Staring into the sun
May 12, 2013 § Leave a comment
Listening to: Never Let Me Go, Florence + The Machine.
Following on from Another Month On, I gladly find that the scenery is changing, albeit slowly.
Recently I have been able to get through most days without thinking about Nic more than once. Not all days, but most days. It had started to finally peter out. Then couple of weeks ago when I was fuelling up my car, I had an epiphany of sorts. I realised that I hadn’t thought about Nic in a while; if I had that day, it had been five or six hours ago. As I started to process this, I realised that I was feeling differently about it. I don’t know if it was the time of day, the fact that I was tired, the way the light came through the clouds or the wind brushed against my face, but I felt like I had changed positions since I had last checked into that mental place and was pleasantly surprised to find I had moved on in a sense.
As I examined this internally some more, it became almost like an out of body experience. I was able to totally remove myself from that place of longing and questioning and look at the situation like a third person with an entirely different set of emotions. As I stood there pumping diesel, hair flicking gently across my face, looking out towards the horizon all moody and nostalgic, it dawned on me that what had happened between Nic and I had been a great experience and that’s it. It was this once-off, fun, memorable experience that I could never give back nor have again and that it was okay to remember it as it was without being sad and wondering why and hurting myself with all these pointed questions. He certainly wasn’t doing that – he disappeared quietly back into his life keeping our secret locked up in his internal filing cabinet. My aftermath couldn’t have been more different – my husband suffered, our marriage was tested yet again, I beat myself up and churned things over and over, and for what? Nothing. There was no outcome. There were no answers.
Actually, that’s not entirely true. There’s answers – just unexpected ones that have taken me a few months to be able to hear. Answers that have needed the right attitude in order to be understood. The answers are that it happened, it just happened. The answers are that I had a great night and then it ended, that we are different people in different places, that it’s okay to remember and treasure the memories, that I am the way I am, that it is what it is, and most importantly that none of those things change the fact that I love my husband. They are the answers. Something happened and then it stopped happening; simple as that. Life carries on.
Nic said something once about how he seems to perpetuate this pattern of behaviour (i.e. opportunistically cheating on his girlfriends) and even though it’s landed him in hot water more often than not, it’s all about how he reacts the next time because really you are only ever reacting. I didn’t fully understand this at the time and still don’t entirely, but perhaps there is a point to be taken from it. You experience different events in your life, some which “just happen” but others you create. I used to really struggle with this concept, for years I couldn’t get my head around it, but I was eventually able to recognise that I do create or attract certain events in my life out of some subconscious need or desire. And so this thing with Nic; it’s just another event that I have manifested into my life for the apparent purpose of having the experience and watching what unfolds afterwards. The more experiences I have and the more crazy events I attract, the more I learn. And like he said, there is always something to learn. Perhaps the point of this was just to see how I would react, how that reaction changes or develops over time and most importantly how that reaction changes me.
It’s been a pretty intense few months but I am very glad to now be in this much more relaxed and comfortable position of being able to see something for what it is or was. I’ve been staring into the sun all this time, blinded by the light, awestruck and in agony. Finally I’m now starting to see beyond the light and not only can I look back at it and take in all its unique beauty, but I can hold it and touch it fearlessly and I can caress my cheek against it before tucking it back into my back pocket where it stays.
And I’m glad that this has taken me so long, ’cause it’s the journey that made me so strong.