…life from my perspective
It’s been a year and 10 days and I’ve been afraid. Afraid that what I wanted to say wasn’t worthy of writing. Afraid to confront my reality once I put my truths to paper. Afraid that once I wrote it I would be held accountable for it. Afraid of what I would think of me after I laid it all out. Afraid to make a mistake. And truth be told, as I write this, I’m still afraid. Because writing is really the only time I come clean. I mean like….squeaky clean. Other times I just avoid, ignore or dismiss. And as I sit here, facing my fears, I can’t deny how renewed writing makes me feel. How all my worries seem to wash away. My burdens lifted. Quiet as kept, I miss writing. I miss sorting through conflicting schools of thought that are almost always circulating in my head. I miss re-reading old blog entries to see if I’ve grown stronger in a given philosophy or if I’ve developed a new one altogether. So to overcome my fears I’ve decided to write. Write about the things that have been on my mind, things a year and 10 days later I STILL struggle with. I won’t commit to writing everyday but I will commit to writing more because as Robert Frost said…”the only way out is through.”
He’s reached out…..again. But this is nothing new cause he’s always stayed in touch. No matter where he was in life or what I was doing with mine he always “checked on me” – but I didn’t like to be “checked on”. Cause deep down I knew what “the checking” meant. Access to a revolving door. A revolving door reserved especially for him which included me, standing there donning a smile, waiting with open arms to greet him whenever he decided to walk through it. And every time he re-entered my life it became more difficult for me to let him go and I knew he would go. He always left. And it made me weak. Sad. Vulnerable. Unwanted. Unhappy. And weak. But as time wore on and I got me some business, his exits became easier to manage. I suspect because they became predictable. So much so, that I no longer expected him to stay nor did I want him to. I began to feel that too much had happened between us and ours, whatever it was, just wasn’t meant to be in the way I was trying to have it. It took me a long time to accept this but once I did, I ain’t have no worries. If it came to that we had to love and care and “check on” one another from a distance, I accepted it with open arms.
But true to form he’s resurfaced. I’ve avoided, ignored and dismissed for two years but he’s persisted. He’s currently dealing with a tragic loss so I stopped avoiding, ignoring and dismissing and reached out to “check on him” and express my sympathies. He sounded well but I know his heart is hurting. It’s my thought that this loss is a bit much to bear and has forced him to put certain things into perspective. Now, with middle age only a decade away, he’s starting to see the bigger picture. So his convo has slowly moved from one of a friendly exchange to one that involves questions about my future. His future. Our future. And despite my attempts to avoid engaging in such a discussion I had a feeling it was coming. But I’m steadfast in either ending said convos or changing them altogether. Because I’m lonely. Because I miss the company of a man. Because I miss the closeness shared between lovers who’ve committed themselves to one another. And while I may still love him and care about his well being, his persistence and my loneliness will have me standing at the entrance to revolving door hell. Again.
So I keep my distance, sometimes not responding at all simply because I think he’s just feeling a bit nostalgic. Longing for life the way it was before the death of his loved one. And for him he may see parts of me in that life. I’ve lost a parent too so this I understand. And in my patience and compassion I don’t dismiss these “our future” convos but I don’t encourage them and I don’t engage in them either. I don’t even think he would understand me if I told him I don’t have any love left. I think everything I wanted and was willing to sacrifice for our love left the last time he did. He mismanaged pieces of my love that he can no longer re-claim. He dimmed a fire that for a very long time only burned for him. He broke me in ways only another man’s love can mend. Bottom line? He wanted the boyfriend benefits without the girlfriend sacrifices. He wanted freedom without accountability. He always left me to commit to someone else but returned once his commitments failed. He proposed to someone else. I wanted more than he was able to give. I sent the wrong message of acceptance by sticking around hoping, wishing and convincing myself that “this time” he would see it through. After a while our issues became insurmountable and I could no longer navigate the mess we made. Maybe now he’s beginning to realize that each time he left in search of something new he wasn’t truly fulfilled. Or maybe he wasn’t able to get better and has decided I’m the best he could do. I refuse to consume myself with what he’s thinking and feeling nor will I put forth any effort in sorting this out. I have faith that time and God will. Until tomorrow youngn’s….