One of the harder things about the prior relationship was the absence of connection on the things that bothered me the most. I won’t say that the lines of communication were crossed, rather the communication that I thought I needed never happened in the way that I needed.
From November 28, 2005 until June 14, 2014.
That is the number of messages in the Yahoo account that were exchanged between Gei and myself. Some never got answered. Some exist in other email accounts. The number one method of communication though between the two of us, outside of text messages was that account.
I rarely go into that account any longer. It gets spam messages and holds that lengthy documented history of those two people who once were in love.
When Yahoo got hit by that computer bug a few weeks ago I contemplated letting the account die. I opted not to eventually, but I contemplated it for a while.
By that time I’d moved along and I was working on the connection between the boyfriend and the girlfriend and myself and I understood that staying too long in that place would do harm. Shit even writing this out has the potential to do harm.
One thing I’ve learned over time though is that I have feelings – I manage those feelings – and my method of management involves suppression until the pressure builds – release – then the next time it takes longer for the pressure to build.
Imperfection in practice but one of those little survival methods I’ve needed to create in a world that makes survival difficult at times.
I’ve been having dreams off an on for weeks now. He’s in those dreams. I fear those dreams.
One of the things that happened when I first picked up my practice was that the dreams of him began. Within days he was in my email.
I fear that the most. That he will be there again.
Our scars contain the power to remind us that our past is real. My scars their myriad of shapes and colors and their existence – along with 1576 remind me that my past was real.
Thank you for teaching me that all little girls need a daddy no matter how old they are is the message I sent.
I could have written so much more, but I chose those words, like all of my words carefully. To say anything else would put me in danger. While I chase danger and fuel my soul with the exhilaration of its intoxicating wine, I put myself into a safe place, one I am choosing not to leave.
The girlfriend and the boyfriend both have their own versions of Gei, even if the history is different than my own. They could each tell you a tale of one who came before me who captured their heart. I owe them a more detailed story of my own.
That way they will understand better why days like today are so difficult, and why like days like tomorrow will appear and what happened today will be so infrequent in appearance.
My memory often won’t lend itself to details. At least not until I need them. Yet those details often surface when I need them and like the photographs I mentioned in the prior post capture a moment in history that does not resemble my current reality. I recall the details of the pink dress. I got that dress at Sears. I hated that dress, until that day I wore it.
I don’t recall why I bought it, but I do recall that it was the girliest thing I had in my closet and before we went on that date, it was important for me to look like a girl. I remember my sandals and I remember the white flowers. I remember the ponytail I wore with the white scrunchie. I remember seeing him at the door and feeling 10. I remember holding his hand while we walked along Kelly Drive because I was so nervous and I was talking with my hands and almost took out 3 roller bladers with my motions. I remember how still and quiet I got the first time I put my hand in his. I remember looking up at him and him looking down at me and the smile on his face.
In that moment before I knew how important having a daddy was to me in that moment of time, I let my inner little out for the very first time, and she was embraced and nurtured and accepted without question.
That little girl took a very long time to come back out. Today she comes out a lot. When she comes out she has just as safe a place today as she did that day. Yet, I still fear her return to the familiar. As if the familiar has come calling.
Of some of the happiest and saddest moments in my life.
Shit, I could publish just them and the reader would understand. Hell, you might understand even better than I do, what was lost and why I fear finding it again.
As our communication broke down to a historic low level I packed up little Nicole and hid her to keep her safe. She comes out more now, because she has a safe place to exist, and a Daddy to hold her hand so she knows it is safe.
But like all little girls there was a first and the first holds a special location and status that even if another comes along with all that you need – doesn’t make the first go away.
It also doesn’t make the process any easier, or the dreams go away.