Drinking Again and Steps Backwards
I’ve been sipping cognac now for about an hour and a half, not enough to get smashed but enough to impair my thinking such that I’m pretty sure I can write without any consideration for regret later.
I’ve come over the past month and a half to understand the why behind the failure of the relationship behind Renell and me. It was and is a combination of fear and lack of appreciation and bad communication and lack of trust and communication on my end. That much has been apparent now for some time.
I have also come to realize that there is still a love there. Not one that makes any sense or one that will ever amount to anything else. The cycle must be broken and we just can’t be. I’m too tired and too hurt to be hurt any more.
We talked some yesterday. She was having some issue trying to talk to Rick and came to me asking for help finding closure. She is in large part a physical person, I’m usually ambivalent to the physical cues. The hugs, kissing, etc. was never as important as just being there mentally and in support when needed. Both require physical presence but not the sort of cues and effects of physicality. Yesterday she said that part of her getting closure was for us to kiss and see if there was anything there, in order to prove that she wasn’t crazy. First off, she wasn’t crazy anyway, there is of course some level of caring, emotion and love and there always will be. Secondly, I think the full set of consequences for all involved wasn’t very well considered, but she said she had thought it through. We kissed, we felt the tug of heartstrings, mutually, and she proved to herself that she wasn’t crazy. It instead has driven me insane.
The level of openness, and honesty that she can express now was what we needed earlier to prevent such a loss as we now both share. The level of effort now is too late for anything but causing me more pain in that it could have not been expressed earlier to save the relationship but must be now shown to find closure from it.
From my point of view, I was fine, not good, but passable. I had come to the understanding of why and that was enough to get me through the day. I had found ways to be distracted and befriended those who could pull me away from the misery of solitude and self loathing. Now again, here I sit, glass of cognac still in hand, remembering the pain, feeling the loss all over again. I sit and think now and forget again to breath.
A while ago, along with the prayer, I would let the pain take me over, I would let it wash over me and fill me with that gut wrenching feeling that is loss and heartbreak. But only for a 10 count. I would let it rip my soul for 10 seconds then take a deep breath and pull it back again to burden me. There was catharsis in that. There was. Therapy there and it worked for a time. I am back to that now. It is a matter of survival again. A day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute struggle not to lose my mind again.
The writing helps some. It gets these thought onto paper (or screen) and out of my head, no longer to burden my mind with dwelling on the things that I cannot change. It is those things which hurt me the most. You can look at those things as that which I cannot change and simply must move beyond, or you can look at them as things that I cannot change but that I can learn from and learn not to repeat. My weakness has always been a willingness and readiness to repeat the same mistakes as though I had never learned from them. That is what love does, that is what love is, a willingness to bash your head against the wall over and over and over until you can’t anymore and then do it all again for no reason other than your heart tells you it is so. I can’t do that anymore.
I was making progress, I was getting by, I wasn’t happy, I didn’t have closure and I certainly didn’t move past the pain, but I was okay. Now I revert, not by a few steps but by years. I have fallen to the same coping methods that pushed me to the brink of insanity before. I am repeating the same mistakes of the past to avoid repeating the mistakes of my heart. Fuck
I’ve come over the past month and a half to understand the why behind the failure of the relationship behind Renell and me. It was and is a combination of fear and lack of appreciation and bad communication and lack of trust and communication on my end. That much has been apparent now for some time.
I have also come to realize that there is still a love there. Not one that makes any sense or one that will ever amount to anything else. The cycle must be broken and we just can’t be. I’m too tired and too hurt to be hurt any more.
We talked some yesterday. She was having some issue trying to talk to Rick and came to me asking for help finding closure. She is in large part a physical person, I’m usually ambivalent to the physical cues. The hugs, kissing, etc. was never as important as just being there mentally and in support when needed. Both require physical presence but not the sort of cues and effects of physicality. Yesterday she said that part of her getting closure was for us to kiss and see if there was anything there, in order to prove that she wasn’t crazy. First off, she wasn’t crazy anyway, there is of course some level of caring, emotion and love and there always will be. Secondly, I think the full set of consequences for all involved wasn’t very well considered, but she said she had thought it through. We kissed, we felt the tug of heartstrings, mutually, and she proved to herself that she wasn’t crazy. It instead has driven me insane.
The level of openness, and honesty that she can express now was what we needed earlier to prevent such a loss as we now both share. The level of effort now is too late for anything but causing me more pain in that it could have not been expressed earlier to save the relationship but must be now shown to find closure from it.
From my point of view, I was fine, not good, but passable. I had come to the understanding of why and that was enough to get me through the day. I had found ways to be distracted and befriended those who could pull me away from the misery of solitude and self loathing. Now again, here I sit, glass of cognac still in hand, remembering the pain, feeling the loss all over again. I sit and think now and forget again to breath.
A while ago, along with the prayer, I would let the pain take me over, I would let it wash over me and fill me with that gut wrenching feeling that is loss and heartbreak. But only for a 10 count. I would let it rip my soul for 10 seconds then take a deep breath and pull it back again to burden me. There was catharsis in that. There was. Therapy there and it worked for a time. I am back to that now. It is a matter of survival again. A day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute struggle not to lose my mind again.
The writing helps some. It gets these thought onto paper (or screen) and out of my head, no longer to burden my mind with dwelling on the things that I cannot change. It is those things which hurt me the most. You can look at those things as that which I cannot change and simply must move beyond, or you can look at them as things that I cannot change but that I can learn from and learn not to repeat. My weakness has always been a willingness and readiness to repeat the same mistakes as though I had never learned from them. That is what love does, that is what love is, a willingness to bash your head against the wall over and over and over until you can’t anymore and then do it all again for no reason other than your heart tells you it is so. I can’t do that anymore.
I was making progress, I was getting by, I wasn’t happy, I didn’t have closure and I certainly didn’t move past the pain, but I was okay. Now I revert, not by a few steps but by years. I have fallen to the same coping methods that pushed me to the brink of insanity before. I am repeating the same mistakes of the past to avoid repeating the mistakes of my heart. Fuck
posted by rpalmeira | 9:00 PM
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