It was a july morning, and I was getting ready for my morning activities, when I got the text – was it a text or a call? I can’t remember anymore – from my Ex telling me that Alex had passed on. Of course, she did believe me now. I woke in the middle of the night, afraid, talking nonsense; Why on Earth did I dream about him lying in coffin a week or 2 weeks before he passed ? I was in denial.
I remember that summer when I told my Ex that morning she was tired and in the state of suspended disbelief. I remember yelling and crying, and I remember when I went to bed, my heart raced like i was gonna give up. I remember not being able to sleep. I remember afterwards, thinking I had ESP or some other psychic connection to Alex and the other victims of my unruly dreams. And I remember going downstairs to get a drink of water, and then losing total appetite. I remember finding the note i wrote of all the victims and I remember panicking and blaming myself and waking up to tell her. I remember trying to totally dissociate myself from reality in a damning quest to understand myself more. My life had become an elaborate labyrinth, so twisted that I could barely fathom or come to term with; having transcended from the ordinary to who I am presently.
I had to pray and read some books to understand why it was so hard to bear the loss. And it eventually hit me. We don’t mourn what we lose, we mourn what part of us dies because we can’t see ourselves in the context of that thing anymore. We lose a job, a partner, control, sanity, love and we feel as though we are suddenly incapable because we’re always relying on something else to make us feel that way. We’re scared that we’ve lost yet another thing that confirms we aren’t failures, another person who could have infused us with just a little more hope. We’re distraught over the fact that there isn’t another, It’s rarely about the thing or person, it’s about us. Because we don’t want to exist unless we’re wanted.
(And yes, the headline is from the Mary Lambert song.)
We have people murdering each other and slowly killing themselves with every meal they purge and wrist they slit and slating themselves against others because they don’t agree with them and inflicting torture on each other and themselves because we’ve been convinced that the only way to attain ideal existence is to either tear ourselves down or beat ourselves up until we’re finally what we “should” be– no matter what it takes to get there. It’s was not an issue of culture or of gender or of society anymore, those issues are all symptoms of the fact that it was an issue of my humanity, and just how out of touch with it I was. Thanks for reading ! 😊😊😊