small breakdowns...part 1
My beloved and loyal readers. All three of you…
Of course this isn’t the END of the story, because it is like any good soap opera going to outlive me and you both. This is the story that will be written down, and edited, published under pseudonyms and hidden under pillows. This is the story of love, and all of its twists and turns, all of its ups and downs, but most importantly the tiny moments in which it exists fully.
This is the end of this documentation of said story, for now. Because I feel that to try to capture the last day, evening, night, stranded night in random hotel, and morning of flying home a day late and exhausted—would cheapen the story. Those chapters haven’t been finished yet. They leave little to the imagination, and yet they leave everything to it.
The reality is this. True love exists many times in our lives, I believe. I don’t doubt for a second that I was in love with my first ever boyfriend. Truly in love. I’ve never felt anything like it since, I certainly had never felt anything like it before him. That’s a truth. I have no doubt that I was in love with BBQ (we’ll name him that because he shares his name with a famous BBQ restaurant that everyone except B-Girl loves{crazy vegetarians})
I have no doubt that I have, for years, been in love truly with Galan. There is no other explanation for my feelings, for the celestial altitude sickness I get when I see him, or hear his voice. There is no other explanation for the way I used to lie awake, in the arms of another lover and picture his face in my mind. Or the time I awoke, in the middle of the night calling his name, not because I was having another amazing sex dream, but rather because I was dreaming of horrible things, and I wanted him to protect me.
This story was a cleansing process for me. This helped me to put into perspective all the things I am feeling and all the things I don’t want to feel. Communication with Galan is difficult, he doesn’t like phones. He doesn’t like to be bugged by the phone, and he rarely returns phone calls. This has made the last few days difficult for me. How does one proceed? How does one move forward? What does one do in this situation?
Well for starters, one has lunch with Galan’s Bestfriend. To discuss the types of responses, and reactions, and hopes and dreams, and wedding colors, or maybe just how to move forward.
But the current beneath the rocky surface of this love-torn abused and excited man is much stronger than just that which was spawned by the I-woke-up-with-him-winds that morning.
The misery that has been my job has been an increasing weight on my chest for weeks. There is no good reason for me to continue to do the work I’m doing. There is nothing gratifying about it.
Whenever I’m not feeling well emotionally, I do one of two things: I party a lot to hide it all, or I sulk at home a lot, maybe finding solace in the company of one or two friends, rarely talking much about the particular emotional issues.
The few weeks leading up to the trip I was defiantly the second mode. I was barely talking to anyone. It helped that I had been hospitalized, was broke and weather was getting cold which makes it hard to go out easily.
I had twice postponed a trip home t see my family, both times because I honestly didn’t feel like going. I didn’t feel like driving, or like seeing them. I didn’t want to put the work into it. I mostly wanted to lie around and do nothing. And I did, for many days in a row.
I have a friend who when she moved to Santa Fe was feeling pretty shitty, but managed to hold it all together. She told me once, that it’s the smallest thing that causes the breakdown, never the big things. Her cat died, she didn’t break, she was lonely and miserable, she didn’t break, she was always getting lost in the city making her late for work, she didn’t break. One day she couldn’t find butter I the grocery store in Santa Fe, she broke…
The same thing happened to A-Game when she left for TFA. She broke down over a parking ticket. It’s the little things.
Of course this isn’t the END of the story, because it is like any good soap opera going to outlive me and you both. This is the story that will be written down, and edited, published under pseudonyms and hidden under pillows. This is the story of love, and all of its twists and turns, all of its ups and downs, but most importantly the tiny moments in which it exists fully.
This is the end of this documentation of said story, for now. Because I feel that to try to capture the last day, evening, night, stranded night in random hotel, and morning of flying home a day late and exhausted—would cheapen the story. Those chapters haven’t been finished yet. They leave little to the imagination, and yet they leave everything to it.
The reality is this. True love exists many times in our lives, I believe. I don’t doubt for a second that I was in love with my first ever boyfriend. Truly in love. I’ve never felt anything like it since, I certainly had never felt anything like it before him. That’s a truth. I have no doubt that I was in love with BBQ (we’ll name him that because he shares his name with a famous BBQ restaurant that everyone except B-Girl loves{crazy vegetarians})
I have no doubt that I have, for years, been in love truly with Galan. There is no other explanation for my feelings, for the celestial altitude sickness I get when I see him, or hear his voice. There is no other explanation for the way I used to lie awake, in the arms of another lover and picture his face in my mind. Or the time I awoke, in the middle of the night calling his name, not because I was having another amazing sex dream, but rather because I was dreaming of horrible things, and I wanted him to protect me.
This story was a cleansing process for me. This helped me to put into perspective all the things I am feeling and all the things I don’t want to feel. Communication with Galan is difficult, he doesn’t like phones. He doesn’t like to be bugged by the phone, and he rarely returns phone calls. This has made the last few days difficult for me. How does one proceed? How does one move forward? What does one do in this situation?
Well for starters, one has lunch with Galan’s Bestfriend. To discuss the types of responses, and reactions, and hopes and dreams, and wedding colors, or maybe just how to move forward.
But the current beneath the rocky surface of this love-torn abused and excited man is much stronger than just that which was spawned by the I-woke-up-with-him-winds that morning.
The misery that has been my job has been an increasing weight on my chest for weeks. There is no good reason for me to continue to do the work I’m doing. There is nothing gratifying about it.
Whenever I’m not feeling well emotionally, I do one of two things: I party a lot to hide it all, or I sulk at home a lot, maybe finding solace in the company of one or two friends, rarely talking much about the particular emotional issues.
The few weeks leading up to the trip I was defiantly the second mode. I was barely talking to anyone. It helped that I had been hospitalized, was broke and weather was getting cold which makes it hard to go out easily.
I had twice postponed a trip home t see my family, both times because I honestly didn’t feel like going. I didn’t feel like driving, or like seeing them. I didn’t want to put the work into it. I mostly wanted to lie around and do nothing. And I did, for many days in a row.
I have a friend who when she moved to Santa Fe was feeling pretty shitty, but managed to hold it all together. She told me once, that it’s the smallest thing that causes the breakdown, never the big things. Her cat died, she didn’t break, she was lonely and miserable, she didn’t break, she was always getting lost in the city making her late for work, she didn’t break. One day she couldn’t find butter I the grocery store in Santa Fe, she broke…
The same thing happened to A-Game when she left for TFA. She broke down over a parking ticket. It’s the little things.
posted by Marshall at 7:32 PM
5 Comments:
I don't really know what to say other than I really appreciated reading this. It was good for me. And I am glad to hear that your recent experiences have had a healing effect on you too :-)
also, I will have you know that I have nothing against said BBQ restaurant and that back in the day when I ate meat I liked it very much a lot. And if they served food that was meatless I would go there still. So stop making me look like the bad guy, geez!!
You're not the bad guy--WE are!
I am mostly-veggie, too, although I still eat seafood.
Eminem, it IS always the little things, isn't it? And often at the most unexpected times, and you're caught completely offguard . . .
The little things--and the very same ones, too, sometimes--are also what we often miss the most . . .
That makes me feel better. And I actually still eat fish too (mostly cuz I could NEVER go out to eat in France if I didn't)
Just don't go to Germany.
My strict-diet dancer friend actually ate McDonald's when she got a gig, there, because German food was that bad, she said.
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