My Point Is (And I Do Have One)
By The Misfit | March 31, 2010
So yesterday I blogged about nearly getting married and how it ended in complete disaster. Only to discover that the trip, despite the insanity of it all, had nothing to do with T, marrying him, or getting jilted.
It was all about Chris and dealing with the aftermath of his death.
I don’t remember when my synapses decided to make this connection – it was pretty long after the fact when I was finally able to think about things without being angry and hurt. I didn’t bounce back quite so easily in those days since I was far more inclined to hold on to every slight, real or imagined, and use them to fuel my daily existence.
Maybe one day I’ll blog about the whole story about Chris, his suicide, and the role I perceive to have played in it, but for now, it’s enough to say simply that he chose to take his own life. And that I stupidly and selfishly said things that, while not mean or directed at him, most likely had some sort of effect. It’s been seventeen years come April 16th, and I not only shoulder that burden every day, but I will carry the resulting guilt until the day I die.
As my whirlwind Germany trip wound down, I was able to spend my last day-and-a-half in Frankfurt with a mutual friend of mine and Chris’, and spent some time with his mom. I was able to learn more about what happened (from the mutual friend, not his mom – not even I would have been callous enough to dredge that up for her) and the flowers I took to his mom ended up being put on his grave some point after my departure.
Before I hooked up with T., there was a year-and-a-half of grieving. The kind where your soul feels shattered in a million pieces, and you feel perpetually devoid of anything but sorrow and numbness and disbelief. By the time I met T, I was just beginning to emerge from the darkness, so to speak. I found that I was able to not only feel again, but feel things that were good and reaffirmed that life wasn’t all about sorrow and misery and loss. It was filled with hope and kind words and something as close to love as I was capable of at the time.
I didn’t recognize it at the time, but by the time I hurtled across the pond I was finally emotionally ready to face my loss head on without fear, though certainly not without pain. And despite the emotional upheaval that came from the relationship that precipitated my trip to Germany, I found I was strong enough to deal with that, even if it took me a bit longer than I’d have liked.
My point in all of this, I guess, is that sometimes we find ourselves in relationships in which we invest our emotions and care and love. Sometimes they don’t work out the way we like or hope at the time. Sometimes they’re just not the right situations for us and sometimes they’re absolute disasters. But more often than not, these relationships prepare us to recognize the things that are good, and give us the strength to deal with other situations we didn’t even realize were associated with them. The key, I think, is recognizing certain things:
1. That shutting ourselves off emotionally on account of situations gone bad may protect us from feeling hurt, but (and this took me the longest time to figure out) it also stops us from feeling all the wonderful good things that surround us, too. Walking around numb and indifferent is no way to live. I know from personal experience since I did it for years.
2. That sometimes we allow our fears brought on by previous situations to dictate our actions, even if there’s something good that’s within reach. We get burned and swear we’ll never do something like it again. After T and I soured, I swore I’d never move long distance for a guy. And while it wasn’t exactly the same type of situation, I moved to California. The most recent time might have involved the Scotland trip – had the situation been different, I would have given up going without a second thought.
The things I give up don’t involve moving or material things – historically they’ve involved the aforementioned numbness and indifference – the lack of emotional investment. And yet I find myself in a situation where I don’t want to live like that. I want to give everything I am. And I do. In my own way. Perhaps it’s misunderstood. Perhaps it’s scarier than hell. Perhaps I say too much when I should keep my mouth shut. And perhaps I’m freaked way the hell out.
But I’m willing to do it anyway.
Because it’s worth it.
Topics: the misfit life | No Comments »