Aching hollowed flutter
On the edge of joyful remoteness.
The pleasure cruise of a dream world full of connection.
Just at its wings,
Newness fading into familiarity.
Light peaking over the ridge of truth,
And washing away the stillness.
Washing away the ‘us’ that never was.
Beneath a faulty cloud of tenderness.
Sewn together by wounded thread and pricks of bitter disarray.
Before one another under a crescent of flighty jumbled words.
Synthetic laughter tainting the pleasure of happenstance.
Loneliness a size too big for perfection.
Thumping along to the beat
Of a heart cracked wide open.
The centrepiece in a world full of ruined plenty,
And carefully, shaken faith.
Here’s the thing I sort of re-learned about trust and vulnerability this week: I can give it and open myself to be wholehearted and open-minded, but I cannot control what others do with it. I forgot about that little component.
These past few weeks someone from my past re-entered my life and I let myself get swept away in it. The tiny little niggling inchworms of doubt prodded at me occasionally and I ignored them and just sort of let it happen. I even let myself be vulnerable and feel joy because of it. Then, like a flashback to high school (okay it wasn’t around when I was in high school but it felt like a high school moment), I logged onto facebook and there was the very honest status update that snapped me straight out of my dream world. It was the words he couldn’t bother to tell me to my face.
Something a little like betrayal lived at the edge of the status update like a crown of thorns coaxing the halo from the head I’d bestowed it upon in error. That jackass. I felt impassioned and alive with the idea that he’d slapped me in the face with his own uncertainty and I wanted to key his car or eat a tub of ice cream or both simultaneously. I stared at the screen for several minutes with my eyes bugging out repeating “Oh my god” to myself like it was my personal mantra. In one amazingly public act of idiocy he’d contradicted everything he’d told me, and made me feel like a colossal idiot. I could feel the rage peeling paint off the walls as my blood boiled.
I went through everything in my mind. I’d put myself out there. I’d been vulnerable in terms of letting him come back into my life and I’d been open-minded about seeing if the connection still existed and he’d made me feel like a fool on a social networking site, not directly, but in a way that told me half-hazardly that he’d barked up my tree before he was done sniffing around another. Not. Impressed.
So does my own little personal version of the Jerry Springer show mean I stop putting myself out there and being vulnerable? Nah. You don’t join a sports team only if there’s a guarantee you’ll win every game in the season. I could go through life living in a little bubble- never being vulnerable and allowing others to hurt me (that’s my natural response) but I think it might make it difficult to experience any potential joy too.It’s a gamble. A VERY wise friend wrote to me and said “There’s no shame in trusting others. It’s shameful when people exploit that”. Preach girl!
He who shall not be named won’t be getting a Christmas card this year but I thank him for reminding me life is a series of learning experiences, good and bad, and courage is about showing up wholeheartedly for each one and gaining value and extracting joy. That’s it. No regrets.