Staying Afloat And the Raging Sea

This Friday would have been my friends 35th birthday. I have developed a bit of a tradition of bringing a rose to his grave the evening before. I never go the day of. Too afraid I’ll run into his family or friends. Many of whom have been nothing but lovely to me… but I still feel like a fraud. An imposter riding the coattails of their grief. Unable to define my place in his life or his in mine. I feel ridiculous every time I call him a friend, though by the end that was probably the best way to describe it. I feel discounted calling him my ex because there is so much history, shared joys, traumas, and lessons that came from him being in my life. I miss him but I don’t miss the person I became in response to him. I cared for him till the very end, but I also had to detach and distance myself from him to protect me. The last time I heard from him he had sent me a picture of his second son who had been born a couple days before. Less than a month later he would be gone. When we were together, I loved when it was his birthday. One because if you know me you know I’ll take any and all excuses to throw a party, to celebrate. What I loved most though, was it meant for the next 5 weeks I would appear to only be one year older, instead of almost two. Seems silly now but he was always giving me a hard time about it. He would always joke around and say “well when you’re my age…” like he was the much older (and wiser) one in the relationship. It made me laugh. He made me laugh. Until he didn’t. Emotional and psychological trauma, or abuse, was certainly never anything I saw in our future. I think while they’re so damaging, they’re also one of if not the only types of abuse that aren’t always intentional. When things started to change, when things started to get bad, It took me years to realize there were so many issues he had that I never saw in the two happy years we were together. There was a lot of things he was still coming to grips with, and it took so long to get him to open up about some of them. At first, I blamed his new behaviors on his sudden penchant for pot. Pot was changing him that was the problem, I was so convinced of that for a long time. In reality the pot wasn’t probably doing him any favors, but it wasn’t the real issue either. It was a coping mechanism for what was already there, boiling under the surface all this time and finally spilling over. There was damage there, he was damaged and struggling. I learned sometimes that the struggle is so great it radiates. It engulfs those closest to you even when you don’t mean it to. Like there was a weight tied to him pulling him under and he was grabbing me, pulling me down too, not to drown me with him, but just in an attempt to survive. It took me a really long time to understand that. Unfortunately, it helps but doesn’t cure the trauma. I spent about 4 years after the breakup (on and off) being there for him trying to help while struggling to keep my own head above the water. The lifelong repercussions I’ll deal with are, just that, LIFE long. They’re just a part of who I am. In some cases for the better, in others for the worse. Maybe you might ask, would I have done anything differently? Knowing what I know now. The answer is a resounding No. He was a great person. A great person who started to do some not so great things. While he was a part of my life during what was one of the absolute worst times… he was also a part of my life during one of the happiest times. If I looked back and saw that I walked away from him 100%, that I saved myself years of heartbreak and trauma I wouldn’t feel relief I would feel regret and shame. I’d rather look back and see the struggle of trying keep afloat for the sake of someone who I had loved once, than turning my back and letting them drown. Trust me I know I probably wasn’t doing much being there. I was children’s arm floaties in a raging sea. Meaningless air-filled plastic when he needed a whole search and rescue team. I just did what I could as meaningful or meaningless as it may have been. But at least I know I tried.

Now all I can do is remember him. Tomorrow I'll leave the rose. Friday at midnight I will take a shot of Jack. One because that was his favorite drink and two because he taught me his tradition. You have to say “Happy Birthday” right at midnight. I'll watch one of his favorite movies. Sometimes I might even go get that chili lime chicken from Applebee’s because it was one of his favorites. He’s not here to do his favorite things anymore, but I am. It just feels like the right thing to do. The first couple years it made me sad, now it just brings me some peace.

So until next time… "I'll forget the world that I knew. But I swear I won't forget you."🎶

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If you’re thinking about suicide, are worried about a friend or loved one, or would like emotional support, the Lifeline network is available 24/7 across the United States.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255