Friday, January 18, 2013

The Psychics

They all told me he'd contact me again. Many said in two or three days. Many said in two months, no longer. Time would pass by and it would still be two days, two weeks, two months, this or that holiday and I waited and wouldn't exhale. One or two said it will take a long long time. I don't remember any of them saying never. I do remember wasting a fortune on such a fool's errand.

Some of them said there was something wrong with him. Some said family troubles. One in the very beginning called the color of his eyes before I knew what they were and then one in the end described him to a tee but told me nothing of any other use than picking him out in a lineup. Most of the rest were more adept at picking up my verbal cues and breathing. I've read articles on this stuff, since I've invested so much in it and so many of them are such good actors that they'll have you believing he still loves you after all this time. And then others confuse his very specific characteristics with someone else's very specific characteristics and you put down the pen you've been writing copious notes with and wipe your eyes and say, 'Enough.'


Or you keep trying and keep spending money because you have no closure. And your friends (including the psychic ones) berate you for sloppily mopping up the chunks of your heart all over the floor as you slip and slide all over your innards and you mentally send him a message that evisceration would have been more merciful. And a follow-up message to wear a sweater when it's cold and a follow-up follow-up fuck you I hope you catch pneumonia.

But then one morning (okay, early afternoon)  you wake up. And you see the same view out the window that you've always seen (seasonal changes aside) and you stop hearing and seeing synchronicities and cease feeling that feeling you get in your heart whenever you think you feel he's with you even if he's never been in your presence and you begin to breathe again. You don't cry anymore when you hear something similar to something he'd often say and you don't fall apart when you see something he's said somewhere that obliquely references you in front of dozens of mutual friends and while it's subtlety disparaging and typically arrogant, you feel this sense of nothingingness except maybe the guilt you feel when a friend says, Okay, enough with the bullshit while the dozens of friends stand idly awkwardly by and that friend feels guilty for being reactive and the ones who had the option to act didn't and there was even one or two who would have disappointed you six months ago and now you just say whatever, I'm over it and you almost....just almost...are.

I'd still call a psychic every now and then and ask. And then over time, I'd stopped or it was in fits and starts and strangely they'd ask me, strangers I'd never spoken with before, but perhaps they have a database, about him. 'Your heart is still connected to his.' 'Like hell it is.' 'Well, I understand you saying that, but it's connected and only time will heal that.' I've had plenty of time. I'm done. What's next? Who's next?' and then they'd talk about karmic debt and I'd hang up on them.

I'd feel so sorry for myself I wouldn't get out of bed for days. Days. I would look at the shower and my pores would moan in protest, 'wash me', and I'd crawl back into bed and cover my head with a pillow or four and every occupant in the house would stand outside my door and draw straws to see who'd ask me when was the last time I ate and 'Look I brought you a sweet tea from McDonald's just like you like it!' and I'd be filled with self-loathing and revulsion at the shadow of the person I used to be and look in the mirror and say, 'Who's fearless now, chickenshit?' and spend another day in bed and look forward to the one day where I could spend an hour and money I didn't have crying to my therapist.

I don't know what day it was. I know there are people who can pinpoint the exact moment they fell in love or what they were doing when JFK died or 9/11 happened but I began to have less months, then weeks, then days, then hours of misery and decided I wanted my life back and it wasn't him who took it from me. And it wasn't that I gave it to him. I took it from myself and was fully responsible and like all the variables and accumulative factors and shit that contributed to me weighing 700 lbs. at one point and realizing that it would take as many variables and factors and shit to lose it if I wanted to be who I wanted to be, I realized that  it would take that much energy to take my life back from numb oblivion.

First and foremost, I'm a fighter. It's immaterial that I've lost most of the fights of my life. The point is that I keep getting back up and fighting. Which is good. Because the alternative is to lie there and continue to be pounded by whoever sees an opportunity to spit or kick you in the ribs or be run over by a UPS truck because time and life waits for no one and no one likes a victim and since when did I become a victim? What the fuck was I doing being a victim? And did I always always *have* to fight? Why couldn't I just walk away and say, 'Fuck this shit. It's/he/she isn't worth it.'?

I had that moment before. A few times. The most significant being the time I chose myself over a bottle of narcotics. Yay me. Well twice or thrice, so Yay me cubed.

So, I began to make a few changes. Like fill up my life with meaningful things. And remove from my life meaningless things, things that no longer served a purpose. That included some friends. That included Facebook, at least temporarily. That included me bitching and whining about being wronged. No more sad or angry or defiant jpgs and song links unless I really liked them and they weren't passive-aggressive messages that only I and a few friends in the know would get but the real recipient wouldn't because they didn't have access to my 'stuff' anymore. That included liking guys who reminded me of that guy and then liking all their stuff and hoping they'd like my stuff and making excuses for them when they didn't and then hating myself for repeating the pitiful cycle. So...out with that bullshit.

I made a lot of changes. I still have a way to go. And I still have a shitload of stuff I need to address, big stuff, not little niggling things like should I wait two weeks to get nail tips so they're fresh for court but now wondering if guitar lessons will be cheaper closer to home and does a Hello Kitty guitar really HAVE to be my first one? And Tae Kwon Do versus Karate......and hey, I can cross my legs now and what's the first thing I'm going to knit when I start taking lessons I signed up for and who's going to be my guinea pig as I learn Reiki energy work and I think after all the freakin boxalopes that Amanda sent me from the Land Down Under with their ridiculous postal costs, isn't it time I sent her at least one freakin thing especially since I shit all over her every time she encouraged me when I was being a whiny snot-nosed brat and Lara and Kitty and Angie had their own crap going on and still touched base and Bridget and Lissa ALWAYS knew when something was wrong and reached out to me and nobody promises you tomorrow. Nobody. There are no guarantees. I won't tell you what to do but I will tell you what I did, which is I had to stop whining and start doing.

So I gave myself a concussion at the gym. Someone who doesn't yet know that he's going to teach me how to drive a stick shift pointed out to me that at least I went and I'll walk six miles this time on the treadmill before I throw up and I'm fucking awesome and brilliant and YES someone is going to adore me and love me and cherish me and be my soulmate. But first, I have to be my own. And that's what I'm doing.

If you see me in a little cafe eating stuffed clams or a Cuban sandwich or some onion rings with a double whiskey straight, you might find me jotting down some thoughts, comparing notes with a server who recommended the mussels marinara or flirting with the guy next to me who just bought me a Belgian White because I really love the orange slices that come with it,  you're not going to see me crying, unless it's for you and you need a hug and a friend.

I'm done wasting time and energy and I've moved on. And you don't have to be psychic to know it.

1 comment:

  1. Your forgetting you sent me the prima craft knife where postage was double the cost of the item :). I still use it all the time. I adore you that wont change just because sometimes you have crabby days and dont want to hear the encouragement!! hell there are times I am sure I have been snarky with you to. Friendship means forgiveness and loving someone even in their darkest moments. Remember the brick wall I first met? Look at how far you have come and how much you have transformed yourself. The only way is up! You are taking amazing positive steps they will add up and you are consciously changing things that is the important part. Lots of Hugs