A Way to Stop, Drop, and Let Go

Age 33:
I was on my own. In fact, I was on my own for what seemed like the first time. There was no one to tell me what to do or when to wash the dishes. I was new to the idea of divorce. I was new to being alone and not living with anyone. And this was the biggest thing of all.
I had never lived alone.
There was always someone around, and whether this was good or bad, at least there was always someone there. I was never alone before.
But I was about to be.

I remember walking up the stairs to my small apartment. I had come from a big house with a big yard, a pool, and all of this was reduced to a much smaller life.
Much like right now, I was broke then.  My bank account was in the red, and my friendships were like my marriage, lost or separated. If not, some of the friends I had were married to wives who believed that divorce was contagious. This meant they had arguments at home and their wives pointed out my name and said “what are you going to do now? Go live with Ben?”

I remember walking into my apartment for the first time.
I remember the hollowness of the rooms, empty and echoing, and I remember looking at the white walls with nothing on them.
All of my cabinets were empty. The fridge was empty.
And so was I.

I went into my apartment and felt the same as the vacant room.
I was empty inside. I was sad but not because of my loss.
I was living alone before too, just not physically. I was alone in the crowds in my previous life. Only now, I was alone on a much different level.
I was afraid of this.
But looking back, I’d have rather this than the loneliness i felt while living right next to someone.

Everything about my life was lonely.
I had no feelings about my ex-life (or my ex-wife) and there was not one moment when I considered whether leaving was the right thing to do.
Of course it was and this is true from both perspectives.
I knew this.
However, I knew that my fears of being alone were no longer able to overcome my unhappiness at home. Nor could my worries of what would come outweigh the discontent of living a lie and staying in a loveless house.

I was younger then.
Or maybe I still had some kind of hope. Maybe this is when I met you, my most special friend.
Or perhaps this is all due to a night when I considered the tragic end.
Just to end it all or cease to exist –
But no.
Rather than face the edge and bury my existence, I decided to write my thoughts.
I wrote my very first words on my trusty little computer, which was refurbished from a trash can.

I wrote the words “My redemption has nothing to do with your response.”
I have been writing every day since then.
I have had my ups and downs. I have had good times and bad ones. I rebuilt my empire and lost everything again, more than once.
And yes, I am still here.
I lost my last life and here I am again, not missing what was, but I find myself missing an angle or perhaps I am missing something that’s right in front of me.

I am alone again and while this is not my optimal choice, I am not living a lie.
I am not living a double life. I am not dishonest anymore.
I tried to recreate myself.
I tried love in different directions, only that love was either not real or not meant to be.
No, this is not tragic.
This is me . . .learning.
As my fears of being terminally alone grew and became insurmountable, I worried more about my faultiness. I assumed that I was not only defective or diseased, but that I am unworthy and unlovable.

I was told “Everybody hates you,” by someone who I assumed was supposed to be the most important person in my life. I was called a loser. I was told to “do the world a favor,” as in end it all because this person knew everything about me. They used their knowledge as a weapon.
Was anything real?
Was I?

I remember being told that we find what we are looking for when we stop looking for it.
Maybe . . .
I am also of the belief that everything we want, and all we need is always right in front of us.
At the same time, I do believe in romance.
I prefer to consider myself a hopeless or hopeful romantic.
I am in love with the ideas of being in love.
I want to be wanted. I want to be desired. I want to feel that mutual flow of ongoing warmth.
And I want this to never die.
I never want you to be sick or tired or bored of me.
And I want the same for you.

I am not shy by any means. However, I am intimidated by lots of things. I lack confidence. I have never looked in the mirror and found myself handsome or desirable.
I never assumed that I was hideous.
Perhaps I saw myself as average or maybe I assumed that my looks and my body hover just above subpar.
Perhaps this is one of many problems. I have always assumed that no one as beautiful as you would see me as handsome or attractive, at least not for long.
Maybe my inaccuracies stem from a emotional reflection and thus, I saw myself as I felt or as I lived, which was dishonest and selfish, or ugly and sometimes vengeful.
Hurt people tend to hurt people is what I was told.

I hurt good people. No, wait.
I hurt the best people.
And I say this not just as an admission of guilt.
I do not say this to add myself to a category of forgiveness and I do not reflect upon this as cool or justified.
No, I say this to be accountable.
I say this because I am as I am, which means that yes, I do have passion and I do come on strong.
I tried to see if I matched or fit anywhere else.
But I didn’t and I couldn’t.
I didn’t match because I have other challenges that make me difficult to be with.
Or, so I assumed.

However, and to add to my new journey, I have chosen to realize that I am faulty.
And yes, I am selfish.
Yes, I have said and done the wrong things, which is reflective of my romantic failures.
No, none of this is something to be proud of.

So . .
Whether my list of enemies outnumbers and outweighs my list of friendships, I cannot allow myself to fail in this comparison.
I cannot live according to outside opinions of me or if, in fact, there are those who wish me well or not, none of this has the right to deter me from my path.

I am not perfect, nor is anyone else. I might not pass too many tests but as I recall, most people fail their own tests.
Most people are hypocrites – especially those in my ex-life.
I see this now, clear as day.
Most are quick to point fingers and blame without being honest and looking within themselves.
But this is beyond me.

Maybe I am an acquired taste.
Maybe I am not fit for most people.
Maybe I am unwell or sick, or maybe the adverse opinions about me are true and accurate.
But, I say fuck it.
I have no time or energy left to fight or dispute and argue with my past.
I have no time for slander or to talk bad about anyone.
Besides, I have nothing bad to say.
Fighting never helped me and resentments only proved to keep me sick.

Therefore, I am done with sleeping in a bed next to someone and finding that empty space between us, which is cold like my assumption of a Siberian prison.
Do you know what I mean?
You’re in bed with that familiar stranger.
God forbid you accidentally touch in the middle of the night because the absence of intimacy has left you both cold like the center of the vacant mattress between you.
No two people should sleep like this — with both bodies at the furthest edges of the bed, far apart or separated with pillows that divide you like two souls behind opposite sides of the old Berlin Wall.

Never give up.
Never settle.
Never compromise your truth
and when you realize that someone has lied to you, believe that they’ve lied and adjust your sights to see the truth.

With that being said . . .
I do enjoy public affection. Or maybe it is safer to say that I do not care about whether I am in public or not.
Perhaps my time is about to come to light and soon (I hope) you and I will make that jump and see the world from a better perspective.

I have always loved sunsets.
Then again, who doesn’t love a good sunset?
These days –
I am someone drawn to the sunrise.

Ever see the sunrise from the shore at the beach with someone you love?
And I mean really love . . .
I haven’t done this the right way (yet)
but . . .
I love dawn and early morning victory.
I’d love to wake up next to you, my most beautiful girl, and then run out to bring home some breakfast—just to make you smile.

I apologized for my past enough.
Pardoned or not, good morning future.

Here I come.