For personal benefit it is best for me to assume you still pass this way. Your face glows at me from a cold flat screen. Yet your voice is warm and sweet in my mind. Do you from time to time type my name then delete? No, I have stopped as well. It has been thirty years now. Why do you linger in me still…..
Tonight I want to feel the deliciousness of my sorrow. Deep breaths pull it into my lungs. Slowly it seeps through my tissues until I am saturated. The weight of it. Density of it, is massive. It crushes me yet soothes as well.
I want to feel it. Embrace it. Allow it to engulf me completely. Giving in to its rips and gashes upon my soul. Exhaling as it feeds upon me. The pain is sumptuous.
How willing I subside to it. Erasing self until all that remains is the emptiness I truly am. May it erase all memory of love which once lived. For it is now so far distant its light no longer penetrates my darkness.
Tonight I surrender. Tomorrow I begin again.
No. Not tonight. Just arriving home from a long weekend in Savannah. I am exhausted. My body hurts every where. My brain hurts. My skin hurts. Finishing a deal on a house and bought my oldest a car for her second year at SCAD. Back up a bit to the house. Some of you who have followed me, hold on! I am moving back in with my wife. Yes. Yes, I know. Scary. I am additionally putting my house on the market. Had considered holding on to it, but no. Going to give this one last try.
That said. A buddy from childhood house sat for me and my zoo of pets while I was gone. He had pulled out our high school senior yearbook. It was laying on my bed. I opened it up and immediately there she was. (She not being my wife. She being my first love. Who I never really let go of.) Worse, there the both of us were in a picture together. It was a club picture. Everyone was being normal and we were jumping in the air. All smiles. It all came flooding back. I remember it clearly although it had been locked away for 30 years. I, we, were so happy. Giddy happy.
I am beginning to hope the parallel universe theory is correct. Hopefully. Somewhere or when. We never stopped being us. We continued on jumping and laughing. We got older and married. Had kids. Dogs, cats, bunnies, pigs, horses. Right now we are in bed. Looking at the yearbook together. Laughing. Wondering who else is still as happy as us.
That is not my universe. Here. Now. I have not talk to her in over a year. After not having talked to her in over twenty before we connected on yes Facebook. When we did talk it was just as easy. Just as natural. Just as wonderful as ever. However, she has a wonderful husband. Four amazing kids. While my life is a train wreck. So. I said goodbye and unfriended her.
I still wish she was part of my life. She has an amazing way of just setting me at ease. However, I have become comfortable with what we had being the past. What ever it was. I did not make it. What I have now and have had for twenty six years is far from perfect. It is barely a relationship. Yet it is what I have. Maybe it is all my fault. Maybe, maybe I have been holding on to first love way way way to long. Not maybe. Definitely.
So here I go. Giving my marriage one more run. No outside interference. Lets see what happens.
Let us begin from the beginning. If you have been in therapy this will feel like a cozy blanket. Or, like take a straight razor to scars you forgot you had, intentionally forgot. Either way, buckle in. Here I go. Welcome to my ride.
Almost fifty years algo I was born, in October. No big deal. Except, it was fifty years ago, and I was not due until December. The medical wisdom in those days was a premature baby should be isolated. Not handled. Only kept alive until their due date. If there were no complications they could be sent home then. There were complications. So I reminded in isolation. Eventually I was released but with orders not to hold me for my first year, for my own good physically. To keep my alive. Both of my parents were in the medical profession. Therefore, orders were followed.
I lived. I can remember back to some point during my first year. This has been confirmed through my mother by means of describing my nursery. We moved when I was two and there are no photos for me to view. My first memory is of me being alone in me crib staring in the hallway from a dark room. I was not crying. However I remember no emotion. It seems I did not cry when left alone as a baby. I knew nothing else.
I have no memory of bonding with my mother. No memory of doing things with her as a toddler. Only sitters. My memories are mainly of wondering alone in the neighborhood. Yes, as a toddler. One older couple especially. The Bettles. They would talk to me and give me root beer.
I will stop here for now only to say. I do not. I do not. I do not know how to bond or how to let go. However I do know now why I will never be able to let my first love go. I the female that told me she loved me. I was a lost duck…..and she was the love I never knew.