I’m addicted to The Lord of the Rings (and all of Tolkien’s works, really, but especially LotR), so a post on this was inevitable.

My heart aches for Sam at the end of Return of the King.

He worked so hard. He did everything he possibly could, against impossible odds, facing his fear of leaving home, continuing on his journey to support Frodo, help and protect his dear friend. He fought evil, faced down monsters way  bigger and meaner than he was. He always kept his hope, and did his best to keep it alive in those around him. Look at how many times his speeches are the ones that inspire those around him. He stayed. Even when he was sent away, which is still the most heartbreaking scene for me, by his best friend, he came back. Rejected and betrayed and heartbroken after everything he had sacrificed and suffered, when Sam realised Frodo was in danger he went back as fast as his Hobbit-feet could carry him.

He carried Frodo. He got him to the end of his journey. He did everything he possibly could.

And I tell you, while I do understand what Frodo was up against, when he looked Sam in the eye, standing on the edge of that chasm in Mt. Doom, and said he was going to keep the Ring, oh my gosh does that tick me off. How could he, after everything Sam had done, where Sam had given everything save his very life, although we’d seen more than once how willing Sam was to lay down his life for his friend, Frodo has one freaking job and chooses not to.

Again, I get what he was up against. But that is devastating. When you do absolutely everything in your power, everything you can think of, to support and encourage and help and carry and get that person to where they need to be to do the thing they need to do…and turn away. It’s gutting.

Now, thankfully, that wasn’t the end of the story. And there is a lot to be said about how there is only so much we can do, and many things that we cannot control, and that while we can do our best and even beyond what we ever thought we would or could do that does not guarantee a good outcome, but that’s for another post.

What really makes my heart break for Sam, is the Ring is destroyed. Frodo is saved from the power of the Ring and comes back to himself. They are surrounded by molten rock, but he finally has his best friend back. Finally, after all those nightmarish adventures. They are rescued, they survive even the aftermath. Frodo recovers. They are reunited with their friends. They get to go home.

They are changed, but they get to go home. And the Shire is safe, and Sam finally marries Rosie, and things are not the same (how could they be?) but it was all worth it. Sam has what he fought for. The Shire. Rosie. His family. His friends.

And then Frodo sails West with the elves. He realises he cannot stay in Middle Earth. He cannot be whole there, he cannot fully heal. He cannot stay with Sam. And he leaves him.

How brutally unfair is that? Sam did everything, and still, in the end, loses someone he loves so incredibly much. Frodo is alive and well, but he’s still gone, he still freaking left (trying so hard to cut down on swearing, it is not really working today). Sam has Rosie, his family, his friends. But he’s lost one of the most important people in his life. And I just…I don’t fault Tolkien for that ending at all, because it’s a true ending in the sense that I find it an accurate reflection of life in many instances. I’m not arguing with the ending. I just hate it. I hate that after all that love and sacrifice and toil and pain, the ‘happily ever after’ does not exist for Sam and Frodo together. Sam is left behind. Not left alone, which is something, but still his best friend leaves. Permanently. It’s heart-wrenching.

So when I hear these trite speeches and comments in films/tv shows about how a character shouldn’t put up walls to keep people out, how they need to learn to love again and let people in, and sure they were hurt before but that doesn’t mean everyone will hurt them (aside from every human experience in the history of the world, yeah, zero indication that someone will ever disappoint or hurt us at all), and they just need to open up their heart and let someone in…fuck that.

Yes, love is lovely and wonderful, but it fucking hurts.

And sometimes when you go through one of those brutal experiences (this is the analogy part, kids; I don’t actually think many people – not ruling anyone out all the same – lose one of their closest friends because he sails West with elves because magic jewelry has mentally and emotionally scarred him so deeply he actually has to leave the realm), when you lose someone that close to you, especially after you fought, and you sacrificed, and you dredged up hope in yourself and whoever else was involved, when you have prayed and cried and been wounded and still pressed on, even carried whatever and whomever you could, and you survive the nightmare of all that and have real hope and then still lose what you love…

You don’t just want to jump right back into a situation where you get to tour the more hellish corners of love again.

