Why in the world do I do this to myself? I’m a glutton for sadness.
On the way home tonight, I decided I was feeling nostalgic. NOTE TO SELF: *Nostalgia is a trigger. Find some knitting and a journal when feeling nostalgic.*
I did actually find some knitting tonight and it helped tremendously. I’d already let the stupid sadness seep in like an old friend though. And before I got my yarn, I decided to listen to some old music on my phone; old, sad music.
Unfortunately, I have some fantastic music that has had to be blacklisted from my playlists, purely for my peace of mind. There are just some songs that are too painful to listen to, songs that bring back too many sad memories of unhappy times with unhealthy people. Intellectually, I know this and most days, I remember and just plain don’t think about my old favorite songs or my old favorite musicals. I found a new radio station a couple of years ago…I used to listen to 80’s love songs and the like. Now I listen to pop stuff of today, thank goodness, when the radio isn’t on NPR. For once, my musical tastes match my age. And thank God, there are very few pictures in the house from that time period anymore and those still around are not easily accessible.
There was a time before I met my Jared when I grasped at being in love like it was something to be chased down and held tightly. I didn’t realize that real love was warm and unconditional and completely mutual. I lived in fear every day of being alone and having to say goodbye to the men I loved. And yes, there was more than one man, at times. I treated them all hatefully and truthfully, I could dish it out as badly as I took it back in my college days. I thought I thrived in the drama and the chaos, not realizing what an utter mess I was inside.
For the most part it’s all gotten worked out over the years. I’m coming to accept that there are just going to be people in the world who plain don’t like me and that’s okay. And I’ve learned that just because you loved someone once long ago doesn’t mean that person has to continue to be a part of your life forever. That’s the sane part of me.
The sick part goes something like this, though: nostalgia…overwhelming sadness….anger at other people….anger at myself…raging depression for days. I’ve stopped it tonight before it even got completely overwhelming, which is fairly significant progress.
I don’t know if it’s natural for me to always wonder where they are now and how they’re doing, but I do. One of the great unfairnesses of this life as I see it is my great capacity to love someone, my ability to treat them like utter trash, and then my real talent for doing, saying, and even these days writing something that pushes people out of my life forever.
I guess it comes down to the fact that I feel like closure never happened with some people that have disappeared from my life. And worse, I don’t really want closure. I hate burned bridges and I’ve created far too many of them in my lifetime. I know there may be more yet before I’m done in this life. I guess my one consolation is that as time passes, the ill feelings I’ve had toward people in my past are fading and I’m better able to appreciate the fact that they were a part of my life, even as I’m understanding now that the time I knew them was meant to be finite. The finite part is what makes me sad.
Thank God I can talk about all this with my Jared without him freaking out, being insecure, or getting mad. I just told him I listened to sad songs on the way home and he said, “Ah,” and he knew exactly what was going on without us having to discuss it. And he gave me my space to knit and write.
Tomorrow will be better.