Rolling with the punches

A few months ago, I lost a very meaningful person in my life. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, I never had the honor of calling this person my boyfriend. Yet his significance to me becomes more and more apparent as more and more time passes by and very little has gotten any easier. There isn’t a single day that goes by that I don’t think of him.

In my blog I’ve always avoided speaking too specifically about my romantic life. However, today I could not refuse the semi-consciousness transcendent moment in which the opening words of this entry came to me. This is often how my inspiration to write begins.

I decided to at least write it down, and if I don’t want to publish it, I don’t have to. I think I will, however, since we all go about life pretending that we are strong when we are in fact quite weak. One of the purposes of my blog is to spark a dialogue and in some cases make people feel less alone in their “human experience.”

Sometimes I feel very strong. This is usually when I’m busy worrying about something else. I’m able to think about his loss in general terms, and I’m not focusing on a moment we shared together or his beautiful way of accepting people. But then something happens, something quite simple, and I’m filled with despair.

The hardest thing for me has been wrestling with what I’m actually feeling. Even though I rationally know that the “failure” was not my fault, I blame myself. I blame some inadequacy in me. I ask myself why I don’t blame him, when, if it’s anyone’s fault, it would be his.* I think maybe it’s hard for me to accept that what happened was out of my control. If it was my fault, that implies that I had some control, and therefore I can understand what went wrong, take responsibility for it, and move on. Accepting that I never had any control makes me feel like an idiot for allowing myself to surrender control. It also makes me feel powerless moving forward (if I got swindled once, what’s to stop me from getting swindled again?). And it also leaves everything open-ended, because I don’t fully understand why things went wrong. All in all, it’s much easier, though equally solution-less, to blame myself. Ultimately, I need to hear from him why he cut me out of his life the day after I last saw him, when on that very day I asked him to tell me if and when he didn’t want me in his life anymore, and he was amused by the suggestion that such a thing would ever happen. Wouldn’t you, too, blame yourself if you were me?

On the one hand, I believe that life will get better, that I will meet someone else perhaps even better, that I have to move on because it’s really a drag to cry so often. On the other hand, only hope can get me through the first two beliefs, and hope is quite fragile. As for the third belief, it’s one thing to believe it and another thing to do it.

After I graduated from college and started reading the news, and the economy is still shit, and there’s a new natural disaster every other day, the world has looked very bleak to me. People are overwhelmingly disappointing and rarely beautiful (these days). Part of it is the slow realization that there is no upward trajectory…there will always be good and bad; sometimes more good and sometimes more bad. When I was out with some friends the other night, I found myself saying that I just wanted someone to love me so that at least something would be truly good in my life and I could feel better about the world. I suddenly realized how pathetic that sounded but I couldn’t help but find it true. Wouldn’t I have that much more hope in my life if I woke up to love every day?

The practical side of me kicks in to tell me that I really can’t control who I meet and I’m only 23. Even if I never found someone, I prefer that over being with the wrong someone. I have to say, though, that 23 doesn’t feel so young to me. It’s young in the sense that I theoretically have a lot of life ahead of me. But I don’t feel as young as the number sounds. I don’t think Ariela at 23 is as young as some people at 23.

It’s hard for me to trust in life. If you were to read my entries from last year when I was in Spain, you would probably find this theme popping up everywhere. I have come to trust in my career trajectory, but I haven’t found the same trust in my personal life. The explanation for this is simple. I got a great job. I’ve never had a great relationship. But there’s nothing I can do about that except garner the trust in life and find the beauty in people that came so easily to the guy who, although he fought it for as long as he could, broke my heart.


*Not because he’s a jerk but because there are a lot of extenuating circumstances in his life that are not conducive to a relationship.


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One response to “Rolling with the punches

  1. Pingback: The meaning of life | Throwing in the Towel

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