October is always a reflective time for me. This year is no exception. Between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur (I’m not Jewish, but both the New Year and the day of reflection/atonement elements of those holidays are meaningful to me) and Samhain and Halloween and All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day/Day of the Dead/Dia de los Muertos, well… There’s a lot that gets stirred up just from all that, let alone from looking back at where I was a year ago.
I’m feeling bittersweet, wistful. This afternoon I looked through all my journals from this time last year. And it was, as I remembered, hardly a picnic for me: I was dealing with money & school stress, my landlords were being douchebags and stalling about making urgent repairs on my apartment, I was dealing with a lot of nasty health stuff, and I ended up getting diagnosed with fibromyalgia. Not everything I was dealing with was Hella Awesome, by any means. I have no desire to look back on This Time Last Year with rose-colored glasses.
But? I was falling in love with a sweet, beautiful boy, a guy who made me feel like I’d won The Boyfriend Lottery. I was having lots of fun amazing Love Adventures & the best sex of my life. I was with someone who made me feel like The Cherished Pink Cupcake Princess. Who reassured me, over and over, that he was steady and solid and in love with me and not going anywhere. All of that made even my worst days feel sweet & good. There was a soft place to land. After years of being unpartnered, opening myself up to A. and trusting that he wasn’t just gonna disappear was a huge shift for me.
And, well… Then he eventually did leave. I’m really only now starting to recover from the huge & brutal shock of having my steadiest person vanish. And of course there were reasons, very legitimate reasons, for him to leave. And as sad and wistful as I might be right now, I’m uninterested in demonizing him for leaving. People do what they have to do. I get it. But it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt, and it doesn’t mean I don’t wish it was different.
All I can say right now is that I miss him, and that shit feels hard. Not insurmountable, and not in crisis. But hard. And wishing it could all be different while simultaneously knowing that it can’t be different is a profoundly uncomfortable way to feel.
I know that time is really the only thing that heals feelings like this. And I have books to read, papers to grade, a motherfucking novel to write, and, most importantly — a big & interesting & exciting life to tend to. I know that I’ll get through this with time. I just wish I could press a fast-forward button right now.
Onward & upward. This too shall pass.