I have had an experience, and I think it needs to be recorded, because I think there's something here. I'm posting it so those following my saga can know where I stand. So there was a boy that I really liked. While the thought of anything happening started out not only ridiculous and impossible, but also probably undesirable, the more I was around him, learned about him, and the more interested he seemed in me, the more I allowed myself to imagine and hope it could go somewhere.
Key word. Imagine. And once I thought there really was possibility, I gave my imagination free reign. And just like it always does, it created a destiny, a happy ending everything in my life had been pointing to. All the things about me that I thought he'd like became reasons we were perfect for each other. How absurd! And as I have learned, I created an identity for myself based on what I thought he'd think of things, focused my effort and attention on it, and simultaneously lost myself yet again. I sort of realized it was happening, but justified it, because it was only the "not knowing" stage that led to anxiety and confusion. Once we were happily settled together, I would be at peace again.
Coming, as it did, after a long, desperate attempt to hold on to something that was never real and that I honestly never wanted but convinced myself I did, this chance was my salvation. Everything I'd ever wanted-things I'd given up as nice but unnecessary-neatly packaged in one, beautiful person. This was hope when I'd given up hoping; a rescue to the life of settling I had resigned myself to. So here was my salvation, and I thought it so
good that I was dreaming again, hoping again.
Well, I continued to dream and to hope for five months. Enough at the beginning to talk through the lessening contact, to explain it on some factor or other. Five months. Wow. But I
told him how I felt, and knowing it, he would certainly tell
me if we weren't headed there, right? If he was backtracking? 3 months after I told him, and with no positive contact, no satisfying meeting, it was finally time to face facts. Oh, but letting go is so damn hard. The only thing harder, for me, is not knowing. Knowledge is everything to me-the problem, at times, when I just want to
know what time is needed to show.
I emailed him, asking him to just let me know it was over. He emailed me back without doing so, though only a frenzied mind like mine would have gathered hope from what he said. I told myself I was moving on, but at the same time knew I wasn't. I prayed and asked for a sign, to know it was gone, I should just move on, because without some definite sign I was never going to be able to, and if there was something I was doing wrong, something I could change to make it work-
anything I could do-I would do it.
Thankfully, I got my sign. A strange turn of events and, more importantly, miscommunication, led to my sitting at a little table at a cute Italian restaurant, on a date with the guys cousin, while he and his date sent me into one of the most severe shocks of my life.
This was hell. Hell to see, not some awkwardly arranged date, but his girlfriend, just as aware of the situation as me and him. Hell to try to make excuses about why I couldn't eat the
salad I mock girls for getting. Hell to want to catch every move the couple made, to read the signs of their movements, all the while avoiding looking at him and pretending to be enthralled with his cousin, who's never really understood me or been understood by me. All the while trying to act normal, to keep breathing, to somehow drink enough water to stop my mouth from drying out altogether. Hell trying to quench the flames engulfing me, inside and out. My pride, my hope, my love, my misconceptions, my imaginings, my trust, my
understanding of him and his situation, all swiftly destroyed in the flames burning my soul.
Yes dramatic, as dramatic as I can make it, because it was awful. I was giddy with the shock of it-blind to everything but the memory, and the die hard effort to block the memory out. I ranted and raved to friends and family, tears, anger, so much anger. The desire to never,
ever see him again. To cut all connection. To send the parting words "fuck you," and then forget him forever. I was hurt, astounded that he would put me in the situation rather than admitting something was amiss, or just making up a story. Completely dumbfounded why he wouldn't have just
told me. After my email would have seemed an ideal time, but if not then, then at least a warning before I saw the together. No, that was cruelty and inconsiderateness to a degree I could not have expected, and had defended him against for months.
Yet there it was.
I couldn't eat. My stomach a constant knot, my mouth perpetually dry. A few moments of sadness, surrounded by hours of intense anger. I knew it'd be fine-give it time and I'll be all right, I always am. And the next time, someone who actually wants me.
Well, I had a neat moment, praying. A moment of repentance, where I realized I had turned from God, yet again put something else above Him, and until I figured it out, faith was not #1. Not only that, but I'd created this image, this bad girl persona. I am a chameleon. I change for people. Or I did.
I felt a great weight lifted. Lightness. Hope. Love. Another chance, a new beginning, one entered into hand in hand with my God and my support. It was lovely.
But my mind kept replaying what I'd say, the few direct, angry words I'd use to cuss him out if given the opportunity, though I wouldn't initiate it, because his opinion no longer mattered to me. I kept feeling sad, upset, most of all panicked. Oh my gosh, what now? All my former concerns about direction and purpose, overlooked while
he was my direction and purpose, came crashing down on me. What now? And how to trust, how to love? Fear, so much fear.
I came home. I came home with the whole family, and felt happy. After my prayer the fire had stopped, and the shock was subsiding. I ate something. I laughed heartily with the fam., felt peace and love looking at the stars. Knew things would be okay. And still stayed up an hour while trying to fall asleep, thinking of the anger, the "what I'd say if I could."
Woke up the next morning alright. Didn't think I could eat for a while, found out I could. Revelled in the beauty of Idaho. Then went on a life-defining fishing trip with Shawn. And Chris. Up Home Canyon. Headed out to raucous conversation, and still the lingering thought that if he could hang out with the fam, he'd fit in so well; so funny, possibly the strongest reason I had for liking him was the assurance he'd get along so well with the family. So this weird desire for him to see us, to witness our conversations, persists though I try to banish it.
But as I sat on the rocks, the sun, listening to my brothers fish, and reading the book "The Power of Now," I really did find it. Peace, enlightenment, truth. I even read the chapter on relationships, and realized all that had been flawed, selfish, and needy in mine, recognized the dysfunction and theft that at some level I knew was happening but not deep enough to stop it. Realized not only that I needed to forgive him (not at some time in the future when the pain stopped, but now), but that
I did forgive him. That I knew I could no longer send him an email that was childish, harsh and full of swear words. That I couldn't, and that I didn't need to. Realized that in that moment, I was fine. Not just fine, not just okay or surviving, but intensely peaceful, happy, and hopeful. And realized that if in
that moment I could feel that way, then at
any moment I could feel that way. Trying to see the future brings panic and hurt, reliving the past does the same, but
this moment-I am in control. I'm not gonna write all the philosophies of the book. I'm just saying it changed me. I was free.
And though I did worry about falling back into old patterns, the old mindset taking over, fear and anger and pain creeping back in, they haven't. Occasionally that silly thought- "if he could see this" comes back-it's such a habit, a way I think. But it's quickly replaced.
I ate three meals today. (Written September 30) And I felt so light tonight. I went outside and danced-with energy from food and joy of spirit-and welcomed fall and October, and ran with the jumping dog. I made a fire, rolled in the grass with the dogs, watched a movie with attention riveted, snacked on candy, and had the realization that the anger and the mind-conversation have not come back. I'm not looking to the stars in desperation that the beauty will save me. I'm looking at them and
seeing them, just as I saw the trees and the ripples-yes, damn it, the ripples!
Maybe its not all better yet. But I'm happy for them and even happier for me. Clarity, how I love thee.
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Lindsey looking appropriately angry.
Jackie's car also showing awesome angry squiggles.
And it was gone. We switched from angry music to liberated music. Freedom. Then we just listened to any old music, as loud as we could, and danced around heartily for half an hour. Circling, twirling, grooving, jumping, leaping, I felt like a little kid and it was great! Thank you friends. Thank you burning, purging, freeing.