Some of us need a recovery period, for crying out loud. A recovery period which often is proportional to the depth of the hurt, so when you love someone that deeply and they leave or lose them, you don’t just ‘get back on the horse’. Furthermore, when you aren’t the one who is going through that, you don’t get to decide when is and is not the healthy or right time to choose to love someone like that again. I certainly don’t think anyone has the right to lecture them on it, in my humble opinion (which given the force with which I am now angry-typing, is perhaps coming across as less humble than it ought, and I apologise for that tone).

So kudos to Tolkien for a very realistic portrayal of the unfairness of life and how a victory does not necessarily mean hope fulfilled in every respect. Also, a sincere ‘bite me’ for making me feel things.



Silly Me

I actually postponed writing on here for a day because I didn’t feel I was up to communicating with people well, and being extroverted, etc….and it took until now to remember that was not the point of this blog ever, and I don’t get to use that as an excuse to not write.

It’s kind of freeing to get to remind myself that I don’t have to be coherent or write anything that I think is going to be notably meaningful to someone else, that I just need to write for me. At the same time, taking away that reason to not communicate, that my reserve of extroverted capability has run out completely (and since this is the first day in two weeks that I have not had to force myself into extroversion at all, limits have indeed been reached) is so, so, so good for me.

One, because it keeps me from falling into this pattern of thinking where my well-being is dependent on my ability to be extroverted. Which is silly, considering how thoroughly introverted I am and how important I know alone time, quiet time is. But I have been told my entire life by several well-meaning and wonderful people, who were nevertheless quite incorrect, that to be healthy, to be well, to be successful I had to: spend more time with friends; go out more; go do something; get out there and experience life (this one drives me a bit crazy – life doesn’t get experienced at home, where I already am? like the fresh air argument – there is air inside, plus: windows); meet new people (oh my gosh no); ‘you have to come to this massive church conference that will be attended by thousands of people’ (dear Lord, take me now); you should keep yourself busy; make sure you volunteer lots; if there’s a need, you should fill it; you should be more involved in church; you should be more involved in the community; you should be more involved in your school…


No. Hush your lovely, well-meaning, wonderful faces.

All of these people are very bad at math. Because there are 7 days in the week. I work at least 5 of those days, usually I work 6 out of my home, and the 7th I work from home. I have schoolwork from grad school, okay, this is not the grade 4 science fair. I have church Sunday mornings, Bible study once a week with this beautiful group of ladies whom I love to bits and pieces. I socialise and volunteer via both of those, with other volunteer activities throughout the month for my church. I have my home to care for. I socialise via all those things and get together with my Mom and various friends at least 5 times a month, so I get my one-on-one visiting in. I have my bunnies to care for (which will be changing as of next Saturday because they are going to a new home, and that’s a bit sad but also okay because the timing is good). Oh right, and me.


My gosh, that standard of ‘you aren’t doing okay unless you’re extroverting so we can see’ is a bit too ingrained in me.

Went way off on that rabbit trail. That was fun.

Two, it keeps me from letting communication be limited to extroverted means. What I mean is this: sometimes we can communicate with other people in a way that is comfortable for an introvert (and for me, the supreme comfort zone is this, this blog right here) without. feeling. guilty. Because I was wired this way. It is not a sin to do what you were made to do, and in the way you were made to do it. Does that mean I will never have a conversation over the phone? Of course not. But it does mean that I am going to savour every single moment that I don’t have to be on the phone, and that I reserve phone calls for when they are absolutely worth it. And honestly, most of the phone calls I get are not. Text is a wonderful thing, lovelies. Oh what a time to be alive…

I don’t have much else to say other than this:

I got to sleep today until I woke up. Without. An. Alarm.

I legitimately cannot remember the last time I got to do that. I know I didn’t do it this last summer, so it was either around Christmastime last year or we’re back to the summer before that. It’s already been a glorious day, and I’ve been up like…two hours. My mind is stuck on a repeat of the Hallelujah Chorus.

