Dr.J20
Well-Known Member
So, my girlfriend finally gave our relationship the ax. wednesday morning over coffee. ironically, this is two weeks prior to when i was planning on doing the same thing--she's moving out then for a work gig across state for the summer--but I guess she couldn't wait to beat me to the punch, so-to-speak. I'm writing up in here only because I'm in a strange place. I obviously recognized the same issues that she did, so it is truly mutual, but that doesn't make it hurt any less for either of us. It is a complicated situation in which the arc of our relationship traverses into the territory of love, but, like so many stratospheric projectiles, has fallen back out of that region.
My sadness and pain, then, is peculiar. it is as if the emotion coagulates or congeals around very particular sensory experiences: a smell on a pillow case, a word, a sound. virtually anything can trigger the memory, as proust so aptly demonstrates. and it is that trigger that brings forth all of the pain of loss, the sorrow of failure; a looming shadow of loneliness then descends. There is a cloak of self-doubt, in the depths of which hide the secret fears: the fear that to love again, this pain--though rationally unconceivable--must be risked. To engage myself in another loving relationship, I must venture this vulnerability, this potential and always, at best, only deferred grieving. The fear that the youthful love experienced here, now tinged always with the pain of demise, cannot, by virtue of Time's stalwart forward march, be experienced anew, with another soul. I fear I may never be able to enjoy the whimsical features experienced in young love, for the simple notion that we lose our capacity for the whimsical as we age. And further, that youth's carefree days that are so pregnant with possibility, so capacious, and readily filled up with young love, now gone. lost to the rigors and responsibilities that come with aging.
Console yourself thus: recite the aphorisms concerning closed doors and opened windows, the plentitude of proverbial fish in the sea, and the like.
I will move on, eventually, I have no doubt. But the pain is tiresome. Alas, i've rambled on andprovide no space for a developing discussion because I seek no advice--truly, none could help. This is the right course of action, it is just emotionally taxing to progress through it. Que Será
thanks for listening riu.
be easy,
My sadness and pain, then, is peculiar. it is as if the emotion coagulates or congeals around very particular sensory experiences: a smell on a pillow case, a word, a sound. virtually anything can trigger the memory, as proust so aptly demonstrates. and it is that trigger that brings forth all of the pain of loss, the sorrow of failure; a looming shadow of loneliness then descends. There is a cloak of self-doubt, in the depths of which hide the secret fears: the fear that to love again, this pain--though rationally unconceivable--must be risked. To engage myself in another loving relationship, I must venture this vulnerability, this potential and always, at best, only deferred grieving. The fear that the youthful love experienced here, now tinged always with the pain of demise, cannot, by virtue of Time's stalwart forward march, be experienced anew, with another soul. I fear I may never be able to enjoy the whimsical features experienced in young love, for the simple notion that we lose our capacity for the whimsical as we age. And further, that youth's carefree days that are so pregnant with possibility, so capacious, and readily filled up with young love, now gone. lost to the rigors and responsibilities that come with aging.
Console yourself thus: recite the aphorisms concerning closed doors and opened windows, the plentitude of proverbial fish in the sea, and the like.
I will move on, eventually, I have no doubt. But the pain is tiresome. Alas, i've rambled on andprovide no space for a developing discussion because I seek no advice--truly, none could help. This is the right course of action, it is just emotionally taxing to progress through it. Que Será
thanks for listening riu.
be easy,
