I wish everyone would stop saying
“ Just forget him”
“ Move on”
“ He is not worth it” etc. The countless pep talks that are meant to help me move on, they seem so dismissive. Like a lack of empathy to my pain and situation. Or an intolerance to seeing my suffering. Because I can’t simply forget and move on because he was and is worth holding on to for me personally. Perhaps that is just hope.
Tricky bitch that it is.
I have at least come to the realization that I am not attracting toxic people.
The truth is that toxic people are not picky.
Sure, they may have a preference for a particular prey. But ultimately, I do not think they are picky about who they destroy as long as they are destroying someone.
The real question is not why the toxic people are abundant in my life but why do I allow them to stay.
That is what I need to change the most.
This sounds a lot more mental positive than claiming that I am “broken”.
As mortifying as it sounds, I think a toxic person can initially be beneficial to any relationships.
It can ground any ideals that may be impractical.
It is surely a reminder of where you do not want a relationship to go.
It allows the setting of hard boundaries.
The trick is to enforce those boundaries.
When the person has crossed them, it is time to move past it as quick as possible and let them go.
As easy as that sounds... I give reasonable advice but seldom ever follow it…that kind of shit you know.
All of that said, it still seems a somewhat monumental task to just move on from this heartbreak.
I was once told that for however long you were together you do some math stuff and the result was how long it would take to find some form of solace.
Without putting into account the depth of the connection and what time sentence that carries as well…sigh…I got a while to go before I can safely move on.
The hardest part is the waiting. Damn , I feel like I have waited lifetimes already for a response. And it has only been…only 16 days? Wait…16 days have passed?! Feels oddly like only hours since our last words but again, it also feels like a lifetime. Shit this is going to be a hell of a ride. It is already bad enough as is.
Sixteen days----384 hours- 23,000 minutes and some change…huh… my mind is a bit shook over that.
All of those hours and minutes have been filled with echoes of the words he once said.
Statements that my mind is struggling to categorize as lies, all while my heart and soul is hanging on to them as canon truths.
I think, for healing purposes, I can acknowledge the reasoning for the depths of my feelings over these statements that are perpetual in my mind.
They came at a time where I was legit mentally broken.
I had given up loving others.
Rather I had grouped the world into two categories:
People that can be trusted because they had yet to figure out how to use me
People that were actively not to be trusted because they were using me.
I absolutely give up on love.
I mean why should I even bother with it when I didn’t even love myself?
Love was a banal attempt at getting closer to another because ultimately you wanted something.
A chemical con-job the brain produces to lull the sense to any potential predator response the brain could possibly trigger (gut instinct can be loud I guess in the initial meeting…maybe it is that predator response…can digest that later perhaps) but really it is just the brain getting us closer for evolutionary purposes if we cut through all the shit and be honest. Not a good premise for a romance novel or poetry.
But it is true.
As I said, I had already thoroughly become disgusted at the idea of people as a whole and given all faith in humanity up.
It was just me and the rest of the world were NPC [non playable characters] or distracting side quests completely irrelevant to the main quest regardless of how they may enhance a storyline.
And that is where our villain enters the scene.
He swoops in almost immediately recognizing and acknowledging my pain.
From the start it was intensity of the Sun.
He wasted no time at all.
The first thing was establishing trust.
He did this with kind patience. Listening to me cry.
Just sitting there with a hand on my shoulder. Waiting and saying nothing until it passed.
Then the phrase that I have come to loathe and is likely now the entirely of my reasoning to almost immediately disassociate from a person and be on red alert:
“ You can trust me.”
The first time he said that, I was totally shocked at the ludicrous idea of it.
Trust you? Trust anyone?
What a novel idea but my mind had long ago already established fantasy parameters and boundaries based solely on that phrase alone.
Yet, he persisted.
For some time, he would always seem to find me alone, broken down and in an utter mess of a mental state.
Like he had a radar for the heart ache.
And we would go through the motions, he would comfort me with physical presence or a warm touch.
All sprinkled with kind soothing words.
Then the expansion upon the phrase came as “ You can tell me what is on your mind. Trust me please.”
This was new to me.
Like it stopped me deadass in mid fall to contemplate the idea because it had never before been offered as an option to me.
Sure folks would say I could talk to them about anything before but that was always context based like if I wanted to talk about a shared interest or even how I felt about a particular scholastic or political idea. But, never had anyone offered permission to talk about things that were hurting me.
It was generally presented to us as children in my household that one just did not talk about what was hurting them inside, not unless it was something that required a visit to the hospital. Mental trauma was a product of a weak person.
