It’s odd, this. Unwavering yet intermittent. It comes, goes, grips at once like a flu and at another moment, unremarkable. Symptoms are scattered, inconsistent. There are patches of day in which the void is so whole, so pronounced, distinct, yet life happens just as it has, to do task lists tallied and Blockbuster DVDs returned. The gas tank is filled at a familiar spot, staples purchased at stops that provide the most ease. Shared spots? Perhaps. I’ve no idea. Can you imagine? It’s odd, that.
There is much to share in the moment. The woman across the way has lost her twin weight. Do you remember her? Chili pepper is a color that looks good on me. The large is too big on top. Travel is planned and honors have been bestowed. Family members excel and the new year news is indeed positive. A friend may move south and another strikes up a familiar band. Good things, as I say. Does that stir something within? Do you remember?
Do you remember me? The shade has changed but the rest remains the same. The spark I suspect once intrigued is intact. I’m in motion. I’m reading and watching. Writing. I’ve questions about the most ordinary of days, about itineraries and meals, photographs and followers. I answer them for myself and hope I’ve come close. I trust I have. I laugh and plan and hold my own when least expected. Take care not to confuse action with content.
There is anger. Anger tempered by understanding, a frustrating combination. It’s very adult, of course, recognizing when life is more important than you are, for the moment or forever. Adult doesn’t matter much when the child in you wants connection, warm skin, discovery.
The tie is understood, inherent to us being, of course, just as are Tuesdays and the burn of a hot stove. It all is so. Quite simple, really. A promise from both sides exists in word and thought that we’re there if the other should be in need. Only a part of me remains confused. If not now, when could we possibly need the other more?
5 Comments
oooh i feel like I did this to you :( I’m sorry.
Your last sentence just ripped my heart the rest of the way. The pain is a living thing, here.
Oh girl, you have such an extraordinary way of being able to put in to words what the heart feels… amen.
I can hardly believe it’s been more than 3 years now since I felt exactly the same. For now the wound is raw and fresh and you don’t know which way to go… but at some point there will be more and more of the patches of “regular ” life… i can hardly believe i’m saying that to someone else since I wasn’t always so sure I’d live through it. But I did. One day at a time. And I prayed.
And I will say a prayer for you to ease your pain, give you strength, and help show you the way.
These moments come to me in sleep, in dreams. Like it all never happened, that we were able to make our way through it and that all is still the same. He’s still the same person, we are still the same couple, and for a moment, I remember what it was like to live without the regret and “what ifs” that I am stuck with now.
Now I’m trying to live the life I think will one day make me feel like I’ve made it through and that I’ve made something for myself. I’m making decisions I hope will start to feel normal and that won’t feel so forced anymore. Decisions that will make the Mary-Sunshine-Cheerleader feel truly happy again. “Fake it til you feel it” – one of these days I hope to feel it again.
(I’ve been reading for quite some time and as “stalker” as it may seem, I feel like we live somewhat parallel lives – your words hit me like a brick wall at times, and I’m not even sure I’m translating them correctly, but they speak to me all the same. Thank you)
From a fellow DC Girl,
Beth
This is amazing. It has ripped my heart out, and I keep coming back to it. If only there were better words for “god, that sucks, I (think I) know how you feel and wish I could have written this.”