta to work season in Norway. While Vicky wouldn’t write to me after we had our first cyber-fight, Simon kept me company on Skype. I didn’t hear anything from Vicky during those two months I spent in Norway. I spoke with Simon every evening. Our conversations were so fluent. My heart started shifting. 

And then I was back in Malta. In the end, Vicky hadn’t written, so I felt like he wasn’t available after a summer away. I was also pissed off, as I thought that we would continue whatever relationship we had when I got back. So I turned to Simon, who offered me an extra bed and warm hugs. UnderstandingAnd too much love from his side than he should, as I was still considering myself to be with Vicky. Even after not chatting for two months. I pushed myself down a lot, excusing Vicky’s lack of affection as introvertedness. For too long I guess. I’d cut my legs in a cry for his attention when I was lost in despair. Twice.

August to December has been a struggle in between them both. I’ve fought so hard for being with Vicky, that it makes it hard to just let it go. So much energy and tears spent to make that relationship work. But being with Simon just brings me happiness, laughter and understanding. He actually tries to bend for my sake. Which is all I’ve ever wanted from Vicky. To feel fought for. To feel prioritised. To feel that I actually mean something for the person that I care about. 

Vicky has been my drug this year. Something that I really really wanted and couldn’t stop, but which just wasn’t good for me. We were never a good match, but I sure tried to the brink of my own destruction to make it work. I loved him with my broken heart, while all logic screamed against it. I do miss him a lot. I want us to be able to hang out casually. I still want him to be some part of my life. But we haven’t met lately, mainly because of Simon’s own insecurities about our relationship.

Simon. In a kind of way, he saved me. He fed my broken soul warmth, and made me feel loved. We still live together now, since that day in August I arrived in Malta with no idea of if I would stay at Vicky’s or not. Simon, my lover and my absolute best friend. 

I don’t know how long we’re gonna continue hanging out for. We have our problems, and I feel that he’s become too dependent on me for his own happiness. But I’m eternally grateful for him picking up my pieces along the way. For still wanting to be there for me, through this whole circus. This unconditional love is something I never thought I would feel this year. 

But it’s still here. 
And it’s still growing.



New year, new me?

Well hi there. It’s been a while. 

To start with, I haven’t really been myself for the last couple of months. My routines and general well-being has changed. Unfortunately, not to the better. Which is strange seeing that I’ve finally met someone that’s really good for me. I’m now spending most of my time together with someone who really really adores and respect me as an emotional being. And who loves me unconditionally. 

Just this alone should be enough, right? 

Lately, I’ve felt this illogical tiredness weighing me down to the point that all I want to do is to just sleep all of my life away. Nothing is fun anymore, and I can’t bring myself to get anything done. This tiredness just hit me in the face this autumn 2018. Out of nowhere. Which makes me panic inside, as I’ve been this super productive workaholic for all of my adult years. What happened to getting things done, all the time? Surely, relaxing is good, but going from super-productivity to sleeping 12h every day, that’s just not okay. I need to find a way out of this. 

I have my theory about the implant in my arm malfunctioning. Which I strongly believe in. You see, I’ve got this P-rod stuck in my arm since 2011, which sends out hormones and basically stops my menstruation and ability to get pregnant. Basically, I haven’t had period in 8 years. Then, this autumn, I suddenly notice some tiny bleedings. Nothing to worry about, I thought. A bad case of influenza followed, killed my immune system and I slowly notice myself getting more and more demotivated, starting to sleep more, starting to crave foods that I normally don’t crave and now I’m so far gone in this that I’ve kind of lost hope, I’m overthinking every normal aspect of life and panics about elderdom and I’m more and more consumed by paralysing anxiety for each day I decide to stay in bed because I can’t face the pain of being conscious.

I still have a part-time job to go to, but I don’t think it’s enough. As I’m so used to being a workaholic, I might need to find something that keeps me more busy from my demons. Which is really hard now that I’m stuck with whatever this tiredness am. Whatever’s wrong with the hormones that my p-rod is sending out, I need to find my way back to productivity. I can’t count on getting this fixed even when I change the implant. It might not. 

So far, the only hopes I have of 2019, is to get back on track. Find my way back to being happy with little. Seeing beauty in the small things around me. Find hope, and my will to live again. And to stop sleeping 12 fucking hours a day. 



Spent most of the year drinking happy hour cocktails at 
The Black Sheep in Sliema, my second home during 2018

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