So it’s an introvert day. I am sporadically replying to messages, when I feel like it. And I’m reading, and it’s wonderful. And I had breakfast food in the afternoon, and that was wonderful. And I get to spend time with my Dom this evening, and that’s always wonderful. After this week, I needed a little bubble of wonderful.


My Dom is back. I don’t know that I have ever been this relieved.

I had been mentally preparing myself to dig in for a few more weeks, possibly, having no idea when he’d be able to come back. And then Monday, out of the blue, when I least expected it (well, maybe not least), there he was. I was at work at the time so that was an interesting exercise in acting normal and not crying when I read and answered his messages.

And he said the exact words that I knew he would with that first message. That was a good message.

It wasn’t until I got home that evening that I let it fully hit me. I cried. But it was a good cry.

Then I cried a little more just seeing his online status when I logged into Skype.

Part of me feels slightly ridiculous. The rest of me keeps reminding that part of me of how I thought he might be lying dead somewhere, and fuck no that is not an overreaction.

The last few days leading up to his return, I have felt fairly at peace. There are a lot of details which I’m not going to divulge here because it isn’t my story to tell. But I will say that this whole experience for both my significant other and myself has genuinely grown our faith. Hence the peace I felt, and continue to feel. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the kind of ‘peace’ where nothing matters, I haven’t a care in the world, nothing will ever go wrong – I have concerns, I am in some ways still on high alert, I have every intention of doing whatever I can (within reason) to ensure this never happens again. But even with those worries, I am not worried. I am not owned by my worry. Which is kind of a big deal.

I have a better understanding of God’s faithfulness, I think. Which I would love to write about more, but I need some sleep before that happens. I’ve got catch-up to do with work too, so that may not happen until this weekend (sorry! good news is after the next two weeks, I have whole chunks of my schedule thinned out, and I am so excited!!! Writing time! Reading time! Nap time! Cuddle time, hopefully! Time to enjoy the new box of tea I bought and totally forgot about! But I digress!)

And perhaps I am still somewhat in shock, that’s possible (particularly after re-reading the above paragraph). My stress level has dropped and I’m kind of wiped still, but I’m enjoying my Dom being back. I rather wish my schedule would be more cooperative so we could talk more, but I’m working on being patient too.

So thank you with all my heart to everyone for their encouragement and support, all the advice, everyone who took any amount of time to send a message or pray or check in on me. Thank you. I am incredibly blessed. You all were who and what I needed when I needed you, and I am thoroughly honoured and grateful by every single one of you. Seriously.

God is good. Really, really good.

But I have to keep reminding myself to not stop the good habits that I started during those two and a half-ish weeks. I need to not stop praying. I need to not stop being purposeful and consistent with self-care. I need to not stop writing here because this is actually helpful. I need to not let myself forget what it felt like to almost lose my Dom – not in a dwelling in negativity kind of way, but in a deeply appreciative and savouring every moment we’re given kind of way.

So, I feel like I haven’t really taken it all in yet, or really taken a breath. I don’t know, it’s all good, really good, better than I could have hoped for, but I just don’t think it’s quite all sunk in yet and I don’t have time to speculate as to why just yet.

Gotta save something interesting for later in the week ;o)

For now, I need to use the sleep.

(Sort of) Good News!

I don’t want to give out details because this is one of those situations where it’s not my story to tell (and the people who need the details now have them), but I did get confirmation today that my significant other is alive.

There are serious mitigating circumstances that are preventing communication right now. I don’t know how long that will last. Things are definitely not ideal, and not just re: communication.

But he’s alive. And that’s something. And now I at least know how to pray, specifically. And I can breathe a little, and my imagination doesn’t get to run quite so wild on me.

So thank you, again, to everyone for your support. I think this is far from over, but I have hope. I have real hope and fewer questions and that’s a freaking miracle right now, and I will take it, gratefully. I couldn’t have gotten this far without all of you, thank you, thank you so incredibly much.

