It has been a while since I wrote last, and this post will be short. It is now 5 months ago that I tried to put my deep pain into words. My world broke apart and I shattered into pieces, and I have since tried to put myself back together, bit by bit, shell by shell.

At times I can still break out in tears when I think back to these days. It’s not been that long ago and the wounds have not healed yet. Patched over, I am trying not to pick the scabs but it takes a lot of willpower not to fall back into sadness. I see the sensible explanations of why he was not the right man for me, I hear you. My brain understands it, but I do catch my heart still thinking differently about it every now and then.

These strange times (Corona virus lockdown, I am currently 10 weeks and 2 days in) does not make it easier. I worry about him, about his dad and wider family. I care about all of them. But they are a family unit that is closely knit, I am on my own and I have to admit, I don’t think any of them worry about me.

Anyway… I don’t want to distract from reason for this post. A video chat with a group of friends today made me realise this: I have come far. And I am proud of it. Whoop! I am making the most of what I have, of the time I have, with the friends I have, taking the opportunities as they come along. I am not a bad person and unworthy of love. I was shattered into a thousand pieces and I am not sure how I did it, but somehow I mustered the strength to put myself back together. And you know what? I still have hope. Hope to love again. Hope to meet the person who will love me as much. So I am moving on. I embarked on my #movingonadventures, learning a new sport, meeting new people, drawing up new plans.

Life goes on. Onwards and upwards. Love will find me.

And he will regret that he lost me. Sooner or later.