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I loved him. I loved him with all of my heart. I clung to a memory of that love long after he’d killed it. By clinging to it, I began to die myself.
Strong, independent, I am a person who thrives in personal freedom and a person who craves a bit of the hermit’s existence. But I loved him. I gave that up for him. I let out the person inside that I so carefully keep protected. That inner core we all have, that makes us vulnerable. I left it exposed and he sliced off bits of it.
In my head I have this image of one of those Middle Eastern gyro shops where the meat is on a vertical spit that spins slowly. If you want a gyro, the guy running the stall takes this mean looking blade—maybe one that’s been used for hundreds of years in that street stall that I’ve seen over and over again on the travel channel adventures I’m addicted to. He slices off thin lines of meat, catching it in a pita and drowning it in vegetables and cucumber sauce. That’s like my soul, turning on the spit. And I let the man slice off bits of it and make something he claimed was better. I believed him. I wanted to believe him. But, instead of a sandwich all that was left was this bare, greasy metal pole waiting for another piece of meat.
I’ve been speaking to people about their relationships lately. It’s so much easier to see clearly when you’re on the outside. It’s hard to look at the stall where you left yourself.
I want to hate him. For a while I did. But I’m letting that go now.
I have another friend who gave me this image of putting the things one can’t change but that one stresses over into an imaginary balloon and letting it float away. That’s what I’m doing with the anger.
I thought I would be left with nothing but the spit and the greasy remnants of meat not fit to see the pita. However, in admitting that I loved him, I’ve found something more. I’ve found a comfort in myself that I never had before.
Sure I have faults, but I try to see them clearly. At the same time, I try to have a sense of humor about everything. And I do mean everything. Life’s short and you can ruin it by taking things seriously, by living for something that will never be, and worst of all you can live your life for what someone else wants.
I saw that before it was too late. I stopped it before I was completely dead. I have returned to myself. Not the self-centered girl who had goals and ambition and the single-mindedness of high school. Not the driven college co-ed who walked the straight and narrow, filled with a silent fear of failure and of life itself. Not the young woman trying to figure out where she belonged and feeling lonely and lost because society told her she needed to be loved to be whole.
I am the woman who belongs in this skin. My goals are set for myself, to challenge myself, not to prove anything. My ambitions are just to be happy; I’m not afraid to stray from the path that others say is the “proper” path in order to be happy the way others tell me I should be happy. I know what makes me happy; I don’t need someone to tell me. I try hard not to judge and I try just as hard to laugh. I am not afraid.
Yes, I loved him. Then I was just numb, feeling nothing. For a time, I confess I hated. Now I’m ambivalent, or conflicted. I feel sad, but not for the reasons you might think.
Here is a man who spent 10 years of his life trying to mold someone into what he thought he wanted. A man who searched for happiness and could never find it. A man who thought he was succeeding in his attempts only to find that at the bottom there was nothing left to carve off, because the only thing left was a core of steel. Ten years. Failure. And I’m sad because he cannot possibly know why. He learned nothing. He doesn’t understand what he had or what he lost. So, he returns to where he’s always been: cleaving his way through the universe searching for some golden truth that will make him happy.
Happy isn’t outside. Happy is inside. I wish that on everyone. Acceptance rather than fighting against what is. Seeing the beauty in the little things instead of climbing over bodies to get a better view. Comfort in one’s space. Challenging oneself with every step forward. Always moving forward to improve yourself, for yourself, to be able to lean back and give someone else a helping hand over the rocks you’ve already crossed. Peace in their space. A core of steel to walk over the rocks without fear.
So, today’s blog isn’t funny. It’s not funny because I loved him. I loved him with all of my heart. I truly did. And today, I throw the last shovel of dirt on that. Solemn. Quiet. Peaceful. I am here. I am who I am. You are who you are. That’s okay. There’s a core of steel inside to hold you up. Don’t be afraid.
