It's been raining in New York City for three days. Finally, the weather matches the way I've been feeling on the inside, glimpses of sunlight speaking of my innate optimism and idealistic ideas that the world is still inherently good, as are its people.
It's a tricky thing, to be hurt. If you allow it, or more specifically, if I allow it, sadness can consume me. My cousin Carmen and I talk very openly about everything, and we confide a lot in each other. I have talked to her about the troubles that have been plaguing me, and she said it was our damned addictive Galzerano genes. For a little backstory about that: my mother's family, with the exception of my mother perhaps, suffers from addictive behaviors. Almost all of my aunts and uncles, as well as many of my cousins, are alcoholics and drug users. I always felt really relieved that these tendencies skipped me and my siblings, but what I think I did inherit is the intensity of those addictions in other ways. I am a very passionate person, and I've always known this. I consider it a blessing and a curse. As an actor and advocate, it is truly a gift in that I am able to channel my feelings, emotions, and intentions into various creative and/or beneficial outlets. It is also a curse because I am a dweller. If something bothers me, I can't stop thinking about it until the problem has achieved resolution. Fights and arguments will plague me for days and weeks, possibly months if left unresolved. Hurtful things someone I care about said will keep me up at night. I will lose sleep over the what-ifs and the I-wishes of the situation instead of laying it to rest. No alcoholism or drug use for me, but instead, perhaps a more potent poison; the inability to be at peace in peril.
Over time, I can let go of things, but when I start thinking about how things turned out, it may come up again. For instance, the car accident caused by the woman on her cell phone. She injured me physically and mentally, and now that I live in New York and rarely drive, it is easier to separate myself from it; however, when I am driving or am in a city with heavy traffic, it tends to start to all come back, and I start to relive it. It stresses me out. Perhaps because the settlement is still pending, I don't have closure, and don't feel I can move on. The same thing goes for the upsets in my life. If I've had cross words with someone, or if a relationship has been damaged, it keeps me awake, it causes me stress, and I can think of little else.
Last night, I was talking with my youngest roommate, Aly. I am older than both of the girls I live with, and am in nearly all ways, the adult matriarch of this apartment. I have had more life experience, probably more partners, and more experience in love than them both. Aly, I know this for sure. She has never been in a true relationship, so I feel kind of lucky that I can pass on what wisdom I've gained in my time in the field to her so that (maybe) she can avoid some of the mistakes I've made and the pitfalls I've found when dealing with men. Anyway, I've recounted to her my past loves and my experiences, detailing in some ways each man that I've had and how he changed me. We talked mostly of my longest relationship because it seemed the most likely to bear fruit. He was- IS- a good man. We didn't part ways because there wasn't love there; it just didn't work. I hate knowing that. Even more, I hate knowing that I hurt him when I called it off. We couldn't be friends for a while because we needed separation in order to regain our senses of self and to start moving on. But a year or two ago, we reconnected. More specifically, I found him. He had just gotten out of a four year relationship with the woman whom he'd dated after me. I know he's heartbroken. Aly commented that he's a longterm man. I thought about that for a minute. I thought, well, of course he is. He has so many incredible qualities, and he is a loving partner. He has his downfalls, for sure, but I wasn't without mine. People get together with him and stay with him because he's someone with whom you can imagine a life. He's a man with whom you feel safe. I always felt safe with him. Not only because we were friends first and I knew his character, but because something about being in his presence made you feel cared for, protected, and nurtured. It breaks my heart to know that he's had his heart broken so many times, that he can never just get it right with a woman.
I asked him when we reconnected if he'd like to meet, as I was about to move to New York and didn't know if we'd get the chance later. Understandably, he was not in a place emotionally where he could see me. I was disappointed, but I accepted it. Now, I am going home for a week in July to visit my loved ones and finish some unfinished business. I asked if he'd like to meet while I'm in town- he said yes. So, I have thought often of this and imagined all the things that could happen. How am I to know? It's been 6, almost 7 years. We've both had loves since and lost them, moved, changed, grown. What could I imagine that will actually happen? Nothing. I know nothing. Will he be happy to see me? Will it make us sad? Will we reminisce about the life we had together or the life we were planning together? It's still so alien to me when I consider that if we'd stayed together, we could have a toddler. I could be a mother. My life would be very different. I regret nothing except that finding myself meant losing someone I loved very much. I know he grew from it and went on to date a woman he loved, likely more deeply than he loved me, as they had more time together. But I can't stop IMAGING the meeting. The one thing I know and the one thing I am looking forward to more than anything is hugging him and seeing his smile. He had the warmest hugs and the most INCREDIBLE smile I've still ever seen. Dentists must weep when they see him, it's so beautiful. And his laugh was so infectious that no matter your mood initially, you'd feel warm when he laughed, tingly all over because it echoed throughout your entire being. I cannot wait to see him...
I think the anticipation for all the resolutions I'm seeking is tearing me apart. I am feeling torn in so many places by so many encounters, good and bad alike, that I don't quite know how to feel about it all. I want you, but I feel rejected by you. I know you want me, but I don't think you quite know in what ways. I know that also part of my Galzerano genes is my inherent tenacity and inability to give up. Perhaps that is another part of the blessing; I'm not a quitter. HAHAHA! I guess that does make me an addict. I won't quit. I don't know how to quit you. I don't know how to snuff out this interest that you've ignited in me. I wanted to be friends, and I politely ignored your advances because maybe I knew this about myself already. I think I knew that I didn't want to blur the line between friends and lovers because I was afraid of this very thing happening. Sex changes everything. And once changed, it can't be undone. So I suppose I need resolve one way or another. Either we put up the friend zone and keep its barriers steadfast, or we see just how deep the rabbit hole goes. Either way, leaving things as undone as they are has me up at night imagining things so much that I am losing sight of what's real and what's fantasy. Save me from this agony. Tell me. Be open with me. Fix this. Because now you know that I don't know how to just let it go.
No comments:
Post a Comment