Ende

This blog is going on a probably permanent hiatus.  It is meaningless, much like everything else.

"I'm sorry, the feelings just aren't there anymore."

Schmerz

I think this article explains a lot about the physical manifestations of emotional pain I have experienced since K broke up with me.  People always seem confused when I tell them how my stomach hurts so much I can't eat, or that I experience a crushing pain in my chest.  Our minds -- and their emotional health -- are intimately connected with our bodies in ways that many religions and traditions recognize but science often does not.

It is another gray day here on Long Island.  I am trying to stay busy with my schoolwork and ignore the shockingly realistic, heartbreaking dream I had last night.  No, K does not love me anymore.  He has not for a very long time.  It was not real.

Heart Lotus Meditation

Lotus, by Marufish.

I have begun a new evening meditation in order to help me cope with the sadness I still carry with me each day.  As with most of my meditations, I kind of just made it up based on imagery and desired outcome.  I believe becoming more in touch with my heart as an entity to be protected, and more consciously working to heal it, will help yield the progress I seek.

Here is my process:

1. Fold a towel such that it is roughly the length of the area from your hips to your shoulders, and is not folded very thickly.  I fold a long beach towel into thirds from the short end, and then fold it in half lengthwise.
2. Sitting on the floor, position the towel directly behind you and lie back on it, so your spine is cushioned from the sacrum to the base of the neck.  This is a very basic, very gentle heart opening position.
3. Let your feet fall open and rest your arms about a foot from your sides, palms up, thumb and forefinger touching.
4. Become aware of your heart in your chest as you slow your breathing.
5. On an inhale, imagine your heart is a lotus flower: pink, healthy, pure, and vibrant.  Its petals are bright and soft.  For variations, I occasionally imagine I am holding my lotus-heart in my hands, admiring its beauty, or I am stroking its petals, or the air I am breathing in is causing it to open and spread itself wide.
6. On an exhale, let any sickly, withered, or black petals be borne away from your lotus-heart on your breath.  I watch them fade away into the distance.  Sometimes I whisper to myself, "Let the pain go" as my heart sheds some of its heavy darkness.
7. Repeat this process for your meditation.
8. When the timer bell rings, lie quietly, allowing your breath to return to normal, feeling and imagining the radiance in your chest.
9. When you're ready, slowly roll to your right side, cradling your head in your right arm, and pause for a moment, then come up to sit in a cross-legged position, palms together at your chest, to give thanks.

Freuden

The spring weather has been agreeing with me lately.  I derive no end of pleasure in fresh, breezy warmth cosseting my skin.  My bones have felt cold for far too long, and not simply because of winter's unpleasant lingering.

Our cats are enjoying the weather, too.  On any given sunny day, I can find Tabby parked in a spot of sunlight in the kitchen, even if that means lying on the tile floor when her soft fleece bed is a foot away in the shade, or in the square left on the attic carpet from the skylight.  Likewise for Calico; Little Thief is too busy zooming around and being irritating to snooze in one spot for long.

I've been quite sure since at least my undergraduate years that I suffer from some degree of Seasonal Affective Disorder, owing to my restlessness and depression in struggling through the endless Massachusetts winters.  The sunlight, I know, is doing me good.  On Monday I sat on the porch for awhile, my nose stuck in my latest pleasure read, John Adams, and the experience was exceedingly pleasant.  Even the enormous and terrifying bee-like objects hovering around in the bushes in front of me seemed content to leave me be.

I hope to get myself outdoors more often now, although I am not entirely sure what to do with myself.  I don't really have a partner anymore who is willing to go for impromptu walks, or to a park.  This saddens me, but I suppose I must shift my ways and expectations.  Despite a nagging, years-old knee injury, I hope to run again to a limited degree soon, and have been doggedly working out in pursuit of substantially strengthening my legs so that my muscles can stabilize the knee joint.  I do love running, and through everything I have experienced, I consider its absence from my life to be one of the greatest losses I have endured in the past several years.

