Walking down the stairs, carrying my bag, determined that I would no longer bear another insult; I heard the clicking of my heels on concrete and was surprised at the silence around. Yet the silence in the eye of the storm is deafening.
After weeks of stress and deliberation, came the straw that broke the camel’s back… So as I walked out of the building, I walked out on a relationship with a man who I once simply adored.
Today, exactly six months later, I am typing this from my livingroom in Canary Wharf where I have moved in with a friend. The flat is gorgeous and the balcony overlooks the Thames which reflects the lights of the offices.
I have landed on my feet and very grateful to have done so. This is mostly ( if not solely for the first few weeks) through the infallible net of friends who have drawn around me. If anything teaches you to stay in touch with people, despite life itself, it is the time that your life crumbles.
I write because this is what I do best. ( Amongst other things 😉 you should see me… knit *blink*) Straight after that day in April, I started writing a one woman show. It had 3 chord guitar songs, funny anecdotes: the lot. I performed it at a theater festival ( a competition) back home and the audience loved it. Great reception, great reviews, I was sure they were going to ask me back to the next round! I prepped, wished, believed, prayed: this was a sign, there was a reason to have left the man I adored! That phonecall on Sunday was going to change my life!
That phonecall never came. Obviously. ( Would I be writing this if it did?)
There were tears, there was cursing, my poor mother had to hear a rant about why God didn’t want me to do something with my life (no. really.) then there was silent acceptance. Then there was my friend Sura who simply said: ‘You just try again. Until you give up or until you die – you just start again. It is that simple.’
When I met her the day after with a soul-hangover, she suggested that I should write again. Everyday a little bit. This blog has been dormant for a while, but I agree that I should probably write. Everyday a little bit.
Today the phone did ring and one of my close friends from home told me his father has just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. He has been given only a few more months; I think God can prioritise his complaint letter over mine…
Today that call hit it home: Until you give up or until you die – you simply start again.