I will be honest, I have been dreading this day. Forward momentum has been building up, allowing me to leave the memories behind, even if only a little bit. Progress has been made, no matter how miniscule. But here we are, the international day of romance, love, and all things rosy and beautiful. A stark reminder, a powerful contrast, a perfectly bleak antithesis of where I am and just how far I still have to go.
This was my first valentine's day alone. A litre of beer and a ready made pizza for my special dinner. In the past, I would have prepared her something special. Candles would be lit and Chet Baker would be playing on the speakers. Now it's me and my PC. Chet is still there, but he too is a reminder.
In a moment of alcohol fuelled weakness I texted her. I want to be happy for her. I don't want to be bitter at the better life she has in my absence. I don't want to resent her her happiness. I still love her and her joy should not be sharpened spears stabbing the softest parts of my centre.
Still, I am weak. And it hurts. Was I so bad as a husband? As a partner? As a friend? As a lover?
Given the evidence, it is hard to say that I was good at any one of those things.
Forward is the only direction left. However, the question still remains, forward to where? Forward won't make a difference if at the end of the journey I am still that same person that ultimately was not deserving the love of the only person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. That one single fact has been the sticking point. Before I can be loved, I need to love myself.
Maybe that is the takeaway from this all. This is not my first Valentine's day alone, rather it is the first I get to spend with myself. The problem is this: I know me. Not a massive fan to be honest. I'm sick of me. I'm sick of the person I have become. So horrendously dependent on her validation of my existence. Now, a lovesick puppy let off the leash, I have to find my way.
I need to find a way back into love with myself.
For so long my self worth has been externally defined through the gaze of other. Whether friends or lovers, I became what made others happy. I'd never really engaged with this fact before. But it is true. So many of the mistakes that I have made with my life do kinda stem from the desire to act in a manner motivated by my perception of what I thought others wanted of me.
Let me conclude with these final thoughts on love on this day when we all feel the pressure of this arbitrary capitalist holiday of faux romance. When it is there, love is the most magnificent glue, binding people together in wondrously golden hued memories. When it leaves, it shatters earth and sky and in so doing, it paints the world black. I will not hide the scars scratched into my psyche by love lost. Rather, I choose to mend myself with gold, in imitation of Kintsugi, I wish to display my breaks with mended beauty, revealing strength in the journey away from being broken towards being whole again.
