On unrequited love, pain and healing
Last night, I was going through the voice recordings on my phone and I almost wished I hadn’t because I found one that caught my breath (not in the good way) and took me back to a time I’d rather forget.
Over the years, I have realized that I sometimes get surprised by the things I say because I figure out my thoughts on the matter as I express them (it sure has confused the hell out of people I talk to at a deeper level).
At the particular time of the recording, I was at another stage of trying to get over someone who I’d liked for the better part of 4 years. This seems like a terribly long time, especially considering how one-sided it was (although, to be fair, I didn’t always know that).
As I listened to it, I could hear the wind in the background and the pain that was straining my voice, making each word so difficult to articulate. This was compounded by the fact that I was uncovering parts of myself that I thought I had buried, too deep for anyone to find. It’s like, even I had no idea what words were going to pour out. Each word, each sentence, each emotion, fell on me like a bomb. The toxic combination of pain and cynicism felt like an attack on the person I was trying to be in the moment I was listening to this ‘blast from the past’.
I want to share some excerpts from this recording. As a way to process and acknowledge my feelings at that time. This is of course not to place blame — my feelings are my own and I own up to them fully, and without regret (Okay. With a small twinge of regret and embarrassment). But that’s fine. I believe that you need to be ready to be vulnerable if you’re to make any connection or experience any meaningful growth.
“I could spot you, from a mile away..in the dark. The trace of your back, the slight slouch in your shoulders, the feel of your personality. I wonder what that makes me?… Deluded?”
“When I look back, I feel stupid. How could I act that way?”
“The hope is that time heals all wounds, but does it? Maybe this is the kind of wound that’s not supposed to heal. Maybe it’s the kind that forms a scab. And every time it heals, I peel it off. Opening a fresh wound each time. Each time, the wound looks…a little different. It has had varying degrees of healing. I don’t know what to think about it anymore. Should I forget that it’s there and let it form it’s scar? Or is there some sadistic part of me that wants to rip open that scab? See it bleed.”
“Where are you? I don’t see you anymore. We don’t talk. Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe it’s better this way. Every time I think I’ve moved on, something comes up that reminds me about that dull ache, somewhere just behind my heart.”
“I want to run away, but no…there’s no way out. Because it’s all in my head. Sometimes I wonder if I made you up as well…that shy smile, amazing sense of humour, that brilliant creative streak…that kind, kind personality. Is it really possible to know someone?”
“I think, I’ve never wanted to know what was exactly going on in someone’s head, more than when I first met you.”
“Despite everything, I keep looking at that scab. Sometimes it itches. Sometimes I have an urge to rip it off. Other days, I do. And I regret it, instantly.
#@%*! It really…bloody hurts. Why did I think this was a good idea?”
“Maybe it’s important to keep [the experience] as a part of your life..as a part of you. That it happened. And that’s where it should remain.”
It may seem crazy for me to share such a personal experience, but I believe that someone, somewhere out there has been through something similar. They should know that they’re not alone. Life isn’t only the good experiences in life — it’s a haphazard combination of the good, the bad and the ‘meh’. I can definitely say that it’s some of the toughest experiences in my life so far which have taught me the most about myself and about life in general. Let’s just be open about them.