I was considering titling this ‘The Crash’ or ‘The Burn’ or ‘The Cut’. I could have gone real wild with it and titled it ‘The Crashing, Burning Cut that came from Hell’ … yeah.
But I am tired of looking at my situation as if it were the worst thing to happen to a human being in the history of the world. So instead, I called it a gift. Because although December 1 came with a severe stab to the heart – it also gave me something else well overdue and well needed.
So when you are trying to move forward from a separation there is a ‘raw stage’ where nothing you say or do should really be taken seriously. In my raw stage I vowed to never ever ever ever never under any circumstance love again… Not only was I irrational – but I was blind. Blinded by the hurt and the loss. I couldn’t possibly see anything past exactly what was happening right there and then.
Then after that, you progress slowly into the transition stage. It’s like you’re in some sort of time void, where even when you think you’re making progress – you’re not. It’s a bloody roller coaster ride I tell you. Constantly up and down, feeling on top of the world as if nothing can touch you – then suddenly crashing down and feeling so low that you’re sure gravity had somehow increased on earth.
The point when you can fully let go. Fully and wholeheartedly take that step towards peace is the greatest part of all. But. It’s the part that is accompanied by the most pain. For me, this was December 1.
I received a call from my mother. Sometimes she can be totally oblivious to everything. “Hey ma,” I answered as I sat on the train that’d take me home and away from wretched work. “Hey, how are you?” My mother replied. After a brief and shallow conversation about how everyone was going and whether or not I received a parcel in the mail, a silence fell upon us. Some how I knew who she was going to bring up. I’d felt it coming for a while now.
“Do you still speak to (insert name of guy I was seeing)?”
My mother knew ‘the guy I was seeing’. She’d encouraged our ‘thing’ or whatever it was from the very beginning. Edging me on and getting me all excited about something that was never going to turn out well for me. But my mother can’t be blamed. I had some sort of instant chemistry for this guy and I was all up for being encouraged to see what the future could hold.
After a brief inhale, I replied, “No ma, we don’t talk anymore.”
I hung my head, not in sadness, but in defeat. Memories came flooding in.
“Why?” I asked her reluctantly.
“He’s just been hanging out with this other chick that’s all…”
My chest imploded. Heartbeat slowed to steady, loud thumps.
“What?” I breathed.
Everything around me became fuzzy.
“Yeah I wasn’t sure if you were still seeing him. I thought, wow this is odd that this other girl is appearing on his Facebook profile all the time. It looks serious. I was just wondering if they’re dating or if you knew anything about it?”
I leant forward in my seat – taking the brace position as if I were on an aircraft experiencing major turbulence. His words burned in my mind – his pathetic excuse for dropping me like a dirty rag burnt white.
“I’m just not ready for anything serious right now.”
“You there?” My mother asked as I took a deep breath and straightened my posture.
“As I said, I don’t talk to him anymore – we fell out of contact,” The less she knew the better.
“Oh okay…” My mother sighed as if she were not satisfied with my answer. As if I were keeping some sort of juicy gossip from her. “What happened? Did you end things?”
This was not happening – not here on a train – I was not having this conversation.
“No ma, there was nothing to end. Look I’m on my way home I can’t really talk right now.” I muttered. I was becoming irritated and my mother – luckily – could sense that. So she left the conversation there and I found myself sitting on the train (the slowest train in all existence) staring out the window trying desperately to think of puppies and kittens. Puppies. He had a puppy. Dammit. I held it together long enough for my stop to come. I rushed home, threw my bag on the floor and beelined towards my alcohol cabinet. Yes. This is where I wanted to be right now. Or was it?
An hour passed and I had drunk myself stupid and cried the hardest tears to date. Lying on the bathroom floor, staring up at the ceiling – I laughed at my own theatrics. Couldn’t I have come up with something a little more creative than going home, getting drunk alone, and lying on the cold bathroom floor?
It hit me. All the excuses I made for him – for myself. Telling everyone ‘he’s a good guy – he just got himself into a bad situation’. Acting as if none of this was his fault at all. Acting as if he didn’t take advantage of a young girl who didn’t know any better. In fact most the time I would blame myself for things not working. Maybe I wasn’t mature enough, maybe I wasn’t affectionate enough, maybe I was too affectionate, maybe I was too open about my feelings, maybe if I were just born a couple years earlier it would have worked, maybe if the sun shined out of my ass and the world revolved around me it would have worked. *insert shooting yourself*
I knew I couldn’t be alone that night. What I needed was comfort. So I dragged my pathetic, heartbroken ass over to my uncle and aunty’s house and stood at their door, tears in my eyes and hair all over the shot.
“Do you mind if I stay with you guys tonight?” I asked quietly.
They took me in, gave me a glass of red and the most delicious hot potato chips and let me dwell in my sadness. But at least – I could dwell in my sadness with people who loved me there.
If you asked me on that day, what I thought about everything that’s happen I would have looked at you and cried, “It’s the worst thing ever!”
But now I see it for what it is. That last push I needed to open my eyes. That final twist of the blade that’s been stuck in my chest. It was a gift.