Part Four

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Thirty-Three

I was walking through a park in the middle of the city and I saw someone who looked familiar.
“Could it be him?!”, I thought.
But then my brain connected the dots: that person wouldn’t be here. He’s afraid of flying!
Haha.
Here.
But wait!
“Where is ‘here’?”
I wondered confused for a split second, until I looked at my left and saw the castle of Edinburgh just sitting there on top of a mountain and then I remembered. It’s the end of September, and I’m in Scotland for the weekend. My mind has been everywhere and so has my body lately, and I felt positively lost for a moment. Travelling through time zones, swapping bikinis for scarves within a day, going from street food breakfasts to potato based dinners. Life has been eventful – and isn’t exactly that I’ve always asked for?
Yes. Yes, it is!

It was a New Year’s resolution I confess I didn’t know I would be able to keep up with, and though a mild concern for my finances next year somewhat ping on my mind from time to time, I am committed to living today and carrying on with the feels. The tides have been high and low, and on both I have swam, strengthened, survived.

At each take off and each arrival, a new feeling, a new variable gets looked at, checked out, revised, reshaped. Life, work, friends, family, status, house. All the elements that makes one a fully functioning full grown adult in present day life is looked at in a near desperate attempt to understand if I am actually doing okay. It is anxious, of course, but after so many years of foul modus operanti, it is how healthy move forward looks like. And I wouldn’t have it any other way, I admit.

House?
Under revision
Family?
Closer, but under revision
Inner circle?
Under revision
Work?
Under development
Status?
Happily single by choice.
I know the quality of my love, and without the above at least seemingly sorted, I can’t open the doors to anyone. I’m close though, and that’s exciting.

My year has been nothing if a whole renovation project and I am beyond grateful for the possibilities I’ve created for myself to make everything happen, for each choice made towards keeping it going, and for every person I met along the way. It’s been an incredible journey so far, and though I have no idea of what lies ahead, I know one thing is absolutely certain: my ground is firm, my mind is strong, and I am ready.

And as the winds of change blow stronger, I just ask the universe to please please let me keep and sharpen the best parts of me. The spark in my eyes, the kindness in my heart, an open mind. And I beg life to be kind enough to give me time!
I rejoice in finding peace and balance in the silence, and I know how incredible days look like. I am committed to settling down, and for nothing short than this exciting, life giving thing I am lucky to call my life!

Grateful.

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Thirty-two

I have taken some time to rest.

Amidst so many troublesome times, an endless stream of upside-down feelings, and crowded surroundings, I felt the need to stop and take a good look inside. I figured that that mantra we’d been telling our friends for such a long time was right, it was my turn to take a step back to be able to take a few others forward. And boy, how did it pay off.

The episodes of the last (last) year carved a bigger sense of scare inside of us. Despite all the events of the past three decades, this one was different: we’d experienced something entirely new in the sphere of fuckedupness that we’ve known and that required a different outlook at things. Especially to me, away from her and her pain, individually experiencing this multitude of things that I have always vowed to protect her from. Especially to me, who had for a moment believed to never again let her be hurt that much again or have to endure more hardships than the old life had already put her through. Me. Her protector, her keeper.

The last time she fell in love, we held hands and agreed to make it work, but promising that we’d always look at things differently, with more head instead of heart. We had set our boundaries, we’d believed in the promises, and we’d given things time. Yes, by now we all know how much she loves to live in her own timeline and how much that means that her right now translates into forever. Her heart is so committed and so true that her trust has never been entirely shaken from the world. Mine, however, is quite gone, and perhaps this is one of the things that lets us walk together for such a long time. Back at that time, I figured we were good, and I let her heart speak and listen to the words we were told, the offers of all the things we’d always wanted. After wall, what else did we have to work with but their words?

And then, time became still and then rushy again.

So many events, so many physical and emotional constraints, so much literal pain. While I tried to figure out what to do, she grieved a loss she had never thought to have to even have. Our lack of synchrony became a turmoil that led to an avalanche of even more loss and pain. Our lack misalignment took us places I thought to be good for her, but that eventually became just another horror house to live in. Same as the one we’d grown up in and fought so hard to leave. We were in the middle of chaos, and chaos had become the norm. And hell be open, that was not what I wanted for her.
When the last straw hit, I gathered the remaining strength and words of wisdom to be able to tell our friends. One after the other, and sometimes together, they came in our aid: to support, to console, to help me lift a limb from the ground. They all helped carry the weight of the heart, the mind and the life that had just ended. They were the ones who helped us dry the tears we could no longer stop from coming, and that I could no longer dry alone with her. They were a support system I never thought we could have.

Now, if you’ve known her long enough, I bet you’ve seen the sense of resilience and action taking on this gal. She was shaken, hell yes, but her sense of safety and moving forward was larger than anything else. I’d thought it’s take longer, but when she let me talk again, she told me of how much she needed to get out, to have a certain kind of space to figure things out. So, I made us a plan, bought us a plane ticket, and let all the stages of grievance come together. It was time.

