In equatorial Singapore again in All Good Things

Sadly a Sebastian-less Singapore. That day five months ago seeing him and Chris at Marina Bay Sands heralded a massive change in my life. At the time it felt important, and it’s not been quick or easy but things are developing for me away from the sadness of Jon’s death and the loss of everything I loved so much.

It’s funny how you can think you’re okay about someone being dead, think you’ve come to terms with it, then something happens and it throws it all up again. In May I went to a show that was meant to be the next show that Jon did and I had no idea that a tiny part of me was holding onto the expectation of seeing him dance again. I know he’s dead. I know. And I’ve mourned and I’ve learned how to live without him in my life. But what I hadn’t come to terms with yet, although I hadn’t realised, was the loss of him as a dancer. Watching him dance was always the best thing in the world for me, what I’d do when I needed a boost, a jolt of energy or strength, and for many years I only knew him as a dancer. Once I got to know him as a man, I was amazed by how much I loved him, how wonderful the man behind the dancer was, and when he died it was the man I mourned.

It was a show by a friend of his, a former colleague. All his other colleagues were there to watch, and I felt like I knew at least half the audience around me. I even knew the man who had taken the role Jon had been cast in. Unfortunately he was the same man who’d been understudy to Jon on his last tour, who’d performed in Jon’s place when Jon was going through his injury issues, so he was horribly linked to Jon in my mind already. But I still had no idea what was going on inside a tiny part of my heart until the week before it opened and this voice burst to life inside m saying: I’m going to see Jon on Friday, I’m going to see Jon dance on Friday!

It was a shock. It came out of nowhere. I kept telling it: no, you aren’t. Jon is dead, you know that. Jon is dead and Tim is doing his role in this show. You’re never going to see Jon dance again, you KNOW that. But apparently it didn’t listen to me until I was sitting in that theatre and the lights changed and Tim appeared on the stage. Tim. Not Jon. It wasn’t Jon.

And that’s when it finally hit me. I will never never never see Jon dance again.

Strangely, it hadn’t occurred to me to mourn him as a dancer.

I’ve been mostly okay about him since then. For the one-year anniversary last month I went to the man who comforted me through the immediate aftermath last year, and he held me and made me laugh and lavished his usual abundant love on me and it turned into a joyful experience, so different to that night of numb horror a year earlier. I love my friends. I love my friends so much.

I’ve pretty much left the world that Annette ruined for me. I don’t know if I’ll stay away since that’s where most of my friends are. Right now I’m trying to decide if I’ll return at the end of the year, if I’ll join them all in London and find a way to cope with her and her sister’s hatred (which hasn’t diminished any, judging by the way they were five weeks ago when I last saw them), or if I’ll go off and find a whole new life somewhere else. I don’t want to lose all my other friends, but if I can never see them without seeing those two then I don’t know if it’s worth it.

I’ve been working full time since April, for the first time in three years. It’s okay. The anxiety is almost completely gone, just reappears for the odd day or two now and then - and that’s when it strikes me just how horrific it was to live with it unceasingly. It was a lot harder than I realised, and I need to give myself credit for having come through that. For having survived that on top of potential career-ending injuries, the end of my marriage and my best friend turning into my bitterest enemy, plus Jon’s sudden death. And having my heart broken by a man who’s probably the only man I’ve ever truly loved since Jordan (it was the 14th anniversary of his death this year–how is that possible??).

What a crazy three years it’s been. No wonder I’m still reeling from it all, but I feel like I’m finally getting back on my feet. I can breathe now, without having to consciously think about it. That’s massive.

I don’t know what’s coming, but I’m eager to find out instead of preferring to hide beneath the covers in my bed, pretending the world outside doesn’t exist. It’s wonderful not to feel terrified all the time. Going out is still a bit difficult, I’ll still choose to stay indoors, but it’s starting to chafe. I want to go out. I want to do things. I want to LIVE again. To have adventures again. If I can go out with other people then I’m fine, don’t even hesitate before stepping out the door, which is great. If I’m going out on my own, sometimes the desire to go out isn’t enough and I don’t quite make it, but if there’s something I really want to do then I can go out and do it without having a meltdown the moment I set foot on the pavement outside.

I took a class in filmmaking the other day, just because I could, and the most exciting thing was I was actually able to do it. By myself. I could go to a strange place with no one I knew and spend two full days there with all these strangers and I didn’t panic once. I really enjoyed myself. I miss taking classes and learning things, and it’s great to be able to do that again.

That said, I just had four days off here in Singapore and I didn’t go anywhere or do anything. I could have had so many adventures. There are cheap flights from here to the tropical islands of Thailand and Malaysia, of the Philippines and Indonesia. I could have gone mountain climbing in Borneo or diving in Bali or kayaking in Phuket. And I didn’t. I didn’t leave my hotel room except for a walk every evening around Marina Bay in the starlight.

The me of ten years ago would have been aghast and horrified at the horrible waste. But the me of two years ago would have been amazed that I was even able to contemplate such adventures.

Ultimately, I no longer want to adventure on my own. I spent my whole youth doing that, heading off to exotic countries by myself without a thought, and I’m done with that. People have become vitally important to me during the last couple of years and being a loner no longer works for me. I want to share my life, share fun and joy and excitement and adventure with people I love. So I guess it’s up to me to create a new life where I can do that.