i was taught two contradicting lessons on meditation and physical comfort. the first was to move freely to adjust your body to be comfortable. the other stated that even in my most extreme discomfort i was to sit and analyze the pain. where was it coming from? what did it feel like? was it having any other effect on my body? naturally, the former is easier for humans. you don’t like the pain? adjust it. the other is much harder. it includes suffering through something in order to fully understand it.
that is what i am doing with this heartache. as a writer i hate the fact that i can’t think of anything to write about except for him. i hate that i cannot weave together images beautifully because the image of his face have taken over. i have been taken over. but i am not giving in. i am not one of those people with alot of pride who can act as though i am better off, happir now. i may well be, and soon. still, at this moment, i want to know why i am so hurt.
point in case:
about three months ago, he finally found “our song”…as we’d not really had one before, i was giddy at the idea that he heard a song and thought of me. the song? Marry Me by Train…
a week after our breakup I was in a store and the song came on and i darn near collapsed with grief. i felt as though someone had come up from behind and began to suffocate me. i could barely look away from the salesperson before my eyes welled with tears and before i knew it i was panting on the pavement outside. dramatic? i don’t think so.
i loved him and love him still. everyday for the past six years he has been at the start and ending of my day. he has been the one i called in my times of need. he has been my superhero. but mostly he was mine.
and the pain is not about me being alone, i’m not at all scared of that. what is it then? i’m scared that he’ll have a family with another woman. scared that his wedding day will not be mine. scared that he will forget me one day. the things that i thought were ours, i’m scared will be someone else’s.
he used to put his face deep in my neck, and breathe. he’d tell me he loved how i smelled. so day and night he;d do it, thirty times a day even. what if he does the same for someone else? i know it’s silly, being like this. but i have to be honest about what makes me unhappy. what bothers me. i know i won’t feel this way after a while, but i need to understand how i feel right now. i want to know what i find important, hurtful, so that next time, if there is a next time, i’ll be better able to protect myself.