Posted on by She Never Sleeps

the heaviness

I started smoking again. Not like the pack I buy when I’m drunk just to have one cigarette and then toss out the other 19 several months later, after I find them sitting at the bottom of a switched out purse. No. It’s been 3 days and I’m down to 6 left.

My 10 yo told me I smelled like my chain-smoking grandmother’s house today. I should probably stop. But I also lied. I told he and his younger brother that it was just one cigarette and that I was only smoking because –

9: Because of him.

I stopped midsentence, unprepared for the straightforward comment from my baby. He wasn’t wrong. Lost in the graveness of that moment, I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing. I felt myself breaking. I couldn’t. Not in front of my boys. Especially not over someone they had only known maybe a month or so. It was too late. My heart had sped up, my cheeks felt flush and heated, slowly water creased my lids yet somehow fell with a quickness and often.

“Yes”, I barely muttered. “Because of him.”

As I wept, I explained the way of adults. Of how love is not always enough. Sometimes people have problems they need to sort through before they can be with someone else. I told them how you weren’t a bad person, you were smart, funny – Jesus, I was all of a sudden your PR rep. I told them that we loved each other, yes. We did. We loved each other and it made us both sad to not be together but that now was not a good time.

Then I saw my youngest boy, sitting next to me, silent but bothered, face pained, his own eyes welling up. Listening, nodding his head to indicate he understood, even if maybe he didn’t completely. Too young to understand the intricacies of addiction, but not too young to know his mother was heartbroken.

“Oh, no. No, love. Don’t cry.” I pulled him to me, still small enough to curl himself as close as he could without it being awkward, he did just that. “Oh baby, momma loves you so much. Don’t you worry about me, I’m okay. I’m only crying right now because love is sad sometimes. But that’s okay. I’m gonna be okay. This is just one sad day. And it had to happen, my love. I want to be the best momma I can be and I can’t do that if I’m with someone who has extra big problems. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

It’s okay. I’m okay.

It’s okay. I’m okay.

I know that this pain is temporary. All lost love is temporary. In some rare cases, it may linger. A faint echo of a familiar lullaby yet the name still cannot be placed. I also know that you will join a handful of names which the wind will whisper to me, like clockwork as it usually does, right before a storm. I know I’ll be nostalgic, maybe even a sharp stab of bittersweet sentimentality to cause me to flinch. I know that it hurts to let you go, but holding on will do so much more harm. I have been so afraid to walk away for fear of the loss, but to keep you has already proved much more detrimental.

I have been weighted and sunken, a cheap facsimile on autopilot has taken my place. No one knows where to find me, not even myself.

So, I’ve chosen to go searching for where I may have gone. Unfortunately, this is a rescue mission of One. I only hope one day that maybe you come looking for me, too.

After you have found yourself.

Posted on by She Never Sleeps

Lunch With You

We met for lunch.

I couldn't handle sitting in my apartment for one more second, piles of everything needing to be done, staring me down, sternly requiring my attention. I couldn't move. In a moment of desperation and loneliness, I asked if you were free.

You were.

I wasted no time, stripping my night clothes, jumping in the shower, attempting to wash away the hurt, the heartache, the heaving sobs. If I could have scrubbed the skin from my flesh, maybe that would help? 

   No. Morbid thought, though. And morbid thoughts always seemed to help me feel better with their absurdity.

I made short work of getting dressed and being on my way. I still had a schedule of sorts to keep. Time was a privilege, not a luxury. I arrived not too long after. You followed shortly, sat facing me. I felt calm.

There you were, my lifelong love. Everyone in our circle knew this. Relationships sometimes suffered because of it. The insecure ones demanded we cut contact, and we would. Every so often sneaking a message, an email, or phone call until a break-up would occur. The enlightened ones, very few and far between, understood albeit not without some reservations. Which was understandable. But through the years, with every old person out and new person in, there we were. Unfailingly available to the other if needed.

   And I needed you. Sometimes, I wondered if I would always need you. If there would come a point in my life when I'd hit an all too familiar low and I'd be able to traverse it all on my own. Sure, I had friends. Beautiful, amazing, strong, brilliant, and supportive friends. But they weren't you. They didn't know me the way you knew me. The way I knew you. We could bullshit everyone but never each other.

