How Do You Cope with Everything Lost?
and make it a learning lesson
You learn from it.
My boyfriend is a professional loser. Not a loser as in lame. A loser as in he loses things frequently. Unlike me, he throws his clothes on the floor, he tucks things away in drawers, and has no filing system.
I’m not anal. I was at one point. Not anymore. Not much. I just like knowing where everything is at all times.
Little did I know there would be a great lesson in his madness.
A Great Plan
The other night my boyfriend and I were on our way to watch the Edge of 17 — that new movie that got 95% on Rotten Tomatoes according to the radio.
Side note: It’s now at 94%. It’s beside the point, but commercials should really rethink what they’re putting out there. It might be really upsetting to future moviegoers if this dropped below a 70% when they expected 95%. Just sayin’.
We made a whole date night centered around this movie two nights ago.
The plan was simple. I would pick him up at the train station after work. We’d go get snacks. Buy the popcorn. Choose our seats. We would do all that cutesie cr*p you hear couples doing all the time. That’s what we wanted.
Never Make Plans
It was the moment when my boyfriend reached into his deep, borrow of a pocket that the night quickly went sour. We had made it to the shopping mall, just moments before walking into the theater, when he realized he had left his wallet on the train. We turned my whole car upside down before we spent the next forty minutes cancelling his credit cards and related accounts. We wanted to make sure we got to it before some street creature did.
The Moment You Realized You’re Traumatized
This was the learning moment. Watching him go through all his stuff and making those phone calls reminded me of something. It was a moment I hadn’t remembered since my grandma had passed. I remembered the first time I had ever lost something.
My baby blanket.
My grandma loved to travel. I hated it. The walking. The loud train tracks. The sticky seats. All of it made me quiver with anxiety. I couldn’t have been more than four years old when she left my poor defenseless baby blanket on a fire hydrate before boarding our last train home. I couldn’t sleep that night, and my eyes burned from the heavy tears. She brought me another baby blanket, but it was never quite the same.
I could say I lost my youth the day I lost my blanket. It sounds stupid, but it did teach me the true lesson of loss at an early age. The only lesson that matters. It never comes back.
It may be a wallet. A baby blanket. It can be the loss of a loved one. It never comes back, but you’ll be left with much more room to grow.
As I saw him fumbling through all the cr*p in his backpack and the lint in his pockets, I was also reminded of everything I had gained since I was four, and how I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything else in the world.
“It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.” — Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club