Lord knows I am trying. Everyone knows I am trying. At moments I feel as though I am a stranger living in my own body/mind - three weeks and one day, and I still have rare moment of quiet. I can't seem to fully let go, even though she is not here anymore. I can't seem to feel happy. I can't seem to feel but a flick or anger, but more than anything trauma and pain. I saw a picture of her the other day, and she looked as beautiful as I remember her - perfect skin like her grandma. She took my breath away.
So many of the wise women and men I know have come to offer common sense to me, to love myself and believe that everything happens for a reason. To let go - that she is gone. To concentrate on me now. That the choice was not mine to control, it was time for her to go. Did I really think this was forever?
I miss all of what I thought I had. I miss her in a way that seems sadistic and inhumane. In moments I have felt without reason of faith, without survival instinct. Like laying down. clinging to my iPhone just in case I have unhealthy thoughts and need help. Then I wonder what within me is so empty that I can't find the courage to move on myself? I have let go of friends that were hers to hold, not many have reached out to me with a compassionate hold. I have come to see who really understands and cares for me, even though it may be awkward.
I wonder how long this inflammation will remain in my heart. I just want the truth and strength to grant me the courage to let go soon. To reclaim myself. I can't keep running, I have flat feet. Too much of my life became her because I was not smart enough to keep some for myself - I was willing to try and try even if it meant my ultimate demise. I thought if I had the patience to allow her to rightfully grow, she would see my faithfulness and keep by my side opening doors. In turn, she would also allow me to grow. I really gave it all I had, perhaps even more. I can imagine the pressure she felt being my all - perhaps it did not suit her.
It makes sense now why that day she awkwardly held my hand and I asked her "why don't you wanna hold it?" Or that she told me she was feeling attracted to other women because I let her down on her birthday. I admit I was not good that night, but I am human and I fucked up. Later she asked if we should perhaps live separately - it seems to that I did not have a say. The least I deserved was some conversation and compassion before she walked away. I would never as a human conduct myself that way. I felt like I was taking emotional orders on how I should react from Hitler. To accept the cremation of three years of my life I held so dear without any explanation other than independence needed. No assessment of what did and did not work - nothing.
For every mistake, every growth, every confrontational act she conducted I was willing to find forgiveness, for with love comes growth. I think of people that have been married for thirty years that are still committed with good intentions and I realize there is no way that each day, sometimes months, even years could have been smooth sailing - but they still had respect and commitment to try. That is the kind if love I dreamed of.
I sometimes jump when I hear a key in the neighbours door - but alas, no one is there for me. For the first time I am alone in this apartment, only my two fluffy babies to keep me feeling loved. Anxiety. Realizing how ill-equipped I am to not rely on her to make me full. To not text her "I love you, I miss you." I wish I could see the light again, inside and outside, believe that beauty is alive. I wish I could believe that I do deserve love and someone who will stand by me, through my flaws and see that I am always willing to try and grow.