I Wonder About You

Are you better at sadness now? 

I am. Or at least I am used to it. I have not been as sad as you, for as long, but sadness is sadness, and it's deathly in all its sizes.


Do they, the new "she's"-- (I rather think there are many than one; one is too threatening still.) Do they understand? Are they better at it than I was? 

I didn't set the bar too high. But still, I hope they are not.


Are things like smiling and tomorrow still chores? 

I wanted so much to make you smile; I failed to understand you needed me to be the one person you did not have to smile for. Or talk about tomorrow with, for that matter.


Do you still ache for the mundane? 

Sameness, which was so excruciating to me, is precisely what I miss the most.


Do you fit in yet? 

I can't imagine you do. You are an outsider and you are arrogant-- rightfully so, you are too smart and too beautiful for normality. I was much better at seeming comfortable. But it's a pose, nonetheless. I think I have become more transparent and tired. A facade requires cement-like armor and energy.


Are you forgetting? 

I am. 

I would rather who I was be dead to both of us. 


And... Do you, too, wonder?

I hope not. And I hope not never.


*

A Leap

It takes me a year to get over a loss. Be it heartbreak, a death, the end of school, or a friend who moves away; the first year is always full of anniversaries. I keep a one-sentence-a-day-for-five-years journal, so every day I read what I was doing exactly one year prior. I do this deliberately, because I like to remember, relive, and re-feel. It's how I cherish what once was and let it go fully, without storing unnecessary sadness or pain.

Yesterday was the anniversary of the incredibly painful end to my last relationship. Yesterday meant I survived that first year after losing him and the following 365 days of remembering him.

But today was the 29th of February. Today did not exist last year. Today was new.

Take a leap, my phone reminded me at 9:00am today. Have I grown? Am I changed? Have I healed? Am I okay yet? 

I don't know. But I am here. My little heart is still beating fiercely, anxious to be filled with love again.

And on this day, after all those days of what was, there is nothing to remember.

It is almost midnight. Today provided a crack between this "year" and the next one. The one that is not full of anniversaries anymore. The one that might be full of possibilities. I am about to step into tomorrow.

No, not step. Leap.



Leap with me?

When An Ex Reads Your Blog

People have asked me if, when I write, I take into consideration that my ex (ex's...) may be reading.

The answer is yes and no; how could I and how could I not?

Sometimes, as I am writing, I definitely hope that he might read it. I hope that he will know how I feel now, know that I still think about him, know that I am still sorry, know that even if we never see each other again, he meant a lot to me. Back when I was really hurting, I used this blog to purge my pain and I did hope to reach him. I hoped to somehow show him that I was human, since I knew I had turned into someone he couldn't love anymore. I ached for his forgiveness, and I was asking for it through every avenue I could think of. I had no interest in seeming strong, put together, over it, and better off without him. I was broken and I missed him desperately; it leaked right through my writing weather I wanted it to or not. I didn't have any guarantees that he'd read my blog, but I figured that if I could put it out into the universe, it might help me to heal anyway. 

At the same time, I had to set the thoughts of him reading it aside in order to hit publish. I have plenty of drafts of posts I wrote that I didn't have the courage to publish because the thought of him reading it mortified me. So, the ones I've published here I've done so by letting go of wondering weather he'd read it or not; I published them because I wanted them to exist regardless of his possible reactions. I needed to put them out here, where they could touch others, shift, and bounce back to me as a little bit of armor, a drop of medicine, a step closer to relief.

When I've written about older ex's, I have generally written under the assumption that they do not read my blog. I have been mostly wrong, as many have contacted me to tell me they do, in fact, read it. Still, I never took down any published posts because I believed they all had value. If I ever wrote a blog that downright offended someone or exposed them in a way they did not want to be exposed, and they let me know, I would take it down. It hasn't happened yet, because I believe they all know that our stories can serve others, and that I write here what has helped me to heal and become a stronger, more loving person.

I don't think he, or any of my ex's, wish to see me in pain, or get off on how much losing them has hurt me. I don't think any of them come here hunting for evidence that they scarred me in some way, or wanting to read about my inevitably biased perception of what we lived through so that they can then write me an angry email about how wrong I have it all.

So, why do they come here?

If I were to guess, I'd say it's for the same reason I still write about them, too; because no matter how much pain and disappointment we may have caused one another, we meant something to each other, and that's hard to find.

Running Into Someone You Once Loved

It will not be easy. You will not be prepared. You will be looking for the perfect avocado at a fruit stand and then, in what will feel like the second half of the same instant, you will look up and see a face that turns your legs to liquid. It all happens very quickly. Stunned looks turn into smiles of recognition, eyes widen, hands go about- do you shake hands? do you hug? do you kiss on the cheek? where the hell are the rules for these encounters? You scan his face- yes, it's older now, but still perfect, still familiar, still lovable beyond measure. The years have passed, you no longer know every part of him. You do not recognize the clothes he's wearing, or the wrinkles on his forehead. And then- and who knows why you will do this, but you will- you look at his hand, you look for a ring. It's there. Of course it is. You already knew. It is the Era of Facebook; you even know her name.

