Untitled Love Memo

Written in March 2018

The purpose today in therapy is to find mindfulness and peace in this session. It’s not normal for me to just sit quietly with my thoughts, usually it’s predictable mind racing and anxiety. As I close my eyes, I can feel the acupuncture needles in both ears and it’s relaxing me, she tells me to close my eyes or focus on an object in the room and stay in the present. Uber just delivered beer today autonomously via a tractor trailer, I wonder what’s going to happen to all the truck drivers in the next 5 years? Snap out of it, focus on the present and don’t think about that right now. This group session, even though it’s just me today, it’s trajectory is to make this process easier, ultimately to make it easier to say goodbye to her.

It’s going to be very laborious to say goodbye. I have known her since I was fifteen years old and ever since we met, she has the been the love of my life.

When I first met her, like in any relationship we took it slow. Some nights were wilder than others, she helped me get thru the social awkwardness, the constant anxiety and when I was with her, it helped numb my emotions and past. Her hair always glistened, she had an innocent appeal that she carried without knowing it.

She has been everything to me. I remember our first kiss, the first taste of her. Unfamiliar but as with anything in life you become acclimated and more comfortable with certain aspects of the relationship and attributes of who you’ve chosen. The scents and their taste becomes a familiarity and you gradually love those reminders, a deja vu sparked by familiarity.

We took it lackadaisical at first when we met, I can remember being so busy that I couldn’t see her every night. Busy being busy on forgetting and stuffing down my past, work, being his complete opposite. But the weekends, I longed for weekends when I could see her again. She was always there for me when I wanted her to be, she was loyal and consistent. Things I perhaps never had in my past, but with her it was so different. Mi Amor.

The years went by and as with any relationship, we got comfortable with each other. I decided to move in with her, I no longer needed to wait anxiously for the weekends to see her. It was a shit show but it made me content like a pissed off hillbilly in the south voting for Trump. There were some days where I couldn’t see her, but we dealt with that together by ensuring when we did see each other, it was almost an indulgence when we finally reunited. Like all new relationships there were few problems, it was the honeymoon phase and during this period the human eye is unable to see the flaws over the flutter of whimsical puppy love.

I knew for sure, as insecure as I was that I loved her. She understood me, she listened to my dark thoughts and fears and never judged them. My demons didn’t faze her, she knew I couldn’t love myself but nonetheless she loved me back. She would rub me on the back softly so I could sleep, without her, there were long nights of restlessness; anxiety ridden thoughts racing through my head that seemed all scrambled. When she wasn’t there I would try everything including the pathetic game of counting sheep or other cliche exercises to assist with sleep. After about 16 sheep, my thoughts would race to darker thoughts. Always darker thoughts when she wasn’t around. Her simple presence permeated strength thru the core of my weaknesses.

Love can sometimes turn into relying on someone, being dependent on something or someone because you’re comfortable with that. I didn’t want to be dependent on her, I told myself each morning I needed to address it, I needed to have a candid conversation to let her know I loved her but didn’t need her, should our love ever grow apart. It was easier said than done, I knew the relationship was becoming toxic. She would often make me angrier and my outbursts would be aligned with the scale of anger. Fuck this bitch, I don’t need her. I decided on an exit strategy that would be beneficial for both of us, as hard as we tried it was nearly impossible to execute the separation. I could go without seeing her for a little bit, but I always ended up right back in her arms. How couldn’t I? Sure she made me angry, but at least when I was with her I could sleep. So we continued seeing each other.

When everything fell apart in my life, when I hit rock bottom she remained loyal to me. They could take away the things, my home and my career but she was fuckin loyal till the end. Through all of it, she has been there to support me and make sure I got through it all. Not even my family or friends were there when rock bottom hit, or subsequently when curiosity struck and I decided to test out if rock bottom was really the lowest or if I could crack the foundation even further to drop into the abyss. 

