Let me start off by saying that yesterday did not start off on the right foot. I woke up hours before my alarm was to go off all due to a dream about N. Once again, he managed to capture my attention in my sleep. Why, oh why, can I not escape this man? Even in dreams, he still visits me. Am I doomed to dream of him each night and think of him every day?
After a few hours of just sitting down, doing the absolute least amount of anything possible, I took myself out for a walk. It was a dreary day, which was perfectly fitting for my mood: Depressed. Sad. Worn down. But instead of feeling sorry for myself, I tried to make this a walk to celebrate myself and my emotions; good, bad, sad, mad, glad, rad… (That’s all I got for ya.)
My friend QT (not like “cutie.” These are his actual initials, people…) recommended me listen to a relatively new song by Rihanna called “Sledgehammer.” I am committing myself to learning the lyrics over the weekend and figured this walk would further escalate my abilities to retain the words. As I listen to this song on repeat, I remind myself that of all the obstacles I have endured, and there have been plenty in my life, I am still here. Still alive. Breathing. Laughing. Hair-tossing… (but that’s mostly for attention.)
Most of my friends have labeled me “the strongest person [they] know.” What an honor to recognize me as such. So why am I so downtrodden? What I have experienced happens to many people. And I still view things from a positive perspective. Sure, N and I didn’t end up how I had planned, but there are still great memories to choose from. I have sifted through the bad memories of my past before, so why not do the same here?
Simply because it’s still fresh. It’s a fresh wound that I just ripped the bandaid off of. And unless I get my ass into gear and start commanding the love and attention I deserve, no one will fix my heart. It is all on me. This is my problem and no one else’s. There is no one to blame except for myself that I am feeling this way.
That’s when I caught myself smiling and laughing. Today was going to be a good day, damn it! And I’m going to be the one to make that happen.
By 3 o’clock, I heard from my vet, Dr. C, that one of my cats, my favorite (shh… don’t tell the others) has kidney disease. “This is common in cats this age,” but of course my mind immediately went to “another loss, not even a week after all the shit I’m going through now.” “We can stabilize her condition, and she should be just fine. This happens. We’ll work through it.” While I heard her words, I couldn’t help but return to my slump of, “Well, another bright start shot to hell. What’s next? My car will die on me on my way up to Vermont tonight?”
$511 and some change later, I’m in my car and not even three minutes go by when my windshield wiper unaligns itself and essentially makes contact with my driver’s window. “Are you f–king kidding me?” In addition, not one, not two, but three lights are showing up on my dashboard alerting me that we have a problem. I try my damndest to realign the wiper, but to no avail. I realize I have to get my car serviced immediately because mama’s got to get to Vermont for work ASAP.
With two kitties in tow, I put that teal-green Honda into overdrive (personal joke) to my local automachanic, and after a 10-minute exchange between he and his co-worker, I find out that there are three additional problems outside of the windshield wiper. Oh, and that they need to keep the car through Friday.
“How much will this cost me roughly?”
“With parts and labor, you’re looking at about $345.”
Dan, a gentleman who works there with kind eyes and nice energy looks at me and says, “Mathieu, you seem really down. I’ve never seen you like this. What’s the matter?”
“Oh, it’s just been a bad couple of weeks.”
“I can see. You’re normally smiling from ear-to-ear. What’s going on?”
“You don’t even want me to get started. And even if I did, the moment things started getting juicy, a damn customer would walk up interrupting me, and then I’d be pissed about that so let’s just chalk this up to it being a really bad day, but I’m working on it.”
With that, the gentleman I’m working with calls a car rental place for me so that I can at least get on the road in a car that won’t fall apart on me anytime soon.
By the time I make it home, I’m on the phone with one of my best friends, Ray, telling her about the day and the past few. She explains that I will probably hear something from N in a few months when he realizes that I’m “actually gone.” Before she could finish her complete train of thought, I realize, “Oh, son of a bitch! I left my apartment keys in my car at the damn automechanics!” You have got to be friggin’ kidding me. Of all things to forget, I forget that. I hang up with Ray so that I can figure out what to do. Luckily, my friend Katja was home and sorted things out for me as only she can.
So, blah, blah, I’m home, kids are settled, I’m making dinner, go pee, and come back to see my phone lit up. When I look down, I see a message. You can only imagine who the message is from. N. Ray’s predictions were right, only months before she or I thought.
So I see the message and begin to read it. Oddly enough, my heart didn’t stop or flutter or worry or anything. It felt normal, like, “Oh, weird. Okay.” First thought: He’s using an awful lot of CAPS (clearly to signify… well, I’m pretty sure we all know what ALL CAPS means in any type of message). As I’m reading and reading… and reading (and obvi, I’m no stranger to long posts), I realize that this message is not unlike the message he relayed from yesterday. Or the day before for that matter. Many of the same phrases are used again.