I have been staying busy in other ways, as I strive to pick up the pieces K left behind in his hasty departure.  I finished John Adams just this morning, all (large-type) 989 pages of it, and found it more inspiring than I would have assumed.  I feel I know the man intimately now -- a testament, certainly, to author David McCollough's talents.  It was only through my trip with K to Colonial Williamsburg last September, and the readings and research I have done in the time since, that I have realized the extent to which learning about and experiencing American history brings me joy.  I dusted my sister's copy of 1776 in about four days over spring break, completely enthralled by it, and that, of course was highly useful to me, distracting me as it did from my recent breakup and crushing loneliness.  I am all the more determined to move to Virginia someday, both to have a better quality of life and so that I may live closer to such important sites of American colonial history.  I can only imagine the rapturous pleasure of living within two hours of Williamsburg, Monticello, Jamestown, and Washington, D.C., among many other places.

As mentioned, I have been working out with wonderful regularity, and with the most determination I have had since before what I have now come to call "the horrible."  My arms are quite toned now, and one workout in particular that I have been dutifully working on for some months is slowly becoming easier.  I also have been eating very healthfully lately, which, of course, has much longer-term, less-noticeable benefits to me, but that I know very well is benefiting me nevertheless.  It is good to feel that, at least in this one aspect of my life, I am making progress and moving forward.  (I suppose I am in school, too; I continue to pull down excellent grades and am nearly completed with my first semester.)

I also have been giving consideration lately to the aftermaths of K and RJ, and how very different my experiences were.  With RJ, I did not so much allow myself to give in to hatred of him but, in fact, wholeheartedly embraced it.  Revenge fantasies dominated my thoughts for far longer than I care to admit, and it took me a very, very, very long time -- indeed, until the end of my relationship with K -- to just legitimately stop caring about anything to do with him.  Of course, my experiences with K were infinitely more positive and affirming, whereas those with RJ were destructive and toxic, so it is natural that the aftermaths would be different.  But I believe very strongly that a large part of the difference in my feelings after all was said and done with both can be explained by the different alignments of my attitude with either.

I have discussed several times here how I cannot and refuse to hate K, despite some legitimate grievances I have with the way he handled things before, during, and after the breakup.  "K is K," I remind myself when he has again disappointed or hurt me, "this is the way he is."  And, with those flaws, he is still someone I really care about and wish well.  I don't believe he is any less or less worthy of a person for his flaws than I am, and there are still many traits of his for which I have great admiration and respect.

In the midst of pain stemming from his words and actions, I have found it beneficial, in a very real way, to redirect those thoughts and instead imagine his face, his gentle mannerisms, the graceful strength of his being.  I cannot help but think tenderly upon him when such images hold court in my mind; feelings of resentment and pride melt away.  It is simply impossible to underscore how significant a development this is, when my modus operandi for the past decade and more has been to lash out in anger when experiencing pain, both, I suppose, as self-defense, to hide my vulnerability, and to strike down the source of my hurt so that they might know my nightmare, as well.

The path of my recovery remains littered with significant obstacles, and so very often I must backtrack, or take the long way around, in order to move forward.  This is a process, swelling with grief, that I would wish upon no one.  But still, I can take a small comfort from the knowledge that I am doing as I ought, that my thought patterns are serving me (and, by extension, K) well instead of poisoning me with impotent hatred.  I have changed so much since my time with RJ, and thankfully so.  I do not ever want to feel such rage against another person again.

My day-to-day existence is soaked with sadness, still, as I mourn what I've lost both in past and future.  But I am trying as hard as I can to find the small joys that exist all around me, even such simple things as boughs everywhere springing into verdancy, a classmate making me laugh, a solid and steady Tree Pose, a good book.

I do not yet know how much longer I will voluntarily stay here, but I do know that, for right now, I am managing.

Gestures

In bed this morning, I rolled over as usual to see what e-mails had arrived for me overnight.  There were the commonplace ones -- ads from Athleta, my Google Calendar updates for the day, more annoying announcements from school.  There was a short but polite one from K, responding to my random e-mail the previous evening, in which I thanked him for the cables he'd bought me some time ago that I only last night got hooked up at long last to pipe picture and sound from my Mac to my TV.  (I christened this new functionality with the iTunes visualizer and my #1 most-played song of all time, VNV Nation's Saviour [Vox], then settled in for an episode of American Experience about FDR.)

