"Sometimes I feel like I've lost so much I have to find new things to lose. "
- Mozelle Batiste Delacroix "Eve's Bayou"
Today Grumbles, for some reason, decided to ask me about the Chupacabra hunter. My response was a very cool, "We're not together anymore." *deep breath* I got it out. For the first time. Without crying. Milestone. Then he said, "Aw man, what happened?" Well I had no idea the words, "I don't know," could be so difficult to formulate. Even more difficult than that was attempting to master the ability to stave off the tears that were screaming to escape my eyes. Being emotional is one thing. Turning into a basket case in front of a workmate is something entirely different. The more I tried to insist that it was a part of life, and not that big of a deal, the harder I had to fight my tears.
I said some things that I really meant, but really didn't mean. Make sense? I told someone, who I deeply care for, and who before now, was a heavy presence in my corner, that I couldn't be his friend. And on the one hand, I don't know if I can. On the other, I don't know if I can't. I thought if I could actually make a definitive decision for myself, then I could begin to at least make sense of myself, since making sense of what happened between us seems impossible. Nobody told me it would make me feel worse.
My sister said I believe that to live is to suffer. I don't believe my outlook is that morbid, but I have said on more than one occasion that my struggle is what keeps me alive. It is true that I have become so accustomed to scratching and surviving, I fear contentment, because it can be snatched away so quickly. Within a weeks of appreciating my mother as a human being and coming to an understanding, she died. The very week I found out I was pregnant with Ladybug, the very day my then-husband and I finalized our reconciliation and signed our new lease, and within the same HOUR that I bought our bathroom decorations for our new home, I discovered that he had fathered another child - who was three weeks old. Within days of finally gaining the light at the end of the financial tunnel and believing that I had some grasp on what course my life would take, Katrina took everything away. So, when I realized that I met someone who could really pull me in, I was uneasy. When I came to the realization that he had, in fact, pulled me in, I was scared shitless. And though I invested in it, and threw caution to the wind, and did everything else the scarred, yet optimistic do, secretly, I waited for the "boom."
Be careful what you wish for.
I see why I've battled against this for so long. Love is a bitch. Plus, as a wise man once said, "Even the married folks I know (though they love their sig others) are a couple of dirty dishes left in the sink away from calling it quits."
I just wish I wasn't so damn sad. I've always known that I'm ultra emotional, but crying for 35 out of 38 days is a bit much, even for me.
Part of me wishes that I could just forget everything, and go back to the me I was before, because this just hurts so damned bad. Usually, I welcome all experiences, including pain, because it shapes me. However, this time, it just all feels so senseless, I don't know what the lesson could be other than love just isn't for me, and I don't know if I'm ready to accept that.