The Come Down

There comes a point where you begin to fall from your high. The come down.

It’s a gradual process starting with one tiny knock that will send you spiralling down. It starts with the occasional five minutes of sadness. Then it escalates to weeping all of a sudden late at night when you realise there’s no one there to talk to. Soon, it begins to take over your life. It’s harder to get up in the morning. You have no motivation to do anything. All you want to do is lie in bed, hiding under your duvet away from the big bad world. You burst out into tears and cry uncontrollably for a few minutes, and then you’re fine.

However, you know you’ve hit rock bottom when you find yourself forcing a smile. You don’t know why you’re sad. Other people assume it’s because of this and that, but it’s not. It’s a plague of sadness that takes over you. You’re unable to feel.

You put on a front to please the people around you but inside, you’re crying and screaming. You wish you could smile. Throw your head back and laugh hysterically, truly happy. Instead, you find yourself on the brink of tears every minute of the day. And you still don’t know why.

It would be all that much clearer if you could make sense of why you’re crying. You begin to get angry and stressed with yourself. What’s so wrong with your life that you cry yourself to sleep? It could be worse. You could be dying.

But you’re not.

It’s a type of disease. An alien intruder, that’s taken over your brain. You feel numb. You have the capacity to just about get up in the morning and sit about all day wondering what’s wrong with you. You find yourself staring into thin air for hours as everyone gets on with their day. You stay still, frozen in time with one question on your mind. Why am I so sad?

When you take a drug, you can have a long lasting trip of happiness, where everything seems perfect, magical and you are in a state of euphoria. But you forget that after the high, it’s the comedown. You can stoop lower than you ever thought was possible. People are more likely to do something dangerous to themselves during a come down than on a high.

This is my come down.

For the past months, I’ve focused on my college work to forget *Him, to occupy my mind. Now, it’s all over and although I have my books, I don’t have anything to distract me. Not getting the job has affected me more than ever thought it could. I am now stood on the edge of transition, ready to step into the next stage of life and for the first time ever, I’m scared to let go of the past.

By letting go of college, I’m letting go of *Him and everything I thought I could have.

This year I assumed I would spend lazy days with *Him, looking forward to my future, gazing upon sunsets and glorious sunrises. I figured I’d get the job and everything would be perfect.

The past months I’ve carried on my high. Now, the drug has worn off and I’m coming down from cloud nine. Like a feather falling from a bird’s wings, I’ve hit the ground. I feel as if I’m floating vacantly through the days without any real direction. A lost soul with nothing to anchor me.

This is the comedown. The hardest part of it all.

There are five stages of grief. Although I did not lose someone to death, I lost them from my life. In my eyes, *He is dead to me. The man I loved and adored and thought I’d spend the rest of my life with, is dead. Now he is a stranger to me.

One; Denial and Isolation. In my mind, it was easier to pretend he hadn’t broken up with me and that it was just a bad argument. I hid my emotions and isolated myself from my friends. I wanted to be alone, for if I couldn’t be with him I didn’t want to be with anyone.

Two; Anger. For the past months whilst finishing college, I have been full of rage for him. They say love and hate are close, but to me, they’re one of the same. I went from adoring him to hating him in a matter of months. Deep inside, of course, I still love him, but the old him that used to brush my hair and make me laugh. Whoever he is now, he’s no man of mine. I hate what he did to me. I could never forgive – which is even harder to admit.

Three; Bargaining. I began to find myself trying to think of ways seeing him, talking to him or persuading him to get back with me. Guilt trips. Grand romantic gestures. I wanted control again. I still don’t know what happened between us and that’s left me in limbo. How can I possibly move on with someone new if I didn’t know what I did wrong previously? How can I learn from the past if I never knew my mistakes? It was cruel of him to cower away and never tell me the truth. I know inside I’m strong but you can’t see it through the blurry version of love and hate. Everything is black and white. I knew I wanted him back but I battled with my own morals and strength. He hurt me. I needed to move on. But it was hard. I would’ve done anything to be back in his arms again and to hear him call me ‘his angel’ once again.

Four; Depression. Here we are, at the fourth stage of grief. It actually comforts me to know that this is not the end. There is one final stage afterwards.

Five; Acceptance. There have been points where I thought I accepted it but things since then have proved that wrong. I have to push on through this dark stage until I break through into the light. I will be liberated and full of understanding – even if I never do get my answers. I will accept.

Depression is the comedown. Acceptance is brushing off the dirt, getting back on your feet and carrying on. Courage is the key. It may not roar but it’s the little voice at the end of the day saying ‘I’ll try again tomorrow’.

I will try again tomorrow.