This evening wasn’t a very good one for me. I had something of an episode.
H asked me what was wrong with a little too much attitude in his voice. So I left the kitchen (where I had been sitting) and went upstairs to my room. I started crying. Not bawling, just crying. The Kid knew something was up and started to come up after me (she’s pretty intuitive for a four year old), but H stopped her and made her go back into the living room. That I was happy for. Fact is I don’t like her seeing me upset. I’ve only recently gotten on anti-deps, so for three years she’s seen me at my worst. I don’t want her seeing me like that, or even near that, again.
All the things “wrong” came pouring from me while I sat there. I grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled them down, sobbing the whole time but feeling better with each line that I wrote. A little over two pages later I went back down stairs and dropped the notebook on the kitchen table for H to read (that is if he actually could read it…my handwriting got a little bad as everything flowed from me). Then I went back upstairs to the bathroom and ran a shower. After standing under the water for a few minutes I flipped up the lever to close the tub drain, sat down and let the shower head fill the tub and the water pound down on my back and neck.
Once I started losing hot water I turned the shower off and laid back, sinking slowly into the water until my nearly my entire head was submerged, leaving only my nose and mouth above the water. I allowed my body to just relax and float (insomuch as one can in your average bathtub). In that suspended state my mind cleared. I could hear noise through the water, but I focused on the sound of my heartbeat and breathing.
That’s as close as I ever get to a truly deep, meditative state. In my tub, mostly submerged, listening to the blood pulse in my ears and my breathing. And it was here that I discovered what the true source of my episode was. A mass of conflicting emotions over a situation with a friend. The answer came right after: I had to be honest with him and make the hard choice neither of us really wanted to make.
After running what I was going to say through my head a few times, using my breathing as a sort of metronome to keep the thoughts from racing too fast for me to put together properly, I emerged from the water (once near scalding hot, now luke warm), ran some conditioner through my hair (soaking as long as I did underwater will turn my curly hair into a natted mess) and got out, confident in what I had to do.
And I did it. And I bawled for about an hour and a half afterwards. I hurt someone I loved dearly, but did it so they’d have the freedom they needed to do what will, hopefully, end with them being happy. It hurt like fuck on my end, and I’m sure it wasn’t very pleasant on theirs either. I cried a few more times after that too. One friend assured me it was the right thing to do. A mutual friend of ours echoed the sentiment. I know it’s right. But right still feels like having a limb torn from you.
But that’s the way these things work. You struggle for the right answer, the one that makes everyone happy. And sometimes there is no answer that makes everyone happy. Sometimes you have to just hurt someone, and yourself, in the process of making them happy.
Ah hell…I won’t end on that load of pseudo-philosophical bullshit. Fact is I tore out his heart and mine all in one swift move and I did it because I loved him enough to want him to be happy in his life and that wasn’t going to happen so long as I was still holding on to him. That was the answer I came up with to my problem. It was a fucked up answer, but if I had kept on the way I was it would have been detrimental to my emotional health, and I know he wouldn’t have wanted that. I still consider him one of my closest friends and confidants. He knows me inside and out. I don’t know if he’ll forgive me, or even talk to me, but I’ll have to live with it anyway.