I am still shaken from the encounter with the ex yesterday afternoon. Seeing her there, smiling, chatting with others only served to remind me how much I missed that smile, that voice. It also highlighted that Yours Truly has been living in the world of shadows and ephemeral memories for the past 11 or so months.
Ancient Greek poet Heraclitus wrote:
“Immortal mortals, mortal immortals, one living the others death and dying the others life.” In the all too brief a time that I spent with her, I have felt like an immortal god of old. Yet in losing her I have come to live the death of my greatness and I have been dying in the life without her in it.
And yet I have grown. I am most certainly not the same heartbroken wet mess that first started writing this blog nearly a year ago. She has lost that god-like status yours truly has endowed her with; I see her in a somewhat different light. Despite all that my feelings for her have not changed. My therapist asked me whether I would get back together with her should she decide to come back. He was not pleased to know that even after the way she treated me I would still go down that rabbit hole. Needless to say that yesterday’s encounter drove home the message that she would not come back to me. Seeing me there was nothing more than an afterthought. Just like our entire relationship.
How does one increase own pulse rate from a regular steady 80-84 to a breakneck racing 154? Simple: run into the theatre where you are doing a show and find yourself face-to-face with your ex sitting at the ticket desk. You know, the EX? As my friend puts it, The One That Almost Kills You. Fan-fucking-tastic!
My mother is a rather lonely woman who does not have many people to talk to. So when we talk she constantly interrupts me. It has gotten to the point that if by some chance I manage to finish a thought or a story, I feel very uncomfortable.
Sunday morning. I am on a set, filming inserts for the play that I am doing. There is a great cast of people associated with this production. I did my part in two takes and helped out on the set for other’s camera time. I should be feeling great!
And yet yours truly is unsettled. I still get constantly rattled by sudden pangs of memory of love lost. It is not helping, of course, that my favourite and most important day of the year is coming up (no, it is not my birthday) and last year I spent it with who I thought (and despite everything, frankly still feel) was the most wonderful human being in the world.
People in my life keep telling me that I am a great chap, that I have a lot of things going for me, that I am funny and interesting. So why don’t I feel it? Why do I not feel that I deserve good things? Why have I never felt that way in my entire life?
(Continued from The Inevitable.)
It has been a few hours since The Encounter, if it can even be called that. I kept walking and it is doubtful she had even seen me. Granted, it was only a matter of time until our paths would cross; but it was shocking nevertheless.
And yet, that is not the full story for an ironic twist made the whole experience far worse. I was on my way to the theatre for sketch practice. The sketch we were working on was about unrequited love. Great! In the whole sketch I have only one word at the end of it. We were practicing doing things in different ways and basically just doing the sketch about unrequited love over, and over, and over again and, as much as I am looking forward to the full performance in a big show, the entire bloody time I was thinking that I would rather have been any-fucking-where else doing anything else but that bloody sketch.
Panic attack. Through years of practice I learned to automatically breath with my “stomach” (lower lung section). It is instinctual by now. But those instincts do not work right now. That learned behaviour is overridden by primal panic. I draw short ragged breaths as my chest rises and collapses in adrenaline-induced spasms. My heart beats like the loudest gong in my head. Sweat rolls down my head and the roots of my hairs feel like they are white hot. A buzzing feeling permeates my skin throughout my body. My mouth is dry and my tongue and fingers no longer feel like my own.
I was wondering what would happen if and when I saw my ex. Now I know.
I have reached the point in the search for Malaysian airliner news cycle where it is starting to make me even more depressed than I normally am. If you have been reading my blog, you already know that yours truly is not a happy go lucky character. Far from it! Being a very depressed individual, it is easy to absorb depressing information because it is not making one feel worse than one already is. Not any more! Since the beginning, I have been listening to the daily reports about the search and about the relatives of the people on flight MH370. This morning BBC News Service decided to interview a young woman who was moving to Malaysia from Beijing with her father. Her father was on the ill-fated airliner coming back to Beijing to finalise the moving arrangements. And I just could not take it any more and switched the station. Surprisingly enough for yours truly, I have attained the point of misery saturation. The good news is that before my meltdown last August listening to more and more MH370 news coverage would not have affected me. Not being able to absorb additional misery speaks to the fact that yours truly is getting better and – dare I say it? – happier.
Avoiding additional informational input is a good way to insulate self from misery. However, when that is not enough and you feel the blues deep in your soul, listening to Warren Haynes’ song “Soulshine” usually gives my soul a lift and leaves me feeling a bit more hopeful than before. So, enjoy!
Sometimes being a thoughtful person just plain sucks. Remembering dates is a good thing in a relationship but when that relationship ends those same memories become a burden.
A year ago today was my first date with my ex. She has been on my mind again quite a lot lately. I have moved on but I am still a long way away from getting over her. In fact, those pesky memories have played a rather cruel trick on me a couple of weeks ago.
In the meantime, between the missing Malaysian airliner and the fun in Ukraine, I am not sure it is worth it to get out of bed in the morning. No, wait… I still have to work for a living. Damn the reality!