Tag: pain

05 – A Thought, Post-Anger

05 – A Thought, Post-Anger

There is a hum when I am with John.

Forgive me, there was a hum when I was with John.

I felt that hum the first time we met. It was quiet then. Not at full volume yet because I was too busy processing the Mount Everest amount of information he had handed to me with an encouraging smile. The hum picked up again in July of last year when I was able to spend more time with him. The hum reached a crescendo when I flew to Pluto to see him (Note: Pluto is a euphemism for the country he was in for about a year, in case you are marvelling at my easy access to space travel.)

The hum was beautiful. Like the whole universe was vibrating in its agreement with the relationship I was now in. He made me feel calm, at peace. I would have an awful day and sit next to him and feel amazing in five minutes or less.

I loved everything about John. I loved his smile. I loved his hands. I loved his eyes – there’s been plenty of times when I looked into them and would find myself grinning like a fool. Ear-to-ear, huge smile. Quite an accomplishment for someone with a small mouth. I loved the way he spoke. I loved the way I could snuggle into him and feel protected. I loved the way he made me feel safe.

Oh, the safety.

The man used to make me feel like nothing in the world could hurt me when I was with him. I wore his love like armour. Nothing could get through. I was protected from negative thoughts, less than kind intentions, hateful ideas.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t indestructible. The armour turned to ash when it came up against him. And me.

I used to wrap him in my love. I used to envision it protecting him. I used to do the same thing for him that I believed he did for me. I used to hate the idea of anything, anyone trying to hurt him. I hated seeing him in pain – any kind of it.

The armour needs to be continuously maintained though. Re-energized. Polished. Buffed. Checked for holes; wear and tear. We forgot to do that. Other things got in the way, the armour was getting weak in some areas – it tried to get our attention. We were deaf to its cries.

Something got under the armour. The first blow was a complete lack of attention. The second, his disinterest in spending time. The third, my words.

Oh, my words.

They do nothing but hurt. I shape them, I work on them with an obsessive eye till I am sure that it will do maximum damage. And I let them fly, with the accuracy of a sniper. I watch as he takes blow after blow. I wince at what he throws back. I throw harder, faster. I don’t want to lose this battle. Our armour falls to the floor, and at that point, the weapons are more powerful than ever. He pulls out a club embedded with giant sea urchins. I get my acid-covered boulder ready. The weapons get more and more damaging.

I look at the man I once truly believed loved me. His arm is pulled back, ready to deal the next blow. There is no love in his eyes anymore. There’s not even hate. There is only hurt.

I wonder who put it there?

04 – Fright Night

04 – Fright Night

This was a bad night that took place almost exactly a year ago

Have you ever had to slowly start erasing people out of your life? I’m talking about the erasing that has to happen even when the damage it will do to you after could be catastrophic. The kind that leaves you cracked right down the middle and blurred around the edges.

Have you ever had to wipe the moments of happiness, love and joy from your mind before beginning the physical process of detaching them from your sight and then your life? Losing a worthless friendship is one thing. But losing love that has been built for a significant period of time in a single night because of something minute that you did is impossible to fathom.

She screams. He breaks things. I shrink. I wonder how I got myself into this mess.

She rants about how she has done everything and us nothing. He grabs her and cries, trying to force a hug out of her. She pushes him away. She is hell bent on hurting us as much as she can. She is succeeding.

Eventually, the tears and the yelling and the accusations end. The mind and the body can only handle so much. At some point, I realise that there is no resolving this tonight.

I lie in bed next to him wondering what I got myself into. He cries. He shudders – full body rolling motions that are painful to watch – every other minute. It’s a keening cry. A cry that mourns the loss of something once sacred.

She hears him. She envelops him in a hug and they cry together. For a moment, I breathe a sigh of relief. Perhaps this was all they needed, a good cathartic cry. A simple expression that had to go through the motions till everything was laid bare. I hug him from behind. The sounds of their pain is worse than anything I have ever heard.

She pushes him away again. I’m not too sure why. She says something. I can’t hear it. I don’t want to either. I am tired of her voice. I am tired of looking at her.

But I want it to work. I don’t want to walk away. I grab her hand in the dark. I want her to know I am still with her. That she hasn’t lost me. She pulls her hand away and I implode.

I cry into the back of his shirt. He tries to comfort me. There is no comfort here. There is only pain and sadness and loss. I pray for sleep – the one remedy that has never failed me. For the hell of it, I pray for a time machine. One that could either go back the past 24 hours or turn back the clock 9 months.

Morning comes. I get up to shower. I wash the previous night off me. I feel the marks leave my skin but can’t get her screaming face out of my head. I can’t stop hearing his cries. I can’t stop myself from seeing his anger – it had frightened me so. I don’t understand the need for such extreme emotions. I try to connect with these feelings as I wash my hair. Try to imagine what has to occur for me to get to that level. I can’t.

Is this love? Am I not in love then?

Sleep failed this time. Morning has brought nothing but regret, disgust and apprehension.