I’ve got a lot of processing to do, and likely a lot of waiting yet, and even then I’m not entirely sure what’s going to happen, but still. It’s something.

Ah, Insomnia, My Old Friend…

I’m awake. My mind won’t shut up. I may as well ramble a while.

I caught myself wallowing this week.

Now, I’m not entirely anti-wallowing when hard, scary, sad, upsetting things happen. I think it’s often part of how people process. But for myself, there has to be a limit or, and I say this based on my own past experience, I end up in this cycle of drudgery that borders on sickness. So when I clued in, i.e. when I compared what I had planned to get done this week to what I actually did get done this week and realised how much of my time had been spent in bed, watching TV, eating junk, and how extremely little time I was spending taking care of myself, I had one of those “oh crap” moments.

I have a family member who realised last year that he had become ‘addicted’ to his depression. That he chose for a long time to cling to old hurts and habits because it was comfortable and familiar, despite the circumstantial causes of depression no longer being a part of his life (these are his words, not mine; I am in no way saying that all depression is due to circumstances, I know it is definitely not; and I am deliberately leaving out details because this is his story to tell, not mine; meanwhile, back at the ranch…). When he realised what he was doing, he simply decided to stop, and since then has made a concerted effort to let go of what mires him in depression and to focus his time and energy on building the life he wants.

Which is absolutely fantastic and I’m still ridiculously proud of him. But besides that, this concept has stuck with me, and when I realised I had spent at least a few days in wallow-mode, this was the first thing that came to mind. I already wrote about how I had a rough time on the weekend because still not hearing from my Dom…well, it just sucks, and it’s really hard to keep amping up my hope and having it jerked away from me every single time I check my Skype and email. So I gave myself permission to be sad and discouraged and to just miss him, and I do, so, so much.

But I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay in that place for an extended period of time.

What I mean is this: I love my Dom. I miss him every single second. I pray because there isn’t anything else I can do, and it’s pretty much the only thing that gets me to stop crying once I start (although, the spirally moments are becoming fewer, so that’s positive). I distract myself because it makes the time go by faster, it keeps me from thinking too much and slipping into those spirals, and because I have to do at least the bare minimum to keep my life together.

Except, I didn’t hardly even do that this week. And yes, that’s understandable. But I don’t want to stay there. I don’t want to just scrape by until my Dom comes back, because I know that while I have rough times throughout the day, and probably will for a while because that’s life, when I begin using that as an excuse to not take care of myself, to not love myself, then I’m heading for a bad place.

I have some amazing friends, some really wonderful people who have supported me, and checked on me, commented and messaged, and I can’t thank them enough for how they have gone out of their way so much just to make sure I am taking care of myself and to encourage me. And it really does help.

But what scares me is how very alone I feel when faced with how very alone I feel. Please understand, I don’t mean that in an ungrateful way at all, I am so deeply grateful for everything. Every word, every hug, every picture of adorable, fluffy animals. I just miss my Dom. I miss getting to talk to him. I miss being able to go to him about anything. I miss being held. I miss encouraging each other. I miss pissing each other off because we seemed to be pretty good at that too. I miss everything.

But the fact is, while I miss him constantly and my heart still hurts and I’m still scared sometimes, I also know full well that my emotional stability is a lot better than it has been, overall, in a long time. I know that one way or another I can do this. And I know that the emotions I am feeling are not debilitating and preventing me from getting off my ass and getting stuff done.

I have been avoiding Christmassy stuff because I was looking forward to sharing that with my Dom more than I have ever looked forward to sharing Christmas with anyone ever, and God willing this is just a little interruption and we will be fully into Christmassing together within…well, ideally when I wake up in the morning, that’d be nice. But even if that doesn’t happen…Christmas does not depend on my Dom. I’ve done it alone before, I’ve survived rough Christmases before and created a really lovely space for myself amidst some awful stuff. I can do it again. And dammit, if I have to do it by myself, I will. If it hurts like hell to start watching some Christmas specials before my Dom resurfaces, then I’m going to embrace it, because that’s just part of loving him and I want the good elements of those Christmas movies too. I think I need them.

