Where was I? Here. Or not. I needed a little break. I’m back (ish).
Okay. Really…where was I? Oh right, the fucking fantastic nightmare that was my last relationship. Well, actually, I was in a spin class.
So, there I was in the spin class. Cold, dark room, people all around me. Everyone on their bikes, poised to be the best they can possibly be at 6 am on a Monday. Spandex and plastic and lipgloss and Styrofoam coffee cups.
I tell myself that the class is going to make me feel better. The class is going to even me out. I am feeling upset and unhinged and my extraordinary physical effort is going to help get me to a place where I feel like I will get through the day without tears. I am hopeful and also, entirely hopeless.
I start pedaling to warm up as the instructor sits on the bike and turns on his head mic. He is speaking into it, welcoming everyone back from the weekend, and his voice slowly morphs into that of the Charlie Brown teacher. Unrecognizable and undiscernible. Just a bunch of non-descript noises in the background. I have this rather fantastic moment whereas I tell myself that I am going to lose myself in this class and I will feel decidedly better after all is said and done.
I will pedal like it’s for my life and my body will be so taxed that I won’t have the requisite energy needed for dealing with major life issues. I will have to bring things down to a much smaller and more easily compartmentalized situation.
The problem is that I am pedaling and I am not feeling any better. Not even a little. My body is going through the motions and my head and heart are someone else altogether. I feel like my insides are being torn apart and there is a monster that is telling me that they are sorry for my injury but oh, while I’m at it, can I please avoid squirming as much so that I’m easily to digest.
Can you imagine? Well, anyway, it was mostly my choice to feel that way. I could have made a decision to face what was going on, head on, but I was too scared and so, voila. This is life. Well, this is a life that I chose. Not a life I had to be a part of, but one that I cherry picked.
Anyway, I had decided that I was going to use the class as a sort of purge. A cleanse. I was going to pedal until everything felt better. Sure, things felt like a complete shit show and I was embarrassed and heart broken and scared, but just about 57 minutes from that point, I would be able to turn a corner and everything would just feel a shit ton better.
Does that feel as insane to read as it did to write? I remember feeling exactly that way though, so I’m not about to sit here and bullshit you. My coping strategy was exhausting myself to the point of failing to think clearly. This is silly and counterproductive, but I couldn’t bounce this idea off anyone else given the situation, so I gave myself permission to just feel fine about it.
It was fine. All would be fine. At some point I might want to go in a different direction and I would be able to do so. But for now, this was a strategy and I was going to execute. And I did. I stayed. I pedaled that day and for years thereafter. I pedaled telling myself that he would get over whatever it was, or I would be able to fix whatever it was and everything would somehow just sort itself out.
I didn’t allow myself to go deeper than that too often. Now, if I had told friends what I was going through, based off the premise of SaTC and the response to such, people might have felt a little bad for me, but also, they would have stood behind my partner. They would have pointed to all the compelling social media evidence that we were a happy couple. Look at the places you’ve been to and the sights you’ve seen, and the shows you’ve attended and the concerts you’ve danced at and the friends you’ve made. Look at the smiles and the clear joy and all the signs that things are working out and life is good. Sure, things feels kind of yucky, but it’s just a bump in the road. Shit happens and people’s bodies react to stress and sometimes there is a psychic block and it takes time. Be patient and grateful and wait it out.
They would explain that they only have sex once a week with their spouse and life changes things and I shouldn’t make such a big deal out of something that is decidedly not a big deal. Just leave things as they are and don’t push. You are going to make a big deal out of nothing and then, if there is fall out or you push him away, you are definitely going to regret it. Drop it, relax, grow up, be grateful.
Anyway, you get the point, right?
The thing I failed to recognize because we are so busy fighting the urge to be bored with status quo is that what we had was the furthest thing from comfortable or reliable or long-lived. Every day we were teetering on the edge of implosion, and I allowed us to sit there because there is something compelling about that space. Also, I barely know what even keel looks like or feels like, so it’s impossible to judge or understand or opine.
What am I saying? Well, I should have taken those moments to ask myself in a vacuum what I wanted and what I needed. I should have been brave enough to ask questions and make demands, and when I did so, stick with them. Remain resolute in my desire for comfort, but comfort that’s real and not a sham.
I didn’t know or I was unwilling to admit that we only find the space where we are meant to stay when we feel around on all sides. It’s like that game of hot-cold, right? We are cold, cool, warm, warm, warm, cool and then one day, bam, hot. We have to feel around and decide what we like and what works and what fits before we can decide how we want to move forward.
Full circle? I am tired. I am so fucking tired, but not of doing the work. I’m tired of not doing it. I’m tired of not doing the work to find out where my middle is and what I wish for and what is going to get me closer to the granting of those wishes.
Speaking of, wish you a good weekend (I’ll be back next week- promise).
x
L.
thepathtoworthy.com 