Five weeks were all it took for her to find it all out again. I am still amazed by the strength is manages to gather, and by the power she harnesses to get herself going. I’ve seen her going through so much and having witnessed all sides of her heart, it is incredible to see how much goodness and trust will always prevail. The times will always change, and the people will always come and go, but she knows what she wants, and damn, her heart is strong!
During the week of the early morning walks, we made sure to rekindle, to find ourselves and our balance again. Those mornings were essential to acknowledging that the last year has never belonged with us or with who we are, and that it does not deserve our love, attention, or time anymore. She has even told me that this is the last we tell of it, because it simply does not deserve to fill up any bit of our time anymore, and girl, that did blow me away a bit. The last year was a year lived in a sort of a limbo, and though the most important things that have happened were much more about herself than about the other, she holds only one thing dear: she will never get over the fact that life was created and lost inside of her, and that bit will always live within her. In spite of the time. In spite of him. In spite of the pain.

Now, over nine months have passed since we’ve walked away, and six since we’ve come to hold hands again. Our heart is strong, our mind is set straight, and our future is a picture frame waiting to be filled, but without the anxiety or the rush to it. She still knows what she wants and she’s out to get it. Fearless, mindful, as a force of nature.
And as I gather our combined strength and realign our minds, I watch as her heart opens again to feel and let it be. We can’t control the future, but I know I am not letting her go.

Our girl is finally back!

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Thirty-one

I have been absolutely swamped.

 

For the past year and a half, our life has turned upside down and downside up, over and over again. We fell in love, moved houses, started a business – and then another one, fell ill and recovered, quarantined and missed my people. Most of all, we survived.

Strange this life where living has only meaning when you are able to harvest the fullness of independence and the rest is just surviving.
Strange to think that since the outbreak of this wretched pandemic, we’ve all been confined and forced to face ourselves, growing, collapsing and learning how to take new steps. Impressive is how all of that actually happened in real life.

 

When all of this was still anew, we met someone who swept us off our feet and promised to always hold my hand. It’s funny how much I’ve learned, after realising each and all compromises we made to keep holding that hand, that this same hand so easily let go of ours on a constant. It’s rather incredible to look at ourself now, four weeks after the separation, and have the veil lifted off our eyes so both she and I can see the truth: our side of the story was constantly forgotten or simply not accounted for with the seriousness it deserved. At least not in the real world, not for me to see and feel, with actions that show true care – because no, if it’s only inside someone’s head, it’s invaluable to the goddamn world.

And it all begins with respect. For our time, for our knowledge, our experience. For the battles we’ve fought to be where we are in life, and for the simple safety of the space we called home and everything that lived inside it. We were so in love that I dismissed all the effort we both had put into building all of that for her, for me. We forgot so much that we were even led to question our own core belief system. We heard the lines “why such a big deal about something so small?”, and that should’ve been enough. I, being her protector, should have seen it. Just like the countless lateness on appointments, the damages caused to things she cared so much, the intense negativity and rage rooted in a feeling of self-hate so great that it lashed out at the bare minimum, simply because it couldn’t stand to look itself in the mirror that my presence placed right in front its face. And then, of course, the nurtured arrogance that came with lack of knowledge and the fear of being outsmarted.

Ego, ego, fucking ego.

 

How many times are we willing to extend the line of our own boundaries in favour of a dream, a projection, an idea? How many times did we hear “but if you stay now, you will be my champion forever”, and that suddenly became a reason to withstand the most horrific behaviour because we shared a thought, a dream of something beautiful? How much of life are we willing to throw away only and simply because we love and trust someone who consistently betrays us?

 

I knew her safety was long gone. I knew the dream was further and further away and that whatever was happening was rooted in whatever much bigger than either one of us. Yes, I told her to ask all the questions, and I tried to prevent it all to get that deep, but his words, the same promises he never again wanted to revisit because he knew he had fucked up yet once again, those were what got me to let her stay and get deeper and deeper into the mud. His mud. His pool of rage and arrogance and hate and harm. To the self and to others. Everyone had to know how angry he was at life -and at us- because believing in and blaming on lack of control is much easier than getting your shit together and making the decision to take your own life into your hands. Indeed, life seems much easier when you’re not in control.
Until it doesn’t.

 

I saw her patterns coming back, I saw fear consume her days and all the struggle she faced in finding the words to even ask the time. Truth is, we both have loved an abuser. Gosh, in fact, we’ve loved and supported way too many abusers. Narcissistic and alcoholic parents, dangerously overjealous brother, cheating and lying boyfriends and, at last, an inside-out insecure and aggressive fiancee. We loved them all with a whole heart, believed their promises and requests to trust them, and I spoke the truth to them just like our grandpa always taught us. It took us quite a while but we have learned how to love ourself and each other, and to know who we are. To know who I am. It took us a journey of 3 years in therapy and loads of mindfulness practice to fully embrace and accept all sides of us, enough to confidently and openly tell people about it and, in a way, warn them of our own traumas, fully explaining each of our needs with extra love and care. Most of all, with kindness. We never needed all the love and care, but just a bit extra, from time to time. We can take care of each other pretty good, but if you come into our life, I want you to know whom you’re dealing with, no secrets, no fake profiles, no false promises. I have trusted and let her trust each and every one of them with this truth, naked and raw as it came, and one way or another it always ended with me gathering up the strength to see her broken again and to pack up our stuff.
Some say we have a pattern, some say it all speaks much more about them than about us. I’m not sure which one to believe, but I know that, though it is in my nature, I am scared of letting her trust again.

