Tag Archives: connection

The Wisdom of Youth

17 Mar

Every time he leaves it is a hard battle that I fight and for a few days I really hate the person I become. Moody, insensitive, noncomunicative…it’s like I am PMSing in overdrive.

I was at work a couple days after the last time he flew off into the night sky and trying to refocus my life by pouring the meager amount of energy I had into my kids. I was talking with two of the girls that tend to battle a lot with depression and one of them was telling me how she had been having a really good week because her friend was in town. This friend was slightly more than just a friend as they had been seeing each other before he had had to move away. Regardless of any residual feelings or lingering hopes, this boy had come into her life and reminded her what it was like to be happy at a time she was finding it hard to get out of bed each day. He was going to be leaving soon, however, and the realization had dawned on her that she liked being happy, she liked feeling excited about the day, and she liked not constantly being at war with herself. Her concern which we were discussing was that she wasn’t being happy for herself, her happiness was centered around the existence of another person, so the questioned that remained was,  “how do I find my happiness for myself?”

I tell this anecdote because it caused a revelation in myself as often conversations do with my teens. I learned this lesson once…and then again…and I’m sure more times after that. In my teenage years I was immobilized by my fears and sadness, but my 20’s brought the age of self-sufficiency in which I was confident and able to find happiness within myself and for myself. Somewhere along the way, however, perhaps I became to comfortable with the idea that I would always be able to separate myself from becoming co-dependent or stuck in a hole in which the only sunshine was another person.

I am by no means at that point, but in talking with this 15 year old girl, I realized I had been slipping and perhaps it was time to find some time to focus on my inner me…find my sunshine.

As fate would have it, that night the conversation continued, in a way, into an evening walk with LP. She knows me and knows my needs and as I was discussing my recent frustrations about the situation I have found myself in, she had some interesting insight. I had told Michigan the night before what I had been feeling about myself since his departure. He offered to give me space if I needed it and my response was, “I don’t know what I need, but I know it is not that.” Immediately I questioned that logic, and LP was the one to give a voice to why.

Michigan and I had just spent four glorious days together…non-stop, together all the time, for four days. Typically this would drive me insane (and to be honest it had started to by the end) because I am the girl that needs my me-time. I thrive on it. Him leaving should have signaled the beginning of that much needed space, but because the immediate physical distance became so great, I was still feeling the need for some sort of connection. I couldn’t make plans for next weekend then go on radio silence for two days because that is not an option for us. What I want is to sit in silence and be held, what I get is talking or nothing. See the pickle?

I still have yet to figure out the solution, but everything heals itself in time. Time will bring him closer or will end us. My hope is that time will bring clarity and understanding. There is a lesson I need to learn in this, and with luck I will learn it and everything will once again make sense. Right now I just have to find a way to be comfortable with the unknown.

Idiots in Love – A case study of Wizard and Sammie

5 Mar

** I wrote this post in two parts. The first I started a few months back when I wasn’t in a very good place about the ordeal. Since then things are a bit more settled, less strings are left untied, and I have found a place of acceptance for what things are…here goes.

I don’t know what it is about love, but I have met very few people that are able to be smart about it. The mix of hormones, endorphins, flowery language, and finally having our narcissistic need for attention met creates a dangerous melting pot that, if we aren’t careful, can quickly turn from the warm fuzzies to singeing self-deprecation. I can only truthfully say I have been in love once. Mini-romances and minor flirtations aside, real, honest love, is life-consuming. It takes up every waking thought, seeps into every minute detail, until you have formulated a life in which you are constantly waiting for those next precious moments to be shared with the person you have made your end-all-be-all. Then when it ends, you physically feel an empty chasm in your chest that makes everything seem dark until you can fill it with brick and mortar and swear to yourself you will never let yourself fall so easily into the delirium again. Only, we always do, and most of us do it willingly.

You would think a woman would be the reason this procession of thought has come upon me. And although I will freely admit I see this train crash of amorous events happen more often in the land of estrogen, today’s homily on the pitfalls of affection sprouts specifically from the male half of a couple I have taken nearly a year to observe and (as I often do) analyze. For the sake of this case study and to maintain confidentiality, we’ll name them Wizard and Sammie.

Sammie, who also happens to be my estranged roommate (which may explain any negative bias I may have, although I promise to at least try to stay neutral), had been Wizard’s girlfriend for six years (with a short break a couple years back if I remember the story properly). Recently, approximately six weeks ago, they called a “break” in their relationship. This of course crushed Wizard who, despite explanation, did not truly understand the reasoning behind this turn of events. I of course know both sides given my situation, but from his perspective, he was told Sammie needed to work on herself and that she could not do that within the bounds of a relationship.

In the background, Sammie was trying to deal with her guilt around having feelings for another man, “Sloth,” whom she had met the previous year briefly, but then over the summer, had seen socially on multiple occasions. Sloth did not have a flattering reputation within the group, but he had certain skills which the other gentlemen he hung out with valued if I understand it correctly. Sammie and Sloth had an instant connection and began spending time together more privately. I bet you can already see where this is going, especially when I mention that sobriety was not always a factor in their dalliances.

