I stopped writing because I felt like I couldn’t say what I wanted to say. I think part of it was because I was trying to save face. Both of those in my life and myself. Mostly myself. However, in that time period, I’ve regularly come unglued on Twitter and, to some extent, Facebook. My twitter feed, sans retweets, gives a brief glimpse into the overall status of my mind. Even there though, I censor myself, trying to keep it all somewhat in order.
However, I’m tired of not being able to unload all of this. In some sort of way, it’s cathartic. Though, if I’m being honest, at the end of the day, talking really doesn’t help me. Just saying things out loud to other people or writing them down for the world to read doesn’t really make me feel any better. I feel compelled to do it though still. Just like going to therapy. I don’t have the money to go, I don’t have health insurance, and I don’t feel like it helps. But I still go.
The last 12 months have been the worst of my life. Today is the one year anniversary of what would be the beginning of the end of my relationship with Kayla. I fucked up and ushered in a cycle of events that reads like something from a supermarket novel. I broke her heart and while I tried with all my might to make it right again, I couldn’t make it last. I laid it all out and put everything I had on the line. In the end, I came up short. It just wasn’t meant to be.
“I want you to be happy
You’re the rainmaker
I can hardly stand
I can hardly sleep
It was never really meant to be
You and me”
–Sleigh Bells – “The Rainmaker“
I don’t care what anyone says, but Kayla wasn’t a rebound. If I had meant her to be some sort of placeholder in my life, I can safely say that I wouldn’t still be so fucked up over her. I certainly didn’t do all that to end up here. I have a lot of regrets about how things are now, but none about how it all started. The best memories are arriving in Rhode Island and leaving with her. That trip to Maine for New Years. Fighting over TV shows. Late night pizza in bed. Things were far from perfect and I had a hard time opening up, but it was good and I felt loved. I feel like I remember everything that happened so vividly. And then, when she left, for the second time… Well, everything from that point seems like some sort of bad haze. I floated through spring and summer, on autopilot. I was still fighting with my (now former) employer. Playing the sort of game that no one wins. My heart was broken and my spirit had been trampled upon by the company. I was exhausted, and combined with the political climate, I opted to leave while the sun still shined.
Meanwhile, I was spending a lot of time at Megan’s house. I kind of lulled myself into the idea that we were going to get back together. Sometimes she helped prop this idea up. However, considering we can’t even have a meaningful conversation about how I’m expected to pay nearly $1100 a month in child support without a real job, I don’t think we’re able to have a relationship beyond friends and co-parenting. Everytime, I end up getting all twisted up inside. I can’t keep trying to make something happen when it’s not there. Or where someone is unwilling to admit, publicly, what they want.
With Kayla, I’d tried to leave her mostly alone. I might be wrong, but I think she’s initiated contact with me more often than I have with her. That’s largely, because I don’t even know what to say to her. I don’t know how to have a normal conversation. All I want to say is how much I miss her. I know that doesn’t accomplish anything productive and I can only imagine that she doesn’t want to hear it. She had told me Wednesday morning that she was going up to Kate’s for Thanksgiving. When she left here last year, that’s where she ended up. I told her that I hoped she had a good time. Later that evening, I broke down.
I had tweeted something like 6 times that day already, without much attention, so I assumed nobody would bother on this one either. But I’m sitting in bed, thinking about killing myself, and my phone vibrates. I look and I see two new interactions, both from the very same people who are sitting with Kayla at that moment. Jordan follows me, so I could maybe see that, even though I can’t remember the last time she liked or interacted with my tweets. However, Kate doesn’t. She had to actually go pull up my account to like the tweet. It felt very intentional and I felt even smaller than before. I suppose they decided that I wasn’t good enough at beating myself up. They were there to offer virtual assistance. I was already on the ledge and it felt like I was being indirectly cheered on from miles away.
Yesterday, I couldn’t force myself to go to Thanksgiving dinner. All morning, I kept watching the clock, counting down the minutes until I would need to get ready until finally, I just decided that I couldn’t handle it. I wanted to, but I just didn’t want to deal with the memories of last year, the questions of what I’ve been up to, and perhaps a few misgenderings or even a dead naming for good measure. So I opted to stay home.
I ventured out of the house around 4pm to get some beer. Because nothing helps depression like alcohol. I roamed around the liquor store near my house, and came across Del’s Shandy by Narragansett. Both Del’s and Narragansett are something that Kayla enjoyed, and it seemed odd for them to show up in Kentucky, even more so in a liquor store that I normally avoid. (My normal store was closed.) I sent Kayla a picture saying that it wasn’t something I expected to find. We exchanged a couple more lines and she said she was going to eat dinner. I told her to enjoy.
Not even a half an hour later, she posts a picture of her dinner with a quote of “98% sure I won’t be dumped at the end of the night this time. #thankful #thanksgivingclapback.” Jesus Fucking Christ. I guess I deserved that, but damn, kick a person while they’re down. The shandy wasn’t very good either. *sigh*
“But you, amplified in the silence
Justified in the way you make me bruise
Magnified in the science
Anatomically proved that you don’t need me”
–Manchester Orchestra – “The Silence“