Emotions

Warning: This blog could contain sudden outbursts of anger and colorful language. Not appropriate for children.

You know who you are,

How can you hate someone who is dead that you love so damn much that it makes it so you can't breathe when you think of them, when you see their name? I do though, I hate you.

I have no idea to this day why I chose him over you. I didn't even know I had you. Isn't that stupid? How did I not see. You came up every damn day after work ... and I assumed it was because we were friends. Nothing more. I was so blinded by the hurt I'd been through I couldn't see that what I wanted was at my front door. After all the years I wanted it for.

And then there was her. I felt obligated. Didn't I owe it to her to give him another chance? To try to make a family work? I'd failed one already. I didn't want to do it again. And I chose him. Over you. Obligation overtook my blinded heart and I walked away from you forever. I did that.

But I had wanted you so long. I can remember every look, every touch, every hug. I remember the night of the accident, the night of New Years, the times at Moms, the way you'd hold my kids, the way you looked when you were in treatment, and not once did I love you any less than I do now. I can see every stage of you, from 16 to 30, and remember every breath as if it were this moment.

And it wish it were. My life stopped on July 16. I felt the truck hit me, the way that everything on this earth crashed into me all at once. And I don't want to let go. I don't want to breathe again. I don't want to wake up past this day and feel anymore, because if I move forward, I am moving farther away from you. And I don't want you to be gone.

You were my compass, my rock. My constant. I longed for you as an angel longs for wings. I could breathe because you did. You loved my children as though they were your own, and in a way, they were. I clung to parts of you I could pass on to them. Did you know that every single one of them has an Irish based name? I chose them for a reason, I felt pulled towards them. I would look at you holding them, playing with them, and I felt something I've never felt before or since. My baby bear especially. She was at home there. Just as I was in your company.

When I heard you'd married, I was startled. It was then that I decided I'd never get married again. And here I was, engaged. I sabotaged left and right, and yet I was a fool. I knew we spoke no more, that the chance had forever passed. Its who you were. I felt like Juliet. Every man I've ever been with knew that my heart belonged to you, that my soul was yours, even though you never knew.

The day you left us, I locked away my heart, my soul. They had lost the other half to themselves, and it feels so unsafe to pull them out, unprotected. I hate that I love you and you're not even here anymore to know or to ever love me back. You weren't supposed to leave.

You weren't my spouse, but in a way, you were. You were what kept me going. The first time I drove to Moms after you passed, I cried. I cried so much I pulled over. If you watched over me at all, you know. I saw trucks like yours, bikes like yours. Your face as I pulled in, your arms around me, your smile. I wanted to die along with you. I cried myself to sleep at night, I felt cold ... alone. And I still do.

I locked myself up, stopped going anywhere. Ignored friends, made bad choices. I became reckless and depressed. I tried time and again to force myself out. I am still trying. Its not working.

I feel so broken. I ignore guys, sabotage dates, find ways to make excuses to be too busy to meet anyone, see anyone. I'm scared to death, to be honest. I don't want anyone to replace you. I don't want to love anymore, to feel anymore.I'd rather stay safe, lonely, and let you live every single day with me because no one is competing for your memory.

I hate that you died. I hate that I never had you. I hate that I am not allowed to feel like this because you were married to someone else. I hate that you're not here to dry my tears and be my rock. I feel like if I move on, that you're so much farther away than you are now, and I can't handle that. I don't think I can really live without you.

I don't know what a day farther from you would feel like. What does it look like? How do I breathe? I know that time is going on, even if I cant move on with it. Don't you see? This is why I hate you. I hate that I love you and because I love you I stopped living.

How do you get to the point where you can live again ... and be ok with the person living through you? How do you make it past the day that they died, and not feel like you will collapse when those milestones hit every month? I haven't figured it out.

I'm so angry, so hurt, so sad. I can't stop tears at random moments. I see your handwriting, and my whole world crashes to a stand still. Someone asks about the kids names and I can barely breathe as I try to explain. I see someone with your name, and I hope against hope that somehow they will become you or be just like you. People bump into people that look like you, and I am jealous of them. What I wouldn't give to see your face, to touch you just one more time. To have a chance to tell you.

And yet, about all of this I feel stupid. Silly even. I have no right to these feelings. I have no right for my life to be on hold.

But it is. And I'm not sure when or if it ever will not be. I'm afraid of what lies beyond this moment, this time. Of what getting past this means. Will I forget you? Will I forget what you felt like? What loving you meant? I can't live a life without that, without you.

I fight this war every night, over living or loving you. Living has yet to win. I've convinced myself that as long as I am alive enough to function for my kids, thats all that matters. Everything else in me can be numb.

I've created a world in which I can talk myself out of everything. Out of every risk, every effort. I give up easily and don't try hard enough. I've convinced myself of the tediousness that is dating and learning another person to escape the hurt that I never knew was possible until you. Until you passed, it was still all a game.

I've created the illusion of busy-ness, so I have an excuse, a way out, without giving it to myself. I am no longer me, and I have no idea who I am without you breathing the same air, looking at the same stars, sleeping under the same moon. I am adrift, lost, and without a compass.

I hide away the emotions behind a dam of epic proportions. To let the tsunami loose is to risk ... and I can't allow myself to risk, when I don't even know who I am when you don't exist. If there is a balance, a way to exist and let go, I've not found it yet. Looking for it ... might just be too scary.