Life was a busy world of evenings out, weekend socialising and generally doing what people do at that age. It felt good, you met people along the way. That was always the plan, even if it wasn't a conscious one, how would you get to know someone else anyway?
There's positive coupling along the way, great highs and lows before realising that one special person was in front of you and you worked hard to make sure they didn't get away. You built something together, hard at times but worth the effort because you know you're more than happy along the way.
Then one day it all stops.
Nothing you said, nothing they did, it ends with so little notice you imagine that's what a really bad car crash feels like. A violent stop except you're dealing with emotional and mental injury rather than bent panels and broken limbs.
There are rites and rituals to work through, so you get them done, phone calls, messages, arrangements to be made. Thank goodness for family and friends, the ones that just turn up, even the one who arrived with a bag of shopping, just in case the fridge was a little bare.
Of course it's a shock but life goes on.
There's time to think about the unfairness, the injustice and why me of it all. You're angry but how does that help when there's so much to do.
You push on.
Because that's the only way forward and you can't stop now. You lean hard on those around and they're happy to help out because, well, they see you're struggling. They imagine what it would be like to be you but really they can't because even empathy has its limits.
So you get through and the day goes well, the turn out is better than you expect and everyone is so kind.
It finishes, you head home.
That's done and you realise the feelings are still all around even though that person isn't here, they've gone.
You think on what's helped before, there's that old adage of throwing yourself into work but your boss won't have you pull more than your share, not now anyway.
What else can you do?
There's a list of names and faces who all pretty much said the same, when you're ready let's catch up and talk. The catching up would be nice, even if the talk might just be hard work you could do without.
Slowly the messages go out.
The diary starts to fill, there's a little excitement, something to look forward to. Everyone is really kind, most are gentle with you. You talk about catching up with this one and that, the things you're learning to do and the ones you're glad you already have under your belt. There's the paperwork too and well that just seems to go on, even allowing for the reality that you've never been that good at it.
It works for a while.
There's a purpose to your days, a shape and structure that keeps some of those thoughts and feelings at bay. You notice that even though you know they've gone you have a want to share your news, your reflections and the details of those catch-ups, because that's what you would do.
It's great to see them and wonderful that they are there for you but it can't take away this empty space that you have and the feeling that the old way of coping from years before doesn't work, not like it used to.
The diary thins out.
You just pause a little while before re-upping for the next catch up. Work is busier and demanding a little more of your time and the paperwork still rolls on.
Family still check in on you and you love the way they find to do that but at the same time how do you have that conversation that says, there's too much of a gap here that you can barely hold on your good days. And we can't talk about those ones that are simply so bad they push hard against your being, pushing you close to shutting down.
There has to be another way to do this.
If you can't tell those closest to you how you feel because you're not sure that you can keep that part of you in check, where do you go? How do you start to talk about those parts of you that don't make sense, that you struggle to understand?