The last two years have been a rollercoaster for me. I’m pretty sure I am going through a mid-life crisis. For me, it doesn’t include buying a convertible and dating younger men (dating (.) would be nice) but instead it has submerged me into the depths of my soul, more than before. I’m always thinking, proposing theories, connecting dots, looking for answers, wanting to heal my wounded child. I look for the possible reasons for XY&Z, find a plausible answer and start complete monologues in my head about it. I imagine myself with the person I suspect was the trigger for discomfort A and unload all of my brilliant theory. That was until recently, I don’t know what stage of grief this is but now I just don’t care. I see my parents are wounded children who tried to live a life, raise children and fulfill society’s expectations to the best of their abilities, I see my sisters in the same way, my uncles, my cousins, him, me… all of us, wounded children. The difference now is that I see it, I know that no one is out to hurt me, but I’m still hurt and I want to heal and at the same time, I just don’t care about anyone’s feelings, anymore.
This sounds terrible, maybe, but I am also in the quest of doing my best not to control anything or anyone. Like Sean Clayton on Instagram says “We can’t control anything, but we influence everything” and so I’m working on giving up the illusion of control.
Now, back to the title, I said goodbye (again) to someone with whom I’ve been involved and was unable to let go of completely. Last night I could not sleep and it was because I was at it again, looking for answers, connecting dots, going back in all of my previous relationships and finding patterns in my behavior and then I saw it: I am not an attentive partner (but I claim I want an attentive partner) and yes, (sorry dad but) it was my relationship with my father (or lack thereof) that made me think it was normal to have a male in my life who offered very little: Infrequent visits, very little attention, bursts of caring, impenetrable personality and my expected and solicited understanding of the situation and of his behavior.
This brings us back to him, the person I said goodbye to (again), whom I know is also a wounded child and whom I probably triggered worse when I went away to do a master’s degree and to whom I wrote the following:
“Hola,
I know you keep being busy, I know you keep putting up a wall around you, I know you say you were very clear to me before I left, but I also know you said you’d come visit me and never did. I know you also sent me songs while I was there. Maybe you were just sharing love songs that you liked but were not intended for me, but I thought lyrics like:
“Siento, que no te he dejado de pensar desde ese momento,
Que contigo estaría bien, que tus ojos son perfectos y
Pienso que ya es hora de empezar algo en serio
Y creo que nada me impide decirte que estaría bien besarnos una vez y otra vez…”
Or Lauana Prado’s Tatuagem… meant you perhaps had feelings for me, and there was the possibility of picking up where we left off once I came back, but then pandemic, and then vaccines, and then more piling up of reasons not to meet… and I was still hopeful that the few times we did get together, you’d let down your guard, and we could start anew.
I know later you also said you don’t want to deal with responding to anybody, I know you’ve said you can only offer a platonic relationship or just sex, and I know now that I can’t play this game of “no strings attached”. I give up. I’m tired. Disenchanted, fed up with everything. 5 years chasing you are enough.
I also know I’ve written you many times in the past with different tone goodbyes, wishing you the best, etc, and I still wish you the best. I wouldn’t have attached so much to the idea of the power couple we could have been if I didn’t see a lot of potential in you. So yes, best of luck, and I hope this time to bite my fingers off before I write to you again.
I hope this time to be able to give you what you give me.”
Sounds bitter, I know. It’s done.
Cafecito with a View 