Same thing goes for all the ‘little’ things I keep avoiding because I’m really afraid to let myself go into a vulnerable space like that, even when I’m by myself, because part of me thinks I’m just going to burst into tears. Meanwhile, I have dozens of stuffies I haven’t used and I’m running low on cuddles (which is not good for me, I have learned this so many times). My Dom being here does not determine whether or not I enjoy Disney; my enjoyment of Disney is a constant, an objective principle, and depriving myself because there is the off-chance I may cry during the movie…good grief, I almost always cry during movies.

My other option is to cocoon myself in my room, eat crap, neglect yoga, end up feeling worse and worse physically, feel rushed when I have to go do things because I’ve let myself fall behind, and then go hide again. Hide from everything. From people, from messages because when they aren’t from him I’m a bit sad (and again, please, I am so ridiculously grateful for every single message, down to each individual emoticon, I appreciate them more than words; I just would really like to know that my Dom is okay and y’all keep not being him…), from chores because they take me out of my warm and cozy bed, from dealing with things like work and people because I’m back to sorting out a lot of this stuff on my own rather than with him…

I don’t think avoiding the rest of my life is a wise choice. Even if participation is hard sometimes, I think it’s better than…well, hiding.

I am not giving up. Not until I know there is zero grounds for hope. And right now, no news is being taken as good news, I’m still praying, I’m still hoping and making myself hope every single time I check messages, check activity, all of it. There are a lot of things in my life that are on hold because my Dom is currently out of contact, for whatever reason. But not everything. And I cannot force him to come back. I am rather limited in what I can do to track him down too, so largely it’s about patience (oh joy). But I can focus on the parts of my life I can influence, I can honour him and all of you who have been so supportive and take better care of myself, I can be faithful in at least that, and still wait. I’m not done feeling sad or worried about it, and I’m not going to try to force myself to not feel or feel something different. But I can control what I pursue, what I focus on, what I do with the time and resources I have.

Well, that stream of consciousness explains why I can’t sleep :o)

I’m attempting to refocus myself by considering different areas of my life and making an effort to do something toward each every day, or at least toward most of them. In no particular order, I have (for now) listed them as: Bunnies; Work; Family; Friends; House; Body; Soul. I’ve only been doing this two days now, but it’s helped me not feel so overwhelmed when I get up; I can just make sure that I’ve taken care of that particular corner of my life, and then look to another. With a few little rewards in between.

Ironically, one of those rewards was an early bedtime tonight. The best laid plans…

I Need the 90s

This weekend was hard.

I’m not sure exactly how I got it in my head that one week would be a turning point, but it was just the same heart-wrenching discouragement as all the days before. I haven’t heard a single word from my significant other, not so much as a Skype notification saying he’s online. No one else has heard from him either.

The upside is there aren’t any news reports or obituaries that worry me just yet either.

But I miss him. And I run through a dozen intense emotions a day, which is a lot for me, just thinking about it. Even when trying not to think about it. I still have no idea what’s going on. I don’t know if it’s deliberate silence, which sometimes annoys me, sometimes angers me, sometimes scares me, sometimes comforts me – and of course then I feel guilty for being annoyed or angry because I think maybe he needs it, or maybe it’s not deliberate at all. And then I’m more scared because if it isn’t that he won’t message but rather that he can’t, then oh God, what’s happened?

Yesterday, I was just tired. Not sad exactly, not anxious, just drained. It took a lot more trying than usual to get chores done, which worked out okay since sleep was pretty elusive until late too.

When I started this blog, I said that my primary goal was going to be to learn to actively love myself and that included learning how to feed my soul good things.

My entire life I have loved movies and tv shows, in part because of the escape into a different world, a different life. Something I can see more objectively. Or simply something different. Something away from here. That’s what I gravitated towards this last weekend, and it became so easy to just…sit and watch episode after episode (thank you, Netflix). And not think.

