Grief + Liberation

I read this line from Christopher Moore's A Dirty Job:

"There's a fine edge to new grief, it severs nerves, disconnects reality- there's mercy in a sharp blade. Only with time, as the edge wears, does the real ache begin."

As ridiculous as Moore can be, this quote expresses in better terms than I can where I am at right now. After you left I rode on adrenaline and shock for awhile. Now that you are gone the grief has settled in. Into my brain, my shoulders, my heart and my eyes to be precise.

You took the ground out from under me when you left. I realized a few weeks ago that I had no ground, I had lost my footing. This the first time I'm typing these words- they have gone over and over in my head but I haven't had the courage to type them. So I'm hoping you can imagine how hard it feels for my to say these words to you while you are looking at me -albeit on a stupidass webcam from a million miles away. I just couldn't let you see me hysterical yet again. I don't feel comfortable with you like that anymore. Time and distance change things, you know.

And I have to be honest that I have been avoiding you. As ridiculous a thing that may seem to be for someone on a different continent, it's true. It's really hard to talk to you sometimes. It's hard for me to see you seeming as chaotic as you were here but still superficially living. And I know I am totally judging and I may be wrong. But I see you still passively living, and life is floating on by. I hope I'm wrong. But its hard to perceive you this way, particularly as the distance grows further and our connection diminishes and you progressively lose the language we speak in, I feel like I have no way to shake you, wake you up a little.

How terribly arrogant of me, huh? It's true. I am spending a lot of time in my head so I have plenty of time to formulate this psychobabble. And I speak from a vulnerable place myself so what right do I have to cast stones? Because of our history, our bond I just need to tell you what's happening, however much in my head. I am sad. I am sadder than I can ever remember being. Tears remain in my eyes all the time. They have for almost 5 months now- something I've never experienced before in my life. Honestly, I think the migraines might be from me having to work so hard to keep from crying all the time- like the pressure is too much.

But the silver lining is that for the first time in almost 5 years, I am not worried. I spent 4 and a half long years with you, worried all the time. Worried about what would happen next, if things would go right or wrong on big and small levels, if you would sleep with a friend of mine again, worried about what information you were withholding from me, worried about when you were going to leave me. And then it happened, you did leave. Which deep down I always knew you would. And I'm not blaming, I'm explaining, perhaps something you already knew. And it is an extremely strange experience to feel both this pain, this sadness, and this liberation, this freedom from my worries all at once. And that is what I've been wanting to talk to you about, to tell you about. To let you know how I am doing.

Smile

With a million miles between us, seeing you smile at me and being able to smile back at you gives me hope that there will be happiness again one day.

Pain

This pain is a cancer.

That line was the skipping record in my brain as I drove away from the airport that awful early July morning of goodbye, leaving my love behind.

The pain felt like a tumor – it was a lump in my throat, my chest that impeded my breathing and left me teetering on the edge of explosion. It felt like a deep, raw wound that would fester and grow and consume me if I didn’t pay it proper attention and care.

Grieving, anguished, sorrowful, brokenhearted, wallowing.

Today the pain feels like a hangover that won’t go away. The kind of hangover you get when you have saturated your body, your blood, your brain with alcohol. The first day you want to die. You cry for your mother and your crimes as you crawl back and forth from the bathroom. Moving beyond that is simply not an option. The second day you’re not as damaged but you are fragile, vulnerable, cautious, aching. I feel like midnight between these days. But there’s no 3rd day relief in sight.

And its a pain that exhausts. And you don't want to feel it and you try to push it down, to think of other things, to avoid it for a few minutes.

But you've already established that this pain is a cancer, and if ignored or even just temporarily set aside, it will boil up uncontrolled. Like 7am on the first hangover day after only getting 2 hours of sleep, you remember you're just at the beginning of the awful part. And there's no option but to let it run its course.

So you hang on for dear life and cry freely. And you know that each tear wept releases a bit of the cancer from inside you. And the same goes for every word you're brave enough to write.

Once Upon a Time

Can ya ma can, fe kadeem ya zaman, there was a little girl who didn't believe in princes. She knew that princes were like the wind, blowing through her curls on a hot summer's day, feeling so joyous, so wonderful, but then they blew on to the next little girl. So she decided to be the wind instead and blew her light and love through the boys she passed.

But then one day she blew smack into a special boy. When she realized she was a prince without a homeland - one he could get to anyway - she married him quickly so he could stay. "It's just to help," she told herself.

As the years passed she grew to love the Homeless Prince and they shared so much. Great joy and great pain were theirs. There was always music and laughter in their kingdom, always delicious meals made with exotic spices.

But she felt a change in the air one day, felt the wind pick up and knew there was a storm coming. Though the Homeless Prince loved her deeply - now more than ever - his wanderlust became unbearable. She knew he would wander again soon.

So she prepared to say goodbye. She left him trinkets to remember her by and spells made of music. And then one day he flew with the wind away from their kingdom and she wished him happily ever afters.

Daughter

There is nothing lovelier than hearing a woman you love and admire and sometimes want to slap (lovingly) say that she wished that you were her daughter. Even if she has had twelve too many drinks, you love hearing that you are the one she wishes she could call hers as you drive her safely home.

