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  • ameliya wright

Losing yourself in love


This blog topic has been a long time coming. Maybe not the blog itself, but for the first time in a very very long time I am prepared to tell "my story". I will try and be as politically correct as possible, and in true 'me' form I am no doubt going to piss a lot of people off with the raw content that is bound to follow below. *For those who aren't familiar with my blog 'style', it's completely impulsive, erratic and incredibly raw. That's the way I f*cking like it. I blank out the U in f*ck because my Mum is an active reader - and that's just polite behaviour.

Moving on, I consider myself quite intuitive. I pride myself on my ability to listen to my gut, go with my instincts, and I unapologetically rave to people about how much common sense I have. I am in no way book smart, I am street smart and so far in life this has faired me pretty f*cking OK. Now, picture this. In 2007 I met the love of my life. 8 bloody great years and plenty of life experiences later; I woke up one day and decided - this is not what I f*cking want, at all. I can not explain the immediate switch to anybody, because it was completely irrational and unplanned however it was real. Once the switch had been flicked, I began to self reflect and reevaluate my life and the future I had thought I wanted. Was I prepared to sacrifice life security at the risk of potentially being happier? Hell-f*cking-yes. I thought, screw this, I'd rather be happy alone than complacent with him. Have you ever looked really f*cking hard in the mirror and realised you don't like the person you're becoming? Yeah that was me, and it was a bitter pill to swallow.

I drip-fed my breakup over around 3 months to different friends at different stages, due to the immediate shock factor - or so i was expecting. I consider myself pretty f*cking blunt, more of a 'tell-it-like-it-is' kind of human being, and my friends both fault and celebrate that within me. So, here I am across the table from 8 of my absolute best friends in the entire world (on individual occasions), and each one (both male and female) said the exact same thing. "You lost yourself in your relationship and I didn't know how to tell you". That honestly, cut like a knife and the knife felt as though it somehow got sharper as I made my way through the 8 dinners. No one could tell me for 8 f*cking years? You know why they couldn't? Because I misconstrued the image of 'love' and replaced it with the comfort in familiarity of the years prior. I lied to my friends, every time they'd ask how he was doing, I'd answer briefly. I'd never delve into the internal hell I was living. Don't get me wrong, not everyday was hell. Most days I was happy because I DIDN'T KNOW ANY F*CKING DIFFERENT - how was I supposed to understand that a intimate-less relationship was not normal? Nothing aggravates me more than looking back and thinking - did I really have no idea? Did I really put on a front for 8 years? For what? What did I get out of this, other than realising I was so 'out of touch' with myself. I had absolutely zero sense of self-worth. Every single movement I made both personally and professionally was scrutinised. And honestly, it ruined me. Absolute rock bottom.

Enter, 2016. What a f*cking year so far. I spent the better half of the first few months 'soul searching' with my dear friend Emily - who didn't even hesitate to agree to a last minute-6 week U.S.A and Canada trip. When you find special friends like this, hold onto them with your life. Em single handedly showed me the single greatest joy in life - sangria. Just kidding, she allowed me to see that life goes on, and my god, it does get better. Seeing the world is the single best cure for a broken heart and boy do I feel pretty f*cking lucky being able to travel as much as I do.

I can't think of a perfect way to sign this blog entry off, I think when you're writing about personal experiences it is hard to relay all of your thoughts and emotions in a relatable way. At the end of the day, I feel very blessed to have experienced unconditional love, and I truly feel even more blessed that I have been able to survive without it. Being happy starts from within, and unfortunately it took me 8 f*cking years to realise this.

A.


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