Monday, October 3, 2016

The Missing

"I hate you!"
"No you don't!"
"Oh yes I do, I absolutely do!"
"Fine!  Just Fine!"
"... I hated you first!  I hated you for so so long, I'm sure you knew!'

    Then it happened, just like that.  I don't know how we got here.

We were having it.  We were having it and didn't care if the world witnessed our graceless decent.

    Hallway sex.

"Oh F@%K YOU!'
"No baby, no... F@%K YOU!"

And that was it.  Doors slammed.  Caution thrown to the wind. Feelings set on fire, unforgivable hurt.  Edges of daggers everywhere you look.  Not the kind of moment you 'get over'.  Not the kind of fight you 'forget'. We were, and have since been, officially broken up.

   Do you know that feeling?  When the ground shakes and all you believed in loses its meaning?  When you aren't sure which way to look at the world to avoid breaking out in random senseless tears...

I still have the shirt I wore the last time we were together, it hangs in my laundry room under the pretences of 'not quite fitting in that load'.  I'm afraid to lose that smell, the last of us together.  The last time we held each other close.

  I used to feel so safe there, all wrapped up in that sweaty embrace.  Safe but simultaneously thrilled, as if on the edge of some dangerous life changing epic adventure.  Oh how being together could change my world view.  How it could move mountains for me.  Or maybe how we moved mountains together?

Now I'm stuck in this hurtful bubble.  This place of unknowing.  People whisper, that's okay, there are other fish in the sea.  They tell me the memories will fade, that soon I'll find happiness again.  But I don't think they understand.  I don't think they get it.

Maybe they've not known a love like this before?  Maybe that pull, that tug, that unstoppable longing to be together has never taken ahold of their souls like mine.  I feel sad for them.  Or I would, if I were feeling.  I've given up feeling, since we've been apart, since I've been abandoned here, to my misery.

Bricks and mortar.  Bricks and mortar.  You can't see me.  I'm hiding.  Rebuilding my armour.  Collecting my pieces of self from the ashes left on the ground.  Oh look there's some more.  I wouldn't dare let on how deeply this loss has hurt me, how much my insides are out.  I'm hiding from everyone.  Admittedly sharing your vulnerability is as graceful as sharing your strength.  But my wounded heart will have none of it.

Mostly I'm hiding from myself.

Yes that's right.

From myself.

I have banned all self talk until future notice.  You know that saying, if you have nothing nice to say? Nice?  Nice... What fucking planet are you on anyway?  Nice.  Here I had thought I'd found someone I could just be myself with... forever.  Someone I could trust.  Someone who accepted my strengths and weaknesses.  And oh how there were weaknesses.  So so many weaknesses.  Cracks in the foundations of my everything.  But together made me whole.  I was unstoppable.  I could put on a brave face each and every day and step out into the light.

And holy hell, do I hate the light.

But I would face it together. And all the dark, gnarly bits too. It filled me to the brim with such belief and hope.

We keep bumping into each other, every day, in such unavoidable ways.  I see everyone else's smile.  Brightening up everyone else's life, with such bliss and joy.  Throwing compliments out like they're going out of style.  I see all the photobombing in all their pictures, making them glow, making them giggle, doing everything to make me jealous, envious, angry... more compounded hurt.

But you can't see me.  Bricks and mortar.  I build this wall.  My new safe place.  Tucked away.  Dreading the day I have to come out again.

Friends say, just think of the fun you'll have, starting again.  Fun?  Oh my goodness I hate the tentative flirting, the hopeful tippy toe steps, the careful breathing, the kind words, the appraisal, the dancing around schedules, the playing who's turn is it, the sharing of intimate details that I swore I never would again.

The daring to trust again.

The very thought makes me nauseous.

Bricks and mortar.  I don't want someone new.  I want my familiar, my known, my comfortable, my safe, my knows me well enough to finish my sentence.  But my inner compass is still spinning hurtfully.  Bricks and mortar.  We can't fix this, neither of us willing to sit down and dialogue.  Neither of us willing to bend the rules, change up the game, lower expectations.

I won't do this again.  I won't put myself out there.  I won't allow for the potential of hurt again.  I won't... We used to talk for hours.  We used to carelessly stay up all night and watch the stars shine, and the moon fade, and the sun come up.  We used to be present.  We used to share.  We used to...

 I am full of guilt. I never said how I felt, how I adored.  I never said the words 'I love you.  I love you more than my breath.  You make my world make sense.  You take my stresses, my frustrations, my fears and break them down into manageable bits.  You are what makes me sleep well at night, what I jump up in the morning with excitement for.  I love you.  I love you and I hardly even know you.  We've only just begun to know each other.  Why are you leaving? What have I done to deserve being left behind?'

And yet.... no self talk.  Not yet.  The hurt is still too new, too raw, too fragmented, too sharp.  With every whispered 'come back' I'm flinging around assaults like 'never accepted me on my terms' and 'always felt like a struggle to be with you, like I had to prove myself every second, like I couldn't just be, that I had to constantly be better'  I'm sick of trying to fit into a mold you've created for me.  I think I'm enough right here.

But that's a big lie.  I do not think I am enough.  Never ever have I thought that.  Not for one second.

So wait....

How does this work?

   Chissel out the grout around a single brick... stream of sunlight sneaks in.  How can you expect someone to love you, to accept you, to take you for what you have, and offer, and expect nothing else from you; if you don't accept yourself on your own terms?

How frustrating. How endlessly aggravating.

I have lost my best friend.  I have lost my best lover.  I have lost my favourite soul mate.

But maybe that's a good thing?

... a good thing?  How can a good thing hurt so dam much?  How can a good thing make me gasp for breath in silent sobs I'll never admit under the cover of the warm shower water?  How can a good thing make food lose it's taste, make the moon lose it's allure, make my will to move evaporate quite so?

I might throw bricks.  I might shove things.  I might have my toddler tantrum.  I might cry unconsolably and make a scene.  I might fuss.  I might swear.  I might... I might.  I might...

"We should talk"
"I'd like that"
"I don't want to hurt anymore"
"I miss you too"
"We can't be the way we were.  I can't go back to that"
"We weren't all bad? We had some awesome times..."
"On your terms.  It must be on mine this time.  Or we can't ever be again"
"I see. Let's talk about your terms.  Let's see what they are.  I'm thinking we could compromise?"
"I can't keep up.  We have to slow down.  I don't like the rush.  I like the journey.  I love getting lost with you, not knowing where I am, but feeling safe all the same.  I can't do this with guilt anymore"
"You can't blame me for everything.  You can't look for excuses.  We both have to work at this.  Fast or slow, we have to be in this together.... that's the only way it works"
"I don't like the jealousy you create.  I have to spend time with others, doing other things.  I have to smile more and stress less"
"Okay... one more thing..."
"Have you washed that shirt yet?"

I'm not sure what it all means.  We haven't actually met again yet. I haven't dared reaching out yet. But we're talking.  Talking is a step right?

We're talking.  And my friends and I are planning to rent a bulldozer to knock down a few bricks in the wall...

Friends are how you get through these awful breakups I think.

Especially when your breakup was with your third Run Streak on what would have been day 480.

Next time baby... next time... on my terms.

And oh how I miss you... and oh how missing you hurts...

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