Her scent reminds me of peace, of being able to relax. Tranquility. My hands tremble the moment I touch her, but after the initial nervous butterflies go away my hands become steady as they always do with her. Tasting her is as familiar to me as her scent, we have been together for so long it’s hard to imagine living without her. She is my love and she has never let me down, so it’s a bittersweet separation but it was inevitable from the start. Soon I have to say goodbye to her, the very thought of it makes my heart sink and my eyes tear up. How could I not? I have known her since I was fifteen years old, I am now 37 years old; it’s the longest successful intimate or platonic relationship I’ve ever had.

As I look at her for the last time, I am so scared and apprehensive of what this means for both of us. We are staring at each other and she suggests that even though we are separating, perhaps every once in a while we could see each other. It’s a sweet suggestion, she has always been able to seduce me back into this relationship and I know if I take her up on it, the toxicity would eventually return. Insanity is repeating… you know the saying.

I didn’t know at fifteen years old she would be so toxic; I didn’t know what I didn’t know at that age. I didn’t know my behavioral health issues would be a toxic mixture with her, I do now even though it will be like starting my life over, I know it’s in our best interest to do so. I’m going to fuckin miss her. Last night being with her for the last time has my stomach in a mess. The anxiety knowing, she won’t be here tonight has already taken its toll. I don’t know if she knows how much I love her, how much I relied on her and how many nights will be spent in a restless panic knowing she’s not by my side. She seems okay with it all, she said there will be plenty of other guys that will take my place but that part doesn’t bother me a bit.

I don’t know if I should give her one last hug before we depart, one last pity fuck or if I should walk away quietly. I discussed the separation with my therapist, I wanted to ask her how to do this but I think it’s on my own terms. No one can give you the exact recipe for something like this. My family is going to miss her too, but she will remain friends with some of them even though I will never see her again.

My intentions are noble, even though I promise myself I won’t see her again after saying farewell I know it’s not as easy as jotting it down or my brain doing some Jedi mind trick. It’s almost impossible not to run into her again even after saying farewell. Weeks after splitting up with her, I often see her despite my best efforts to avert the places where she hangs out. When I see her the memories or even the lack of memories when I was with her resurface, for better or worse. I see her thru the window with the welcoming neon sign, her tempting curves and carefree smile tries to lure me back in for a one-night stand, a brief fling or me finally caving in and realizing our only fate was matrimony.

Her name, it rolls gently off my tongue and sounds almost angelic as it’s said out loud. I feel no shame walking away from her, extreme anxiety but no shame. Our pathway and intersection of intimacy was inevitable, maybe fate but likely myself needing her more than she ever needed me. Not likely, for sure. I needed her to compensate for never loving myself. I needed her to forget the dark cloud following me also known as my past; to forget the torturous pain, the weeping and helplessness that was endured. The loss of control as a child which evolved into requiring the opposite as an adult; the most ironic part is that even though I sought control with her it was always the opposite when together. It’s almost as if I am addicted to the chaos and uncertainty that I’ve known since childhood, among other things.

None of that matters, if I stay with her I’ll never find the reconciliation I seek in my life. Temporary peace perhaps but regret every morning I awake, the ignorance was always preferred over the loneliness with her. How could something so gorgeous be so fucking wrong for me? 

So this is goodbye my love, thank you for the anesthesia and helping me consign to oblivion when we were together. You always put me at ease when I was with you, a torpid tranquility. Even though we part ways, thank you for allowing me to say things I would never otherwise have said when I wasn’t with you. I will always love you but for my own sanity this is farewell, it’s for the best. Everyone always gravitates to the first kiss but never sees the bullshit that comes along later in the relationship, despite your beauty you have left me waist deep in your Trumpery. This is going to be be the most difficult thing I have ever done, my therapist said it may take several attempts to completely be done with you, statistically. I’ll take those odds any day over the grief and complications that go along with loving you. 

Farewell Alcohol,
An Addict

Please follow and like us:

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published.

You may also like