‘How can you be so flamboyant with your rejection? How can you be so cold? So utterly devoid of emotion?’
It has been a long and soul-crushing six weeks.
Weeks made up not of days, but of moments where my breath has repeatedly been violently ripped from my harmless and on occasion quite hopeful chest, brutally and without warning, only to be immediately replaced with an unexpected and therefore shocking amount of icy cold fear, clinging gut wrenching hurt and steely eyed determination, to not be beaten.
I feel like a loving and dedicated sheepdog who has spent years doting, teaching and caring for her flock (is it a flock? Or is it a herd of sheep? And actually before you respond, maybe dogs have different names for these things so forget I asked, because remember I am the dog in this scenario – how do you know they don’t call it a TURD of sheep’s eh?) Having to watch all her sheep get shot in the face with a bazooka.
My emotional landscape, I would liken to a big pile of sheep entrails at the moment, all the fluff has been blown away but is still hanging in the air wondering where to settle and I have been splattered in blood and guts.
I am the wide-eyed and disbelieving dog, who just got up for work like on any other normal day, but instead found his life being blown to pieces.
I am that shaky and growling dog who now just wants to curl up with a doggy chew, perhaps stick a bit of Ceaser Milan on the telly and pretend none of it ever happened.
But with the lord as my shepherd and with the sheep as… only kidding.
Enough with the dog and sheep stuff already.
‘What the HELL do you mean you can’t sell me any?’ I am astounded.
‘Missis, we don’t have any left, we only sell them in autumn, we have moved on, it is Christmas now.’ And to give him credit, he looks sad for me.
I shake my head in utter disbelief and feel hot tears stinging my eyes ‘But It is only the 5h of November.’ I am gutted, and forlorn, and am trying very hard to tame the unbridled anger swirling in my abdomen and threatening to fall out of my mouth.
‘Look, I get that you are upset and I am sorry, but it is Christmas Lexy. We even have the red cups to prove it now – look! I couldn’t just put an autumn coffee in a Christmas cup, it would be weird!’
Adam is my favourite Starbucks Barista in the world, he knows how to make a cappuccino dry and never over foams me, but at that moment, all I could think about were the opening credits from the movie SCREAM.
I wanted to hang him from a tree by his intestines.
My anger is quite uncontrollable and sudden I guess, really.
I am pretty sure I didn’t say this but he did immediately back off.
It must have been my crazy eyes.
‘You know what Lex’ he replied, noticeably taking a couple of large steps backwards ‘If you absolutely promise not to turn up at my house and bludgeon me to death while I am sleeping, I will go and check if we have any, just for you…’
I did not make eye contact with him as he handed over my red cup filled with autumn coffee, but I was grateful, even though I had given up my dignity, I was grateful.
A pumpkin latte is worth giving up your dignity for in my opinion.
‘How did it go?’ The Irish one asked me as I arrive home, clutching my coffee and kicking off my new interview boots.
‘It was ok, I went and got a coffee after…’ I pause at the kitchen door and note with intense concern, he seems to be waist deep in the boiler cupboard.
‘Please don’t mess with the boiler’ I snap as I place my coffee down, Kiss a poorly Addison and head in to the bedroom to change out of my smart clothes.
‘I wasn’t messing with it’ he sighs stroppily, ‘I was just bleeding the radiators, and I’m done now. How did it go really?’
‘It was ok’ I reply again, pulling on my Jammy bottoms ‘I was the oldest person there by about 10 years which made me sad and annoyed but…’
And then I stop.
And close my eyes very tight and try to pretend I am not hearing it.
The unmistakable sound of my hard earned Venti extra shot, skinny pumpkin Latte hitting the deck with a thump, followed by a loud sloshing sound as it gushes all over the laminate floor.
‘Oh O!!!’ my son hollers laughing ‘accident’s happen! Socks all wet! Doodle all wet!’
And a little later, when he finds me bent over the mop bucket sobbing uncontrollably;
‘Don’t cry mummy, don’t cry!’
‘Hmmm…’ James eyes me sadly, two days later, from where he is sat on his big purple therapy throne opposite me; his feet curled up underneath him ‘what were you actually grieving the loss of though?’
Immediately and without thinking I lean over and grapple in my bag looking for something to throw at him.
‘I was grieving for my coffee! Have you ever had one? Have you ever smelled it?’
The sun was shining directly in to my eyes when I was told I was being made redundant, I stopped trying to see and just shut them, 9 years, countless memories, so many friends… an era, I packed up my desk and left the same day, I didn’t even say goodbye, not properly, I just walked away.
I will not be broken again.
I screamed out in pain when she first told me she wasn’t prepared to come to my wedding, I fell apart very briefly before taking out a box of matches and concentrating only on the silence, as I methodically and slowly burnt the hurt in to submission, extinguishing each anguished memory on my forearm.
I will not experience this again.
‘I just don’t know if I want to marry him…’
I admitted this to my best friend on Tuesday, while spinning around in a big white meringue.
The owner of the wedding shop in which I was currently stood (drinking her champagne) gasped loudly.
I ignored her and looked at my best friend in the mirror behind me sadly.
‘You do.’ She shrugged ‘You are just overwhelmed, it is normal.’
I spun around and ate up her words greedily, relieved.
‘Really? Is it? Because I do love him, I am just panicking like hell! It is so overwhelming. It is forever. Oh my god, I think I may be sick.’
‘Lets get this dress off you,’ I heard from behind me, as the owner marched over swiftly, her eyes on fire, and roughly tugged and pulled at me until, within mere moments, I was de-robed and left staring at my nude saggy self in all my glory in the biggest feck off mirror you ever saw.
My timing was probably a bit off to make such a huge statement, looking back, so I guess that was her revenge.
‘I guess I just wish she were different… and I guess it is just starting to hit me I have lost my job… I don’t have a job… well actually I do, because I just got offered one, but everything has changed and I just… and he broke the fucking boiler! We have no heat until next Monday!’
James raises his hand and shoots me a look, signaling me to stop.
‘You haven’t dealt with any of the last couple of months at all, you have tried to push it all away, so the way I see it, when that Pumpkin latte hit the deck…’
‘May it rest in peace, god bless its soul’ I interrupt him, and he once again gives me a stern silencing look.
‘It all caught up with you. You can run Lexy, but you can’t hide.’
Other than sounding a tad creepy, I suppose he is right.
I have tried not to feel anything, I have tried to convince myself I am happy, I tried to push away the hurt and the fear, because for a good while, prior to all this change, I was content, and I loved it, I didn’t want to give up that feeling just yet, I tried to shield myself, I tried to cling, but I am human, and I do feel hurt, and I do feel pain and I do feel overwhelmed every now and again, so I suppose trying to ignore it all, well that was just dumb.
I am trying not to feel overwhelmed, but I am.
I am trying to feel cared for, but I just don’t know how.
I am trying to come to terms with all the change, but it frightens me.
I am trying not to injure The Irish One in his sleep for leaving us without heat and water, but in the dead of night when I am cold… it is hard trying not to plunge my finger in to his eye socket.
I blame Starbucks entirely, for all of this.
All of it.
I need the Pumpkin Latte’s, they compliment my anti-phsycotic medication perfectly.