Losing someone hurts. Really effing hurts.
Last year something horrendous happened to me and my close group of friends – we lost someone insanely special to us: My partner in crime, my confidante, my best friend. Although I’ve spoken about the situation on here before, it is never easy talking about it, but it is such a huge part of my life, even to this day.
I’m not writing this post to get sympathy; I really just needed somewhere to clear my head, to get my thoughts on the page, and process the unhealthy amount of emotions whizzing around my head at the moment. This week has been especially hard because there has been a lot of media surrounding what happened as it goes to trial, which I have tried my hardest not to read.
There’s no denying that loss is one of the hardest things in the world to deal with – especially when it is unexpected. We’re never taught how to cope with it, how to handle the rollercoaster of emotions or how to move on with our lives. As human beings, we are naturally emotional creatures and there’s no denying that these feelings have an impact on the rest of our lives, whether we mean them to or not. As much as I try to cope with the loss of someone so close to me, it seeps into other areas of my life, and I’m left with the feeling of the gaping hole that is trying its best to close ever so slightly, but can’t.
Almost 18 months have passed since that night and yet it is something I relieve on a daily basis. 18 whole months of a completely different path that we’ve all been forced to go down: A path that we never even dreamed would one day be a reality: A path of trying to understand how something so utterly heartbreaking could happen to us.
If life wasn’t crazy and erratic enough, I now feel as though I live with the fear of the unanticipated, that one day something bad might become a reality. I never thought I would lose my best friend at 26, so now I always expect the worst in a way. I try my hardest not to think like that, but being an anxious person anyway, this has only made it worse. I’m working on ways to bring more positivity into my life, and focus on the things that bring me happiness.
I’ve spent the past year and a half trying to come to terms with what has happened and to be honest, it’s exhausting. My mental health has taken a battering, my anxiety is the worst its ever been, and I’ve closed myself off from so many people and opportunities. It might not seem to be the case from the outside as I try my hardest to give myself some sort of escape, but its always hard, day by day.
I’ve spent so much time attempting to piece my life back together, to remain strong, and look forward into the future, but with that comes immense guilt that someone you thought you would share such monumental times in your life with will no longer be there.
It feels wrong every time I laugh and smile, go on holiday, buy something new, make plans with friends, curl up with a book: Anything that before seemed so natural and normal has been tainted by the fact that there isn’t that one person you want to share those memories with on the other end of the phone.
When you think about the guilt, the happiness becomes hard to enjoy, but I know this is the last thing that she would have wanted and I remind myself of that as much as possible: She was such a free spirit, and I try to emulate that lifestyle as much as possible.
Dealing with grief is awful for anyone, and no matter how many times you are told that it lessens over the years that pass, it never gets easier. It’s like an earthquake; even when the initial trauma is over, you keep being exposed to the after-shocks of what has happened again and again and again.
The funny thing about life is that although there are incredible experiences, wonderful people and amazing opportunities, far too easily, it can be taken away from us. So make sure you live every day to the fullest, and be the kindest version of yourself possible.