One thing led to another and Sammie was dealing with the guilt of kissing, rather heatedly, Sloth when she called the break between her and Wizard. Being “single” and dealing with confusing feelings towards Sloth only increased the ante leading to a scandalous affair of both the heart and the flesh (despite the pledge Wizard had made to never return to her if she so much as touched another man while they were separated).

I hope you are beginning to see my pickle. Being the roommate, I was privy to information no one else could know and sworn to secrecy, but being Wizard’s friend made it difficult to balance a neutral stance while being supportive. Not to mention the complication of remaining in contact with Sloth. He was a conundrum I was determined to unravel.

I have never claimed to be perfect, nor will I ever hold hope of being so. Maybe in a way chronicling this tale for you is my way of trying to find redemption. Whatever the case, after nearly a month my conscience and my loyalty were stretched to their limits. My head was full to bursting with information I had to very carefully navigate in conversations with the three players in this game. Over and over again Sammie sealed our conversations with vows of secrecy. I complied, not because I believed what she was doing was honorable, mostly I detested it, but I cared for her and we do foolish things for our friends. That is until we reach our breaking point.

A football game, apparently, was mine. The beer in mason jars more than likely didn’t help matters. I met up with Wizard and Mr. Big in Foxboro to watch our beloved Patriots at Toby Keith’s. Mr. Big was feeling generous and bought me several rounds of drinks during the course of the game. We were having a great time and the party didn’t end when the game did. Long, somewhat embarrassing, story short, the night ended with me and Wizard sobering up in my car, not silently. For most of the night I had avoided the Sammie conversation, but alone, in such close proximity, with my friend in need, I couldn’t help myself when he introduced the subject.

Put yourself in my shoes for a moment and look through my alcohol-clouded eyes. My friend, sitting in the car, heart in pieces, talking about his semi-ex-girlfriend and how much he loves her and hopes that he can find a way to stay with her. He trusts her, he tells me she’s told him everything, and even though it hurts, he’s just happy she hasn’t slept with this other guy. I know differently, and at first, its easy to let him believe this girl is being truthful because his heart is already hurting too much. But he keeps talking and something sets me off. I start thinking how deceitful this whole thing is, how despicable I feel for hiding the truth, for letting him believe she is worth his time. How do you care so much about someone, and hurt them so completely?

Before I know it, the words are escaping my lips and then they are there, out in the world. “You know she’s sleeping with him right?” Wizard just looks at me, and as he processes this information, I see his facial expression change from shock, to confusion, to rage. It’s the last one that scares me a little, makes me realize the chain reaction I have just put into motion. He jumps from the car, slams the door, and begins dialing. I know who he’s calling and I start to chase after him, I just want to fix it somehow, but he’s walking so fast and I can hear his voice rising. I know its too late, regret floods my mind, and I sink to the pavement as the tears start rolling down my face.

I don’t know how long I sat there, not long, but long enough to loose sight of Wizard. I start to run around Patriots’ Place, looking anywhere I can of where he might have gone. My phone is dead and I’m sure I look a little crazed when I finally decide to go back to my car. I wait. He parked near me so I figure he has to come back eventually. Again, I lost track of time, but eventually, I saw him, walking laboriously across the parking lot. I don’t know what words we exchange or how we said good bye, but I do remember him telling me he talked to her, how enraged he was, confusion tingeing every word he said.

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It’s been a few months since that moment. The drive home was filled with doubt and I began questioning myself, analyzing every minute leading up to that one. The series of events that followed were a shit storm of dramatic soliloquies, awkward tension, and the breakdown of trust. Sammie and I found a way to recover after that first blow to our friendship, but a short time later, another situation, related, but ancillary, shattered it permanently. I am too ashamed still to divulge the details. I take the blame for it wholeheartedly, but no amount of penitence can make up for it in her mind. We almost amended the situation at one point about a month ago, but I quickly realized the surface bond was not strong enough to rebuild the bulk of the structure back up. I may not be perfect, but she is a child sometimes, and in the interim of our breakdown, I think I realized some things I had overlooked. Roommates we remain, but civility is not always a constant in our world any longer.

As for Wizard, he remains the victim of the tale, but his naivety has since dissolved my empathy. He is still chasing after a dream I don’t think he realizes should be left to rest, but he’s in “love.” Sammie got just what she wanted, the ability to chase after other men, while still having her backup plan.

I’m not really sure how to end this without sounding bitter and disillusioned. Love is wonderful and sustaining when its healthy and mutual, but how often do we pervert it, fake it, or try to force it into our own little mold? Romance clouds our minds, but love isn’t logical either. How do we let our heart fly free when we might loose our heads in the process? To every risk there is a consequence, and pain sometimes walks hand-in-hand with pleasure. I guess I’m just hoping I can learn to walk the tightrope before I take my next leap of faith.