Lost

Laurie McGuire

Thus it is that in war the victorious strategist only seeks battle after the victory has been won, whereas he who is destined to defeat first fights and afterwards looks for victory.

Sun Tzu

I lost the battle for love on 23rd December 2005. My Captain was abandoning ship but I was being left behind to sink with it. The bullet of dissolution struck my heart with such a pain I had never known could exist - the pain of knowing that this day would come, but hoping against hope that it never would. The darkness descended, and the sight of beautiful, peaceful lands vanished in an instant. Our journeys of discovery through this life were cancelled, his departure time had arrived.

I felt all strength leave me: there was no hope, no point in anything. All that was left was fear, confusion, emptiness, and a painful longing to die. What should have been a time of joy and love was now a barren wasteland that even my endless tears could not make fertile. What would become of me? How could I survive such a shock? Out of nowhere my life had been swept from under me, and the nausea, my inability to regain my balance was only gaining in strength while my body flailed in a remorseless sea, its gentle calmness betraying the horror below.

There was no shouting, no arguing, no words of anger or disappointment. It just was not working - the wind was dying in our sails and there was only way to escape, but one of us would have to remain in the doldrums until help came. But this could take too long, and the thought of waiting, alone, was unbearable. Pain seared through my whole body, I was sick and dizzy, and every few minutes I would hit the deck again, the realization of abandonment constantly knocking me over. The thought of having to live through this with no foreseeable end point was as painful as the truth itself: he doesnt love you anymore and theres nothing you can do about it.

For weeks I wandered around, weeping silently, crying out in pain without warning, sobbing uncontrollably, trying to cope with absolute physical agony and unreal mental anguish. I spent time with my family and friends and all I could do was look at them, bleary eyed, wishing for no more pity and for death to take me, until I would fall asleep for another short while, dreaming of him holding me again, saying he loved me, giving me warmth. I would awaken, cold, and cry.

They say all is fair in love and war. I say there is no fairness - there is only life. No one ever says how hard it is to recover from the end of love. They dont tell you that its like losing a loved one, that youll grieve for months, perhaps years, and even then how do you know if youre alright? Mental torture doesnt even begin to describe it: the biggest force in the world that had mirrored all that was good about you, good about life, just disappears, and theres no compensation.

At the end of love, it's like waking up in a big empty room: you don't know why youre there, and you sure as hell dont know how to get out of it.