The relationship ended last June. Abruptly. It was meant to be a break. But days stretched into weeks and weeks stretched into months. I had to accept the obvious. With no answers. No closure. No idea what I’d done wrong. No idea what I had done to deserve being cast aside like so much used garbage by the people I loved. People I had for almost a year built my life around.
It’s a wound that until now I had not spoken of.
I am good at taking emotions and experiences and putting them in boxes. I will allow myself what time I believe is acceptable to mourn and then I will box up what is left – put it on a shelf and leave it there. This is such an experience. We have all been though them. I had accepted that I would never know what happened. Accepted my mistakes. That I trusted the wrong people. I allowed them far too much control. I allowed them to push emotional limits that I simply was not ready for. There a lot of reasons I let these things happen. A lot of reasons I saw the writing on the wall and chose time and time again not to leave. We want to believe the best of the people we love, however unwilling or unexpectedly. We want to believe they love us back. Sometimes, believing it doesn’t make it true. Self-delusion is a powerful thing.
The relationship ended in June. And yet, it has taken until now, for me to finally get the few things I wanted back from them. Months of unanswered emails and texts and phone calls. It was only when I used a friend’s phone so they wouldn’t know the number that they answered and I was able to negotiate them giving my things to a mutual friend. I asked for two things. My ring and my throwing knifes. What I got was two bags of things that they could have (I have now) binned. The mini toiletries I left there. Some clothes. Some alcohol including a bottle of champagne I had gotten for her graduation. A few of the gifts I’d bought them over time. Not the expensive ones, of course.
I was ok going through it all mostly. I managed to keep myself emotionally distant from the event. Even so, as the day afterwards wore on, I found some of those feelings drifting back. Self-loathing. Worthlessness. Anger.
I was ok. I kept active and put the emotions to use cleaning. It was only when I went to do some laundry that things went wrong. The wrong song came on randomly, and I picked up her scent on the clothes that they had sent back to me. I should have burned the lot. I just.. I suddenly felt so full of hopelessness. It seemed like everything I touched turned to ash and I didn’t know why I even fucking bothered. In the same moment I was so angry at myself. I have so much Right Here – Right Now – why was I letting some Fuck from yesteryear mindfuck me from beyond the grave. Why was I doing this to myself? Surely I was better than that. I’ve never been the best at controlling my temper. Though I have gotten better over the years, on this occasion – my anger got the best of me. I hit the counter top hard enough to break the solid jade bangle I’ve worn on my wrist for almost ten years. Oddly I felt pretty calm afterwards. I just got my dinner and went to eat it. it was only about 20 minutes later I noticed I was bleeding.
After that, though the anger was gone. The other emotions stuck around. I finished cleaning. I went for a run and pushed myself as hard as I dared knowing how sick I’ve been recently. Even then, when I got home, sleep wouldn’t come. Not until He ordered sleep this morning. Even then it was broken and full of strange dreams. I kept dreaming that a cab came to pick me up but I either refused to get in it because I didn’t like the look of the cabbie or that once I got in, I wanted to get back out but the cabbie locked the doors on me.
I hope by writing this all out, I’ll be able to exorcise these feelings and get back to some sort of equilibrium.