YOU’RE SUCH A HUGE DISAPPOINTMENT TO ME. HOW CAN I EVER LOOK AT YOU THE SAME AGAIN? You’re insecure… Weak… Obsessed… DON’T YOU EVER…
Realizing how passionate he was to express those words, I try once again to explain my point of view. After giving in more than enough, I realized something in that moment: The more I converse with this state of mind, the more I give in to the wants of this negative energy. Walk away, Mathieu. Walk far, far away.
That’s exactly what I did. I’ve allowed a person’s projections and perceptions of me be what keeps me up at night. Tossing and turning asking myself, “Is there really something wrong with me? Am I not really who I think I am?” I had lost sight of the real goal all along: to see the person in me that I want to see. I was so fixated on this idea of being somebody’s everything and all.
I manipulated events in my mind to make it seem like I was the wrong-doer more often and would often apologize to avoid a fight. I believed that I was insecure and weak and demanded more than he could give. Could I actually be judgmental of someone’s flaws without an understanding as to why other than my own ego suggesting that I should be? I was obsessed with him, thinking of him every moment of every day, yearning to talk to him, hold him, kiss him, love him… I did all of these things to myself consistently over the course of two and a half years.
I could see how some could consider what I’m doing (this blog) as a means to bash someone who isn’t even here to express his or her point of view. Another angle could be that I’m using this platform to victimize myself; free myself of any sin and gain sympathy from those who have experienced similar. Sure, there are several angles to this story, and you’re only reading mine presently.
But that’s not what this is nor is that what is going through my mind. This, right here, is a moment for me. A time to collect, refine and capture many occurences which make me stronger, brighter and more resilient (now I sound like an eye cream). I realize you cannot win with someone who has you pegged as the loser in their mind. You cannot say sorry enough to someone who doesn’t want to accept it. You can’t be with someone who doesn’t want to see you as you truly are.
“There is nothing more that you can do to prove to him that you love him. There is nothing more you should have to do to prove to him that you love him.”
“What would Diddy do?”
“You need to just be done with this chapter in your life.”
“You didn’t mess up. He did.“
All things separate friends have shared with me. That’s when I knew: it is truly over. Like Rihanna sings in Sledgehammer, “What could I do to change your mind?”
There isn’t a damn word I could speak, thought I could think, action I could take that would change the mind of someone unwilling to accept his own actions, let alone mine. There is no point in saying another fighting word. Where does that get us? Exactly where we were 45 minutes, two days and 196 tears ago.
We said goodbye the day before, and I meant it. As hard as it was to actually say those words, I knew it was time we took a breather. It was past time to realize this situation isn’t beneficial for either one of us. We just don’t see eye-to-eye. In my eyes, I’m right. In his eyes, he’s right. But one of us seemingly just had to have the last say, to “remind you of [sic] some things :).”
Well, now that you have, allow me to remind you of something: I am many things. I am a character, I am a lover, I am a fighter and I am quite dramatic. I have loved you, I have hurt you, and I held out hope for us. But one thing I am not and will never be again is someone’s personal fucking punching bag for their own childish insecurities. For fuck’s sake, grow a God damn pair, own up to your own shit and quit placing blame on the most apologetic gay man on the face of this planet!
And with that, I ended it. It had to end. And no, I didn’t actually say these things to him, but I say that on here because, 1. It’s what I’m thinking in this present moment, and 2. Viewers… heller…
The point of all this is to say I got the closure I needed. I was the one who said goodbye this time knowing that it was and is a true goodbye. I am truly at peace with my decisions, actions and the memories I hold. No, things didn’t work out between us. No, I didn’t have my fairytale romance. And even still, no, I do not hate him. I appreciate the time we shared. Lots of ups and down, for sure. With everything that’s happened, I grew a pair and stood up for myself. I have an even stronger sense of who I am, and more importantly, who I want to become.
No more tears shall be shed. No more anger should be held. Only a sense of pure amusement that I can pull out of this story. I am pleased that I am able to feel that sense of myself once again. I’m not a victim. I’m not an angel. I’m a person who grew tremendously in the past two and a half years. I am strong. I am fortunate. And above all else, I see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I am happy again. Not 100%, of course (let’s be honest), but I’m getting there. And each day will be better than the last, and each night I’ll get that much more sleep and have dreams which inspire me.
After all, you’re just another brick.
And I am a sledgehammer.
P.S. Y’all just wait to see me perform this on stand-up. It’ll be a hoot and a half!