Bad night sleep

A Bad Night… or No Night at All

Bad night’s sleep?

Well… did I even sleep last night?

No.

If I’m being generous, I got maybe an hour and a half.

And when I finally drifted off, he invaded my sleep again.

Why is it always the ones who break you that haunt you the most?

Why do they get prime real estate in your head, even when they’re long gone from your life?

So this morning… my mental health is not the best.

Not even close.

I’ve been up since 4am, just lying there in the dark with my thoughts twisting themselves into knots. That heavy feeling in my chest, the one that makes it hard to breathe properly, sat on me like a weight.

Eventually I just gave up trying to pretend I was okay.

I messaged Gavin.

“I need to speak to someone.”

That’s all I could type.

Didn’t have the energy to explain more.

Didn’t have the headspace for paragraphs.

Just those words.

Because sometimes the strongest thing you can do is admit you’re not strong enough today.

And today?

I’m not.

Gavin rang at 8:05am and said he was already on his way over.

No questions.

No hesitation.

Just: “I’m coming.”

He asked if I’d had chemo yesterday.

“Yeah,” I told him. “I feel like I’ve had four rounds with Mike Tyson and then been run over by a bus.”

He laughed at that — but in the worried way, not the funny way.

He said he’d bring PPE because he knew Mum would be on guard, policing germs like a sergeant major.

At 8:40, he arrived and knocked on my bedroom door.

I was in bed in my snug pyjamas, dressing gown on, hat on, shivering like I lived inside a fridge. He opened the door and took one look at me before saying:

“Don’t you look great.”

I stared at him and gave him the full death glare.

“Fuck off,” I muttered.

He burst out laughing.

“There she is.”

I stuck my middle finger up at him.

He came and sat down, pulling his folder out, already in Serious Gavin mode.

“I read your email,” he said softly. “And I’m worried. So… what’s going on?”

And that was it.

I pulled the covers tighter around me, partly because I was freezing, partly because I felt exposed , not physically, but emotionally. Gavin sat on the edge of the chair like he always does, leaned forward, elbows on his knees, that patient “I’m not leaving until you talk” look on his face.

“So… what’s going on?” he asked again, gently this time.

At first, I just shrugged.

Because where do you even start?

Chemo? Heartbreak? Lack of sleep? Trauma? The dreams? The guilt? Ryan? Stefan? Life? Death? All of it?

My throat tightened.

My eyes stung.

I swallowed hard because I didn’t want to cry ,not again.

He waited.

Didn’t push.

Didn’t fill the silence.

So I took a breath , shaky, broken —,and said:

“My head’s a mess, Gavin. I didn’t sleep. I’ve been up since four. I’m dreaming about him again. And I just… I can’t.”

He nodded once. “Ryan?”

I looked down at my hands.

My fingers were trembling.

“Yeah. I can’t turn my brain off. I can’t stop seeing him. And every time I close my eyes, he’s there. And I hate myself because of it.”

He didn’t judge me.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t act shocked.

He just said, “Okay. Keep going.”

So I did.

“It’s like… he’s in my head even though he doesn’t care. It Really hurts And I’m trying so hard to forget him. But I can’t. And I’m tired, Gavin. I’m so tired.”

The tears came then.

Silent ones at first, rolling down my cheeks without my permission.

Gavin passed me a tissue box like he’d been waiting for the tears to arrive.

“I feel pathetic,” I whispered. “Fucking pathetic. I’m doing chemo, I’m fighting cancer, and I’m crying over a lad who doesn’t give a shit about me. What does that say about me?”

Gavin shook his head.

“It says you’re human, Sue. It says you’re hurting. It says you connected with someone at a vulnerable time. That’s not weakness and chemo messes with the mind .”

I wiped my face, sniffing, absolutely hating how emotional I felt.

“And then the chemo… I can’t think straight. I can’t sleep. I feel sick. I feel guilty. I deserve all of this, this is karma.”

He leaned in a bit

“I feel like I’m losing control,” I whispered. “Like everything is slipping.”

“And that’s why I’m here,” he said calmly. “You don’t have to hold it all alone.”

For a moment, I just breathed. Slow. Shaky.
Letting myself be vulnerable in a way I rarely allow.

He waited again, giving me space.

Then he said:

“Tell me the bit you’re scared to say out loud.”

And God… that hit hard.

I stared at the ceiling, tears dripping into my hair.

“I don’t know who I am anymore, Gavin. I don’t recognise myself what ive done . I’m scared of what chemo is doing to me. I’m scared of being alone. And I’m scared because… part of me still wants him. Even after everything.”

He nodded — not shocked, not disappointed. Just understanding.

“Sue, none of that makes you a bad person. It makes you a person in pain.”

I cried again.
Properly.

Gavin asked again — gently, like he was stepping around broken glass:

“Would you like Ryan to come into one of our sessions?

It might help both of you.

You could talk in a safe space.

If he has questions, you can answer them.

He might benefit from hearing what you’ve learned about yourself too.”

My stomach twisted.

The idea of sitting in a room with Ryan…

Talking honestly…

Face to face…

With everything laid bare…

It scared me.

But i unblocked him and texted him hoping he'd say no!  As I cry like a bitch in my sessions ans I didnt want him to see my vulnerable side 

Not because I thought Gavin would push me,

not because I feared Ryan shouting,

but because I didn’t know what it would do to me.

Gavin said , “He’d probably benefit from listening… yeah. And maybe if he had questions, I could answer them". But… I’m scared, Gavin.

He nodded. “That’s normal.”

Then he added, “If you want, I can ask your cancer mental health nurse to attend too — extra support.”

I shook my head immediately.

“No. I don’t want him to feel like I’m ganging up on him.”

Because the last thing I’d ever want is for Ryan to walk into that room and feel cornered.

He doesn’t deserve that.

Not from me.

Not after everything.

Gavin understood. He didn’t push it again.

I told him i had spoken to Ryan on Sunday when I cut contact he said Stefan’s been making things up.

When he said he didn’t care if you died that was before we ended up fucking 

Gavin said 

"You cling to every sentence like it’s a verdict on your worth"

My head couldn’t keep up.

My heart definitely couldn’t.

And that’s the thing about trauma, chemo, heartbreak, and exhaustion:

They all blur together until you don’t know which pain belongs to which wound