It’s been nearly three years since my ex and I broke up. It took me forever to get over it even though I thought I was done with him the instant I left and took off on a cross country trip, landing in Portland for the summer. I have always been so good at moving on from relationships and I had thought this would be the same. It was not the same.

I laid a trail of terror behind me. If I looked back, I swear I would have seen flames. I was selfish. I dated erroneously. (Although, I have to say, with panache.) A couple of friendships ended. I felt entitled to act a certain way because I was getting out of something bad, which, in retrospect, was not the worst (we all know what the worst is, even if we have not experienced it ourselves), just definitely not good. The minute you feel a sense of entitlement you are completely fucked, of course. No one is entitled to anything in this life, not the least of all love.

And then I fell. I fell and I broke my ankle and I got trapped in Los Angeles in a quiet cool house up on a hill in Silver Lake with no one to talk to all day long, and all I wanted to do was go home to New York and be with my people. I had people, I realized then. I had a life that could be something bigger and more substantial emotionally and creatively if I would just put in the work. So now here I am, doing the work. And I have to tell you, it is a beautiful life I am leading. You are all so fucking beautiful. I would kiss you if I saw you.

But another surgery later, every day, I still feel some pain, especially in the mornings. And if you are wondering if I think about that time of my life when I feel that pain, you would be correct.

What I am doing now, I think, is figuring out ways to work around the pain, but I don’t really have an answer yet. Going back to acupuncture will be a good start. I don’t want to have neurological surgery, at least not yet. I’m weary of hospitals, and also the doctor has warned me that while it might kill the pain it might also wipe out sensation in my foot entirely. Is it better to feel so vividly, or to not feel at all? I think I might choose pain.

I wish you could feel it, not forever, but just for a minute, so you would understand. There’s this tiny lump – I can press up against it with my fingertips and move it around, and then pain shoots through my foot. Pins and needles. If I bump against it accidentally, it’s awful. There’s a second kind of pain, and I have no idea what triggers it. When I walk down the street, I’ll get this loosey-goosey feeling and my toes will cramp up with this searing pressure, and then suddenly it feels like my toes are about to explode inside my foot, or perhaps shoot right off them entirely. I always cry out.

And it is so fucking annoying. I can make so many things happen in my life but I cannot make this pain go away. I am not asking for your sympathy, because I know it could be much worse. I am asking you to understand my annoyance.

I’m over that part of my life. I’m like, completely over it in such a huge way. You have no idea. But every day I’m still reminded of it, even if it’s just a trigger to my subconscious.

I write these things out so that I can get through them. I am writing and writing and writing even when I am not writing. I wrote a novel about all of this and I threw it away because when I was done I realized I had moved on and didn’t want to spend any more time with it and it does not matter because every day I still feel a little bit of pain. Sometimes we are just stuck with our bullshit for eternity.

Is it possible to attach a new memory to an old pain? I don’t think so. The only shot I have here is to write books that help people, and to try to be good to those I love. That’s it, right? That’s how to work around the pain.

Related.

(05/09/11) | 1 Comment »