“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.”
-Beryl Markham, West with the Night
“You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened... or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on.”
Telling someone like me to ‘move on’ is one of those easier-said-than-done statements. I have had so many individuals who have experienced this kind of pain tell me their story and ensure me that it would get better with time. I didn’t believe them. Many of these friends, family, and acquaintances were visibly irritated with my sorrow. I was equally irritated by their inability to comprehend my anguish. Here I am, three years away from heartbreak, still nursing wounds. However, I do have a confession to deliver to my heartbroken reader that may or may not be promising to you.
Much of what I write about my emotions is not current. Don’t get me wrong…I will never get over the beloved completely - never, ever. But, it has gotten better. Three years ago, I couldn’t see the end to being curled up in a ball on the floor, unable to breathe from crying so hard. I don’t cry every day now. I had one person describe it like being in a shipwreck in a horrible storm; being stranded on some debris from the mess in the aftermath - riding swells and being sloshed around violently for an immeasurable amount of time; then sitting in the middle of the ocean lost for who-knows-how-long; finally, seeing the shore but not knowing how (or if you would ever) get there. I think I see the shore, and the tales I’m telling you now are, for the most part, recounting trauma.
Even though I see it, I’m unwilling to leave what has become my security for so long. I’m sure the best thing for me would certainly have been to drop it, forget it, and immediately move on. But I thought that there was so much worth salvaging from that whole mess. And honestly, with all that’s happened and with everything I now know - with the full knowledge of how difficult it would be to pull that ship out from the bottom of the ocean…I just want to be back home. I want to be home with her arms around me. I know that she isn’t on that shore, but my world just isn’t round without her.
So, for now, I’m floating. Still seasick.