A New Schnikism: Erase Records, Write Histories (Part Two)

Real love doesn’t meet you at your best, it meets you in your mess.

J.S. Park

This is a continuation of my previous post: Erase Records, Write Histories

I’ve never believed in any of the sayings that you get so many or so little loves in your life. I have been blessed to have some great love stories. What I’m realizing is that they all have two things in common. First, I’m the common denominator – or maybe it’s common deamonator. Secondly, they’ve all ended. I know that’s a little fatalistic but there is a commonality there. Maybe I am the reason that all my prevous relationships ended – either consciously or subconsciously. And I can tell you why most every relationship has ended. Here are some examples:

With Chase* – He said that he didn’t like my friends and didn’t want to hang out with them at all. That, to me, told me that he didn’t want to be a part of my life, only to make me a part of his.

With Randy* – We met when we were both way too young to really have a chance. Yet, he was the one who showed me that life can be more than just a moment in time. He became a long time friendship and someone I respected.

With Donald* – There was love there and I think we both could have, in another time and place in our lives, had a really great relationship but other things got in the way and we missed that connection. It just never truly landed long term.

With Aaron* – He came into my life at a point where I was probably at my most “together” in life, I was very happy with myself, who I was, what I was doing, and where I was going. There was an immediate connection. The timing of our relationship was on no schedule, it wasn’t hyperfast, ir wasn’t excrusiatingly slow, it was just as it was supposed to be. Or how it felt it was supposed to be. Looking back, there was deep love there on a level that was beyond anything I’d experienced before. We took our time, there was a connection unlike (up to then) any other I’d felt before. We just fit together. And I very much thought it was forever. And maybe, it was supposed to be but I realized as the more time went on, the less happy I was as a person. I found myself breaking down in secret. I found myself crashing in silence. And I found myself feeling disconnected and distanced. I found myself in a life but only in the orbit of a relationship. I found myself suffering under the burden of duty. It was I who fell from love and it was I who left. This I know…. I kept looking for an answer, a reason why we didn’t work out, I couldn’t seem to place it. On the surface, I had everything, That shame, of having everyhing and suddenly feeling nothing, caused a great self destruction. The supernova that was our love, imploded into a black hole that my heart became. The slow movement of the mountains to the sea and the river of dreams became a river of tears. My heart still hurts over the end of this relationship from time to time but the way it ended was imperfect, there was no amicibility, and there was a coldness that replaced the inital warmth that fed the hope.

With Charles* — My whole world was different. I had jumped from my old life into a new life (same person, just different world) and I found myself in unfamiliar territory. I never thought, for anything, that I would have found a relationship when I did… But, there was something mystical, magical, meaningful about the moments we shared, there was a time when we first met, that I knew there was a moment of fate at play. From the first moment I heard his voice, looked into his eyes, touched his hand… I knew there was something special about him. From the first day I met him — I knew I wanted to be with him.

From our first real date, I found myself staring into his eyes dreaming about the next day, and the next day, and the next day, and the lifetime….

But it was not to be, there were demons in my life and there were moments of uncertainty that were all too coincidental — are STILL all too coincidental. The grief and the mourning still do not stop. This relationship has been one of my most difficult to get over. Maybe that’s part of the lesson I have to learn or maybe not. I know that there was a time we were to be together. I still wish I could see his face again. I wish I could hear his voice again.

Many months later I am still emotionally sensitive of the sheer mention of his name. As I sit here typing, I have to pause every once in a while to wipe the tears from my eyes because my heart knows, my heart feels that there was a love so passionate, so pure, and so caring embedded in there somewhere. It was fate, it was kismit, it was magic, it was hope, and it was faith all in the moments we shared. There was also darkness, suspicion, and fear. And since neither one of us seemingly can/could get over those fears, we crashed and burned. And now, he and I are so many miles apart, that I realze we may never have another chance again. Though, I remain hopeful that he’s somewhere out there thinking about me like I am thinking about him.

I’m haunted by those nights where everything was perfect. and I’m haunted by those days where everything wasn’t.

And then there are the friendship-types of love. Which seemingly have left me, too, in these latest struggles. I know there are a few of you out there who have reached out and for that I’m beyond grateful. And I know you’re not sure what you can do… And I guess all I can ask is that you’re patient with me.

I don’t know how to unbreak this heart, I don’t know how to unbreak these moments in my life where I loved with all I had, loved with all I have, and it just seems to be never good enough. It just seems that some days I’m not good enough for love or to be loved.

This is my struggle everyday. And if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I’m worthy of another “great love.” These last two, without hyperbole, actually almost killed me (well, I almost did… But I’m still here.)

And many others have shown me exactly what I thought; exactly what I’ve believed in silence for so many years, that I’m not worthy of love. That I’m not worthy of a happiness. That what does it matter at all in the end?

So Because I once posted a moment that my greatest fear in life was that you would start to see me how I see me. And how I see my life. And you’ve all shown me exactly what I meant. Exactly what I was afraid of — and what that has shown is that I am useless, I am careless, that I’m afraid, that I am hurting, that I’m tired of being hurt, that I’m tired of being hurt, that I’m tired of being alone. But, there’s safety in being alone, there’s safety in not having to show everyone how much I hurt everyday. There’s safety in you believing that I’m a happy person every day. There’s safety in retreating from everything, and everyone, and just fading away.

Why is there safety in those things? Because I don’t have to feel the loss when someone else leaves. That I don’t have too feel the pain when I don’t hear from you. That I don’t have to get my hopes up just to watch them crater again. To watch myself crater again. To worry that I’m going to be so saddened that one of these times, one of these times, I’m going to get it right and feel nothing again. And place all the burden of these feelings on those closest to me…. That in itself brings the deepest of fears.

I don’t know how to climb out of this shame/fear circle, I’m still on this rollercoaster but I am seemingly riding it alone. Yes, I realize this is probably an island of my own doing but I have no professor, I have no skipper, and I am stuck being the Gilligan. No Mary-Ann, No Ginger, no Lovey and Mr. Howell…. Just me. So it seems.

So, while I wished for answers, while I still hope for answers, while I plead with the universe to just let me know some truths…. I realize that I don’t deserve them, I don’t deserve anything it seems, the reflections have shown me that. The gaslighting has shown me the way that I hate myself. The refractions have beat me into submission. I’m now in the place that I’m seemingly only allowed to be. I’m seemingly now in the place where this is the best as it gets…

Here I sit, awake, alone (except for Sherman) still hurting. Still broken. Still feeling exactly the worth I’ve been shown that I have in this world. I used to believe I was worth more to people, I was worth more to myself, that I was worth anything at all. But, instead of being priceless….. I’m just pennyless.

I’m sorry if this is a downer post, but it’s how I feel and my feelings are valid, or maybe they’re not. Maybe I just have to go back to pretending to feel nothing, to go back to supressing everything, accepting what little I’m granted to having, and back to feeling numb,

I guess that’s the truth of what I’ve been struggling with. How do you let go of a love that you know was so very real when you’re the only one who seems to still believe in it. Maybe that’s my answer.

But I will never understand why everyone seems to know that I HAD to go through this, and everyone seems to know that they couldn’t help me. That I have to feel this way in order to some how be better when all it has done is make me feel worthless. There’s no more I’m sorrys left in my body. And I’m not sure there are any more I love you’s either. I look at the lay of the land and wonder…

Is there anyone still out there? Is there life out there? Is anyone still listening? Does anyone else still care?

* – Not their real names

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