You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘language of break-ups’ tag.

Thanks to Chris for writing this lovely haiku for me:
Back in London/ Couldn’t be the one for me/ Screw him, bloody boy
Chris said I needed to be more angry about the recent break-up, and I think he may be right!  So I’m making a call to all you haiku writers out there– send me your best, angriest haiku!  And if you have any humorous ones, I’ll take those too.  A bit of laughter would do me good right now!


A question occurred to me earlier: Why is care of the self so difficult? Why is caring for your self such a difficult concept?

During my recent break-up, all those around me were encouraging me to take care of myself, to not fall into the pitfalls of break-up hell: letting personal hygiene take a vacation, not eating or sleeping, etc. Not isolating. Of course I did have the post-break-up dive in self-esteem, but thankfully didn’t get stuck there.  The ex was angry with me when I said I didn’t want to be friends, that it wouldn’t be good for me:  he said it was selfish of me to not give him what he wanted in order to take care of my self.

Are we so altruistic as humans that we care for everyone else except ourselves?  My cynical and logical self says no, that is not the case.  It also says that most likely, during a break-up or dissolution, we focus on the other person, and what we lost, and the pain we feel, but not the actual care of the self.  I find myself following this pattern lately.  I focus on how much pain I feel; I focus on what I’ve lost; I have not focused on eating a decent meal.  I don’t even crave food.  Mostly, what I’ve craved is comfort, and the company of others.

I awoke at 4am this morning, and could not get back to sleep.  I’m not even tired.  I spent the afternoon in a fruitless argument with the ex cockney over things that hardly matter any more.  Every time we talk I dissolve into tears and he gets angry.  Funny how that happens.

Anyway.  There is a short piece of my memoir that I feel is appropriate here, as it speaks to healing and recovery of the self.  Just to set it up:  this was after recovering from having lost about 40 pounds and having come pretty damn near death.  I had gone back to college and had been successful in recovering from some pretty harsh things.  It’s about ownership, in a way– ownership of the body that you inhabit.

*a self

Graduation this time was anticlimactic, with no ceremony, no gown, no blank paper rolled tightly and tied with an orange string.

But here was this girl—another girl.  Forty pounds heavier, yes.  But also–
stronger, braver, with a whole new body.
I could live again, I could shop again.

I brought home a self.

my self.

my very own self

I know I recently said I wish I could stop wishing for things, but the truth is I will continue to wish for things.  All kinds of things.  Right now, for instance, I wish I had someone who would write me filthy haiku.  If any of you out there are adept in that sort of thing– send them on.  I am in need of  some bawdy, humorous literature.

So.  Just walked to Walgreens to purchase the largest bag of chocolates they sell, completely undoing the walk to and from.  Oh well; chocolate is much needed.  But walking helps me think.  I had to process the conversation I just had with the ex regarding why he moved out after just 3 months of living with me.  yeah, my self esteem took a huge blow on that one.  Anyhoo, one of the things he has said to me, on more than one occasion is this:

“You can do better than me.”

Now, what exactly does this mean?  His self esteem isn’t that low that he is really thinking he’s a horrible person.  He does admit that some of his actions during our break up (i.e., breaking up with me via text message– cringe!) were pretty crap.  However, I don’t think his opinion of himself is so low, or his opinion of me so high that this statement could actually have any merit or truth.  It’s a code; this is what I’ve discovered.

What I really think he means is this:   “Someone else may want you, but I sure as hell don’t!”

Or what about this oldie-but-goodie:

“It’s not you, it’s me.”

This translates to:  “It’s bloody fucking YOU!”

I could go on.  I know all you guys & girls out there have either heard or given these lines to someone at some point in your life.  I would sooo much have preferred something better, something more meaningful, something that didn’t feel so false.  Hell, I’d even take a badly written haiku over any of that old trite break-up crap.

%d bloggers like this: