And back down we go.

I will keep it brief. Basically he called this week and wanted to meet up. When I saw the missed calls on my phone I felt sick. What did he want? Why was he doing this?

I called back and he asked to meet. Umm. I felt unsure. I didn't really want to 'go back there' - its too raw emotionally, ya know? But I did - because I owed it to him. I didn't want my decision to be swayed - I also wasn't sure what he was going to do or say. Truth be told - whether it was denial, shock or numbness - whatever - I had been slowly plodding along and I wasn't sure what this was going to do. I drove straight there - I felt weird about it, but not weird in some respects - he obviously hadn't turned into an alien!

I picked him up - in my car- which was awkward. We made difficult small talk until we got to the car park we had said we would go to. And we got there - and he cried. And cried, and cried. I felt like shit. To his credit he did not ask for me to go back to him - i think despite his grief he could see that wasn't the answer. I think he was just struggling with missing me all of the time - and felt he couldn't talk about it with anyone.

It was difficult. In some ways it was more difficult than I though - seeing him so sad and alone made my heart just break into a million different pieces - and suddenly we were back to being two scared teenagers. However other parts were a little easier. I have often gone back and forth about whether this decision has been the right one - and I had been concerned that I might, in the heat of the moment, try to change this to make him feel better. However, I proved to be strong enough that I did not feel that was the solution. I guess that says a lot.

I found it harder that evening and the following day. Seeing him just strengthened the tie backwards rather than forwards - and I promptly hopped back onto the white picket fence for a solid day and a half. I probably could have stayed there for several days, weeks, months, and it was for this reason that I picked up the phone to my lifeline. I should add at this point that everyone has someone who becomes their lifeline. For me it is my mums friend, who is a life coach. She doesn't provide sympathy, but more outlines situations and clear solutions which allows me to make my own decisions shaped by cold, hard facts and feelings. After a one and a half hour chat where I was told politely but firmly to get down off the fence onto the side which I knew was the right side, regardless of how hard it is - I put down the phone and went to bed. I don't necessarily enjoy chats with her - but I know it is what I need in moments of weakness/sadness. So at the moment - am I still on the fence? Yeah I guess. The fence isn't all that comfy though, so I will get down at some point. And I'm facing the right direction.

I leave with a quote from Helen Keller; 'When one door of happiness closes, another opens, but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us'.