This encounter has happened throughout all of time, thousands of people have written about it, beautiful novels and films have immortalized it; it is impossible not to romanticize it, not to be thrust into the sentimental space of Past Lovers Reunite. Whether the sky really is pinkish-blue, whether the fruits in the stand really do give off a bitter-sweet aroma just for this moment, whether no one is really bothered by two people just standing there- well, it doesn't matter. It's how it'll play out in your mind, and it'll be poetic because it has to be. Because these things are too surreal to be real. Because past loves live in a far-off island, protected from and unchanged by life.

It's so good to-

How great to-

I thought you lived in-

I'm just here visiting-

I can't believe-

Isn't it funny-

You look-

You look-

This is-

Isn't this-

I thought maybe I'd-

I wish I'd known you were-

But it was a last minute- 

It's been so many-

You haven't changed-

You still look-

...

How have you-

I heard you-

Good-

Yeah-

I read that you-

I saw that you-

Oh-

Uh-

How great for-

I'm so happy for-

Thanks-

Thanks-

...

Well I really should-

And I better-

But how great to-

Such a nice treat to- 

Can I write you when-

Let's not lose-

Yes of course-

Yes we must-

...

I'm off this way-

I still have to- 

Right-

Yes-

It's so great to see-

How great to see-

It is-

It is-

Enjoy this beautiful-

I hope you enjoy-

We'll talk-

Yes of- 

Soon-

Soon-

...

Bye-

Bye-

...

And then it's over. He'll go. You'll stay. You will wonder, briefly, why the universe sent him to you today, during this time in your life, when your heart is in limbo. You'll think maybe it means you can love again. Or maybe it means you had to remember a time when you were someone else, to someone else. Or maybe it just means it was time to see him again, to see that everything passes, that everything changes, that every story has an ending. The world will remain suspended for a while, but then it'll go back to normal. You'll pick out your avocados. You'll go home. Except you'll wear your sunglasses just a little longer today, because your eyes will fill up with tears.

The Ex Test

It's like they can smell it.

All of them. On the same week. Within the same 48 hours.

Here's the scenario, perhaps it's familiar to you too:

Merry you are, with your life and your healed heart and many things to smile about, when it's like the Universe suddenly wants to test you a little bit. Just how strong are you, it wants to know? Pretty damn strong, you're thinking. Oh really. Can you handle a text from an ex? Well, yeah. That's what the delete button is for. How about three? Hm. Not as easy. And then a phone call from one of the really old ones whose number you most definitely forgot by now? WTF? I thought we said we'd delete each other for good? And then maybe an email from the one you swore off all contact with until you forgot why you said that? FML. How about a facebook friend request from the one who might as well be dead to you- in fact, you vaguely remember attending his funeral, but maybe that was just in your darkest fantasies? This is fucked up, Universe.

And it all happens over the course of two days. I. Kid. You. Not.

In portuguese we say, "Ninguem Merece." Meaning, "Nobody Deserves That." As in, not even the cow you work with who borrows your pens and chews on them and then returns them with all her saliva still on them deserves that.

What could they all possibly want? Well. They're innocent enough. "Haven't talked to you in so long, thought we'd touch base." Or, "Ran into so-and-so who I know through you and thought of you." And, "Didn't realize I still had your number, thought I'd check to see if it was still accurate." Things like that. The Universe isn't that mean. I mean, at least they're not reaching out to say, "I'm getting married next week but realized you're really the love of my life and I was an asshole, please take me back and let's move to Cambodia where my in-laws-to-never-be won't find me?" At least nobody said that. Right? But still. The past is a witch. Just when you're comfortable with the fact that it's where it should be- behind you- it decides to peek in just to remind you that it may be farther away, but it's never gone.

There's the age-old question of, Can you be friends with an ex? Usually, the answer for me is no. Not that all contact has to be cut off completely, forever, but a close friendship, no. Mainly because I don't want to hear about current girlfriends, I don't want to sit across from someone at lunch with the lingering feelings of how different we are now, and I don't want to read facebook statuses that say, "hot girls playing volleyball outside my window. score." It's just too hard on me. I love deeply, and I don't exorcise the people I love from my heart; I let them leave behind a piece of themselves in the part of me they've touched. I honor my past, which makes it difficult for me not to be affected by it when a whole bunch of it pays me a visit.

The questions are inevitable. Why are you thinking of me now? Do you think of me often? Are you happy? Were you changed by me? Do you miss me? Does your mom miss me? Does your current girlfriend sleep through your snoring? And so on...

There's some mild freaking out. There's some paralysis. There's some search for comfort, usually found in food and Sex and The City. There's a whole lot of, "How do I respond to this? Do I respond at all?"

But then, once the questions stopped racing through my mind and the initial shock subsided, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was okay. I cared about them, I cared about why they were reaching out to me, I cared about everything that was happening, but I was still my happy, healed self. No one could take away who I am now by bringing up who I was. The memories of the loves and the heartbreaks had surfaced, but they no longer had as much power over me. They were exactly that: Memories.

Even all together, all those ex's could not overpower or overwhelm me. The love and pain I experienced with each one of them were now sources of my strength and power. My "weaknesses" and "soft spots" were what rooted me and allowed me to grow.

I started to shift my perspective of what was happening. The Universe probably wasn't testing me as much as it was teaching me new things about myself. I am strong, I have a handle on my past, and my heart has no limit on how many love stories it can hold.

I think that's pretty awesome, actually, and I'm grateful I got to realize it.

So even if it was a test, I think I passed.

image from http://just4ufit.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/healthy-heart.gif