Reflections of the Broken - 10.01.2021

|| Taken from my journal in October, 2021, approximately 3 weeks after Discovery Day. This was originally a letter, edited for public consumption by removing direct statements to others and fleshing out some ideas. It retains its authenticity as a snapshot of the time it was written. Much has changed since. ||

I’ve lived for weeks in hell. I was in love. I am in love.

The last year has been awful. I admit it. I messed up. I was a let-down. But then suddenly, the worst case scenario happened. I’ve yelled. I’ve cried. I’ve prayed. I’ve tried to cajole. I’ve tried to appease. I’ve tried to shock back awake. All with no effect.

Today, I did my best to shower with love and attention. It was easy, because I am committed. I know I’ve said “this is it” over and over, but I can’t quit. I don’t know how. And I keep asking myself, why?

Tonight, after what I thought was a great night, I was again abandoned. Goodbyes had to be exchanged to prevent hurt feelings, I was told.

Not mine. Someone outside of the relationship decided how my evening would go.

I sent image after image after image - kids, memories, the life that was built, brick by brick, dollar by dollar. These were keystones in a conjoined life a decade in the making.

It was “annoying,” and I was shut out.

Prayers. Tears. On my face again in a puddle of snot and sweat for the sake of the one I loved.

In return, I was ignored. Blocked. Cut off from access. Annoying.

We were in the moment for a time, and then this new… addiction came calling. I felt hope reignite in my chest and just as quickly it was extinguished. Snuffed.

Not hungry. Let’s get home. So we went.

The disappearance was immediate. The drug beckoned. My life walked out the door after I gave what I had left.

And now I'm left alone in this house again. Cracked.

* * *

The reason for the return was not for us, not for me. It was because this new drug had run it’s course and discarded it’s user.

It was the drug. It wasn’t to say goodbye. It wasn’t to get back to me.

My life walked away. Again.

Yet. For some reason I was there, still, hoping life would walk back. I worried myself into a panic because messages went undelivered. I had no contact. No way of knowing where it went, or who it was with. I paid to extricate it, saving it, I thought at that moment, from danger. Maybe this would be the grand turn I’d hoped would happen over the past 3 weeks.

There was no pivot. I was the consolation, our common history was the back up, after a good time used what it could and evaporated.

I can’t quit because I believe in what was, and what should be. I want to see healing. I want to be healed. But I can’t be the doormat along the way. I’m dying. I want to die. I’m afraid that will happen before the end comes. I have to be met halfway.

At least take a step.