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Weeping gothic heart
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Often goths are notorious for melodrama and mayhem in romance. Alas, I am no exception. I figured that if I was going to start exploring the gothic mind, I would start with my own. These are writings I did about a past romance that never quite met the promise it had at the beginning. Enjoy them, as I did not enjoy living through them (though things are certainly better). You might be able to identify.
Getting Wise
All right, I'm not much for the old making lemonade from lemons spiel. But I am a great believer that every relationship we have as human beings, whatever the outcome, is a learning experience. Whether the relationship was good or bad, we are always better off for the experience. Here I would like to share some pearls of "wisdom" I have collected.
8) Honesty should be rule number one, no matter what.
7) Always try talking through any problems. If you can reconcile your differences, you've achieved a triumph. If you can't, perhaps it's time to be moving along.
6) Never take the sum total of previous bad experiences and project them onto your current partner. This is not fair to them and will only keep you locked in a dark past.
5) Words and promises really are like the wind until there is action to back them up--or prove them false.
4) You can never change another person, so don't enter into a relationship thinking you can fix your partner. They must find that inside themselves.
3) No relationship is ever a waste a time.
2) Relationships are work, and are worth every bit of effort.
1) Whatever the outcome, no relationship is ever a failure. No relationship ever really ends, either. Thoughts of them will stay in your mind throughout your life. Remember the good things.
Writing It Down
I’ve been ambivalent about writing this down—until now. I’ve been adequately convinced that telling this tale will not only be cathartic for me, but might also help other people in similar situations.
We had been enjoying a committed and loving relationship. So far as I know, we had all the great stuff going for us—trust, endless communication, physical compatibility, and a solid interest in a combined future. We supported each other and we were always there to listen to each other. This is where things stood that Thursday night. We were looking forward to spending the weekend together, particularly spending the night together for the first time (which had been a long time in coming). He never gave me the slightest hint of any doubt or misgiving, and I kissed him goodbye that night with the same confidence I had every night, secure and certain in us.
On Friday in the afternoon I found that he had sent me our usual loving e-mail from his place of work around seven that morning. What was odd was that there had been nothing from him since then, not even the afternoon telephone call that had been so reliable for so long. On a normal Friday this would have set me to wondering, but this Friday was bringing in a very special weekend. I thought all right, he’s at work, maybe he can’t get any messages out. Maybe he can’t use the phone for some reason. There was adequate explanation for this silence. I figured, he’ll call me when he gets home.
By five I began to worry. After all, this weekend was as important to him as it was to me. Surely he’d be worried about not making contact. On past days, he’d shown up at my house around the same time. Did he just assume we had a standing time? That wasn’t like him.
I tried calling him several times only to get the answering machine. What could I do? I went ahead and picked up my sister from the terminal and then had dinner. By seven, I had still heard nothing. Now I should mention that my entire family had taken him in and counted him as one of us, and they were as concerned as I was. My father offered to drive me over to his house and see what I could possibly see—was the car there, were lights on, that kind of thing. The car was indeed there, but this didn’t tell me much. He didn’t drive to work, so of course the car would be there. I went and pounded on the door, frustrated by the lack of any information. Finally I wrote him a quick note and left it on the front door.
Obviously our plans for the weekend had been shot to hell. I held tenaciously to the hope of a logical excuse. After a white night, I began to consider what kind of information I could get by calling area hospitals—who knew, he could have been injured or worse. Another possibility was that he was waiting on someone who had been taken to the hospital. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t have tried to get even a brief message to me, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. The hospitals were very accommodating in so far as telling us who was there and who had been admitted, but the staff couldn’t give us any more information.
I don’t know how I managed to hold it together. Another sleepless night brought us to Sunday and more phone calls. I also contacted his best friend and his family and got no response from any of them. How could someone just walk off the face of the earth in this age of communications technology? Finally I called the police. It was too soon to file a missing persons report, but it did alert them to the situation.
Finally, around eight on Sunday evening, I get a phone call. The details of where he had been and what he was doing are best left unwritten. His excuse was no excuse at all. At first, I fell into my role as his significant other and tried to make myself believe I could and would help him. Once we’d hung up, however, I met a very different vibe. I still loved him, yes, but I could look forward to a lifetime of anguished weekends when he’d suddenly vanish.
I called him back, more rational now and understanding of the difficulties. When I started getting into my emotions over what had happened, he chose to hang up on me.
So was there a break up? Is it just easier not to deal with me? I cannot believe after the trust and the benefit of the doubt he had asked me to make, a benefit I gave him, he could behave so precipitously. Where’s my benefit of the doubt—the benefit of believing in me?
Well, I’m still here, and I’m still me. That’s the best part.
Soulmate-Gone-Lately
Tonight, August 11, I finally got up my courage to call Soulmate-Gone-Lately. This was the first time I talked to him since July 26 (if talking is what you can call it). Oh, I've tried getting in touch with him through other methods, but nothing worked.