I mean, I know she hates the game. I love it and am definitely good at it as it can be fun at some points, but I know how much she hates it. Dating, getting to know each other, talking about life, making plans, sharing habits and building. She loves to be with someone and I do too, but I’ve seen too much already. She still believes, though, and still hopes. To pair up with another weirdo who gets her, whom we can talk to and share her stupid jokes and my crazy thoughts, Someone to eat on the streets with or go to a fancy restaurant and enjoy both equally (and maybe the streets a little more); who can understand the words we both say for what they are, respond to them with politeness and kindness, and who knows that she will always be there for them. And all I want is for her to have it all back.

 

Love, respect, care, k i n d n e s s.

 

It feels like the world has forgotten how to treat people decently and that being vulnerable is too old-school whilst contractual relationships are the new black. I know her grief will pass and I know the love also will go away, cos it always does in the end, but this is one even I didn’t want to let go of. This is one I believed in, while holding her hand, so wholeheartedly that it makes it harder to see it fade. I know we will find the love she truly deserves, I’m sure, but then again: when did we stop looking at the ones who love us like the most deserving the sweetest of all of our actions and words?

 

And as much as this is one of the chapters in our life I truly wish to forget, the scars it left in and on our body will never allow me to. Her heart is still broken and I still have disbelief and frustration running around my head. But I survived and I keep on writing.

There are many more chapters to be lived.

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Thirty

There was a time when the feelings of others were bigger than hers.

She felt like nothing else in the universe mattered more than making sure that her being, her presence was exactly as what was expected of her. She craved for company, for companionship, and that was something to strive for, no matter the cost.
Whether she would be left aside or be considered as the last choice, being amongst others was enough of a prize for her goals and ambitions. It didn’t matter if she was happy, complete or feeling good; she would feel good in the company of other people and would make sure that whatever her feelings or thoughts were, they would never inflict anything or jeopardise the possibility of having someone by her side.
Yes, I understand. It sounds horrid and codependent, but that is and was the truth.

She’s spent so many years alone, living in her own inner world and solitude, having to kill all monsters by herself. Being alone was all she’d learned. And she got used to it. It is indeed easy to get used to once you so much crave for no longer being the one being in the room. Those ten extra minutes of conversation, the warmth of someone else’s presence, the possibility to please someone else. She’d do it all to have it. Nothing else mattered. She’d suggest, host, cook, find possibilities, do whatever it took. She’d strive to gather as many as possible and as often as possible. All she wanted was to have a person, the person, who’d listen and talk. Or just talk. Didn’t quite matter.

The years passed and she realised that her constant moving was often leading to fewer and fewer listeners and bystanders. Fewer and fewer people stayed or wanted to remain close to her. Was it her fault? Was it anything within her own personality which was driving other people away? She couldn’t tell, but her past and own mixed up feelings would often say yes. It was her doing. She diminished herself so many times and in so many different occasions thinking that people simply did not accept her for who she were. It was hard to believe, standing on my own shoes, but I could do nothing but to stand down. Many times she thought I was the cause of it. My forwardness, my own way to be and to see the world. My limitless energy and attitude towards others, unregarded of time or schedule, simply being. So I stood down, I bowed and let her be. I knew she only had us to live and how much her heart had to share with others, so I did as I was told.

At one occasion, after a discussion with someone who had called himself a partner, she heard the words coming from another mouth: “That’s why everyone leaves”. A piercing to her heart without notice or explanation. She didn’t even know how to react. She’d watched everyone else leaving within circumstances and situations beyond her control. No one had ever set her as important, pivot or even centered her to attention. No one had ever truly only looked at her, her feelings and desires with genuine interest. She’d always been the one pursuing, the one going after, the one adapting and changing. And within all those changes, she evolved.

After a long time, she learned how to be herself. She understood that it wouldn’t matter to the world how much she’d change or adapt or give up to be with others. She saw that people would do whatever they pleased and that it was all about them. Not and never about her. Her feelings and desires were constantly neglected and she understood that there was no need for anyone else to acknowledge them but herself. She grasped, at last, that her herself was enough and that whoever would ever wish to sit by her side, ask and hear about her stories would be there out of their own will. Whatever days she’d spend with others, would be spent on their own expense and her enjoyment wouldn’t be greater than what she’d get out of it. It took her time to understand all of that and a whole lot of self-love to fit together the pieces of the puzzle.

And it was about that time that she truly realised how great empathy is and how fucked up is a world where true feelings are so easily neglected, as well as how easily people can live their days and nights without it.

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