Sorted

"Glad things are sorting themselves out."

Sorting themselves out. Uh-huh.

I got through work without fucking up too badly or gnawing my own arm off with frustration, anger and unhappiness. That takes effort.

I made it a point to be at Forbidden Planet after work because I was damn sure Andy P'd be there. I wanted to tell people about the break-up a little at a time, mostly so I didn't wind up making whole big announcement pre-game. Then told Simson when Andy and I ran into him at Golders Green station. Then told Toos, and had to sit there like an idiot while she went, "Ah. Right. Just ... processing". That took effort. Hell, that nearly tore me in two.

I had to get through game and the food order situation without having to either choke down food I didn't want or, worse, explain to the others that the knot in my stomach would make me puke up anything I tried to eat. Not easy, with Kat going mother-hen.

I had to take a text message from him sent like nothing whatsoever had happened sitting on a bus trying to have a normal, non-depressed conversation with Andy and Toos ... and I had to do it without bursting into tears. You will never know how hard that was.

Then, when I realised how abrupt I must have sounded, I had to muster up the courage, the fortitude and the effort to apologise, and explain why I had been abrupt. And I had to sit there, read this thing about "sorting itself out" (and how sorry won't help, and to let him know if he could do anything), and not howl protest like a chained dog.

Word to the wise -- things do not "sort themselves out". Things don't just magically get better one day. It takes hard work, and fortitude, and a lot of pain sometimes. If I just sat around and waited for things to sort themselves out, I'd die. Literally. I wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, wouldn't get out and see people -- I'd eventually just kill myself. I know. I've been there.

And to cheapen the effort I'm putting in by making it sound as if it's all magically happening without anyone having to make an effort! Kat and Mark have put in the effort; they've been absolutely brilliant since I got hit with this news. My overseas friends have also put in the effort -- they're further away, but they've given me no cause to doubt they'd be there if I needed them. And I sure as hell have put in the effort. I made it through today without crying, and God willing, I'll do it again tomorrow. I ate as much as I could stomach, and my goal is at least one full meal tomorrow. I went to game, played my best, and tomorrow I'll do the write-up. My effort not only goes into surviving day-to-day, but in making my plans for tomorrow because there has to be something to look forward to.

This is not sorting 'itself' out. This is me working at it. And let me tell you, it's going to take more than 60 hours to bring myself back to the stage where I can adequately and politely deal with the person who dropped this bombshell on my head, rang a mutual friend to clean up the mess and then went off on holiday. Maybe later in the week, I could at least make polite conversation, because I do care about him. He's still a friend; people who earn their way into my affections don't come out again that easily. Besides, if I didn't still love him, would I be this upset? Just when I'm waiting for the last bus at 12:30 a.m. after day from hell, this is not what I want to have to deal with.

Shower and sleep. More of the things that constitute "sorting it out". Because, as I think I've already stated, it won't just sort out by itself.

(no subject)

Now that I'm somewhat over last night's little hissy-fit, I thought I'd give the typical brief mention of game, job, and other stuff that isn't the shit I've been going through since Saturday afternoon. You know -- just to make a change.

Trawling Forbidden Planet yesterday, I actually had a wander through the upstairs section -- the part reserved for cheap plastic tat. Saw the Doppelgangland Willow action figure (and the White Witch Willow one), then browsed Muppet figurines in "Cult Cartoons" ... and saw something very disturbing. Thundarr the Barbarian action figures. That's just ... wrong. I don't think they had Thundarr the Barbarian action figures when the show was still a going concern! Well, if they did, I never saw 'em, but then, I was very young. The only reason this strikes a chord with me is that it was my favourite show when I was about three or four. I named my first cat Thundarr, if that tells you anything. Talk about memory lane.

Last night's game basically happened in two parts, segregated predominantly by gender -- the boys were in on the duelling portion of it, while the ladies were in the less controlled and ultimately more dangerous (since Pietro arranged for the duel not to be to the death) task of rescuing Viola's sister from her life as a Strega to an Unbound. Alison managed to make it through alive, predominantly thanks to Regina's messing about with fate but also partly due to Regina's deadly accuracy with crockery. Long story. Overall, there wasn't that much for me to do except make very good unobtrusive rolls, botch a candlestick to the head and lose control of horse and cart in the getaway. And that wasn't a dice thing -- when he doesn't make you roll, that's Sorte. On the other hand, next week will be interesting as Alison presents her wedding gift to Fiora -- Thean equivalent of sexy underwear.

Speaking of our GM, the tables might be briefly turned next week. Claire's away this weekend, apparently, and Andy P has asked if he could sit in for part of Mage, and if there was any character he might be able to play. Oh joy, oh rapture -- I get to show off. Now, do I give him Molly, Brenna, Dawn or Hoshikuro? Or maybe one of the NPCs that are bound to turn up in the next session, given the plotting I've been doing? Oh, the possibilities...

Payday in just over a week. This is a good thing, as holiday flight booking and assorted Andy-P-catalysed shopping sprees made this month tighter than it needed to be. I probably won't go out and do very much for the next week anyway, mostly on the basis that I can't be arsed. Saturday's going to involve moving the last of my crap into my room if I haven't managed it over the week (and I probably won't, the way I've been lately), and during the week it's going to be easier on me just to stay home and vegetate as much as possible. I could use the rest.

I think that's all the news that's fit to print, as we're edging towards "weekend from hell" territory now. But I managed just over four paragraphs without it creeping up, so I think I've done quite well.