Relief

Reaching a goal that you never thought was achievable is one of the best feelings in the world.  Whether it is running a marathon, I mean if that’s your thing (aka you're crazy), or something more personal, it is a sense of triumph.  Last week I was able to spend a whole night in the same room with D and not feel a thing.  I didn’t feel jealous, or wonder what he was thinking.  I didn’t give a damn that he was there and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let it ruin my good time.  The moment when I saw him and my heart didn’t skip a beat, and my breath didn’t flee me brought the most gratifying sense of relief.  That was the moment that once and for all I knew, without a doubt, that I don’t love him anymore.   

The thing about love is that it doesn’t just go away because you want it to.  The opposite of love isn’t hate either.  Loving and hating both mean you care.  Apathy is the real opposite of love, the ideal when looking to move on.  My heart stopped hurting a while ago. It hasn’t hurt to breathe when I think about him, and tears haven’t filled my eyes if he happens to cross my mind.  A little part of me thought that was just because I never had to see him,.  I worried that just being in a room with him would make me slip, that my addiction to his attention wasn't gone but just dormant under the surface.  But when I looked at him, all I felt was relief.  I don't love him, and I don’t even hate him.  I just don’t care what he thinks or what he does, as long as he doesn’t talk to me.  

Don’t get me wrong, I still think D is a terrible person, and I hate the things he put me through, but I don’t care enough about him to hate him.  I believe that some day, in one way or another, we all pay for the terrible things that we do.  I also know that I wouldn’t be who I am without struggling through that particular relationship in my life.   I honestly never thought I would get to this place.  I never knew that I would find a way to let all of the angst and tortured part of heart that belonged to him fall away.  It happened, and not because I found some magic combination of heart healing things.  It happened because I started to fill my life with people, activities, and things that made me happy.  Doing things that made me laugh pushed away the tears and the negative thoughts.  With every laugh or good memory made I missed him and hated him a little less.  If you fill your life with real pure love and joy, there eventually isn’t room for the rest.  

I guess I just want anyone out there who can’t see the light at the end of their dark and twisty emotional tunnel, that it is there.  You just have to fill your life with amazing people and positive things and have hope that one day you will feel relief when you realize you don’t care anymore either.        

Falling into Melancholy

Fall is starting to creep in.  The brisk mornings are becoming more frequent and before we know it, we won’t be able to leave home without a jacket.  I love boots and tights, sweaters and dark nails.  I love football Saturdays and Sundays, and the sense of comradery that doesn't seem to be there any other time of year.  The warm aromas of spice, pumpkin, and burning wood in the crisp air are comforting.  There is nothing like melting into your favorite sweater for the first time in months with a glass of red wine in your hand.  My playlists tend to slow down, and my nights in tend to increase.  Fall is the slow beginning to the long cozy winter hibernation.  As much as I love the changing leaves and lack of humidity, I often find myself a little melancholy and don’t quite know why.  

Maybe it is my newly increased age finally sinking in.   Maybe it is my DC anniversary reminding me how long I have been here, and how far away from my career goals I still am.  Or maybe it is because I was two sizes smaller back then, with confidence and a string of boys.  Maybe it is because fall reminds me of some many beginnings, that had such tragic endings.  I have always fallen in love in fall.  I look at all the epic relationships I have ever had, and they all began with the brisk autumn air.    

Daniel shyly asked me to the movies at the fall Hot Air Balloon festival when I was 15. I met Bryan on a cool Mississippi September night my freshman year of college.  Adam sat next to me in my political theory class fall of Sophomore year.  D asked to buy me a drink after trivia one night in October 3 years ago.  Stefan and I spent the fall starting something that I thought was going to be great.  For so long fall was for falling in love, until last year when fall was for falling apart.  

I won’t blame my dark time all on fall, but fall is when I realized how deep I had slipped into an emotional state that I couldn't get out of on my own.  It is when I began the fight back.  The thing about depression is that the downward spiral is the easy part, it’s climbing your way out of it, really dealing with it that is difficult.  It is taking the medications that make you sleepy, dizzy  and kind of numb, and having to share every dark and twisty part of yourself with a licensed professional, who is also still a stranger, that takes everything you have left.  Yes, I am stronger for all of it, but it took the of the magic out of fall for me.  

I want fall to be about wine tastings and brunches.  I want the excitement of a football game or an election night party.  I want to enjoy pumpkin flavored treats while wearing cute sweaters.  I want to flirt with men while talking about bourbon.  I want red lipstick pouts peeking out of scarves.  I want the rush of being walked home from the bar with the man’s jacket over my shoulders to keep warm.  I want fall to be about the twinkle in my eye again.  I am not saying fall has to be for falling in love with a man, but maybe the way to shake this melancholy is to try to fall in love with fall again.