Except every bloody episode of the three different shows I was switching between included either a missing person or an incredibly close relationship ending (or coming very close to it). Less helpful. Less escape-y.

I finished two of those shows, put the third on pause (it’s one I watch while doing chores, and I’m taking a little time to avoid them), and then decided I needed another sitcom. Something light and encouraging.

I needed Fuller House.

I hadn’t started it yet, although I’ve been ecstatic about this renewal of the Full House series that is in my very blood. So last night I started. Teared up a few times in that series premier. Teared up a lot because DJ lost her husband and I’m trying really hard not to think about the possibility that I’ve lost my Love. And failing miserably at least once a day. But oh I love this show. I needed this.

I realised a lot of things while watching the first few episodes between yesterday and today. First, that there is something about Full House and Fuller House that my soul craves. Maybe it’s the family. Maybe I just really want to a Danny, Jesse, and Joey in my life who sit me down with violin music playing in the background and talk to me about life and then we hug it out. Maybe it’s the nostalgia. All these moments, and nods to those moments, that shaped my perceptions at such a young age – I never advocate for letting tv raise one’s kids, but this show was a good influence on me. Maybe it’s the fact that I never had sisters and the idea of having someone I could talk to about the things that scare me and that I struggle with and that bother me and makeup tips and boys and whatever is something that a part of me wants. (Maybe not, I’m not keen on sharing my room.) Maybe it’s how both these shows take almost simple struggles, nothing overly out of the ordinary, and show how deeply hard and painful they can be. And it’s still all okay. Maybe it’s the catchphrases.

Regardless, this helped. A lot.

I slept a lot, despite having done a lot of sleeping this weekend (I need to watch that, I know that can go to an unhealthy place), but when I did get up to start my day, I was in pretty decent spirits. My heart’s always heavy right now, I’m always thinking of my significant other on some level. And I want it that way. I don’t want him out of my mind. I want to be praying and hoping and loving him as much as I can. But, without anything being resolved or any clue that there is going to be any semblance of a happy ending yet, I was good. I enjoyed work. I enjoyed my daily dose of Philip DeFranco. I enjoyed my chocolate chip muffin (I think I’m allowed daily doses of chocolate at least for another week, I think that’s reasonable given the circumstances). I had a bout of intense anxiety while driving to work, that was either me or a sign that I needed to pray for him, and I did, and it abated, and that was encouraging.  I was actually able to genuinely chat with people, even if they were brief chats, such that I was fully engaged and not having to tear my mind away from being so preoccupied. I even thought I might like to start something Christmassy this week.

Until a few minutes ago. When I thought of all the plans we have (I adamantly refuse to make that past tense). When I thought of all the things we want to do, all the things that I want to share with him still. All the things that I finally get to share with someone. How I can’t tell if he’s actually hugging me or I’m so desperate to feel him that it’s just my imagination. How I just want him back. I don’t want it to be over. I know I can be strong. I know I can keep the faith. I know that I can get through anything with God. But it still hurts.

It doesn’t quite hurt all the time. I miss him all the time. I am preoccupied to some extent all the time (today was more focused, I hope that’s a continuing trend or I’m going to be in a bit of trouble). But now the pain and the fear, it comes in a wave, at least once a day. And I just let it. I let my heart ache and I let myself cry. I let myself pray and beg him to come back. I let myself feel alone and sad and scared and helpless and abandoned. And then I really pray until I feel like I have a little bit of hope again. I remind myself of everyone who has been so considerate and compassionate, especially those who keep checking on me, thank you so much. And I remind myself of Who God is and what He has done. And apart from not seeing any sign at all that my significant other is still around, that’s enough to get me back to my hopeful place. And then I re-apply my mascara and go back to my day.

I’m okay with that. I’m okay with having a little time every day where I have to process all the sucky emotion and being able to trust God and be emotionally stable the rest of the time.

I think I love him too much for it to be any easier than that.

