They say that you are only afraid of losing something when you know what you have to lose. I assume this is true because right now I am afraid.
Realistically, I know this is just anxiety’s ugly mug peeking through the shadows again and it will pass. I know that by the time the suns rises on the new day tomorrow, things will have calmed down in my head and I will have my confidence restored. Oh, but that’s not right now and right now I feel like I could cry and be sick and laugh and run a marathon** all at the same time.
But in saying this, I’ve realized that I do have a lot to lose. Maybe not “things” in the monetary sense- the value of stuff in this world I have learned to be among the least valuable in the big picture- but the people! Ah, yes the people. I have a great many of those which I am unwilling to part with.
Do allow me to explain this particular materialization of thought…
I had a wonderful evening tonight. It was filled with the creativity of other people (one of the perks of living where I am right now) and as I walked home, I felt the spark of inspiration tugging at my fingertips. I arrived home (or, as “home” as a hostel can be) and set up my laptop for the inevitable writing session. Being technologically impatient as I am, while I waited for the power to boot up, I hopped on Facebook for the interim on my mobile phone. First thing I see? A picture of my ex-boyfriend’s* ex-fiancée. A woman who, although I am reassured was completely wrong for him, I still cannot help but feel the pang of cold jealousy for all the years she had with him. I’m trying to find ugliness about her (hey I’m not fooling anyone here- I’m a chick. Chicks stack ourselves up to other chicks and compare, compare, compare and alas- albeit sadly- I am no different). But try as I might, I can’t honestly say that she is. Dammit. She’s actually pretty freaking beautiful. And that makes it even worse.
Now, am I worried about losing him to her? No. I’m genuinely not. Hell, she’s married now, even. To a different man! So what is my problem? It’s not like I think there are residual feelings there, because I know there’s not. But at the same time, they have a history, and it’s a pretty deep one too, having been engaged and all.
But then logic, who always seems to be “that guy” who shows up to the party late (and sometimes already drunk) kicks in and proverbially smacks me in the temple, shouting at me that it doesn’t &*$%^ing matter, IT DOESN‘T &*$%^ING MATTER!! It doesn’t matter what they had, because that’s just it- it’s what they had– and that she wasn’t right for him, and that’s where their story ends. So what gives, brain? Why is the past so palpable to me?
Well, buttercup, it’s because I know what I have to lose…
But you know something? Some time ago, something went ‘click’ in my brain and I see that it’s not her that I’m concerned about, or others like her, or even anyone in particular. It’s everything. And it’s a weird concept. But I am terrified to lose what I know in my heart and soul that I never ever want to lose. And I think it stems from being through the bad weather, the storms and the chaos, and coming out the other side, maybe scathed to a degree, but still going. But the point is, is that I went through it. Not around. Not over or stealthily underneath it. Nope. Head on, set-the-controls-for-the-heart-of-the-sun, come hell or high water, through it. And I remember the pain of such an endeavour. The unpleasantness of it. Losing the people I hold dear to me- again, in some cases- would pass me straight through that storm again.
And who in their right mind would want that?
At the end of the day, I reiterate the fact that I know this brain cloud will float on by, melted away by the light of a fresh new Nelsonian day. I know that I will talk to him* tomorrow and he will say something that melts my heart and/or make me laugh, and/or makes happy tears leak out of my face. And I will put the phone down with a smile on my face and excitement in my body’s vibration and all will be right in the world. And I will have gained another weapon in my arsenal of things with which to defuse future anxiety. Score, man.
But there will be a next time.
And so, I will close in saying this: I’ve spoken of my anxiety on this blog in the past. And I have come a long way in the time since posting it originally. But it’s still there. And I suppose that’s what makes life, life, isn’t it? It’s not designed to be done easily. Yet here we all are- damaged, broken, fixed, re-broken, tired, ragged, and worn, but we are here.
And that’s gotta count for something, right?
*although technically still an “ex”, but one with whom I have been talking to an awful lot lately, and not in the “awful” kind of way. I guess it’s a “we’ll see where this goes but damn, it’s looking good” thing. Feel free to cross your fingers for the cause.
**a short one. Like a couple of blocks, max. Which I supposed isn’t a marathon, but considering I do not “do” marathons, it’s a good basis in which to compare. You know what? Just imagine I run marathons regularly. Yes. It’s better that way.