What do you do when an obstacle gets in your way? Not a physical obstacle blocking your path, because you could always find a way around it, or go over it, if you could physically touch it. The obstacle I mean is the one that forms in your head that becomes so huge you feel you need to run and hide from it.
But you can’t. It’s an obstacle that makes you take a deep breath, and while you wrestle with it, shaking it back and forth to see if you can break it, and you can’t, it makes you tired. Oh, so tired. This kind of obstacle gets in the way of you doing the very thing you told yourself you were going to, promised yourself you were going to do, and even got to the front door on your way to doing it, yet you couldn’t open the door and go out.
What you really want is a drink. Something to numb the pain.
“I can’t fucking deal with this!” he said, yelling at the face he could see in his mind who was trying to tell him that he needs to learn it for himself now!
That was the point. He needed to learn it for himself. It was the only thing he could do. It is only real option that didn’t lead to self destruction.
He was just so sure, “It’s too soon.” He got quiet and said again, “It’s too soon.”
“You need to learn to live your life for yourself,” the voice in his head was telling him again.
What could he say back? “I don’t know how?” or “I don’t know if I want to?” Like a broken record, all he could think was that it was too soon, yet there is no time where he will ever be sure it would be the right time. He couldn’t see that day coming. He didn’t have anything to live for. He didn’t know how to live for himself. He didn’t even want that day to get here.
He didn’t want to accept it. That was reality. He needed to keep her here, in the present. He couldn’t see past the next five minutes. He wanted to disappear. He looked in the mirror. He still sees only himself. It wasn’t going to magically change. He sat down on the edge of the bed, put his face in his hands, and cried. He missed her so-damn-much it ripped his heart out.
What is a mirror? What does it show? You close your eyes because you don’t want to see what is there, or rather, what isn’t there. There is only one face and it is standing there, alone. Alone.
You thought about this over and over through the night, about how you knew it was the best thing for you – to go. Your friends were waiting. Not her friends. Your friends now. He told himself he had only ever gone there because she needed his help. It was her thing. Not his. He could pretend to do that, but she saw through him. So even though you knew in your gut it was the best thing to do and you needed to go out the door and leave, you couldn’t.
Again, you sit down. You say over and over, “Why is it I need to go?” It played over and over and over in his head, a reel with no end.
“Do I feel up to it?” you think. “Did I get enough rest?” Obviously not.
“Do I want to put myself around other people who are going to want to talk to me when I don’t feel like talking?” All those condolences and people telling him someday he’d feel better. “This too shall pass” kind of thing. This isn’t going to pass. His reason for living was gone.
He said to himself, “How the hell is this going to pass??” You close your eyes and stretch your head back trying to decide what the best thing would be to do. You sit there and sit there. The minutes on the clock tick by. Back and forth, he wrestled with that obstacle. He fought. He really did. He really, really did.
“I’m not ready.” You finally decide. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”
“I can do this another time. There is always another time,” He convinces himself.
The clock keeps ticking…ticking…ticking. You sit there until you are sure it is too late. Now you have a valid reason not to go.
“I can tell everyone I overslept. They’d understand. They wouldn’t be mad,” he convinced himself.
“They’d tell me it was okay. Maybe next time.” Yeah, maybe next time. The finality of having made the decision to not go was like a weight lifting off his shoulders.
But . . . your obstacle smiled. It won. It stroked your pain and with every soft caress over your bruised and battered heart, it smiled. You, feeling the finality, the completeness of being empty, gave in to it. The pain had weighed so much it was hard to breathe. It wrapped it’s arms around you and said, “There, there now, doesn’t that feel better? You can always try again tomorrow.”
But very quietly, as if in a whisper, he heard the words, ” and I’ll be right here, too, my love, doing my best, to keep you company.”