Longest Days

The first night, I lay awake in my old room listening to my dad playing the guitar in the next room. The darkness englufed everything except for the slice of light from the door which lay across the blankets. I tried to empty my mind of everything except for those facts I just listed. I listened to the song. I tried to join the darkness as I lay perfectly still, as though I was trying to convince my body that stillness was equivalent to comfort. When my thoughts began to stray I started saying a little prayer of thanks for my family and my support - without it I would still be lying next to him wondering if temperature was really the reason he slept under a different sheet and never wanted to close the space between us. At least this bed was warm, and it had been set with love by my concerned mother. Despite my efforts, I fell asleep with a frown and a type of peace inside that is more comparable to death or emptiness than the image of flowers, hymns, or beaches.
The following day passed slowly. I kept checking the clock and spending minutes thinking of ways to entertain myself as though somehow the things I would usually do at that time of day were different when we were in the same house. I waited for the sun to finally set (it took its time that evening) and sadly, realized it had only been one day.
Even though I had plans, it seemed like all the space in between them I spent looking forward to the next one and and every hour was an eternity of waiting. I read a very depressing book for school which occupied my mind for awhile but I finished that book quicker than any book I have ever read before.
Today I kept thinking it was Wednesday only to become angry inside when I remembered it was only Tuesday.
Everything feels surreal like I am part of a movie and there's nothing I can do to change the ending and I don't know what is to come. I am on the edge of my seat wondering how my own life is it turn out. I don't like this feeling.

The Edge

It's 10:46am and I've only been awake for an hour and a half but it feels like it's been three hours or more. I read a few chapters of a book for school about a lonely young english girl and her affair with an english man that seems like prostitution but in her mind is a little more meaningful. I'm trying to get up my courage to say "we need to talk about something important later", and I have been rehearsing in my head the points I want to make, but it seems like there is never a good opportunity. I have been told there never will be so I ought to just say what I have to say. My problem is that whenever I feel good for more than a day I feel I can let everything go and keep on living and it is hard to "ruin" the present with feelings from the past and worries of the future. I feel inclined to wait another day because I know sooner than later he will do just the things I intend to speak with him about. Wouldn't it be easier to say "don't you think you can treat me like this! I've been doing a lot of thinking and I've come up with this...." right in the moment instead of in a moment when the last example of bad behavior was two days ago instead of today... It's almost like he senses I want to call him out so he acts nicely for a few days so I have only examples from the past and look foolish for holding grudges. This is an example of an argument that plays in my head because the counter argument would be, "the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior" and it's not like the past was that long ago and also, how will the cycle be broken if I don't make any changes? "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results." I guess I never applied that piece of wisdom to relationships before. I always thought it applied mostly to the trial and error of inventing and math problems.

Another thing that's bothering me is that I received a message from his sister just before her phone died, so I replied in a facebook message telling her that I received her text but her facebook status indicates her phone is broken so I thought she probably wouldn't have received the reply I sent on the phone. She still hasn't responded - maybe it was an accidental message.

Sometimes You Just Need One Question to Shake Your Head Straight

Yesterday afternoon, I went to a counselor at the University. I did it because I felt like I was getting overwhelmed with all my emotions rising up from the problems in my relationship. I can really attest to the value of having a complete stranger hear your story and then ask you some really good, structured questions to bring you to some realization - or maybe just to pry open the door of your brain so the good advice of others starts seeping in. I told her I felt like my brain was so over activated that it was feeling difficult to respond to the situation without thinking in extremes. Everyday it was all I thought about - it consumed my mind, made me cry almost everyday, and I felt angry and hurt every time I went home. On top of that, I was starting to get depressed to the point where my eating and sleeping habits were getting messed up, and I hadn't worked out (something I usually find enjoyment in) because I was taking naps instead. Overall, the whole situation was becoming bad for my mental, emotional, and physical health. She asked me some key questions and made some reflections and insights that really helped though. One of the most important ones was regarding me as an "active participant" in the situation, or rather the fact that I had not been. Instead I seemed to be taking on a very passive role. With one palm higher than the other she motioned saying " It seems to be that he is up here in terms of power and control and you're down here." I agreed, and said it felt like I did not have any control in the situation and that it was a constant struggle to try and reach the same level as him. I had been waiting for him to figure out his feelings and make a clear statement on what he wanted in the relationship because I already knew what I wanted, but instead he held three months of "I don't know" over my head which continue until this day (and probably until tomorrow or the next day when I finally tell him my side and call out his behavior).

She asked me if I stood up for myself in all this and when him and I have conversations. I told her I did not apologize for my feelings and I did state that I was hurt but after some reflection and thought on what it means to stand up for yourself, I guess I never really have. She also reflected to me that when I tried to answer her questions regarding my plans (potential plans) on how to get more power in the situation, or what I wanted to do in the future, I repeatedly said, "I don't want to hurt him." And she stated, "it's clear to me that he has hurt you and continues to do so and it's taking a huge toll on your life. I'm curious about why you are afraid to hurt him?" I drew a blank and that only the answer I could muster was something about the length of time in the relationship - I suppose that was suppose to mean that it is hard to want to hurt someone you care about... In the end I suppose she was telling me something all my friends and family had also been telling me, but instead of saying "wow he's a jerk, you need to give him a good smack down", she held a mirror up to me saying look what that person in there is doing (or rather - not doing).

