who was that? seriously, who the hell was that?

i just saw a picture of someone i dated. ten years ago. (first of all, TEN years ago?! what?) and i just said to myself: “i had sex with this man.” i was baffled. not that he is a hideous creature or a wretch of a person, but i could not recognize him. not literally, exactly. but he seemed a stranger to me. i realized i could probably walk past him on the street and be able to not give him a second glance. well, knowing me, my spidey sense would give something away, but looking at this picture, i realized that i couldn’t remember anything. i couldn’t recall any of the feelings that were so incredibly wonderful, so intoxicating, so romantic. fortunately, i also couldn’t remember any of the heartbreak, any of the despair, any of the emptiness i felt at the conclusion of it all.

i was left asking, who was that? who was that man? and who was i? who were those people? it seems as if it was in an alternate universe or a different century. that i have a vague idea of those people and i know the story, but there just isn’t any power to it anymore. i think that if you had asked me yesterday, i still would have said i would have been afraid to run into him. scared of him, even. but i’m not anymore. i’m not even sure who that is. i don’t know what he would think about all of this. he might have 1,000 scathing words for me. he might tell you he remembers every single thing we did and every single conversation we had.

i thought i would have, if you asked me 10 years ago. but gratefully, i don’t. and gratefully, it means i also don’t have any more emotion attached to it, either. time is a funny thing. it’s elastic and it’s just not as linear as people would want you to believe. it’s stretchy and loopy and it does funny things to your brain and to your heart and to your soul. there’s that old cliche that “time heals all wounds.” most of the time, i’d be hard-pressed to disagree, really. but just like a cut on your leg or hand or anywhere on your body, sometimes you have to open it up, debride it, let it bleed and then let it heal right.

in coffee club, there’s homework for that. i’ve been procrastinating on mine for awhile. i’ve known that i need to do it, but there was something in that last sentence that made even more sense than anything i’ve said or heard. i want the same kind of gentle peace and freedom and forgiveness that i have around this relationship around all my relationships. it frees me up to be useful to other people and to get closer to my connection with god. yeah, god. i hate typing that, but it’s the easiest word to describe what it is. it’s also the most spring-loaded word, but fuck it.

so, i started one place and ended up in another. isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last.

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9 thoughts on “who was that? seriously, who the hell was that?

  1. OK serious ?. Have any of your deceased relatives contacted you from the afterlife? Or have you in the past ten years or so ever had an encounter with the beyond? There is a reason why I ask.

  2. Ummmm, my grandma has regularly contacted my sister through dreams. I don’t know if I can name a specific instance of dealing with the beyond, but I have no issues with talking to spirits and ghosts, why? You can always email me offline if you want to talk real psychic.

  3. Oh it isn’t anything that sinister. You just seem fairly intune or at least open to the idea of the spirit world. I’m not talking about dreams I am talking about full blown paranormal stuff. I consider myself fairly religious and do not know anyone that has had a first hand encounter with the beyond. Just makes me wonder is all. I kinda misread the post a little. You have been posting a little about the psychic stuff and that what I thought the post was. As I re-read it though I see that wasn’t the point.

  4. My mom had a first hand encounter. After my step-father’s mother died, my mom said that she came to her, put a hand on her shoulder and told her to tell my step-father that she was okay and that she loves him. My step-father was upset that his mother hadn’t come to him directly but, honestly, I don’t think he’s open enough for that kind of encounter while my mom is.

  5. oh, yeah. i started to post from my phone and then couldn’t finish. when i was living at my parents’ house as a kid, i would play the piano, and the organ that my grandma had left my mother. there were several times that i was alone in the house, playing, when i would feel someone standing behind me. i knew i was alone, but the presence was so strong, i would feel compelled to look behind me. it wasn’t scary really, but i figured it was my grandma.

    weirdly enough, at some point, it got mentioned or brought up at some family function and my sister, mother and i had all experienced the same thing at different points, but had never mentioned it to one another. i’m down with the spirit world. but because i AM, i have no interest with playing with ouija boards, etc.

  6. that’s someone bad and creepy from some novel, right? umm, yeah, i just don’t want to fuck with it. even when we’d do the ouija board with my grandma when we were kids (that seems so insane to type), she would basically sort of bless it before we started and then if we got something, she’d ask it if it was a good spirit or a bad spirit. yeah, why mess with things if you don’t have to? not interested.

    i wouldn’t have a problem going to a house for a friend and talking with a ghost for them. i also feel confident that i could bind a spirit away from me if it was demonic or what have you, but why ask for trouble?

  7. Captain Howdy is what the Demon said it’s name was when Regan asked in the Exorcist. She gave it a portal with the board.

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