A Dissolute Life Means…

I saw your car today for the first time since our break.  It was in front of the office, just past the gates.  I’d had to park down the hill by the mailboxes at 7:30 last night, so if you’d come home after that I can see why you were forced to park there.  Or maybe you were out having fun.  That stupid thought crossed my  mind.  Not that you aren’t allowed to do that.

There was something very jarring about seeing proof of your nearby existence, though, and it really sucked.

Peyton asked when we were going to see you last night.  I wasn’t expecting it, though I don’t know why.  I just stammered something about you being busy and I didn’t know.  I missed you terribly last night even though I don’t normally see you on Mondays.

On my way back from my morning hike with the dog my eye was drawn to the make and model of your fancy black car.  Two times, two different cars.  When I got back home yours was gone.  I suspect you were one of the two I saw.  I felt like I’d missed a golden opportunity to at least lay my eyes on you as I passed through the gates, but the Universe had other ideas.

I’m nervous about tonight for some reason, and for tomorrow.  You might call the break off because it will have been one week and I am filled with doubt and worry, hope and love.  I’m jittery and scared.

I’ve been going over the past year with a fine-tooth comb and I can see why you’re where you are today.  I couldn’t even make you cum once.  That breaks my heart almost more than anything because to me it speaks to a much deeper chasm between us.  Something truly happened to me and you when we admitted our love for one another.

I got mad at so many things.  I just didn’t feel important; I didn’t know.  Maybe I was, but I wasn’t getting the message.  If transparency is the high-level rule, the one below it, the one that predates it is feeling important.  If I knew how important I was to you, even the transparency wouldn’t be as important.  I never knew and you were always so hurt by that.  And look at where we are now…

I’m in a very dark place today.  I’ve been up since 4 am doing my damnedest to NOT think about everything.  Eventually I just got up at 5:30, made breakfast, took care of all the living things relying on me to keep my shit together, ran the dog, got ready for work and now I’m writing this, avoiding my tears, wearing your Iowa sweatshirt you gave me.

Friends have advised me to wash all your things or to sniff them with pleasure, but the sad fact is none of your things smell like you.  Somehow your scent disappeared in my closet.  Maybe that’s the problem in general: you disappear when you’re near me and all my complexities and buzzing, busy, complicated life.

I am so sensitive about all of this that I have been virtually unable to respond to any of the wonderful people reaching out to me with love and kindness and incredibly thoughtful, intelligent things they’ve shared with me.  Their own stories, their own takes.

Not one person has missed the mark about you and therefore I feel like I have done you justice on the pages of my blog and the stories I’ve shared with my in-person friends.  I think I know you, though you like to correct me any time I make a “TN statement.”  It’s true, though: I know you.  And I still love you.

My therapist asked me a powerful question last night.  She wondered what I was trying to heal by dating aloof, elusive men who are apathetic and uncertain about me.  I told her that I learned that rejection came with real love as a child and therefore I must be rejected and loved in order for it to reach me.  My exhusband rejected me as a person and insisted that if only I did X differently he wouldn’t be anxious/agitated/stressed/whatthefuckever.

You, at least, never blame me.  You love me and like me and accept me as a person, though, I suspect, you reject all the swirling madness of my life.  I have so many complicated moving parts as part of my package.  It’s that unspoken rejection that I am drawn to.  I’m not sure how to resolve that at this moment.  I told you all this years ago.  This is no surprise.  It blew my shrink away, though.  So that was fun.

She was upset with me that I hadn’t called her sooner.  “Hy,” she said, “If you’ve been like this for 5 days you need to call me!  That’s what I’m here for!”  I had burst into tears the second the door shut behind Peyton in the waiting room.

I’ve never called a shrink in my life; I’ve always waited for our appointment.  I’m tough, right?  Her upset with me was enlightening.  I truly have issues with asking for help and admitting I’m in pain.  I don’t typically get a good response from people in my life when I do.  I’m certainly struggling with it with you right now.  You know, all the little Hey, don’t do that, that hurts my feelings chats.  They’ve sort of backfired, no?  Oh, well.  I can’t take those back, nor would I.

I want so badly for you to come back to me and say, “Hyacinth, I’ve searched my soul and I want to try to figure this out.  It may end up that we can’t be together, but I want to pledge to you a real effort to figure it out first.  With you.  I’ll be ok, I can handle it.  I think we are worth it.”  I’ve never had anyone fight for me before.  I’ve never fought for anyone before, either, but I know I could.  For you.

I can’t believe it’s already been 6 days.  Unfuckingbelievable.  They’re all a blur of tears and Friends.  Everyone keeps checking in on me and I feel loved, so supported.  How are you feeling?  Are you ok?  I’m so worried about you.

As much as I hated seeing your car come and go this morning it was a relief to know you were still breathing.  Yes, the unthinkable has crossed my mind.  I don’t know what’s going on with you and this is all so drastic and desperate.  People do horrible things to themselves sometimes, as you are well aware.

I’m a little horrified to think you might actually read these letters, too, but I’m not writing anything I wouldn’t say to you in real life.  You get to see my more theatrical, lyrical side certainly, but I’m not ashamed.  I love you.  This is what happens when I’m filled with emotion: I emote.

I hope this all ends happily and I hope it all ends soon, this not knowing.  I suppose I have one more long night ahead of me tomorrow before I know what I have to look forward to: will it be another 7 days?

Till then my feelings for you have not changed, though self-recrimination has increased as has my hopelessness for the future.  Please don’t judge me for being filled with doubt.

Your ever loving and [kind of] hopeful,

Hy

JB