Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough

V and I spent hours on the phone last night. It harkened back to sleepovers we'd have at her house when we'd stay up all night, lights on, sprawled out on her twin bed, planning our futures, figuring out our careers, talking about history and religion and homeless people and AIDS and racism and everything under the sun. This time it was about whether we'd be okay. It is one thing to be young and have your whole life ahead of you. The sky was the limit back then. We had all of the problems of the world solved back then. We didn't have any of our own. Or at least when we'd have these marathon conversations our problems seemed miniscule compared to the big world around us and the big futures ahead of us. Things feel a little bit different to us now. Our problems no longer feel miniscule compared to the big world around us. On Sunday the four of us had brunch together at A.'s house (which turned into A. and I playing skeeball at a bar in Williamsburg until 2AM). Champagne abounded and we got suckered in to going to a football party in the neighborhood. There, we were told you can't watch football without jello shots. Ok. And as BE smoked cigarettes and mingled, the conversation between A., V., and I turned serious. I guess it was my fault. I wondered aloud whether we'd be okay. I don't even know what I meant when I said that. V. responded immediately by saying, "you guys will but I don't know about me." Let's get one thing straight here, V. is one of the strongest people I know. She came here from Brazil when we were in kindergarten. I remember her determined walk as she came in to the classroom, green eyes open wide as she was led by the hand of the ESL teacher. She learned English, she became our friend, she became a Physician Assistant. She works at NYU/Bellevue. She kicked ass in P.A. school and she got her first choice hospital and loves her job. It speaks volumes about her determination and tenacity that she knew what she wanted, fought for it and got it. That's a lot more than I can say for myself. So for her to be so doubtful about her prospects was amazing.

But what she was referring to was the whole kit-n-caboodle. The one thing that's missing. The one thing she had up until a month ago. Fig, her ex-boyfriend. She thought she was on a path and now she is facing the unknown. And now in that area she has to start over. Obviously that's easier said than done. It's hard to open yourself up to someone new when you've been hurt. It's hard to adjust to a new set of circumstances, a new routine. It sucks to miss someone and hate them at the same time. It's confusing to think of yourself as a victim when you never have. It's weird to be alone when you're used to a partner. It's easy to focus on that big, gaping hole in your life, the bullet-hole in your heart despite whatever other great stuff you have in your life. She is in the throes of it.

Two years after my life was destroyed, my wounds have healed nicely. And I feel like I have all the answers V needs about why things like this happen and how to deal with it and what helps and what doesn't help and how long it takes and how to let go of the negativity and how to let go of the responsibility you feel for it and the confusion and the anger and the sadness and hopelessness and fill up the loss and wake up every morning and get in the shower and go to work. But she has to go through it herself. It sucks. I keep telling her that she'll be okay. That as time goes on she'll gain perspective. As time goes on she'll realize that despite all the love in the world and the amazing relationship they had and her best efforts, it takes two and one wanted out. She has to accept that. That's a tough pill to swallow. We are taught that if we work hard and do our best we will succeed. Well she did that and she lost him anyway. How do you go back in there with someone new and open your heart and love like you've never been hurt knowing what she now knows; that there are no guarantees. No matter what you do for the relationship and for your partner, there are no guarantees; sometimes you lose him anyway. Relationships are fifty-fifty. You don't have full control over the entity that is your relationship. You only have control over your part. You have to take a leap of faith when you're in a relationship and trust that they feel the way they say they feel and that their whole heart is with yours. But sometimes you lose. And not because you were blind to blaring problems but because they decided to change paths and travel without you. And that hurts.

Then to the slippery slope part. Once you start seeing yourself as a failure, as a victim, as unlucky, as a loser, as not-okay, these feelings infiltrate the rest of you. It's hard to compartmentalize those feelings and leave them in that one relationship. Suddenly you feel unnattractive, you don't get joy out of your job in the same way or care that you are actually good at it. Suddenly you stop trying because you feel like it's all hopeless, your whole life. Nothing good is going to happen for you. You lost. Game over. It's a done deal.

And that is fucking tragic. It's ridiculous and tragic that we take this one thing and magnify it and make it who we are. I was published for the first time weeks after Illinois and I broke-up, a lifelong dream and I didn't care. I let Illinois be the leech sucking out any joy or pride I could feel about myself. It was easier to allow him to do that. It was hard to stand up and feel happy and excited and stare at my name and read my article over and over again and plan my next one. It was much easier to mope and cry and get drunk and eat and feel bad about myself.

I want V. to know that she will be okay. Don't fall into the traps I fell into. Compartmentalize. This does not define you. This isn't a sign about who you are and what lies ahead. This doesn't mean it's over for you. This wasn't your one chance. And you didn't fuck it up. It just didn't work out. Okay is relative. I am loving life again. If you look at my life right now maybe you wouldn't think it was that great. I am 30 years old and I don't have a fancy job or a fancy ring. But I have myself back and part of that is another leap of faith, believing that I will always be okay, no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop. And that is more meaningful than any of that other crap. When I do have the fancy job and the fancy ring it will be with the right fancy boy because I am smarter now and I am stronger now and I don't take shit or settle now. I am finally me. And V will be over here with me sooner than she thinks. It's hard to believe; I know, but a little bit of patience and acceptance and indulgence with yourself and your journey goes a long way.