autumn leaves

How can one chance encounter – not even an encounter, really, since at least twenty feet separated the two of us and he didn’t even know I was there at the time – have changed my life so completely?

I realize that’s as trite and idiotic a statement as they come. Maybe. Every single second, lives are changed by marriage, divorce, birth, death…but those are large events. My life changing event was only the crossing of paths. It should’ve been inconsequential.

It was seven years ago today, that chance encounter. I sent the fateful email the next day….and received a reply.

My entire world changed as a result, and I thought it was for the better.

It didn’t work out.

You can take the logical side of the situation and try to see the good that came of it while also admonishing yourself to never, ever waste a thought or feeling on that person again.

So, the good:  I took a job that allowed me to gain some incredible accounting experience I wouldn’t have gotten otherwise. I learned to fly. I met hundreds of new people.

The bad: I got divorced (both good and bad). My finances are a shambles.

Am I better off? I don’t know how to answer that. Some days I feel like I only traded one type of stress for another.

Then, turn and take the illogical side, the side ruled by the heart, the side we’re all supposed to ignore, right? I cut myself a break for being vulnerable and actually letting someone in far enough to cause that much pain.

When it ended, I took a year to absorb what I’d learned, letting it sink in that what I thought was true was not and “we” were not an “us.”

I took the next year and a half to forgive him.

Then I took the year and a half after that year and a half to forgive myself. A wise man once said “forgiveness is the gift you give yourself.” It is, to this day, harder for me to forgive myself for being blindly stupid than it is for me to forgive him all his lies.

But still, the internal argument continues….

Brain: “How can you possibly give this person a passing thought after all this time? You are a complete frigging dunce.”

Heart: “So your point is? I’d rather be a fool who lost than someone afraid to take a risk.”

Brain: “Without me, you’ll be nothing but babbling spineless mush.”

Heart: “If you want to operate without me, go ahead, be a cold hearted bitch.”

This argument can and does go on until the wee hours. My head’s so full of noise it’s a wonder I sleep at all.

Once the brain is done telling me that logic should rule, the heart/my artist’s side demands that the swirling foggy colors of those memories take over. I don’t will this to happen, it just does. It just is. There is no right or wrong.

Why is it that two people who theoretically meant something to each other can not sit and have a conversation (a much needed conversation, for me anyway)  that might clear the air and allow each to let go and go on? I tried to arrange it. He said he would do it. We never did.

Yes, Captain, this time every year, when leaves begin to turn, and there’s a slight chill in the air, it’s your time of year, and you are on my mind.

talkin’ ‘bout my guy(s)

It’s been one big struggle for me to write this blog entry. The depth of my gratitude is just not coming though and I’m sounding like an idiot. How do you let guys know what a difference they’ve made? I mean, they’re guys, for Pete’s sake. They don’t communicate. When forced to talk, they grunt their responses, all the while staring at the television. They don’t talk about touchy-feely stuff, right?

Or maybe they do. Some of ‘em.

Completely by accident and all of a sudden (so typical of me lately, to be that oblivious), I look up and something in my life has changed. I have a pack! Call them my homeboys, my guy committee, my band of brothers. It is like having a huge family of nothing but brothers, the brothers I always wished I’d had to help guide me through life. Do this, don’t do that, don’t be scared, you can do it….advice, confidence, someone looking after me.

I know what you’re thinking - how very odd, she’s writing something positive about the male gender for a change. It’s true, there are a few of them who frustrate me more than, say, trying to thread cooked spaghetti through a keyhole.

Several of them are “new,” but more are from the past. The unfortunate bit about that…more of my past has become my present. Damned the past, anyway. Who asked you to show up now? So that rabbit hole beckons me again. At some point, I suppose I’m going to have to go willingly, see what is down there, find out what it is that so haunts me, and make my peace.

Oh hell. This was not on my calendar any time soon. If ever.

All these guys have a way of being amazingly complementary in an oddly matter of fact way… yet forcing me to remember who I was, to consider who I am now, to wonder who I should be, can be, who they think I am…which is the real girl? Instead of hearing “give up, you can’t, you won’t, you’ll never, you’re dreaming,” I’m hearing them say “you can do it, it will be OK, we’ll help you.” Quite the refreshing change, after hearing so much negativity for years on end.

My guys. You’re workin’ magic and you don’t even know it.