It is hard for me to remember the events of late 2006 with any degree of precision or accuracy. However, I highly doubt my memory was any better at the time.
In the span of time from October to December of that year, my relationship with Adam suffered considerably. The resurfacing of my ex-boyfriend and the arguments that swiftly followed, kicked off a miserable chain of events that Adam and I never quite came back from. With a quickness, we were thrown into a revolving door of accusations and low blows.
“If only I knew then what I know now.” I have such mixed feelings about this statement.
For the most part, I avoid saying things like this because hindsight is 20/20. In the majority of cases, I think most people would take the knowledge they have now and use it to positively influence their past if they thought it could lead to a preferable outcome. All the same, we can’t go back in time and alter anything, which renders the whole wishful nature of statements such as these useless…
… yet I still found myself thinking this way when I read over today’s post.
There is a certain degree of detachment for me when I read past writings such as the one below. Although I can vividly recall how I felt in those particular moments, it still feels slightly foreign. This is quite a peculiar position to be in because I never thought my day of freedom would come. I’d been imprisoned against my will by inexplicable sorrow for so long… my current state of being is supremely surreal in comparison.
When I was a small child growing up in Southern California I would ride in the backseat of my parents’ car.
Quite often we’d drive the 50-60 miles through the valley to visit my grandparents in the LA suburbs. All along the way I’d press my bored little nose up against my window with “Are we there yet?” on my mind, but pure vapor on my lips.
On and on we’d drive, whizzing past buildings, signs, cars and towns. It was all so dull to me then. I mean, if you’ve seen one scraggly palm tree, you’ve seen a dozen. Though I loved visiting my grandparents, I greatly disliked having to seemingly trek halfway across the galaxy to reach them. If it weren’t for the graffiti scribbled across the trains, I don’t know what I would have done.
As the morning sun would stretch and rise from its resting place just beyond the horizon, she would open her eyes and say to herself, “S—t. I’m still here.” And like clockwork, her tortured mind would take up its usual post. The damning inner dialogue swirled round and round, raging like a tropical storm. It was like this all day. It was like this everyday.
I can’t do this anymore. I’m so tired. Why didn’t I just die in my sleep without any fuss? Now I have to find a way to get through yet another day. Another day of constant pain. Another day of crippling loneliness. I could probably cope with it all if I could just take a break—I only need a break. But there’s never a break, is there? Not for me. Not for messed up people like me.
I want out.
Life can be such a dizzying enigma.
At the best of times, it can bestow us with beauty and jubilance of poetic proportions. Yet at the worst of times, life’s circumstances can administer lashes so severe that we’re left limping for years. When I was a child, I never could get a firm grasp on the concept of life’s fickle ways. From time to time I would hear people retort, “Life’s not fair”, but it wouldn’t be until much later that I would learn just how true that adage was.
Thinking back to early youth, I now realize just how fortunate I was. With the exception of a few minor hiccups and one major death, I enjoyed a fairly charmed childhood. No major illnesses, no serious injuries, no instances of bullying and no family turmoil. In comparison to many of my schoolmates, I was very lucky. My parents did a terrific job ensuring that I grew up in as peaceful an environment as possible, but perhaps that is just the trouble. Perhaps I was too sheltered, too ignorant of the possibilities that would await me later in life.
I knew this day would come, and though I’ve tried to mentally and emotionally brace myself, anxiety has overtaken me. Today’s post may be the hardest one I will ever share. There is so much that I want to say about what you will soon read, but…I’m not entirely sure that I’m up for it right now. I intend to post further commentary in the days to come, but for tonight, I will let my former words speak for themselves.
As far as Adam is concerned, he genuinely lived up to his namesake by being the first man to accomplish so many monumental things in my life. For instance, he was the first man I ever truly loved. That alone speaks volumes, but I also believe that he was the first man to genuinely love me back. As beautiful and precious a gift that was, it only makes perfect sense that we couldn’t have lasted long.
I’ve had a lot of dreams and hopes in this life.
Some came true. Some didn’t.
Of what remains, I’ve mostly given up on ever attaining them. I say this not because I am a defeatist or “negative Nellie” (or negative Nell, in my case), but because I am too tired.
I feel as though I say this a lot these days—this, “I’m tired.” Of course, I never say it aloud because it isn’t something anyone would properly understand. I mean, if someone was ever around to hear me.
I’ve been going through a very difficult time recently. Though I don’t particularly wish to get into the full details of why that is (I will more than likely speak on it when I’m feeling up to it), I will say that I have been dealing with issues involving self-esteem and confidence. Some aspects of my life have not been going very well lately, so it’s been a bit challenging to keep a smile on my face and fight the urge to allow a sense of defeat and hopelessness to knock me out of the game completely.
I sincerely apologize if this or any of my recent posts aren’t cheerful. I often feel very self-conscious about posting when I am not feeling my absolute best because I am the kind of person who wears their feelings on their face and in their speech. It always feels as though I will pollute everything I do by writing happy words in a sad tone, so I typically refuse to post when that is the case.
Despite having started this blog to share all aspects of my personal life, my true desire is to connect with and help uplift others. That being said, I wish every post could be nothing but sunshine, rainbows and kittens. However, this post isn’t going to be any of those things. For that, I am very sorry. All the same, I come bearing a very sincere request for all who may stumble upon today’s post and read it: Please think before you speak. You never know what the person you are speaking to is truly going through.
As I sit here sipping the remainder of my flavored sparkling water and find myself coming to terms with the notion that it will more than likely be my last taste of flavor for the next ten days, I feel impossibly anxious. My heart is racing like I’m expected to deliver a speech to a several thousand head audience.
I keep telling myself, “It’s only a fast”, “It’s only ten days”, “It’s only water”– all of these things are true. All the same, this could be my last day living the life of someone I never thought I’d become. No more hiding. No more disappointment. No more procrastination.
Tomorrow could be the start of the life I stole from myself. I’m terrified.