And then there was an e-mail alerting me to a comment in need of moderation.  A comment on this blog!

It is the first comment I've ever received.  When I read it, tears sprang to my eyes.  It felt like a tiny pinprick of light had forced its way through the heavy armor of melancholy cloaking my heart.  The unexpectedness of it made it all the more touching.  May it serve as a reminder to me always that even the smallest of gestures can have a profound effect on someone's life.  In a world that, to me, seems filled with hostility and pain, a humble effort can have far-reaching consequences.

How far that little candle throws his beams!

So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

--William Shakespeare

Regression

I have been on a steady decline since the Rammstein concert.  Depression marches in, my weak opposition no match.  I don't know what to do.  I am invisible.  These feelings of helplessness and hopelessness render bleak all that I see.  I meditate and practice yoga frequently, but the pain always overwhelms.  On Thursday, the night of the concert, despite an overall feeling of calmness, I cried through my asanas for the first time ever; I couldn't even relax at the end in Corpse Pose because I could not stop weeping.  There is no shield against my deterioration; nothing to halt or turn back its advance.  I am surrounded by a silence so crushing that it oozes into my pores, fills my lungs with darkness with each struggling breath.

What is the point of this existence, anyway?  How many people, truly, would even notice if I am no longer here? 

I am alone.

And if this was my last post in this blog, no one but the Russian spam bots would know.

Schwere

I have been muddling along.  Interspersed with moments of sunshine, optimism, and goodwill, are times of a heaviness and brokenness I cannot describe.  I long for a time when I can think about the adventures of the last year, the places I've been, the experiences I've had, the images burned forever into my mind's eye, without the physical sensation that my chest is cracking open.

I awoke this morning with the thought, Oh good, it's over, I made it, until I remembered that it wasn't over, it was tonight.  "It" is a Rammstein concert just west of the city that K and I were supposed to attend with his brother and sister-in-law.  I went with him to the last show, in December, and we had an amazing time.  I was with K as he bought the tickets for tonight's show, was there when he surprised his brother and sister-in-law with the knowledge that he had bought them tickets too, and had been eagerly looking forward to it for months; I had acquired and organized the band's entire discography on iTunes so that I could listen to them often and get myself very familiarized with the music.

At the December show, a band I really like, Combichrist, was opening for Rammstein.  Thanks to poor timing on our part, we got into the seating area of Madison Square Garden about an instant after Combichrist had left the stage.  I was bitterly disappointed.

Guess who's opening for Rammstein tonight, then?  And guess who's not going?

I had kind of expected K to invite me to the show tonight, regardless of what was happening between us.  While I didn't pay for anything, that was, after all, my ticket.  I don't know if he's just eating the cost of it or has found someone to replace me.  There is no ill will between us, just pain, so why would he deny me this?  It's just one more way he hurts me, whether he means to or not.  Our actions always have consequences, regardless of intentions.  I don't know if I would have accepted that offer from him if he had made it, but the kindness of such a gesture would have meant a great deal to me.  Truly, it was the least he could do.

I guess I just need to accept the loss of this amazing experience I should have been able to have tonight, just like I have to accept every other loss that is forced upon me.  I am doing my utmost not to harbor any bitterness against K over this and the many other ways he led me to believe that there was a future for us when he already knew there was not, but it is a struggle.  I cried, telling him I felt I was one mistake away from him abandoning me, and he told me that was not true.  I cried, physically unable to stand, from the thought of losing him, and he held me, saying I was not going to.  Mere weeks before he broke up with me, he was telling realtors during our open house expeditions that the house he was buying was going to be for both of us; when asked if we were going to be married, he replied, "Working on it."  Was he, by that time?  I think that it was around February when our fate was sealed and I had already lost him, although I did not know it then.  But surely he did, and he was buying us concert tickets and telling realtors about his plans and talking with me about what we would be doing later this year, and it was a lie.  All of it was a lie.  How that hurts.  If only I had known what was in store, what he was hiding in his heart.

