whatever you want it to mean: the wasted year

This entry brought to you by:

Rogue Imperial Stout

(bottle) Hard to find anything wrong with this beer. If I had to pick something it would be the high ABV which limits the amount that can be consumed. A yummy chocolately flavor with a fairly intense alcohol burn. Quite good, and I will be buying more bottles which I will try to let age.

So, this is tough, writing this entry.

I can think of a million reasons why I've been putting it off, and I'll list them right now, one by one.

No, I'm kidding. I'd never do that to you.

Instead I'll just start typing and hope that the main reason reveals itself quickly before I die of boredom.

This entry will close out the period from October 9th, 2004, until middish/lateish September, 2005.

I will call this period The Wasted Year for reasons that are probably already evident to some of you, and which will become evident to the rest of you.

If you don't die of boredom yourselves before I finally get to the fucking point.

So, where was I?

Oh yes, I was dead. I died on October 9th of last year. I'd call my death a metaphor. Some may call it an exaggeration. Others may call it whiny crybaby drivel. But whatever you call it, it's all the same thing.

When I found out that she had left, I was devastated. Obliterated. I'd waited 39 years to meet someone that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, but I fought it and denied it and ignored it until that veeeeeeeery moment when I couldn't deny or fight or ignore it any longer. That very moment when I brilliantly figured out that I'll probably only meet the love of my life but once in my life so I should probably stop being so fucking scared and just take a fucking chance for once. So, I decided to take that chance, and I was too late. She was gone. And every last bit of anything and everything that she'd inadvertently reawakened inside me died.

(I have this yummy beer I'm drinking to thank for that last paragraph. I'll probably read it tomorrow and delete it.)

You know what really pisses me off about the past year?

There was a girl. A girl that was everything I ever wanted. In a companion. In a girlfriend. Maybe even in a wife. She was everything I ever wanted except for one thing. She wasn't the one I was in love with. I tried so hard, I tried for so long, to divert my attention toward her, but it seemed like the harder I tried the more resistance I met. And, and this is what really pisses me off, all of that resistance was coming from inside me. My own heart betrayed me on a daily basis. Every minute, every fucking second, my heart waged war against me.

I could spend the rest of my life telling MixedSignalGirl how sorry I am that I didn't love her. I probably will spend the rest of my life at least thinking about what a colossal failure I was when it came to her.

I was supposed to be her hero, and instead I was the dragon and the black knight all rolled up into one.

Almost an entire year. Wasted on a dream that I never wanted to have in the first place. Almost an entire year, searching for answers to the questions I was afraid to even ask. Almost an entire year, hurting someone that truly cared about me while I longed for something that was simply not meant to be. Almost an entire year, wasted.

I think I was supposed to make a point here. Why has it been so hard for me to write this entry? To close out this chapter of my life?

For a while, I thought that perhaps some hidden part of me was actually still clinging to hope.

Wrong.

For a while, I thought that perhaps some small part of me was still waiting for some answers. For some closure.

Wrong.

What's been holding me back from writing this entry, what's been holding me back from closing out that period of my life when all I did was mourn and hurt and miss and long, what's been holding me back is that...

...I died, and whatever it was that arose from death wasn't me anymore. It was something that only existed to feel pain. If I let the pain go away, there will be nothing left, and I'll have to once again start over.

So that's one reason. The other is...

...The last time I had to start over, it wasn't a choice. Oh, I thought it was a choice for a while. I thought I could control my own emotions and my own destiny and my own happiness. But I was either lying to myself or fooling myself. Probably both. There was no choice in the matter. At the moment that I first looked into her sparkling eyes, the number of paths available to my heart dwindled to one. I would love her.

But this time, this time it is a conscious decision on my part. The things that I've finally done and finally found to stop the flood of pain - I could switch them off in an instant.

It's ironic really. This 'blog is to blame for a lot of the problems I've had. If I'd been able to restrain my writings way back in the Summer of 2004, things might be a lot different for me now. The irony is that it's this 'blog that has enabled me to be sitting here writing this entry.

There's this one girl. A regular reader of mine. She is the one that pointed out to me that the pain was killing me all over again. She's the one that suggested that I had to try something different. Instead of trying to deal with the pain, she asked, why not try bottling it up?

And then there was this other girl. My kindred spirit. A series of coincidences led me to her, and she has given me what nobody else has been able to give. Understanding. Not judgment. Not argument. Not even pity. Simple understanding, from someone going through the same thing I'd been going through.

I don't know which girl deserves the most credit for curing me. I suppose they're equally responsible. On the Internet, everybody is secretive, but these two girls have shown me trust and understanding that I never could have found anywhere else - not even from my family and my closest friends. I've already said this, to each of them, many times, but I feel compelled to say it here:

To T and to N, what you have given me can never ever ever be repaid, but I vow to do the best that I can, for as long as it takes, to repay it anyway. You have helped me to get my life back, and I seriously didn't think it was possible.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yeah, the choice thingy. This time, ending this era, this wasted year, this pain-filled period, this time it's a choice. And with this choice comes responsibility. What if I'm fooling myself once again? What if suppressing these emotions and getting understanding isn't enough? This hasn't been tested, after all. I will be tested again. Eventually.

I sit here right now, and I know that I'm not ready to be tested. How can I truly consider myself healed, how can I honestly feel like I'm ready to close out this past year, when I know that all of that pain is still there inside me, building up pressure, ready to explode the next time she walks into my life?

I dunno. It just feels like I should close it out, this past year. Even if I'm not ready to be tested, everything else has changed over the last few weeks. I was in pain every day. Every single fucking day, I missed her. And now I don't. Even if it doesn't last, even if this turns out to be yet another false sunrise, and even if the darkness returns, this is still the end of an era.

I wasted a year, missing her. But I no longer fear spending the rest of my life missing her. I know that I can feel better, because I feel better right now. If I, reborn into pain, can still manage to live for a few weeks without that pain, then anything is possible.

This leopard can change its spots.

This scorpion can change its wicked ways.

This once broken man can have a life worth living.

And now I've got to go out onto my deck and finish this beer, to complete my little stupid tradition.