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Love and Fear (part IV)

Why did I do that?! Why did I read that again?! I don’t feel any better and now I’m sad and full of emotions I don’t want to feel right now! Plus, now that damn post feels like it’s missing something! Ugh! I’m going to be up all night thinking about that!

In my irritation I tab open my OKC app and start flipping through profiles. Maybe if I can just think of something else for a few minutes I’ll calm down and forget I ever read that post. Of course I know I wrote it so how does one forget something they created? Ahhhh, the power of selective memory and intention (the force is strong in this one).

Flipping through just the profile pictures, unwilling to break the fantasy by actually reading profiles, I see lots of available men and women; some very reserved and almost professional in quality, some very risqué to the point of pornographic. All very nice to look at, but nothing that tickles my fancy. I keep scrolling, going into incognito mode to prevent any more attempts “to chat” from other online OKC’ers.

After about ten minutes of this almost automatic flipping of pictures I finally land on a natural looking picture of a man with very soulful eyes. He captures me in a way none of the others had. I stare at his picture longer not wishing to debunk my fantasy still by reading his profile. I intuit him being a very humble, simple, and honest person. Possibly vegetarian by his Rastafarian looks as well as into recreational marijuana. I immediately scold myself for racially profiling and click on his picture to read his profile.

Everything I intuited was correct… On top of the fact that his profile had nothing else to say, which means he’s either very closed off, not one to speak about himself much, or just doesn’t like to write. Since I didn’t have much to go on I started elaborating on my own his personality. Whether or not he’d be a gentleman, polite and caring, funny and quick witted, physically loving and affectionate, a family man, good with kids, self-effacing, and personally ambitious about his life and what he wants out of his current lifetime.

All of a sudden the picture of Mr. Rasta was replaced by a picture of Him. I quickly realized I just named off every single quality He had, my now ex-boyfriend. Every single quality that made me fall in love with Him and I lost him. Why? How did that happen? How could I have let him just leave without fighting for him to stay?! That feeling of loss came back a million fold and drop-kicked me in the gut! I bent over in bed clutching at my middle for the pain was incredibly immediate and absolutely horrendous!

“Oh, my god!” I breathed…, and let loose a wail full of so much loneliness and heartbreak it sets off a storm of memory:

I’m caught in the past with my ex-husband. Its ten years ago, two months after our second child was born. The night he finally came clean of his affair and his need for us to separate “for a little while.” I relive every horrible emotion from that long and arduous night. I relive my initial shock and denial, the following pain of guilt and unworthiness. I cringe at myself while I watch how I attempt to bargain with him and plead that we go seek counseling together. That I’m sure if we just get everything out in the open we can figure out some way to make us work!

He denies me again, saying how he just wants his freedom. That he didn’t sign up for all of this and how he’s not happy with our current arrangements. That he’s still young and has ambitions that he can’t fulfill with me in the picture. I blow up and start to screech at him about how we’re married and he made a promise to me, to our family! To stay the course and try to work things out for better or worse!

“You promised! How could you do this to our family!?” I screamed.

It was the wrong thing to say and that long and pain-filled night ended very badly for me and our children.

My memory fast-forwards to all of the years of depression and loneliness afterwards. How I became so despondent I no longer reacted to the cries of my children. How they were taken from me and I didn’t have any love left in me to give or to fight.

Fast-forward through all of the confusing and anxiety-ridden bipolar episodes of my life. Each one of them triggered by a loss of some kind.  Mostly by the men, but also by friends and relatives. My children even when I finally attempted to reach out to them again.

Loss, always loss.

Alone, always alone.

I watch as I start to fall into myself over the eventual build-up and expectation of loss. Its happened so many times over and over again that now it’s just a part of my life and I’ve accepted it.

Loss and pain.

All I could feel was loss and pain.

My whole life was loss and pain…

I come out of the memory gasping for air! Like I’ve been holding it for years and drowning down a dark abyss of nothingness.  I feel like I can’t get air fast enough to make up for lost time and all of the pressure at this depth! I cough and splutter and cough and splutter until I can get my breathing under control. I’m still crying but it’s just because of the fear of lost breath and pain from coughing. I tell myself it’s okay. That I’m breathing now and I have plenty of air. I look around my room to make sure I’m here and no longer “there.”

The realizations and conclusions of my experience start to flood into my mind. Starting as a tiny trickle and then all of it converges and floods within me at once; everything from the betrayal of a husband and end of a marriage to all of the following failed relationships with practically everyone in my life over the next 10 years. It dawns on me how I’ve been repeating this trauma in every single one of my relationships and that is why this keeps happening. That is why I keep feeling betrayed by everyone. That is why I can never seem to successfully connect with anyone on a deep emotional level. All of it, all this time, it has always been me!  My perception of each and every single relationship I have ever had has been tinged with the shadow of this original trauma.  Its so clear to me now how I’ve reacted to everyone. That it was never their intention to be perceived in this way and it was always my choice to either see THEM or see MY TRAUMA through them. I lay in awe at the complete and utter understanding of my entire life…

I start to cry again, but softly this time. Over the needlessly lost time of spent youth and lost love; over the tragedy of a beautiful relationship now possibly lost forever because I never confronted my past to finally let it go.  I feel weak and spent, unsure how the tears keep coming. I’m so tired…, just so tired of holding onto this. I don’t want to hold onto this any longer. I curl up into a ball and cry out with my heart and soul to my Higher Self and beg for help in finally letting go of this pain. I don’t want to live with this trauma inside me any longer. I want freedom from this life of pain and heartache! I want to love completely and wholeheartedly again!  I want to love without fear! I just want to Love Unconditionally!

Suddenly I feel this urge to find Him. To go to Him and tell him everything that’s happened and how much I’m so sorry for allowing this to come between us. To beg him to understand, to forgive me, and take me back because I’m now self-aware! I understand why now! I get up out of bed and quickly get dressed. I grab my phone and IM Him. I ask if he’s at work or if he can talk. I run for my keys and jacket and zip out the door, jump into my car, and tear out of my driveway as quickly as my tiny Prius can go and speed off to his work! I still remember his schedule. Its only a little before 9pm, he’ll be there. It’s a half hour drive to his work and halfway there I get a return IM from Him that he can’t talk, but yes he’s at work. Bingo!

To be continued…

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