Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon

One of my Portland friends told me that she’s moving to the Midwest. It feels good that I can have “my city” back, because I doubt that I ever would have gone back to Portland if there was even a whisper of a possibility of running into her. It’s not that goodwill doesn’t exist from my direction, it’s that I would much rather love her from waaaaaaaaaaaay over here. I am much more happy with the thought of having good memories than creating bad ones.

I think about what she means to me now and the balance looks different. The more people hear my story, the more convinced I am that I am not crazy and something really did happen between us. Whether that meant she wanted to lord control over me or whether it was really love is moot. Either way, I have been and will be affected for the rest of my life. She can deny me the truth for the rest of her life, but I will not let that affect mine. This is because I can hold it in my mind that I could be absolutely wrong about everything, but she has never once offered any explanation for anything and tight-lipped silence says more to me than anything. It’s not that silence equals guilt. It’s that not telling me anything has been worse than telling me everything (I hope). I am prepared for the possibility that the reason I don’t know the real truth has two possibilities: 1) Neither does she 2) she thinks it would be too malicious for me to bear.

I waffle between those two ideas often, because the former is much less threatening. The more I read about the psychological tactics that were used to get me to stay in the relationship, though, the less I feel secure. I wander through years and years of memories every day trying to come to some approximation of peace, and sometimes I find it. But the tendency to ruminate is so entrenched that peace is temporary.

I am learning every day that this “breakup” is solely dependent on me releasing myself from ruminating about a problem that’s been turning in my head since September of 1990, but I am not going to be able to do it alone. On one hand, I view her as one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met in my life, and on the other, she is a dark force that has controlled my breathing, never letting it relax from fight or flight.

I’m sure by now she probably thinks it would have been easier to just pay more attention to me, but I don’t think that at all. If I hadn’t had to go through this pain at this time, it would have been put off and become even more explosive. It needed to happen, and even if I didn’t learn the Truth, I still had to learn my own. By now, we’d had entire psychological battles in front of two congregations in two states in two denominations in two different DECADES. How much further did I have to be entrenched to see what was going on?

But that was the point! Keep me entrenched and I won’t be able to see that I’m whole, happy, and healthy… because you need me to be lesser than. I feel so much more powerful now, as if I have come back into my body after a long dream. Parts of myself are coming together better than before they were torn, because scar tissue is so much stronger.

Author: theantileslie

I'm 41. I am single, probably because geeks don't get laid.

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