Friday, February 18, 2011

Flatlining


I’m sorry. I think it, I repeat it in my head, I silently scream it at his back as he leaves, I compel him to feel it stretching from my heart. The spoken words are too weak, meaningless and almost insulting but if he could feel how sorry I truly am.... well it still wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference now would it? I’d still be gone. The supposed purpose of expressing regret is to alleviate the suffering of another who you have wronged in some way yet it usually only serves to alleviate the guilt of the offending or apologizing party. Just another selfish act. It puts me in a very awkward position for what then can I say or do? Nothing? Appear callous, aloof, unburdened? We are now in the chapter where he distances himself from me absolutely, where he will accept no kindness, no help, no small tokens of love and certainly no apologies or acts of sympathy. In a way it is a relief to be here because I don’t feel on edge, waiting for the next effort he might make that I’ll have to reject but it leaves me feeling very unsure of what my role is now. I am not comfortable with the idea of him perceiving me to be cold or uncaring but I also am not comfortable being vulnerable by extending myself and feeling the sting of his refusal.
Oh it is a tricky dance and I have no formal training! But I do feel sorry. Sorry for not loving him enough, sorry for leaving and taking everything with me, sorry for opening my heart to another man and feeling so much joy and happiness as a result while he still suffers. Do I feel guilty? Yes. Should I? Of course not, I am simply living out my life, I am only human, I deserve as much forgiveness and understanding as the next human being, but still I carry a heavy load of guilt on my back. I think it’s akin to feeling guilt for laughing too loud, too soon after a loved one has died; there’s the intense relief followed by the sharp self reprimand and the wondering if that makes you unfeeling in some way.
It’s baffling how quickly someone with whom you have shared a large portion of your life, can become a stranger. All these little compartments slamming shut and you just keep backing up so you don’t get a finger pinched in one of them, you just keep backing up until all of a sudden you realize how far you’ve moved from one another. There is no sense of panic in my heart, no sense that I am making a mistake but there is a steady sadness like the flat line on the hospital monitor letting you know in it’s unwavering monotone that it’s final, it’s over. There is the regret of having to hurt some one you love for your own happiness.
I am ready to file for divorce. The reasons that have been holding me back such as health insurance, are no longer as important as needing to be able to enjoy my happiness free of guilt. And I hope, with all the love for him that resides in me, that he feels the reprieve of a little sunshine in his own heart and that it comes swiftly, for his relief is in the hands of time now and not in mine.
I’ve been purging as women do, slowly, memory by memory, an individual goodbye to the ghosts of the past, present and future of a dead relationship. All week I’ve been crying, the tears finding their way out in little increments, accepting any opportunity to release themselves; the haunting refrain of a song, a dead cat on the road, an old love letter, loneliness, and last night an exhausting dream in which three men I know killed themselves and I cried in exhales until no sound came out and my chest burned. I woke with a headache that did not diminish and rattled around the house trying to make sense of myself, of my life, cleaned the windows, mopped the floor, read, anything to keep busy, to not feel so alone, to keep the cold stone of fear at bay. Fear of being so directionless, fear of not having a job, fear of falling in love again, fear of making mistakes, fear never being successful, fear of having a saggy ass someday. As soon as you write it out it becomes less powerful, it’s just letters and words.
Amidst, or perhaps I should say hand in hand with these tough days are miraculous moments of contentment and spells of clarity and peace of mind. I don’t want to overlook any opportunity for joy and it’s something I have to constantly remind myself of. Paul Simon sings, “When something goes wrong I’m the first to admit it, I’m the first to admit it and the last one to know, when something goes right oh it’s likely to lose me, it’s apt to confuse me- it’s such an unusual sight- I can’t get used to something so right.”
It’s far too easy to talk yourself out of having a happy life. All you have to do is focus on the negative things and then that’s all you’ll see. When something is right, when there is a gift in front of me, when love is at my door I want to be present to witness, to accept and to reciprocate. So these feelings of guilt that claw at me and cling to my legs, trying to slow me down-what can I do with them? I remember hearing the Dalai Lama talk about how he processes emotions. He says he feels them to their absolute fullest and then lets them go. I’ve thought a lot about this and whether I am capable of doing it. I’ve come to realize that many times the same emotion will come at you again and again, like waves lapping at the shore, they don’t just come around one time, you feel it and then it’s done. My instinct may be to collect it but that’s only nurturing something that in the end will bite the hand that feeds it. So I am working on giving myself permission to feel each negative wave as it comes in, recognize it, and then let it pass on by, it gets one blip on the monitor and then it makes a straight line for the exit.