“I want to feel that again…” A Continuing Tale of Discontinued Desire

Posted on January 27, 2009

Just not gonna sound like it used to...Just not gonna sound like it used to…

“I think he’s going to break up with me,” she weeps.

This sentence actually takes a solid 3 minutes for her to communicate amidst shallow gasps for air, tear-filled halting and hysterical hiccups, but for our purposes, I thought I’d give you the benefit of the upshot.

I mentally search for the verbal balance between “reassurance” and “reality check.”

I am once again listening to the sad chronicle of my broken hearted friend, Lady Earth.
I am also making a conscious effort towards increased compassion and empathy.
“Well, what do you want or need him to say?” I gently ask, “What would make this better?”
Her answer doesn’t surprise me.

“I want him to tell me he’s sorry. That I’m his best friend. That he can’t see his life without me. That he loves me. That he’ll try…”

I wish she wanted the couch. The couch I could help her with.

Making someone feel something that they simply do not feel… hmph.
Sadly, there is nothing anyone can do to reinstate emotion gone AWOL.

I contemplate her situation and find myself running through a litany of my own futile attempts to manipulate people and situations.
Ugh, I swear it was like meeting the Ghost of Absurd Actions Past.
I cringe in the face of the memories.

To be fair (to myself) and not allow a crazy spiral into the abyss of self-loathing that the rehashing of mortifying thoughts can cause, I remind myself that to “desire” is human.
In some religions, desire is the considered the divide between “human” and “Deity.”

I suppose, in the religion of my own mind, desire is a blessing. I thrive on that internal pinging which reminds me that I’m a bit off course. That I’m not fulfilled. It’s like sonar for the soul.

The sonar just gets really fucked up when it encounters foreign objects. Like other souls. It gets confused. It wants to ping and guide and dictate the course for everything and everyone within its functional radius. Soul sonar can be pretty self-absorbed…it doesn’t recognize that Others have their own path.

Diversion…sorry.

I attempt to reason my way out of this…for her, of course.
We are in a perpetual struggle, from birth until death, to get back there. To feel as good as we once did. Even if it wasn’t actually that good, for the mind has a funny way of glorifying the past.

We are born and desperately reach for the first breath of life. We struggle and suddenly feel the relief of the oxygen seeping into our lungs and tissues and vital organs and we spend the next 80 years chasing that breath. It’s probably good that we don’t remember how amazing that first breath felt, for I’ll just bet that an inhalation has never been as gratifying as that initial gulp.

We move through the tunnel of childhood and peek our heads out at the end and we glimpse Oz. Everything is new. Everything is unusual. But it’s scary. So we rush about trying to assimilate and make it feel normal and then complain about how mundane life is.
We wish we could see Emerald City as we had when we first emerged from the tunnel. Before we were scarred. Before we were forgotten or left behind.
Before. Then. Not now.
Still, we try. To revive the mutual amazement.

We fall in love and see the amazing beauty in anOther. We long to incorporate pieces of that person’s extraordinary facets of being into ourselves and we hope that they see us as equally intoxicating.
But occasionally, amongst all the incorporation and assimilation, we stop exploring the “extraordinary” facets within ourselves. We become wholly entrenched in our mate. Sadly, our Other also sees this and the equilibrium of mutual stimulation is thrown perilously out of whack.

And then suddenly, you’re gobsmacked by reality and you’re friends are giving you corny nicknames like “Lady Earth” and blogging about you. Sigh.

Essentially, my sweet Lady friend lost herself. She quit her important-ish career. She became cash-dependent, attention-needy, and high-powered-telescope-style focused on her relationship and forgot exactly what made it “cool” and “challenging” (in the positive sense) in the first place. Her Other, however did notice the change.

I don’t mean to seem like I am placing blame solely on her. There is never a single defendant in the Court of Broken Promises. We are all guilty. We are all at fault. We all wandered down the path that led to here.

We deserve to feel gratified and validated, but we cannot ignore the way “Today” looks. And the reason “Today” and “Yesterday” have different monikers are because they are not, in fact, the same.
Ignoring that fact and hitting the mental “Repeat” button on that track entitled “Days of Yore,” may invoke emotion in you, but will just annoy someone who is “over” that tune.

I pray that there will peaceful and expedient resolve for my friends. I pray that she realizes that she cannot forcibly make him see her as he once did.

And I pray that I’ll remember to re-read this musing the next time I am tempted to take “What Is” back to my mental General Store and exchange it for “What Was…”

“Thou art to me a delicious torment.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

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