Submission by?By Emma C.,?TNG contributor. Emma is a student in school and a student of Life. Observer, but no activist; fire-starter, but no flame. She wonders when that kid who used to skip rocks on the water grew out of innocence into the queer-folk she is today.
You know those movies where the entire day seems choreographed to a fairytale box office soundtrack- every step synchronized, bending over to pluck a four-leaf clover, sun in the eyes so bright that your smile deflects its potency, a plot driven character about to hit the apex of their arch, and that one pivotal character waiting outside an apartment steps. Well, a few weeks ago that day was mine, and I should have suspected as much.
The music stopped about fifty feet from my apartment when I looked up from searching for my keys. My stride stuttered a beat, and I instantly meditated myself away to an endorphin filled fantasy of jogging along a tequila sunrise beach. During the time we dated my ex had not once just showed up unexpectedly and waited at my apartment steps [something I might add was a fantasy of mine- having her waiting at my door holding a colorful bouquet for me].
That day was a bitter sweet assault of torrential rain, lightning crashes, and dramatic thunder rolls- an emotional storm of sorts. There was no music playing as I cried myself to sleep that night; there was no knock on the door from someone running back into my arms; there was only the ringing in my ears, an empty pillow next to my head, and soiled tissues where a body would occasionally lay aside me.
After a breakup, we strive to make our lives better; to move on; to forget; to plead the away the pain; to second guess actions made; to wish we never met them at all. Some say we put the pieces back together [but we all know we aren't jigsaw puzzles]. We reassemble. We repair. We endure and advance. We find ourselves forging new relationships, reconnecting with those we strayed from, returning to our core, and grappling with circumstances that remind of us of those no longer in our life as we would like them to be.
I won?t lie, it has been difficult to admit this painful truth: Many of the smiles and gay moments I?ve had since the breakup were in situations that I would have never experienced with my ex. Sad, but true.
I find myself hesitating to enjoy the smiles and feel unrest stepping outside myself during the gay moments ? forging new memories seems so contradictory; being open and willing for another queer relationship makes you vulnerable. It?s also been difficult to make decisions or evaluate things, regardless of how inconsequential or significant, without considering what their opinion would be. It?s not easy to remove a variable or operator from an equation, especially one that was so important and vital [I equate it to attempting addition without using a plus sign- (f)x = x? ? 2x ? 1; somewhere in there is a parabola but I don't know where].
The most difficult aspect has been the adjustment. Everything is back to single servings-?single serving friends with their single server grande lattes. I keep waiting for that single serving frame of the man sporting gray pants and a worn red leather jacket wearing sun glasses to flash before me, or maybe it would be a wiry black haired, vitamin D deprived woman in black dress.
It?s not easy when you loved?someone. You accepted them for who they were and are- faults, flaws, and all [and all you perfect people out there that think you're perfect, you do have imperfections; you just choose not to see them]. Unravelling those feelings is a tedious chore that typically does not happen quickly. It?s the Knot of Knots, but once it?s completely unravelled it allows you to move on. There is a bit of a cheat code to help advance you to the next level- closure. [Power-up with a green little mushroom, and maybe the next brick you break is a flashing star making you temporarily invincible, except for falling off screen.]
Some are able to get closure; others aren?t. If you?re able to get that closure, it never comes neatly gift wrapped in a bow [and if it did, it would most likely be a pink rabbit suit from Aunt Clara]; most of the time it comes as shards or metal shavings we?re forced to swallow like a spoonful of toxic amoxicillin. Some prefer the?ignorance is bliss analogy; others get hung up on or struggle moving forward because they never?got it. If it does come, regardless of how it happens, whether in an email, phone call, a face to face conversation, or a friend on their behalf, know others have been through the same and your family and friends are there for you afterwards.
My originally intention was to write this piece on closure, and in part it serves as much. One chapter closes as another begins. We are faced, sometimes it feels more like being confronted, with new circumstances, experiences, and possibilities. We?re forced to rewrite the plot that had been developing but never actually unfolded ??a happy couple: one pushing a stroller and the other with a kid saddled on their back, possibly holding a dog leash. Once done with the eraser head, flip that pencil over and start rewriting with a smart end ? the end with a sharp point ? because that is the end that matters most in life.
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Source: http://thenewgay.net/2011/05/finding-closure.html
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