Scared

I am so scared. Scared to my core. I just can't imagine life without you. You have been everything to me for so long. Even when you were less than everything you were very significant somethings. And I love you more than I could have ever imagined was possible. And the craziest part is that I feel that love back from you, now more than ever.

I am so scared and sad that the end is coming. We are in the final countdown.

T minus 42 hours.

On letting go of being an addict

I am so glad that after 11 years of being clean and working the Narcotics Anonymous program, you decided that you couldn't leave France without tasting French wine. Since we got clean together so many years ago, I want to tell you some of the things I have figured out after my much more brief - 3 years- stint of sobriety.

I am deeply grateful for what Narcotics Anonymous brought into my life- I honestly don't think I would have graduated from college had I not gotten clean. I learned a whole lot about myself in the process and what I learned continues to be applicable in dealing with myself and with others at home and work. That said, I think NA is a means to an end- not the ultimate solution.

So much of working with people coming out of or in prison, and especially those facing the death penalty is about redemption and grace. It is about not judging people based on the worst decision they ever made. I can't imagine being judged based on my worst decision(s). The thought makes me cringe and blush. I just don't think its kind or compassionate to hold people to this standard. Not that I'm saying we shouldn't be held accountable for these terrible decisions, terrible actions, but they do not in and of themselves define us as people. We are so much more than our worst moments.

You and I made a lot of really bad decisions when we were younger. But this is outweighed by what we have done and become since then. Frankly my dear, I just think you and I are both too smart to live a life of abstinence. Not that addiction can be "outsmarted", but we know ourselves well enough to be able to identify the red flags that may arise and take steps to address them outside of those rooms. One of my strongest commitments to myself is to never wind up in those rooms again- and that is enough to make me do the right things.

God, as I am writing this I realize I am sounding so cocky- such a know it all- and I don't mean to be. This is just something I've thought a whole lot about over the years. Not that I've gotten this all figured out- I definitely still have my occasional binges coupled with the worst hangovers ever where I can drink nothing but ginger ale and whimper a lot. But the difference is that I don't panic anymore that I'm gonna be back in that awful place that I was when I started in NA. Now I just call myself a dumbass and recall that gin does not a classy lady make.

Maybe you've noticed the difference in the treatment of addiction outside of the US? I did my women's studies thesis on women and addiction and that was one of the biggest things I remember- in the US the only real drug "treatment" that is available to most people is that found in 12 step programs which promote abstinence as an only option. Outside of the US, programs teach moderation, how to make healthy choices, and how to recognize when you might be approaching dangerous levels of your habit. The US culture is one of such indulgence that I I think moderation is impossible for most, but certainly not for all.

So I know you didn't ask to hear my 800 thoughts about NA and addiction and I hope you don't mind me writing them. I just really hoped that one day you would come to a place where you would feel confident in take the step to cut yourself some slack and enjoy some of the things that the world has to offer that we deprived ourselves from - you for much longer than I. I wish you all the best in these new steps and remain hopeful for all there is yet to come in your life.

Hostage

I had a very real nightmare. I dreamed last night that I was at a wedding and this crazy man with a mohawk took us hostage. I hid under a tall table and was still as a statue. Then I heard a gun cocking and felt cold metal behind my right ear. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you!" the captor demanded of me. My mind raced but was blank. I managed to force out the words "My family" before I was able to force myself awake and out of hell in my head. My heart pounded hard for the next 20 minutes as I silently listed all the reasons why I should live.

Red

Its when you look at me, when you open your eyes that I realize how much I love you.

I have pulled you up from the couch where we fell asleep folded into each other. I hold your hand and guide you to the bedroom, to your our bed. Your eyes are closed mostly. I am quickly changing from my dress and go looking for one of your undershirts to sleep in.

"Wow," I hear from the bed. I look up. You are staring at me. Your eyes run down my body, across my red lacy bra. A bra you have already removed when we had sex in the living room before we went to dinner.

"You look amazing."

I am surprised. I don't expect this now. I thought you were asleep. You have already seen me like this.

I run to the bed to get as close to you as I can. I click off the light then remember what I forgot to do and click it back on.

I jump out of bed and pop out the pill from its packaging that will relax you and ease your anxiety and ensure peaceful sleep. I reach for your lips and you open your mouth. I can't help but think of the many times I couldn't even get you to take advil when you had a headache.

You sip water and swallow. Your lips form a kiss in the air, looking for mine. Your hand reaches in the air but then falls. You are already asleep.

You wake twice during the night. Both times you kiss me and wrap yourself closer around me.

The First One

I am stressing. I am stressed and anxious. He is coming home tomorrow. My gut knows that with his return, this return, his permanent departure is imminent.

And I want to be a good person. A solid friend. I don’t want to make our next days, define our coming time together with my insecurities. This is not about me. It is not about me right now. I need to make sure it is not about me.

So my struggle now is to be a better person, to live on my own and be strong. To not smoke 8 million cigarettes and drink vodka and more vodka. To resist the urge to create drama, to force him to give me affirmations that I am loved. Loved by him. That he will miss me dreadfully when he leaves. That he will grieve the loss of me in his life.

I saw a stop sign on the way home tonight that someone had stuck a sticker under the “stop” that said “being afraid.”