Logic Is Kicking In

Yesterday was a more anxious day. I had nearly convinced myself that I must have done something wrong that initiated this extended silence. This must be punishment. Consequence. And maybe it is, I don’t know.

But that’s just it. I. Don’t. Know.

I have gotten myself calmed down more, I’m praying more, I’m letting go more… Not in the sense that I’ve given up, I don’t plan on giving up in the slightest until I know, for sure, that I am dealing with a genuinely hopeless situation. I can apply my stubbornness in productive ways. I still hope. I still pray with everything I’ve got.

But I recognise that I do not know what is going on. I am clinging to whatever hope I can, but I have zero control over the situation. I can pray. But everything is in God’s hands.

If things are meant to work out, they will work out. If they aren’t, they won’t. And just writing that breaks my heart, because I so desperately want everything to be okay. I believed last week that we had entered this new phase of our relationship where things were going to be better than ever, this whole realm of freedom and love and just…getting to enjoy life together without some very awful things interrupting frequently.

This seems to be a rather awful detour. But if that’s still God’s will, then it’ll happen.

Maybe nothing is wrong. Maybe he just needed a break from online, to tend to some offline things, and maybe he did message and didn’t realise it didn’t go through before he logged off (for what is nearly now a week). Maybe all his tech has had issues at once; stranger things have happened. Maybe he suffered a medical emergency and cannot contact anyone right now – I really don’t like this scenario, but it’s possible, and I’m hoping if this is the case that my prayers for healing and safety are being answered. Maybe I did do something horribly wrong and he’s pissed and cannot talk to me or anyone else right now. Maybe the worst has happened. Maybe it’s something I haven’t even considered.

But regardless of what the situation actually is, I still cannot control it. And today I think I’ve finally had some success in letting go of that striving to control/influence the situation. Not messaging him and giving him space helped, thank you to the lovely person who suggested that. Being patient and focusing on prayer helped too, thank you so much to his family for talking me out of that one panicky day.

So for right now, I’ve just given it to God. I’ve been through awful before, more than once. I’ve survived it, by the grace of God. I can survive this too, even if it is worst case scenario. I hope with all that I am that it isn’t. I just want him, my significant other, my first Love, to be okay.

No matter what, I love him. And I trust God. I may feel like an idiot if it really is something as simple as him needing a break and some miscommunication for writing this, but I have come to the point where I am keenly aware of my limitations and I cannot do anything but accept that this is the way things are right now. And they may change. And they may not.

God is still God. He still has a plan. He brought good things into my life before, and He can do it again.

I still miss my significant other like crazy. I still cry when I dwell on any of this for longer than a few minutes. I’m never not thinking about him, my heart aches almost all the time, but my mind is a little more clear. The knife-through-the-heart sensation anxiety produces has lessened today. I’m still checking every single form of communication he might use, every site he might be on, even checking obituaries (and that has caused a lot of prayer), for some little bit of hope. My heart keeps leaping at every single notification I get on my phone or computer. I’ve got nothing but the fact that maybe no news is good news for the moment.

And for right now, that’s enough. I’ll be okay. I still hate every second of this, but I’ll be okay.

I just want him to be okay too. Please.


A few people have been asking for updates, so just a quick post to fill everyone in.

I have heard nothing from my Dom. As far as I know, no one else has heard anything from him either.

I don’t know what to do. I am attempting to be patient, I am praying a lot, working on keeping my emotions under control. Which is hard because I love him so stupidly much and I don’t think I have ever hurt this much before.

Not constantly; I am cycling through being so sad and scared that it physically hurts, to being at peace and quite accepting/hopeful, to this new state of numbness that I hope is clarity. Likely not, but right now I can’t do much other than roll with it.

So I don’t really have much to say other than this is still miserable, and a massive thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has messaged or commented or prayed or sent good thoughts or given advice. It helps, it really does. I love all your faces. I can’t even imagine how many pieces I’d be in right now if it weren’t for all of you. Thank you.

