This compilation is probably going to be my most favorite to write. Not because it’s full of rainbows and unicorns, but because I’ve learned so much about myself throughout this on and off relationship and I know I still have so much more to learn. Life is all about growth. There is no real ending, just an end to whatever part you’re in before moving onto the next part. Like how the tide washes up against the rocks, not at the same time or the same speed, but it always does and it’s an undemanding form of commitment that feels comforting instead of suffocating.
Now before I dive too deep into this story, I’m going to skip over some time because it isn’t relevant here beside the reflection from my last post about feeding myself with distractions. Truthfully, I don’t remember a whole lot about my life after 2005 until about 2010. Sometimes the only way to cope is to shut it all off – the good, the bad and everything in between. I do however remember the very first day I laid eyes on him and the first time his skin ever touched mine.
Part 1 is where it all began.
The only way I can think to describe it in words is that I immediately felt home in his presence, like we had already known each other before and I didn’t quite understand it then. I’m analytical though so instead of accepting the grace of that feeling I had to over-think every god damn detail to the point of driving myself mad trying to place some sort of black or white meaning to what I felt.
There was so much synchronicity, that I can’t recall exactly what happened first and at this point I’m not so sure that detail really matters, but it was everywhere. His name, his lunch orders (I worked at a Pizzeria across the street), the people we knew, the things we had in common…somewhere along the line we became friends on MySpace and would fill out all those corny as fuck surveys back and forth (if you’re reading this, how lame were we? Secretly wicked endearing though because we speak our own language and nobody gets it). For once in my life I felt understood on a level that I can’t quite explain still and the parts of me that were dead inside became alive during the moments we were in contact. I kept my distance in the beginning. I told him he was a player and everything coming out of his mouth was some sort of pick up line because I was convinced there was no way any of this shit was real. I was so fucking broken and terrified – of being hurt, being used and being lied to. I stayed at arms length for as long as I could…until the beach.
My logic stopped making sense. Being naturally drawn to someone is something unlike anything you will ever feel and you can’t really control yourself – like an undeniable thirst – it reminds me of the way a desert would soak up rain. That kiss will never disappear from my memory or my lips – even 12 years later and I know you’re thinking “How could she move forward after a connection like this?!” I ask myself the same thing endlessly.
In the past I would have told you that he totally fucked me over and it was all his fault, but I’m a lot older now and I understand that every relationship takes two people to make it work and two people to fuck it up. Understanding and accepting that human connections are complex is the only real way to free yourself from expectation and fear – to just be. It’s all about seeing everything for what it is, in the present, not what will help you cope or hide. Feelings aren’t safe, but they’re real and they can change your life if you let them.
I never told him exactly what I had been through less than a year before. It wasn’t something I was ready to talk about yet, with anyone, so I projected a lot of my pain and emotional baggage onto him while holding him responsible for filling my voids. I didn’t love myself. He had a lot of his own baggage – most of it I was unaware of, but at the time he was about to become a young dad and lacked the emotional stability to stick around and help me with mine. So after months of connecting on a level that was inconcievable to me, at a time when I started to realize that I eventually wanted to be able to love again, he disappeared.
For a year I blamed myself, until he reached out to apologize, then I blamed him. This battle continued – in my own head, and in every relationship I had after that.
To be clear, the rock wasn’t my first after my high school boyfriend, but he was the first that ever meant something to me and it came with an entirely different type of pain attached. It wasn’t the numbing kind, actually quite the opposite. It opened me wide up to how broken I really was and how much work I had to do to fix it. I wish I could say that I turned my life around right then and there, but that isn’t my truth.
We went our separate ways until Part 2: Six years later.