I’ve had countless conversations with dear friends about how at different times we’ve lacked direction and been afraid that we’re wasting our lives away. Our fear… that we were wasting our time, terminally lost in a transient state but never really moving onto the next step in our lives.
We’d gripe and moan about how unfair it all seemed, like the universe was somehow conspiring against us. But the glaring truth is … our lack of direction, our indecision was all because we were afraid of making the wrong choice. Some of us were even depressed by our aimlessness and barely made it out alive.
I pondered on all this as I sat there alone, in the parking lot at work, staring at the pale green wall overwhelmed by an acute loneliness. Maybe it was the night air, but a keen chill slithered over me and when I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror I didn’t recognise who I saw.
It was in those blurry moments I decided to make some serious changes.
Eddie. It was time to let go. The excitement between us would get me through the days but it would never be enough for either of us. Our delicious intrigue helped us bear the mundanities of work and social propriety but it also held us back. It was also the most selfish thing I’ve ever done, and in a way I’d never thought possible.
That night I wrote a letter saying I couldn’t carry on with the way things were, what was happening between us never made sense and it wasn’t fair. I told him I couldn’t just coast along piggybacking on his relationship. His fiancée would never hear anything from me and she deserved his love completely. I wrote, lastly, I would remember him always.
I left the letter on his doorstep. And that, was that.
I sometimes regret it, but had I tried to say any of it to him face to face - I would have changed my mind.
I cried for two days, mourning the lost connection I’ll never get back. But, when my heart slowed and my breath returned, everything seemed better. Clearer.
People sometimes underestimate the value of a good all-out cry. The sweet overpowering relief as the tensions and stresses of the world pour out of you in a comforting stream of salty-sweetness.
For some reason we fight back the tears and then wonder why. Just when we think we’ve triumphed over our emotions, how come we don’t feel any better for it.
As a dear friend always tells me “It’s ok to feel whatever you feel. Cry, scream, or yell - do whatever you have to do.”
We sometimes trap ourselves in our own way of thinking and can’t find anything else. The challenge we present ourselves becomes cyclical there’s no end in sight.
The only thing truly stopping us, from letting go and relinquishing our self control long enough to let the tears flow, is fear.
If you’re stuck, choose to act on the changes you need. Accept your fear. Choose to feel, to cry and maybe you’ll find the measure of clarity you need to move forward. Choose your life.
Through Tears, in Hope
D.
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I must say things are moving along much more smoothly in life, there’s less angst, fewer lies, no sneaking around and a lot more of everything else. It’s a strange sensation really. Like a suffocating fog has been lifted. All this is because Eddie is gone.
However, the severing of our connection I must write about later, as I’m not quite ready to share that much about it just yet. There’s still some clarity to be found… to say the least. I must say flying solo isn’t too much different to when he and I were “together”, the more noticeable difference being there’s just a lot less sex. I suppose that realisation in itself is confirmation enough that I did the right thing. More on that at a later date.
Only a few weeks following that train wreck, during another one of my late night net surfing sessions, I was greeted with an instant message from the likes of my brother’s best friend Nate and funnily enough a lengthy and very truthful chat ensued. It’s delightful how confessions make for such intriguing material. We’re all such suckers for indecency and intrigue.
It started out innocently enough with chitchat about movies and various creative projects we’ve been working on, me with my various scratchings and blogs, and him with his number of multimedia creations. The minutes dwindled away and the next thing I knew it was the early hours of morning. It was about that time we’d finally arrived at the topic we’d evidently both been wondering about.
I have to say the wonders of technology may be super handy in the ways of research and keeping in touch with loved ones, but they’re also just another portal through which trouble can find you. Or is it just me…? I sincerely hope not.
Last summer Nate had come to stay with my brother and me, for about a week, it was a surprise for mon frere’s birthday. Over the first few days we’d spent some time together whilst, Anson, my brother-dearest was busy with work slash study commitments and in that time I’d begun to feel that familiar magnetic pull. The strange gravity which I’ve never really been able to name, though I know it so well. At the time I put it down to a proximity-crush (ie: the crushes you get when that particular someone is always around). Even though I practically chewed his ears off about all my Eddie-related woes, I doubt he realised I was also “checking him out”. What can I say I’m a multitasker - efficiency is my game. From then on we were on sporadic speaking terms, chatting online whenever one or both of us was bored and felt the need to talk to someone. Our only real connection was my brother, now that I think about it. I can’t quite figure out at which point it all changed.
The party was a swirl of neon orange-red lights, fiddly finger-food and booze. Surrounded by so many people I didn’t know other than Nate and my sister Lane, it was hard to find any kind of natural rhythm and connection to what was going on. As hard as we tried to intermingle with the chic clique gathering of my brother’s group, it was just down right tedious to be honest.
The music was blaring and swallowed us whole, amber fluids and other sweet libations drained down our excited throats and tempered our better judgements. As we danced I couldn’t distinguish between my heartbeat and that of the aural magnificence pouring out of the speakers, the tempo saturated the air and clung to my skin. The same drawing feeling as before flared up and moved my body closer and closer to Nate’s. My mind, on the other hand, screamed for me to run the other direction. The scratching voice rattled around in my skull and no matter how many intoxicants I imbibed, it would not leave me be. My mind, unfortunately for me, has always had a knack for ruining a perfectly good time.
For fear of the repercussions, more specifically the very possible unhappy reaction of Anson, I kept a reasonable distance from Nate… well for the most part anyway.
For a few moments I’d lost myself to the beat and pulsing energy, Nate’s hand wrapped at my waist, and not so suddenly the electrified sensation of our bodies pressed together. My conscience piped up louder than before. STOP STOP STOP - NOT AGAIN. So as subtly as I could manage, I hastily yelled out to a couple of family friends that showed up late and together we made our way outside. In the beer garden we’d seated ourselves and began to suck down some death sticks. Of course, I invited Nate to come along, it would have been not to - right? The look of disdain on his face, as I put the cigarette to my lips, still makes me chuckle. Strangely enough moments later he plucked the smoke from my fingers and put it to his mouth. The hypocrite. I, also, couldn’t help but notice the slightest flick of the tip of his tongue - I wondered if he tasted the lipstick.
We sat there cracking jokes, shooting clever quips and chatting away happily about our transient jobs and various dalliances with the opposite sex. It was rather short-lived and only twenty minutes or so before the others, having had their fill of ‘fresh air’, decided to head back inside.
Once again I found myself dangerously close to Nate. Maybe it was the feeling of the liquor fizzing beneath my skin, or even just the sweet ambient night. He stood to my side, things like “saying we should go,” and “Anson might be looking for us” - The messages were conflicting. His words said ‘we should leave’ but he didn’t make any move towards the door and he didn’t seem to be in sincerely as much of a hurry as the others. I remember thinking “It would be so easy. If I could just pull him in close enough”. The air was heavy I stayed seated, and took just a moment or two before forcing myself to go in after them.
Damnit. Damnit. Damnit.
sorry for the absence kids… update impending.
I have learned now how to be on my own.
I am not alone, and I am not lonely, I am comfortable being on my own.
I am happy in the knowledge that I can support myself and I can look after myself and I can rely on myself.
Its comforting and exciting.
