Crying on the way to London = Better times are coming?

London Quarantine Day 3 (about to have my 4th night in)

Well, ever since I tested positive for Covid three weeks ago, hell - since I got my heart broken a month ago for the xx time, my days have been genuine trials in mental health and resilience. Keeping my spirits high while isolating has not gone smoothly. Yet, it's getting better and I'm up for this challenge. The key is to be grateful. I'm grateful to be here, to be alive, living in this body, having opportunities for earning, having amazing friends, and a strong connection with the Spirit.

It's been super challenging I won't lie. The illness, the lack of physical affection, minimal support on all levels, my anxiety, and the.. breakup... it was all hitting me hard. Can't say what caused what. Chicken or egg...

Somehow, as I was leaving the UK at the end of December, I knew that tough times lied ahead.

I kissed him goodbye on the platform in Leeds and said something about being generous with my gifts... ah, right, I told him to keep in touch and talk to me even if he feels low... he asked me not to charge him for it [as a coach]...

But he didn't do that. He's never done anything like that.

He would never reach out even if he couldn't walk and just crawl around...

It's painful to watch someone so aloof. I broke it off for I do need more affection. At least a message a day, and perhaps it's even more important if thousands of kilometers apart. Given his stubbornness and my neediness (?), the push and pull probably prompted him to make it a matter of principle not to text me often. Why is he punishing me with love withdrawal? Why do I want someone who doesn't even ask me how I am? If I can find an excuse for his lack of affectionate actions towards me, I won't find any for his unwillingness to help me with accommodation. That is hard to forgive, but I'm trying my best. The in-my-face fact that he's not gonna live with anyone anytime soon because he likes his space and - maybe projecting his ex-girlfriend 'trauma' on me, perhaps should have been the decisive factor alone. But no, I had to keep calling him even after letting myself miss the last January plane to the UK.... then it went downhill...

Or maybe not.

I love my space too. And I'd still like to build a life with someone by my side.... so... Gotta keep believing the right one is out there.

It's still very, very sad. 

I cried the whoooole flight from Prague to London on Tuesday. As I was downing the small rose bottle(s), I kept wondering what the hell was wrong with me, what was really going on? The answer surprised me. I didn't want to be there. There on the plane to the UK. 

It shocked me that I was either not up for this new adventure, or just scared shitless of it. I briefly wished to be deported upon arrival!

I had to buy a special covid-package for 200 GBP 10 mins before the gate closed... and I felt like crying already there and then. I felt so sorry for the money that it cost me to delay my flights, stay in Prague, and get all these private tests... yes, I could blame him. And I did at my darkest hours... But really, the only emotional person who decided not to get on a flight because a boy asked her a question - But where will you stay? mere 4 days before departure, yeah, the only emotional person acting in effect was me. 

I should have just gone and sorted myself out. The same thing that I'm doing now 2 months later. And a few thousand GBP lighter :/

Yes, that part of me that was crying on the plane was either at peace with the fact that I am about to meet many new men and the reality of it still hasn't sinked in, or it wished to stay in Prague as the city finally started to feel familiar. Or it felt sad that despite landing a job around the corner from him, I would never see him again. I don't know!

I remember how much I cried after moving in with my first proper boyfriend years ago. I wanted to be there and I didn't want to be there either. It was unfamiliar, scary and I felt unprepared. I moved into the guest bedroom and collapsed crying, wishing for someone, in fact, my mum, to tell me what to do. It turned into the best 18 months of my life.

So that's how I felt on my way to England... Please, tell me what to do now. After things fell apart, things appear to come back together again. But it's different. It's different because I'm alone, I'm sorting my shit out, I'm willing to do the work, and I'm also massively up for some fun when the isolation's over. I know what I want now. No frog kissing, just the real deal this time.