Pain Passes On

7/25/2008 Posted In , , , , Edit This 2 Comments »

Lounging across my futon with the low fan blowing over my shoulders and the crystal touch lamp dimmed, I realized that maybe I was becoming a big girl. I mean, there I was actually lying in bed alone. Just two months ago, I wouldn't have been able to do that. Usually the comfort of another warm body is a strict requirement to falling asleep peacefully, and if that body isn't in my bed with me I'll go to another room to find one. I admit, I still prefer not to sleep alone, but now, I can. But this entry is not about going to sleep. It's about waking up. It wasn't too long ago that I lost someone very close to me. Not in life, not in death, but in distance. That person is no longer here next to me and the after-effects of them leaving me left me in a subtle state of shock. That first night alone, I tried to prop a pillow next to me and lean against it, the way I would have with him. I tossed and turned for two hours before concluding that my broken heart would not let me rest. I rose from the bed, gathered up my pillows, and crept into my mother's room where I would at least feel safe. Then I woke up. The first thing I thought about was him. Then that familiar, sick feeling set in. The feeling of weariness, of nausea, that heavy tightening in the chest. Classic heartbreak. What made it worse was that there could be no closure, no reconciliation, no relief as long as he wasn't there, for his dramatic departure was the traumatic cause of my pain. Abandonment, the worse type of betrayal. Strange thing is, there were minimal tears. Mentally, I was doing better than most in my efforts to stay strong and recover as quickly as possible, but damn those physical side effects. And this feeling never went away. It stayed with me all through the day in whatever I did. I couldn't shake it off no matter how I distracted myself with "other things." But nothing was worse than waking up to a new day, yet with the same sick despair. It completely intruded upon my life and I began to fear that this hurt was beyond me; that I couldn't do anything about it and it was not going away on its own either.

~

Then one day it did. I woke up, in bed alone, and the first thing I thought of was....nothing. I looked at the clock, then out the window, and casually stretched just like anyone else does. I slid my laptop out of the way with my lower leg and contemplated over whether to get up or keep reclining lazily. I don't believe I realized at the time that this morning was different. But now, reflecting on that moment, that day, and every day after that, I can only wonder who, what, where, when, and why? Who helped me to feel better? What caused my hurt to subside? Where did the despair go (out the window)? When did the gradual change begin taking place? And the biggest question, why did the pain go away? Really, nothing changed. There was no event that brought this on that I can remember. The damage is still done, so why then am I ok? They say time heals. I always believed this until that last "incident." That last "incident" was a killer; a real blow to the heart. I couldn't see a day ahead that wouldn't begin with grief. But now, I wake up and I'm not tortured by the memories. Anyone who has ever been wronged against knows what a blessing that day is when it comes. And here I am, able to snooze all alone by choice, just like a big girl, because I know that after the vulnerable state of sleep has ended, I'll wake up just fine looking forward - not looking backward and not looking to my side. I really don't know how, but pain passes on. Thank you God.

Soundtracky ~ The Prequel

7/23/2008 Posted In , , Edit This 4 Comments »
This isn’t right,” she confessed to the ceiling fan as it whirled around in slow deliberate circles, cooling the naked flesh below. She lay flat on the bed covered only by a thin nylon sheet and her sleeping lover’s embrace. To her right, the digital clock spoke of urgency. 12:04 AM....2:19 AM....3:33 AM. Time was escaping her and important questions still dangled in her head, impatiently awaiting answers. Her eyes scanned the room, strewn items revealing signs of a passionate evening: his faded jeans draped over the desk chair, her favorite sweater crumpled in a corner next to her purse, soiled pillows tossed to the floor. She looked to her left where her lover had found the most peaceful rest. Yes, he should be at peace, for she had made him feel so secure, so wanted. In her quest to mend his broken heart from past offenders, she had lied not only to him, but to herself. She did care intensely for this fragile boy, but “I don’t love him.” She knew it, the ceiling fan knew it, but how could her lips even begin to form the words to tell him? This question had tortured her as the clock moved forward without concern: 4:18 AM, 5:01 AM. She knew that he would soon awake with the sun, eager to carry out their weekend plans. She couldn’t let that happen; last night had already been a beautiful mistake. The room had grown cold and a weight had settled on her like a heavy blanket. Perhaps she did not truly care enough to give him the owing explanation, or perhaps she cared so much that she couldn’t bear to see his tears. But either way, she knew what she must do. She slid the ring off her finger and placed it on the pillow. And with a regretful, but resolute heart, she gently unwrapped her lover’s arm from around her waist.