Normally I'd recognize a blow off for what it is. But in this case, I'm not even entirely certain why we split (or even if we split). I do know that instead of the weekend we'd planned, he'd spent it drunk on his sofa, and I had even just a few days before said that alcohol was something I wouldn't tolerate. At that moment he said yet again that he was happy and had no interest in drinking anymore.
Could I really be in a relationship where there were three of us--him, me, and drinking? I don't have a prudish opposition to drinking, of course, but I've also seen how it can ruin relationships and lives. After that weekend, I made the choice that life with an insecure drunk would be much worse than striking out on my own.
Soulmate-Gone-Lately didn't seem to agree--and he proved his own maturity by hanging up on me and then letting any following call go to his answering machine. I thought, what the hell? Is this not an adult male with whom I had a serious relationship? Okay, he couldn't handle talking to me.
Apparently, he still can't. He pulled the hang up to answering machine thing again, but I was finally able to get two heavy things off of my chest. One was to ask whether he is man enough to actually talk things out instead of hiding. The other was to tell him that whenever he needs someone, I will be here for him. I for one meant everything I ever said to him.
Well, you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped. You can't explain yourself to someone who plugs their ears and refuses to listen. But believe me, I followed my instincts on this one, and I am profoundly glad I made the call. I feel like Atlas being able to roll the earth off of his back. It's a shame that he's mired in such negativity, it really is. But hey, I did offer myself as a life preserver.
The Recap
You may have been familiar with the angst that's been going on, from one side or the other. Now I finally wish to get my side of the story down in writing, as best as I can recall. I think it may clear some things up, at least in my own mind, but maybe to other people as well.
I'll begin on Saturday, July 25, 2009. Apparently my fruitless search for the person I loved had screwed me up into a seizure--a full scale, epileptic-like seizure. I'm not new to these. But I went to the nearest emergency room, and after a lot of fooling around, I was scheduled for an MRI on Monday, July 27.
The results were not good. I was told of a nebulous blur in the area where left brain meets right brain. They didn't have to tell me what this could mean. They were gently telling me I could possibly have a brain tumor, and possibly even brain cancer. These are not the death sentences they once were, but if the blur proved to be a tumor, my life would never be the same again.
And so over the course of two days I submitted to five more MRI scans. Then all I could do was wait. Aside from my family, my closest company in these days was Zack Auerbach and Marilys Mars.
Friday, July 31 brought mixed news. What was going on in my brain was not a tumor at all. My relief was short lived, because I was then told I had a degenerative nerve disease. Actually, I'd had it for years. Basically the cells of the nervous system called neurons are protected by a membrane called the myelin sheath. Myelin helps the nervous system function smoothly. In my case, my body was losing this myelin and was unable to grow it back--which explained my previous seizures, ticks, and other nervous condition. It's relatively rare, but not so rare that there isn't treatment.
So it's been a trip into the MRI three times a week while popping a huge number of pills designed to help my myelin regenerate. This far into the process, things are looking pretty good. I understand that this is a long-term change in my life, and I'm dealing with it day by day.
This is where I've been since July 24. I've wanted to explain it to my estranged loved one, hoping he might understand how things have happened. If he reads this, he'll know. If you read this, try to pass on the message that nothing has been caused by a cold heart--only a messed up nervous system.
Thank you, and I wish you the best!
A Closure Of Sorts
All right all right, I'm being melodramatic. I mean, how much can I really complain when (1) I'm still here to be writing this and (2) I'm finishing this span of time with a net plus instead of a prognosis negative? Well, I'd have to be oblivious to not see where my path went especially screwy. But the glass is half full, right? Yeah, sure...
I'd divide this summer into two parts--I Was Stupid and I Was Sick and Stupid. I suspect it sucks for anyone to be told they are loved by someone when it's considerably less than the truth. Yep, after carefully keeping out of the crap river that is romance, I succumbed. Hey, he sounded good, he said all the right things, and for all I could tell he really did love me. What kills me is that I know better--maybe it was a fatal dose of optimism.
So what REALLY happened? I'm still sorting it out. I seem to get a new rendition of the truth every day, so I don't know what to believe. But I take a lot of comfort in a few things. For one, I did really love this guy. Whether he lied or not, I know that I didn't lie to him. I'm also grateful to whatever powers that be for getting me out of what could have turned into a disastrous situation. I'd rather not elaborate on that, other than to say I'm not unmindful of the events that seemed to deliver me.
Sick and Stupid is all about the neurological condition that has eaten away at the myelin sheath around my neurons. The result has been an epilepsy-like condition in my nervous system--one that originally showed on the MRI as a possible tumor. There was a time there when the possibility of not seeing 38 (let's remember Senator Ted Kennedy) was very real. But I've been spared, and now I'm both fighting the disease through medication and IV treatments and planning on making the most of this new chance.
But there have been good things, too.
I've learned that people are capable of great kindness and generosity.
In finding a new editor, I know that persistence and self-confidence pay off.
I'm a stronger person than I ever believed.
Perhaps most of all, I understand the courage it takes to be true to one's self. Being true means facing down your demons as well as anything else. Good or bad, I seek to know myself as the person I am, with all the scars and warts.
Life. It's a roller coaster. Keep strapped in, but don't close your eyes!
