I felt someone else’s feeling of being helpless. A person who carries someone else’s helplessness.
I held their hand but they didn’t want their hand to be held.
I can try to help and be a place to share their sadness but they find it best to feel nothing. To hold it all inside and allow it to eat away at the very heart of who they are until eventually they will only be left with bitterness.
What sadness that has created in me over so much time. To be the girl who loves and cares and yet in the place I tried my very hardest, trying to be what was required it wasn’t enough. And I felt I wasn’t enough.
And yet in reality we were just so very different in a very fundamental way. He is so frightened of feeling any of that pain that instead he chooses to spend a life feeling nothing at all.
A complete disconnection from any feeling became the equivalent of a complete disconnection from me. It feels impossible to explain that fully but I know how it feels. And that is what happened to us in our ship wrecked life.
I watched a short film. It depicted the realities of married life alongside the life of the twenty somethings across the way. I guess you could see it as the twenty somethings they once were.
I found myself interested by their perspective and yet completely disconnected from it.
The twenty somethings who were at it like rabbits while the married couple looked on jealously and remembered what once was.
What a strange concept I thought but I know I’ve heard it from friends who got divorced. Sex that had disappeared in the practicalities of life and searching for that excitement and pleasure in others.
Whereas for us sex was never the issue. It was in fact the glue. It was the communication.
While others relationships broke down through extra marital affairs I n our case it was the last thing to go. Like the last breaths of a dying relationship where the emotional connection was tested to the limits and broke. Me being the emotional girl and feeling it all and him not being able to connect to any of it and burying it all. Only anger finding its way out. Happiness was easy. Sadness was impossible. And as a result I was left feeling completely and utterly alone. More alone than if I had been alone.
And yet sex continued. Almost as though I became the call girl to satisfy the single man. And I willingly played that part . In part to fulfil those important needs in myself but also in an attempt to try to find a way to emotionally connect again. Instead I just became a place for sex and nothing more.
Sex alone is not love. It is an act of pleasure both in lust and in love.
But at its very best it is the most beautiful form of connection.
For me living without that emotional connection is soul destroying. It made me feel dead inside.
Being able to share my heart and my soul is the romance of life. It’s what makes me skip along under the trees and smile and feel joy. When I connect to myself I am able feel that. They are the moments I feel completely free and inspired. When I connect to others on that level, I feel a magic that is so dizzy and mind blowing that even sex can’t compete.
And yet that very magic is what makes that act even more desirable.