Realising You’re Over It

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Despite my propensity for complete word vomit and a tendency to overshare everything in real life (seriously just ask the six people I share a desk with, and probably the rest of the Huff Post office tbh) I have never been known for writing down anything too revealing or serious up here.

Maybe it’s because reading it back it makes my toes physically curl, or because when you write something down you realise how much of a dick you sound and are able to delete and re-start.

Whereas IRL once that grenade is birthed out into to the world you can only deal with the shocked faces of your colleagues, rather than withdraw your statement altogether and ask them to pretend never to have heard about that visit to the STI clinic.

But sometimes you just gotta put your usual parameters aside and say, you know what, this is worth saying. Especially because I know I’m not the only person who has been through this situation recently and it’s good to say hey gal pals, we’re all here together trudging through the same heartache and heart healing and then breaking it again because hey, who says we have to remember the lessons we are meant to have learned?

So without getting into the nitty gritty (because hey, this is a public place and the people you don’t anticipate reading this stuff definitely do).

But that is just to say, you will get over it. It won’t happen in one night. It won’t happen in one week.

It certainly won’t happen when they get a new girlfriend and you’re supposed to suck it up and pretend you don’t care. Yeah, it really won’t happen on that occasion.

It won’t happen when you want it to. Or even when you need it to.

It will happen without announcement or ceremony.

It will happen on a day when you’re sat at your desk staring at the dustbin men outside and you realise you haven’t thought about them in 24 hours.

And that you don’t really care what they’re doing now. Or who they’re giving their heart to now.

It will happen eventually, and whether your eventually is tomorrow or next April is anyone’s guess.

But when you get there, the relief at having survived a bad love will make all the sick-to-your-stomach feelings worth it.

But for now, put on your big girl trousers, because you’re gonna need them.

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