The dirty blond streaks in your hair were now dusty gray, Crows feet, laugh lines, age on both our ends. When did this happen to us? Older, more tired, not really any wiser, kindred spirits in our own fucked up, too smart for our own good, too blind to see the forest for the trees, kind of way. We didn't even talk too much, more eating and bitching about work than anything. But you were sitting across from me and it provided some comfort in an otherwise bleak and not so comfortable time.

We didn't stay long. Again... Time. You walked me to my car, gave a hug, and I broke down. I don't really remember when you last held me close like that. Yes, hello and goodbye hugs, sure. But this wasn't that. My world was crumbling and I didn't have one steady place to find footing. Vulnerable and broken, I sobbed into your chest as you held me tight. You gave me credit for never allowing cynicism to enter my soul, for continuing to keep my heart open to the possibility of love. My face, still pressed against you, didn't allow for much room when I spoke. Words, muffled and sad, "I really wish I was cynical. You broke me."

   You were the first person I ever genuinely fell in love with. That connection, that invisible tether never truly disappeared. This exchange was proof. I briefly recalled putting the last sturdy nail into the coffin of my already dead marriage by visiting you in the hospital years back. Or the fact that you once (or twice) claimed that you would drop everything to be there for me, if possible. You said it made you a dumbass. Yeah, well. Me, too. 

Eventually, I pulled away. You pulled me back. I cried some more. It was sunny and bright out, mid-afternoon, strangers going about their business pretending they didn't see the short woman bawling into the tall man. And as the tears set into your sweatshirt, as I gasped and exhaled short breaths, wishing I had never loved to begin with, I knew you were right.

   I had asked you earlier to tell me what to do. I have always done as I've pleased, regardless of consequence. This was a rare exception. I was so lost in the fog of my lovesick trauma I couldn't see what was right in front of my face. 

I finally left. We each had things to accomplish. Even if your to-do list was of the more mundane variety, the pursuit of all things Adult never stops. I thanked you for meeting me, all too aware that my weakly stated gratitude in no way expressed how appreciative I actually was.

Then I faced truth.

I knew that this break was actually a break-up. I had done enough crying and aching during the interim because of the Not Knowing. But now I knew. The man I let myself fall for, the man whom seemed to be at the epicenter of all the unrest, confusion, and my heart's disruption - I love him and I know I will always love him the way I have continued to love you. From afar and with the knowledge that they love me too. It's just not the right time and never will be. 

If I'm lucky, he will one day be just as an amazing friend as you have been, after we have let the years heal what it can. But I doubt it.

There is only One You.
Posted on by She Never Sleeps

Another Letter I’ll Not Send

I miss you.

Those are tiny words which do zero justice in describing the agonizing churning of my innards. I am incapable of faking joy and the general public has caught on that I’m Not Okay. I’m growing tired of the pep talks, the “You Made The Right Decision” speeches, the misguided attempts at cheering me up. I get through the social obligations only to hurriedly make my way home in order to escape all the Care and Concern.

I don’t want pity and I’m So Sorries. I want solitude. I want the comfort of my space so I can wail for hours into the night, alone and broken. I want The Hurt to FADE but it will not. It digs in its heels, grinding my heart beneath into pulpy slop. I want to fall asleep without tears, to wake up without dread.

I want to wake up Next To You.

I want you. I want your mouth on mine. I want your soft singing when you’re happy, your eyes gleaming with love. I want your hands gently roaming tender along my back. I want all the things we once had but without the bullshit which began tearing us down. I want to hear your voice, hold your hand, touch your face, have you close, FEEL YOU in any and all ways possible and my WANT for all of this is the worst kind of starvation my soul and spirit has ever suffered.

I stop myself again and again from reaching out because I’m told that is the wrong decision to make. It will just hurt you more. And I cannot do that, knowing how much pain has been caused as it is. I know my desire to speak to you is selfish. It is only for me, to quell the ache, lessen the melancholy. Or so I imagine. But then another wave hits and I am very much an angry petulant child who is not getting their way because I can never be what you need me to be and radical acceptance isn’t one of your personality traits. No amount of adult rationale or logic can minimize the paroxysm of my weeping and manic screams of IT ISN’T FAIR.

it isn’t fair.

I miss you. I still love you. None of this is fair.