My Heart’s a Mess
Over the last couple of months I’ve gone through a dramatic life change. My entire existence has been utterly rocked, moved and upheaved. I’ve written about the positives I have taken amongst all this. Committing to change and a new me. Accepting where I am and what has happened. Making powerful decisions and being positive.
That, sadly, is not all there is. You can’t have light without dark. I’m not so naive and delusional to think I’m amazing and all fine and dandy. Far from it. I’m not avoiding the hurt. I feel it. I listen to it. I try and channel it. I’ve been going to counselling for the first time. I’ve reached out to some amazing people in my world. I’m doing my best.
What am I feeling? Ugh. Too much.
For a start I am still overwhelmingly in love. Utterly and completely. It is pouring and pouring out of this wound in my heart. I want to go to her. I want to talk to her. I want to help her. I want to make her life easier. I want to heal her. Piece her back together. Even when I know it’s not my place to. I can’t stop it. It’s not even conscious thought. It’s instinct and natural and I act and speak without thinking. I do nice things because I want to and she deserves it. It’s not even fuelled by “winning her back”. It’s not even a thought. It drives me insane.
I’ve looked closely at myself. Am I fighting for the lifestyle? The home? The ease and comfort? No. I’m fighting for love. Proudly, truly and powerfully. I am not moving out of desperation. I am standing for love out of strength and understanding. Maybe that’s why I find it hard to stop?
Even as cripplingly depressed as I was.. I knew I loved her. I knew I had found the person for me. I was so numb and lost but she kept my nose above water every day. Being around her was the only time I felt anything aside from the numbness. It pains me to think she thought she wasn’t helping. God. I would have drowned completely without her. I know that. I wish she did.
Our trip to New York late last year lit a small spark in me. An inspiration to get myself up. I made moves mentally. I tried to get myself to where I needed to be. To reach out properly. I had never been depressed before, let alone to this extent. I didn’t know what to do. I was getting there. I just ran out of time and the wonderful person who kept me afloat broke. I do wonder where I’d be if I had given her that letter reaching for help the month before. Or if she had been able to hold on a few more weeks. I was committed to a new me in the new year. I guess we’ll never know.
Admitting I was actually depressed took years. I was in denial. I thought that good thing would happen in life and I’d be happy and go forth. The delusion ran until after NYC. I remember sitting alone in our home and a wash of emotion hit me. I cried all day and finally accepted what was happening and started to think about what I could do to get out.
My depression manifests itself as complete and utter numbness, procrastination and inactivity. I knew the things I had to do. I saw the world around me. What I needed. What she needed. What my family needed but I simply could not make a move. It was like being in the backseat of my own head and not being able to reach the wheel. I was never not seeing the problems. I also was not actively choosing to do nothing. I had no choice. I was pretty much paralysed. I could not move.
It took something catastrophic to break that. That was the loss of the person I love the most in the world and the relationship that kept me just above water. Was it completely bullshit and unfair it took her breaking to snap me out of it? Of course. Is it a slap in the face that a week or two later I was a complete new man; alive, driven, with energy and in control of my own actions? I can see how it is.
I think that’s why I feel so existential. I’ve finally shaken the shroud and taken my life back. I am all the things that I and that wonderful woman wanted me to be. I can do all the things now. It’s hard to get to exactly where you’ve needed to be in life and development and have the life and person you wanted to stand with be suddenly gone.
I was moulded, shaped and created by her and our relationship. She had to carry me through it. Now I’m what I needed to be. Fully, truly and sustainably but it’s not wanted anymore. It doesn’t have a chance to prove itself.
My head and my heart can’t get a grasp on that.
I question my existence. I can’t find my place because the new me that’s here was built for the life that just ended. Fuck.
I’m also having a lot of trouble finding my calm. Slowing my heart. Stopping the anxiety. I feel homeless. Sure, my folks have lovingly taken me back in for a bit and they are truly wonderful for doing so. I just feel utterly uncomfortable there. It’s not home. I’m living out of a suitcase and a mattress on the floor. I’m a person that usually makes a nest, a little home in whatever space I’m in. I have no urge or desire to make it there. I tried to force it. I made it neat and workable. I still feel restless. I feel homeless.
The only time I feel at home is when I’m in the neighbourhood we lived in together. The second I get in the general area my heart slows. I smile. The second I walk through the door to our home I am completely calm. The second I lay eyes on her I’m completely at ease and full of joy. Even if she is angry or yelling at me. I’m happy. How horrible is that?
I’ve found more and more that home for me is not so much a place. I was always so anchored and roots down. No, home is memories, shared experiences, emotions.. home is a person. I can nest anywhere next to that person.
Finally getting my head around that is huge. I could have ran off overseas years ago! I wasn’t attached to my beautiful house and lifestyle. Physical things and places are fleeting. They are a time of your life. You and the person next to you are home. What an idiot! I could have lived in Vancouver or Boston or whatever for a year or two and been back by now. She resented me for holding her back from that and I could have done it! Damn you, Luke.
My heart overflows. I can’t find my place. I’m homeless. I feel like an island. I can’t make connections. I’m still so deeply and utterly in love. I can’t stop fucking fighting even if it’s to my detriment.
Those are what’s behind the new energy, the new drive, the new carefree attitude, the determination, the joy and the unshakeable desire to be big, bold and better.
The two sides of the coin.
What do I do?