A passage in time

Delayed grief is an interesting thing. I spent the greater end of 2024 tunneling through a breakup. By January 2025, my ex girlfriend, her two children and myself all disbanded from a family life in a 3 bedroom apartment. Her and the children took off to a new state and I flew into a new home about 30 minutes north of Atlanta. It was a whirlwind of a transition, one that frankly, I still don’t feel was at all fair to endure. I spent 2025 in such odd states of mind. On one end, I was free from being the family man. No longer would I need to come home from night shift dressing and preparing little ones for school as well as taking them. Or trying to keep a girlfriend interested, rent paid, psyche fit for all who experienced me including myself, etc. On the other hand, I missed the children. I missed my ex. I missed all of the good psychoactive properties that we had created within our shared living space.

Those properties being even how the light filled the space, the feeling of the conversations (when they were good), the routines like having wine with each other while prepping dinner, or our cleaning days, park adventures, football outings, etc. I just felt immensely disrespected and robbed from someone I went out of my way to trust. I provided so much that got neatly wrapped up and chucked to the side as if it were nothing. It was truly unbelievable to me and did deeply tarnish how I would feel about connecting with another person in the future. I took my last rounds around the apartment, snapping photos and video of all the half cleaned spaces as I took the remainder of my belongings to the moving van. I was hearing the sounds of our voices from past interactions reverberate off the walls.

I looked down to see a picture drawn with colored pencil on pink construction paper by one of the kids. It was of a smiley stick figure. A gleam of light glistened over the drawn picture. It was eerily quiet in comparison to what it used to be. I was alone in there and in disbelief that it was all over. I stepped into the kitchen and peeked into what was a laundry room area, but actually served as the place we kept our toy poodle. There was a balloon I had bought my ex that I believe was for Valentines Day of that year. It was still inflated and chilling in the corner. I couldn’t get myself to destroy it, so I left it there to be removed by the cleaners whenever they arrived. It honestly was symbolic to me of my often foolish means of sticking around in environments that have no issue leaving me to deflate.

There was a couple of winter storms that brought ice in the metro Atlanta area. That meant the city was shut down. The first storm rendered me to be put up in a hotel by my place of employment since it started whilst I was there. The second storm, I was thankfully home and by nightfall, I scrambled to find a place that was open and serving food. I ended up finding one but they weren’t serving food that night. Still— I sat and enjoyed my stay. This scenario is mentioned because its what started my solo outings to the pubs in the new area I lived. Now I know this may sound pathetic. A guy experiencing a breakup and starts hanging around the pub getting drunk and wallowing in his sorrows. But no, while the breakup did seep into my mind, it was hardly inspiring my visits nor was I wallowing and drinking. These visits were more of a creative escape after my work week, a kind of nightly ritual before going back home and doing some creating. In common fashion to my life, I ended up meeting all kinds of interesting people and having all kinds of conversations. Times that revitalized me in a good way if only for a couple of hours. I even ended up making one of the places my primary pub to grab a bite and drink because the food is so good and the people are infectious.

The summer crept up on us. I was working 1st shift for the first time in many years, breaking my nocturnal habits. They didn’t spring too far. After work, I’d nap for a moment but find myself back up and trying to catch happenings that stretched deep into the night. I did quite a bit of traveling, which is somewhat typical of me. In July, I connected with a group of friends and we all hit Vegas. It had really not been my favorite place in the world, but that time with the buddies was actually joyful. From there I visited another buddy in my old stomping grounds in L.A. I even got to go on what the boys and I called “Rip n Rides”, where you smoke a bit, throw on some headphones, and cruise on a beach or sports bike up the coast. A truly rewarding experience that deserves its own story on here.

I finished off my summer with my first ever visit to DragonCon in Atlanta on my birthday. It was a great time and it even brought me face to face with one my great friends from elementary days (2nd grade to be exact). It was his first time at the event as well, I was in disbelief. It was funny because, as I got myself prepared to go, I briefly thought: “I wonder if he’ (we’ll appoint him “M”) has ever been to this convention. It had to have been a couple hours later and he called me out the blue. Mind you, we don’t speak that often anymore.

As the days grew cooler and the fall faded into position, more grief came to bite me in the ass. I had it in varying levels throughout the previous parts of the year, but the fall would seem to remind me of the hurt that was had just a year previous. There were lots of bodily changes too. I had returned to night shift by then and I grew more tiresome. I would come in the house in the morning from work and sleep from the time I got in till the time it was time to leave. I felt spaced out and just overall in an odd place mentally. By October, I had unexpectedly lost my Uncle. It was a particularly surreal time. The thing is, creativity seemed to prevail and I channel lots of energy into developing more of what of music and concepts I had previously started. I remember by Thanksgiving, I had a full-blown moment of grief that led me to contact my ex by text message. The text was a bit dramatic, I’d admit. It was the pint of emotions of feeling like I was hated and couldn’t say anything to her. It was a suffocating feeling because I didn’t want to talk to anyone else about her, I wanted to speak with HER. Not to scold her or be mad but to attempt to understand what about me was so terrible to leave me in such a position. But I knew it was likely not appropriate, so I never reached out all that year until that moment. The response back felt peculiar. It wished me well, it asked what was expected of them but in a manner that felt…uninviting. I couldn’t find much to say but to apologize and wish her and kids were well.

The new year came and I got an unexpected call from her. It was claimed to be a false call, but it ended up being quite a lengthy conversation with some laughs, exchanging of some memories I had, etc.

Overall, the space of 2024 had to have been one of the most interesting transitions I’ve had to date and a staple in my life, for sure.