I'm really glad I went because I realized I definitely need help with my problem of passivity. I also came out feeling a bit of relief in that I have thought up a middle of the road way to deal with the situation and take back control by stating through word and action, "look buddy, you can't treat me like this. You have made selfish decisions and I'm tired of being nice to you when you obviously don't care about my feelings. I'm taking a break from this until you can sort your shit out - then you can call me and tell me what you've decided, otherwise I'm moving on." So instead of seeing things in black and white, I have found the idea of "taking a break" (as you would call it) to be very appealing right now. For the first time in almost 3 months I feel like I have had a couple moments of clear breathing and genuine smiles.

Chapter 2: Under Construction

One day the news paper announced that the stock market had crashed. It was a long fall from the top as help wanted signs disappeared and high rises began to empty of employees. My father spent a year of unemployment redesigning his life and claiming back his health before finding a new and better position. For the most part we were cushioned by the resilience of the oil and gas industry, but I'd like to believe that some of it was due to good karma as my father was always a gentle person, who's strength was evident in his drive for success without ever being aggressive. We heard stories about how it was bad but according to my memory it seemed not much had changed except for the lingering construction projects. My parents added two dogs to the family and my father's corporate gut began to shrink soon after.

At the same time I finished school and began searching for a "real job" in the "real" world. Competition was fierce and job prospects scarce, not surprisingly. I was lucky to be employed part time where I could easily have more hours. Though my income barely placed me above the poverty line, I did not feel poor by any means. We moved in together that spring and I bought healthy groceries with my expendable income. Our incomes combined allowed us to rent a decent, if not spectacular apartment for a young couple. The support of my family made my transition to independence seamless, or so I thought.

Also to be continued...

Chapter 1: The Attic

He arrived just as the boom was teetering on the edge of the parabola, as though it were making an unwise attempt to defy gravity, gazing as far down the slope as possible without slipping into the inevitable valley below. There were jobs here and money and that was the main reason he packed up and traveled almost 5000 kilometers from his childhood home near the ocean. He came from a small town and brought with him all the charm that we city folk believe a small town person might have. My first impression of him was of a bold soul, articulate and outgoing, but best of all balanced. When life became hectic with the pleasures of summer we took naps.

My family welcomed him into our home. He attended birthday dinners where we had a cake for each person who's month it was. March was quite glutinous in particular. How cute that he was unfamiliar with ethnic food, was kind to the animals, and enjoyed fine dining as much as I did. We both were dedicated to our good health and physiques, as well as upholding a strong work ethic. He shared many of the same values as me. Someone like that is hard to find when your culture

does not arrange it for you.

After one year, I flew back with him and met his family. They lived on the corner near the top of a hill. My eyes snapped pictures of the vintage buildings and narrow roads as we passed. The house looked like a barn, with wood siding, an attic window, and an enclosed porch. I liked the wrought iron vents, the aged hardwood floors, and the wood burning stove that gave the living room a warm glow. He thought it was funny that the neighborhood reminded me of Heritage Park. It was Valentine's day when we visited. Not to be forgotten, his father left a rose in the attic room where we slept. How romantic to have vaulted ceilings and a small window too oversee the snow covered roofs of the neighboring houses on the hill. Though he claimed it was

just a boring town, he entertained me with stories of his youth, while I marveled at the nearness to the ocean and the short and scenic drive to other towns. Back home, it was nearly the same amount of time to get to each others houses and longer during rush hour. But here, here, there was enough time to get ready for the day and remember things, and enjoy each other's company. If only the best of both worlds could be combined. I left a piece of my heart there in hopes to find it again one day in the future.

He was able to get a job almost immediately, especially in the trades. That's what it's like here. At one time, a friend had taken pictures of numerous help wanted signs to send to his friends back east. It was impressive at his age to be making such a big paycheck and he took pride in that fact. You wouldn't find him hunting for bargains, but I did admire his budgeting skills too. Budgeting is a grown up thing, a responsible thing. My education was my priority. Tha

t I owe to my Father's wallet and a desire to live comfortably, yet humbly, like him. When I finally finished my schooling, we were eager to move in together and be adults, for real. We chose an apartment surrounded my forest, with a clean kitchen and stainless steel appliances. It had a bathtub and a shower and an electric fireplace. Many times in the past he talked about how the same amount of money could buy a full sized cabin by the beach back home. If only in my head, I told him he could have that one day. Sometimes he would be lonely for his family. That's a specific kind of loneliness that no one else's company can ease. How frustrating for me, as my empathy was not accurate. My family lived only a few blocks away. Yet, when I applied for further education at a University close to his hometown, he seemed to recoil at the idea.

There was a time when he joked about the big trucks here and the small men that drove them. He was proud of his practical car, knowing that the person who drove it did not have to flaunt to compensate for anything. He liked that I didn't take three hours to prepare myself before we left the house and that I chose to invest in experiences instead of brand names. It appealed to him to visit with friends without the need for any additional entertainment. When we first began to date, he had brought me flowers and my parent's were impressed by his honest charm. Of course this was balanced by a healthy streak of adventure. He was very interested in motorcycles.

After we moved in together, I knew through vicarious experience that the curtains would be drawn back. Like a child at the concert of their favourite band, I was captivated by the mystery of back stage. Everything new, good or bad, was an adventure. My world was tinted by rose

coloured glasses. Our dates nights started to become fewer and that was okay because I practiced cooking and buying groceries.

At some point he started mentioning the trucks again, but this time he was fantasizing about driving them. I noticed his eyes were suddenly harsher. Shouldn't a young man be out spending his money and buying himself big TVs? If not for the love of his family, he seemed to forget

about the nights we spent in the attic room and the cabins by the beach.

To be continued...