I prayed
heaven today
Would bring its hammer down on me
And pound you
out of my head
I can’t think with you in it
I dragged
all that I owned
down a dirt road to find you.
My shoes
worn out and used
They can’t take me much farther
It’s been one of those nights. I wish I could explain. That’s one of the more frustrating things about trying to write: there are times when the maelstrom inside is a bit indescribable and the moment I try to capture it, it changes. I was cooking dinner. I have no idea what song was on. The oil on the asparagus in the toaster oven started to smoke a bit. I took it out. It wasn’t even enough smoke to set any alarms off, but it got my heart rate up. And suddenly, I felt like I couldn’t cope… not so much with the asparagus (which was fine), but with the rest of life. Suddenly, everything felt heavy – paralyzingly so. I suspect the slight adrenaline rush was the trigger, but I could feel this coming on for an hour or so, maybe days.
When I pull back a bit, I think to myself, “I didn’t used to be this way. I was really happy not too long ago – even before I met my ex-fiancee. I didn’t have these bouts of feeling completely lost or helpless or… I’m not sure what to call them.” Telling myself this just makes me feel more sorry for myself, makes me miss the person I used to be, makes me feel broken in some indescribable way, and makes me angry at the person who did this to me. Except nobody does anything to anybody – it’s up to me to decide how to react and how to cope. Nevertheless, I find myself saying “she should have been more careful. She shouldn’t have said yes if she didn’t intend to follow through.” I know there is no other way to go about it other than to risk everything. “To love without knowing how to love wounds the person we love.” – Thich Nhat Hanh
I’ve been coming across a few different quotes on Facebook that hit home.
When I moved in to my apartment down here in Memphis, I unpacked a few “reminders” of my relationship with my ex-fiancee – three pictures, some rocks from beaches, the piece of driftwood we picked up the day we got engaged. One of the pictures was from when we did our first hike together (June 30, 2018). We had only been together for a two weeks, but you could see that we fit together. We were laughing about her falling backwards over the cliff yelling “two weeeekkkkssss…” as she fell.
There’s a shoe box with her name on it and some other stuff inside: cards, more pictures, shells and rocks from other beaches. I sometimes think about throwing it all away. I haven’t been able to do that, it feels like the easy way. Doing so feels like I would be lying to myself about the whole thing. Earlier today, feeling like I’m getting closer to putting it behind me, I brought the box out, took the pictures down and put it all away. In the box was a card that I wrote out and planned to leave for her on the day she was moving out. I didn’t give it to her. I was also going to give back to her some of the symbolic things she had given me – a rock that she said symbolized moving forward together, the driftwood, a poem. I re-read the card. Some of the sentiments still ring true.
Also in the box is a picture that she used as her dating profile picture. It’s one of the few pictures of her available online – she uses it on her about page on her personal website. She’s looking out a window. Her eyes are distant. She is both beautiful and sad. I think this is how she sees herself: alone, thoughtful, a little sad – perhaps it’s how she prefers to be seen. As much as I like that picture of her, I like the ones of us together even better.
This wave of feeling is sometimes predictable. Usually when I think about moving on, about really leaving this chapter behind, I start to miss it before it’s even gone. I start to look back. I start to want to sink away or disappear. Even when I feel ticked or whatever with her, it never lasts. If anything, I suspect in losing her husband, she’s felt all of the things I feel and more and has had plenty of days like the ones I’ve had and worse. I often wonder if she thinks about me. I wonder if something happened to me, would she care? I didn’t used to be this way.
Glass Animals have a new song out “Heat Waves” the chorus is:
Sometimes all I think about is you
Late nights in the middle of June
Heat waves been fakin’ me out
Can’t make you happier now.
About the song the band wrote:
it’s about realising you can’t make everyone happy. and realising it’s ok to be defeated by something. we are often expected to ‘be strong’ and to swallow our sadness. failing to do that is seen as weakness. so we try to cover up our feelings and hide inside of TV shows or video games or drink or drugs. but being vulnerable should be a positive thing. there was a review in a big publication we got early on that said i was ‘too effeminate’ because of the way I sang and that that was weak and gross.
its 2020. there’s no space for that sh*t anymore.
the music video is out too. it’s meant to reference the sentiments in the song…about being defeated and unable to save something…but tweaked the context a little. I’ll do another post about it tomorrow explaining more. i hope you like the song, its a special one to me.
I suspect there are healthier, more productive ways to spend my time. Usually, I’m able to dodge the waves. And then sometimes I can’t help but to feel like something is missing, like there was something worth saving but I wasn’t quite able to save it. Sometimes I feel like I’m still dragging all that I own down that dirt road.