I lost you, not the love, but in spite of love.
In the avoidance of love, in the deep-rooted fear of choosing truth in love.
I lost you in the moments when I couldn’t see what I was creating. A web of tender pain that tugs on the heartstrings. A pendulum of a ride I thought I could control and that you would just be there forever holding on.
I made you put a blindfold on, asked you to trust me, and then I sat you down and took you on a ride without ever communicating where I wanted to go or asking if you were having a good time. Getting your input created insecurity in my ability to do it alone, so silence on your part was what was needed. You tried to tell me; you would tell me, “I’m confused,” which I could only assume was partnered with motion sickness of all the back-and-forth I made us do, but I know when you vocalized it I pretty much used the method of gaslight.
Reminding you that you chose to be here, that you wanted to come along and if you really want to jump ship then that’s your choice. I never really wanted to look at myself to understand why that could be so damaging. Projection relieved me from the guilt that I felt for ever allowing you on the journey of pain. I wanted to lose you, I couldn’t hide my pain anymore.
I lost you; you finally jumped; you finally have had enough. Parts of me were confused as I always thought you would stay; I just figured that you wouldn’t know where to swim if you were to go.
There are parts of me that are proud that you have completed a cycle and that you have finally said no that you don’t need the direction of where to go because what matters is that you’re choosing yourself.
I lost you to yourself. I lost the battle of controlling my fear in the face of love because somehow you found yourself through the moments that I forced your eyes closed but wanted your heart open. It took you time; you took advantage of the cycle, of the time I spent in ignorance and avoidance. I thought I had full control over what I felt and where I thought I needed to go. Now you have shown me that I didn’t know what I was doing or where I was going. While standing on a ship that was slowly sinking, I refused to assume a position of responsibility. To admit that it was going down and I was losing everything I thought I wanted and that you were tired of the ship that I was supposed to be steering and you were coming down with me.
I lost you in a forest of trees, turns, and trails while thinking that I was leading us on the right path. I told you that I knew what I was doing and that I needed you to just be quiet, don’t make a sound, and let me focus on the direction. Follow me, trust me, and let me do my work because, in the long run, it will be best for both of us to just let me assume control.
At first you complied. At first you were enamored by the way that I took control over leading us to where we needed to be and that I stood so strong in my truth. Little did you know that I wasn’t all that confident or speaking the truth. I created a scene in which it looked as if I knew what I was doing while wanting to hide in every bush that we ever walked past.
Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I did; I told you to keep close and follow me, and then I’d run and hide so you couldn’t find me leaving you stranded on a path in which you had no idea where you were supposed to go. I was always inspired by your willingness to try and keep moving forward with or without me. To me, it looked like you did better off without me. You somehow found ease in navigating the unmarked trail. Once I thought I was ready and got myself together I would always come back to try again.
This was our cycle—our pendulum. I haven’t taken responsibility yet in terms of how I contributed to the loss of love through my own fear. I haven’t even admitted to you that my fear was rooted in loving you so much that I was terrified to be wrong, to lead you, to trust that my actions would lead us both to where we wanted to be, that I would only harm you. I was caught between needing the control of the blindfold and silence versus the desire to just leave you to fend for yourself because watching you figure it all out on your own was somehow easier than carrying around the shame of f*cking it all up.
I lost the love of my life to her finding parts of herself in the mess that I created. She came into my life and I tore it apart and in the end, she left. My biggest fear and my biggest desire all manifested at once. The desire to have her just go away so that I didn’t have to deal with her and her experience of my chaos anymore and the fear of being abandoned in the midst of doing what I thought was right for her, to feel the shame that I was what was holding her back. I never meant to hurt her. I didn’t even want to admit that I did, even when she would tell me I would excuse her from my life.
She finally got off the ride, off the path, and I don’t know if I’m relieved or sad to no longer be in the presence of the love of my life. I guess my fear of messing it up ended up manifesting through all the stress that I unconsciously created. The over-focus and priority I placed upon myself rather than the love that I thought I needed to be perfect for. I always made it about me. I guess right now that it isn’t about me, I can finally make it about her and now it’s too late.