I know I sound angry, and I suppose that I am.  After how close and serious our relationship had been, he couldn't even break up with me in person: it was over the phone.  Despite knowing of my suicidal intentions, he did nothing to ensure my safety, nor to follow up with me in the days following to see if I was alright, preferring instead to "disappear" for a time.  When informed of Mousie's passing and of the myriad other tragedies occurring in my family, his immediate response was to take issue with the admittedly awkward way I had prefaced the conversation, rather than to express sympathy and caring for all that I had been through since he'd left.  It's hard not to be angry when he is the sole reason why I am in so much pain, why my life has become borderline meaningless.  But I will not succumb to this anger.  I don't want to and I am not going to, but it is difficult, and I don't think he realizes that.  I think there are many things he does not realize.

I have begun countering any destructive emotions that arise by actively bringing to mind feelings of love, caring, sympathy, and well wishes for him -- all feelings that exist vibrantly within me still, despite what I have gone through.  He is again denying me happiness with the concert tonight, but I do genuinely hope he has a wonderful time, even if I need to be in one of my sunshine spots to realize that I feel this way.  I do want him to be happy; I want him to build and live a life where he feels stable, satisfied, fulfilled, and content.  The degree to which I care about him has not diminished even slightly in all of the time he has been in my life.  I think I will be ready soon to begin sending light to him during my daily meditations -- a task that will help heal me, as well.

Enjoy the concert for me tonight, K.

Crack

I have the music from Link's house on Outset Island in Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker, where Granny is heartbroken, stuck in my head at the moment, which I suppose is apropos because that sad, slow dirge is very much how I am feeling right now.

I had a much rougher day of things than I'd expected.  K has been on my mind endlessly, an ephemeral ghost perched on my shoulder, intangible yet crushing me beneath his weight, hovering always over me no matter where I am and what I am doing.  The almost careless detachment is pain beyond imagining.  I am beginning to detect a very strong vibe from him that he just wants me to shut up and go away...that he is regretting being nice to me and saying that he had no intentions of "vanishing" on me.

What on Earth did I do to deserve this?  Why did this relationship, to which I gave my best and my all, end the same way as the others where I wasn't even trying?  I still don't think K has even an inkling how deeply and thoroughly he was loved and appreciated.  If he ever read even a miniscule sampling of my LiveJournal entries, his heart would probably shatter.  He told me once, not that long ago, that no one had ever loved him as I had.  I pray, for his sake, that that is not true for the rest of his life.

I went to my favorite, extremely expensive store at the mall today, and somehow managed to not buy anything.  (The lack of sale items or other items in my size helped.)  I am finally (and not a moment too soon) realizing that the purchase of material goods, no matter how wonderful, will not plug up the holes in my heart or take the pain away.  I knew this rationally, of course, but emotionally, it was a different matter.  Many a time, all it takes to stop myself from salivating over some $98 pair of pants is to tell myself, "shut up and go meditate."

And meditate I have been.  I use an app on my Android phone to both time and record my sessions, and the log indicates that the sessions have really been piling up.  I usually meditate two or more times per day now, not including any meditative segments of the yoga DVDs I use.  Yoga comes in two or more sessions also, on most days.

Something interesting I noticed the other day was that, after I had gone most of the day with neither, I felt unsettled, uneasy, unmoored.  It was like some part of me -- my body, my mind, my heart, I know not which -- was craving an anchor, either on my yoga mat or parked nearby on a pillow with my phone at my side, quietly ringing its bells to start and stop.  It seems that the two methods I have selected to try to usher me through the heartache of losing K are rapidly integrating themselves into my life such that I readily notice their occasional absence.  I am unclear on if this is a good or a bad thing, but I know, at least, that these are better things from which to be experiencing withdrawal than drugs, alcohol, random hookups, or other unhealthy habits.  Maybe these current habits will stick with me, this time.

I still haven't found the strength to perform any heart-opening poses, known to be difficult for those suffering from emotional trauma.  I hope I can soon; my chest feels tight, closed, locked down to shut even well-meaning souls like K out forever.

I wonder if he is reading this.  I wonder if he knows.