But regardless of my accusations of being set up, I was again given a great challenge prompt as part of the Indie Ink weekly challenge. I'm telling you, if you have not gotten in on the action yet, you really need to. Every week I am more and more amazed by the writing that comes out of it from the kids that participate.
This week, I was challenged by Amanda. Her challenge was this: What's the worst thing you've ever done?
My challenge went to A Lil Irish Lass and will be posted here when her response is ready.
Here's what you get for my challenge response this week. Enjoy!
The Worst Thing
What's the worst thing I’ve ever done? It’s really hard to say. To narrow all the bad things down to just one “worst” thing? I don’t know that I am qualified to make that determination. I usually start off with good intentions if that counts for anything.
If I had to choose just one thing and own it though, it would probably be something I did to myself. I have always had a high tolerance for self-inflicted pain of the physical variety. Piercings, tattoos, and things of the like. If it was my choice to be hurt, I can own the pain that comes from the decision. I actually kind of enjoy the process to be honest with you.
It was a different story when the self-inflicted pain was of the emotional variety. I found out that was not quite as easily owned and certainly not as easily tolerated.
One year ago at this time, almost to the day, I fell in love. I’m talking the real true deal. My divorce had just become final, I was feeling free for the first time in too many years to count, and was perfectly content running my own agenda and not compromising for anyone. And that’s when I met him.
I am not someone that falls in gooey, sickening, “I can’t live without you” love. I am much too reasonable for that. I have always made decisions based on logic and followed a path of what made sense to do as next steps. I can say that the day I married my husband that I loved him but I wasn’t madly, passionately, crazy in love with him.
We made sense together and the next logical step was for us to get married and start our career climbs and have the perfect suburban life. So we did. And that worked for a while. And then that wasn’t enough anymore. We weren’t in the right kind of love with each other to weather the perfect storm that got thrown our way. We made the logical decision and got divorced. I still love him, but I’m not in love with him.
The last thing I expected was to find myself madly, crazy, “I can’t live without you” in love. Ever. That was just not something I would do. But I did. I mean I really did. Head first, jump in, no looking back, all or nothing love. The connection that we had from the very first look, first word… was like nothing ever in my life prior.
And I’m not talking about lust. That I know well and find often. This was completely different. This was something on a whole different level. The intensity swallowed me alive, left me gasping for air, unable to escape what he was to me. There was no room for logic or next practical steps. It was really a force unto itself. We were just too caught up in it, in each other, to worry about such trivial things like common sense.
He would write me a letter. One every week. Sometimes he mailed it; sometimes he delivered it in person. Those letters were like nothing I had ever read. No one had ever painted a clearer picture of the life I wanted before. It was truly like he was in my soul and knew everything my heart desired. I didn’t know how I would ever be enough for him. I certainly couldn’t return what he was giving to me. I didn’t know how. I’m not the type of girl to fall in love.
There was no choice with him. It was a matter that was beyond my control. I couldn’t have created a space between us if I was forced to. We spent entire weekends devouring each other, leaving only to get food and then returning immediately to pick up where we left off.
It wasn’t sex or fucking or love making, no, it was something entirely different. Sometimes it was as if we were purposely hurting each other because it was an intensity that was so great that there really was not an adequate way to express it to each other. It wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough. There was too much for it to be satisfied.
It was during our times apart, when I could catch my breath, regain vision of my surroundings when they weren’t blocked by seeing only him in my world that I could see what it really was. It was intense and amazing. It was also really unhealthy and borderline co-dependent. Somewhere between the love letters and the weekends of sex, he had taken over control of me. Literally.
If we weren’t physically together, I was to be online and available to him pretty much 24/7. I was never allowed to question anything, because I would always be wrong, or unreasonable, or not loving him right.
Slowly as time went by, I began to realize that I was losing myself completely. This wasn’t the normal give and take, compromising, that you expected to do as a relationship grows. This was a complete surrender. I was being taken hostage by him under the disguise of his overwhelming love for me. By the time I realized it, it was almost too late.
We had looked at houses and were signing the lease papers to make it official that day. That was the day I ended it. It was as if some survival instinct kicked in and allowed me the clarity to see how destructive and abusive the relationship had become. What was once beautiful had turned rancid. Somewhere along the line it turned from love to control, and I never saw it coming.
It was still just as intense as it had started, we were literally like magnets, drawn to each other beyond our own power but now the force that propelled us was dark and would only end with me being completely consumed by him or completely without him. I was not willing to be owned by him. It had to end.
The worst thing I’ve ever done? It’s hard to say for sure. But letting myself fall in love with someone who didn’t deserve it has to be near the top of the list.
In an ironic twist, I am going to see Ray LaMontagne in concert tonight. Why is it ironic you ask? Because his song "You Are The Best Thing" was "our" song from the very beginning. I guess something good came from the experience, I got introduced to an amazing singer/songwriter and can now enjoy his music with a bit of sad reverence. This was the song that was supposed to be playing in the background as we danced around the kitchen and kissed while making dinner. It was a good plan.