A Few Rough Days

So I  figured on Saturday my Dom had just gotten busy and was unable to get back online. We’d had a brief but nice chat, and I was hoping we could talk decently later. Nothing was wrong. Everything was wonderful, for the first time in a while.

There wasn’t any message the next morning. That was fine, I can entirely understand needing a break from chat. I thought maybe we’d email a bit that day.

Nothing. Which was weird. But I told myself maybe he had a lot to deal with and just couldn’t.

Monday still no reply. And we were supposed to spend time together and enjoy some Canadian Thanksgiving stuff because we haven’t had much chance to just be together lately. And he didn’t come online at all.

So then I knew something was wrong. 99% sure it wasn’t something I did, because even if we’re arguing we don’t go that long without messaging. When he needs a break and to tend to offline stuff he has always at least logged on to let me know.

There has still been no word.

I have tried contacting some of his family, but they’re away so I haven’t heard back yet. A mutual friend hasn’t heard from him either. I’ve asked the one neighbour whose contact info I have to check to make sure he’s okay but haven’t heard anything back.

And I just am trying to not freak out. I’m praying a lot. I’m doing my best to keep the faith, to trust God to take care of him and to not be anxious and afraid (to not act on that, I still feel it, I am just attempting to not follow it into misery). Every little sound my phone makes causes my heart to leap and I scramble to check. Nothing. I’m hoping for the best and trying not to think the worst, that something bad has happened.

I’m terrified. And I just miss him. More than I ever have missed anyone, I miss my significant other and I just want to talk to him and know he’s alive and okay. I don’t want this to be it, I want to be able to hug him again, I just want more time with him.

I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know what is an overreaction or an invasion of privacy at this point. I just want him back. My heart aches so much and I am only just managing to keep from crying at work (this is healthy). But what else can I do except wait and hope and pray?

I am open to suggestions. From anyone. I don’t think I’m going to be able to handle this without help. And I don’t really know how to help when I don’t know what’s going on… I just want to crawl into bed and cry and sleep until he comes back.


My heart still aches, less when I’m distracted so of course I am avoiding thinking about things. It seems I’m not going to get the chance to start talking through the underlying issue with the relevant parties for a few days yet, so in the interest of patience and sanity while I hover in this state of unresolved…whatever I’m feeling, I’m going to throw myself into focusing on everything else.

Which makes me really happy because that’s an ability I haven’t had in a long, long time, but thank God my focus is back. I almost wish people could have a genuine glimpse inside my head for the last few months so they could see why I am so excited about this.

I am a little bit proud of myself for getting through the vast majority of my list last night, and it did help. I did everything except reading, because it was 2 AM when I got into bed, then I watched one more episode of 30 Rock while I finished some prep for the next day, and that was enough to wind me down for sleep. The best part, though, was when I prayed and read my Bible. And now I sound like an advertisement for a Christian radio station, ack. All I mean is, I am 99% sure I found what my soul has been longing after. Nope, still sound like a soundbyte.

I figured out why I tend to have zero emotional stability in the rough times, or at least after them, and why I can be so grumpy. Because what I want, what I really want, what I crave right into my soul, regardless of what anyone else is into, believes, what works for them, this. This is what I need. I am still kicking myself for setting it aside for so long, for a range of reasons that I don’t want to get into now because this is supposed to be a quick update, but now that I’m back in it I’m trying to be diligent. Commit myself to it and prioritise it properly.

So I’m okay. I have a way to love myself that actually helps. And for this week, that’s enough.

Today’s list: Food (which I’m enjoying as we speak), water, meeting with my pastor (which went wonderfully and I’m really excited about things), keeping out of chat (because ow), Bible study (because my soul needs it), new book on prayer (my pastor recommended it, so again, excited to dive in), the possible making of rice krispie squares, and work (which the rice krispie squares will help with). Then tonight…tonight I’m going to clean the bunny pen and then read. Just read. Turn off the phone, log out of everything, electronics turned off entirely, might even take a friend’s suggestion and only use candlelight (I have a ton of candles), and just read.