And be damned if we ever allowed the world to perceive us as such because we already had enough strikes by being poor.
Let the world see you struggle with a smile on your face.
At any rate, the idea of having somebody that wanted to hear why I cry…why I hurt…and mind you this was completely unsolicited by me with any words or actions other than my own distress; had incited a curiosity.
So, the seed was planted.
I resisted it of course.
The soil of my heart was salted and had the sole purpose of wallowing in the misery of whatever current dilemma I was facing.
It was a burial plot.
A place I would die a thousand times per day.
I had put my red alert on but was inquisitive while also dismissing the entire idea as a “ good Christian’s act of kindness” and nothing more than a self-imposed penance for Original Sin.
And yet he expanded the phrase again.
This time, it was the bullet that struck the mark.
I remember that night.
I was deep into my feels.
Almost inconsolable and wanted nothing more than to cocoon myself up in it and let the flood of emotions drown me.
He came to me unexpectedly this time.
Whereas normally he would do a knock on the door or some tentative inquisition as to my need for help.
I was face down drowning my pillow in salt tainted water and he slid next to me on my bed.
Naturally, I jumped in response to this intrusion. Whereas he grabs me by the shoulders and wraps his arms tightly around me. Smoothing my disgruntled hair and cooing “It is okay, it is okay.” I lay there completely consumed by this grief that wracked my very core on a daily bases from a time that seems like since birth.
And then he touches my tear drenched cheek and travels to my downfaced chin and lifts it like it is the most fragile thing he has ever touched before until my closed by shame eyes were level to his and opened them with a single kiss to the cheek. He said:
“ Please let me help you. Talk to me. I want to help. Trust me. I just want to help. “
I must have visibly shown to him my abhorrence to the idea of trusting because he then used the most sacred three words that is often thrown around like such a mundane thing…he said -I love you.
Now, I have heard this often of course. It is a phrase used so much in Southern families and amongst friends in parting or as a sign of pleasure to any particular act that needs emphasis.
But, this was the first time I had it said to me; albeit in such a serene way, where it was delivered with a penetrate force and I felt it inside.
After those words, I stammered at first the dismissive phrases degrading my obvious mental distress.
He was not taking that as an answer.
He leaned in and held me close. Heart to heart and whispered random things if nothing more than to steadily chisel away my resolve.
Which worked of course but, I was not about to initiate sharing my feelings at this point because it seemed to me futile since I was calming down.
He must have sensed the shift and the settling calm because he stops talking and with no hesitation wipes the tears from my eyes with the palm of his hands and smooths my face with a gentle caress.
And the next step was for me the most intimate thing I had experienced in a long time.
He looked me in the eyes, something I had all but identified at a young age as an act solely reserved for dominance and degradation and he smiled with his very own and asked in a pleading tone if I could learn to trust him, because he would not hurt or betray me with anything we talked about. He just wanted to help me. And then that three word phrase to add emphasis.
I melted then and my mouth betrayed my mind and words came out like a volcanic force.
When the eruption was over, he smiled at me. Smoothed my eyebrows with his thumb and held my hands ( this would become a permanent act of intimacy between us anytime we met henceforth) and we sat up in bed and he held me again.
I shuttered in response to another round of emotional tears and he held tighter and said it was okay, he was there for me. And I stopped.
Because I felt it in my soul that he meant that.
And there it was. I had started to feel again.
It was like a tiny itch at first.
Nagging and begging to be scratched.
Weeks went on, we got closer. And I remember out of nowhere telling him in response to his kindness, I love you...
Damn I was fucked with one phrase and knew it the moment it leapt unexpectedly from my lips.
Not simply the phrase itself but it was the way it felt coming out.
Because the moment it passed my teeth I felt with it’s expulsion the crumbling of the walls I had built around myself.
And he knew it because he smiled with his eyes and embraced me.
I was completely at his mercy when it came to any curiosity about how I was feeling or how I felt about anything at all.
I was enthralled with this new freedom to say how I felt to somebody that legitimately wanted to know and encouraged it.
Every time I would breakdown and ultimately attempt to put up walls he would coax me with his unwavering patience and wield his kindness with the skill of any warrior with a sword and promptly redirect me so we remained open with one another.
Simply waiting until he changed his attention to some other idea or thought was never an option because he remained patient and waited until I would eventually speak even if he had to use prompts.
But it was never an option again for me to simply dismiss and bury my feelings.
So, here I am...flipped and twisted and not entirely sure where things go from this point.