Thursday Morning, May 24, 2018
They say to journal. So I write, I process. I’m taking stock. I’m doing damage control.
Yesterday it ended. I had been subconsciously preparing for this moment since Saturday when news broke, buffeted by the anxiety since last Tuesday when I felt something hadn’t gone right. Hence the inner turmoil, deluge and cycle of despair, hope, anger, and agony in the past 5 days. I had sensed it. But all I was left feeling in the aftermath was a little numb, some understanding, and a lot of recognition that this could only have happened like this.
To me the first two days after it started I could’ve (and perhaps would’ve) tossed it all and went onto my next reincarnation as a coconut tree rather than face the music. Every object and place and routine was tainted by him. To some degree I still can’t fully grasp or express what I felt the moment I realized the worst could actually happen.
Because since we met I have started walking through life wearing a kinder lens. More appreciative of small blessings, more tolerant of tough situations. This is a departure from the me in New York, who was weighed down by apathy and cynicism. Spending time with him uplifted me, as from the first day he was a steady grounded presence and reminder of all the good that is out there and the good that is yet to come. He reflected what I knew humans (not only men) should be and yet are not nearly often enough: having respect and courtesy for other human beings, firmly rooted principles and responsibility, not only perseverance and courage during adversity, but enduring humor and passion. He was both perceptive and empathetic, a rarity in people my age, and these are just a few qualities among a host of others that I could list. He got me. And I felt so lucky.
He was my first love. He was my first a lot of things. He defrosted my solitude and resisting spirit. We were simple and honest, no hassles or games. He was a source of sunshine-like happiness and infused me with optimism. We shared an uncanny truth in what was meaningful, the same effortless common sense and practicality, and made fun of other views in ways the less brave may deem extreme. He held human conduct to the higher and rightful standard that I used to have and felt rejuvenated in having again. We toyed with the vast vocabulary we both had to soak up more knowledge for our endless curiosities. Our conversations bounced around all the topics under the sun. We had miscommunications too, but they were easily resolved once recognized, we just knew what was worth arguing about and what wasn’t.
He was a gentleman by breed and mature where I wasn’t; he made me feel safe and taken care of and wanted, and both physically and emotionally I wanted him back and all to myself. The way he clicked his tongue for emphasis, the smell of his detergent and the way his shoulders wore a certain sweater. Our humor was pervasive, affection through words and touch was reassuring and everywhere. His loyalty was candid and straightforward, we were committed without needing to verbalize it and he made a point to make time for me. My worries dissolved in his sincerity and acceptance. We planned for the future.
To him it was an impossible choice. Regardless of the irrationality in her behavior or how much their perspectives diverged, he has a deeper fundamental responsibility to the mother who raised him for 27 years. His unyielding moral code would not forgive himself if he didn’t take care of her and she did something to herself, no matter how remote the possibility because it was still nonzero. What did I mean to him? A lot of things. But from the satellite images view afar we were a honeymoon phase statistic, premature at not even 4 months. I did everything I could for him before and during this situation, so I regret none and I would change none. But despite the unfairness of the situation, he let the bewilderment make him weak, shake out the pessimism from his belief. I recognize that I can’t see how he saw it, but he did not give me the faith or support I’d already given him.
The environmental factor was, he was both physically and mentally drained from the final months of demanding work and could only lean on reasons that rang consistently to what he’s always known growing up. He also rationalized that I would be okay (my independence and support system), the same way he rationalized his mother would not be okay. I could say more about what he could’ve done to convince her to see truth, but what’s done is done. While there might be some other parts about us that could’ve become issues (though eventually overlooked as immaterial), the fact remains that this here is the deal breaker. One I did not foresee. I could have borne the burden of acclimating to his family if we had prioritized each other, but I will never accept a choice to put me second. That is not my future.
I’ve gone through grief and anger. So this morning I’m getting some clarity. Our love was only in the beginning stages, it didn’t get a chance to bloom. He didn’t make any meaningful gestures to prove otherwise. That’s not a knock on the words he said or how he made me feel, because that’s still as authentic as it was yesterday and the months before. There is no hate, there is no regret.
But if I’m being honest with myself, I’m just scared I won’t get to love and be loved again. With somebody who makes me happy like instant sunshine, the way he did. Because now that I’ve felt it, regular life seems dreary in comparison.
Where to from here?
I’ve been taking in a lot of responses from those around me. And I am nothing but thankful for the ones (family and friends, close and far) that have been there as I rant anguish, acquaint with desolation, and start to move forward pushed gently by their faith in me. They said it’s better that it ended now, that 4 months was just a blip. That it’s better in the long-run, you just avoided years of drama. That you will look back on this and see that it’s necessary. Look forward to a future filled with healthier relationships and a wiser approach to life. Your life also consists of friends and family. In his final letter to me, he said the future is bright, all you have to do is walk towards it. I can see why all of this is might be true.
I also consulted the internet. This resonates with me a little more. Love exists even in the after, and in our memories we can access the beauty of the past. But love exists with or without a person. Love isn’t a one-shot only experience. You fell in love before so you certainly have all the capabilities to fall in love again. Time makes it bearable and things always seem to work themselves out especially if you’re positive and working on yourself.
I don’t know why something good ended. But I have always been on the side of magic and all that has happened in the past 3 years I have been able to justify in retrospect as a blessing in disguise. Whether that’s just by necessity for self-conservation, by randomness or by design, I need to believe there is a reason why this is all happening and trust it’s for the best. And in a way, all the milestones experienced and the timing of it given this stage of my life is fortunate. So every next one will be better than the previous, because I wouldn’t let it happen any other way. Life is a test, it’s just a test. It’s our choice to make it worthwhile.
So I’m going to go to Maui. I’ll write, and drive, and read, and refocus. Plan the things I want to do and the person I want to become. I’ll move toward letting go and trying my hand at this again. Being open to the next great love. Putting myself out there impatiently as I can only be but earnestly. Doing something unexpected and crazy. Finding happiness in the present moment.
I will become a better person. I won’t lose the optimism in life that I gained, from 2 months of the most gloriously happy time in my existence. I will be proud of my ability to simply, wondrously, go all-in on love.
Because I have loved. I was loved back. I have lost. Thus is this journey that we all have. And I have just started.
