I am tempted to tell myself, that nothing good came out of this. To get over this paradox of a relationship I had to tell myself that it was bad. All of it.
How else could it have been? He insulted me, he hit me, he spit on me and when he was most helplessly overwhelmed by his feelings he cut himself. I was overcome with some kind of hubris and thus thought I had the power and the duty to prevent any of this from happening. I should have controlled the situations, controlled myself and him. Of course this was not doable and so I had reason to feel guilty.
I felt so much responsibility, that I had to convince myself that walking away would not only be best for myself, but also for him. For a very long time or, I would say for way to long, saving only myself was not significant enough.
With all those intense feelings bubbling around us, the violence of many kinds and affection never failing, with all our passion and those innocent and not so innocent safe little havens, we had convinced ourselves that were meant for each other.
He told me, that living without me would not be worth it and I believed him. I knew he would survive but I also knew that this was a heartfelt truth for him at the time.
Today I believe if hell existed, it would be a lot like this burning monstrosity of a relationship: Just enough love, just enough arrogance, just enough joy, just enough masochism and just enough hope to not walk away from all the pain.
I still have feelings for him though I stopped calling them „love“ long before I was able to get out. I do not know, what they are exactly and I want to rid myself of them. They are frustratingly resilient.
It is tempting to say that it was hell on earth and nothing good came out of it except for me being stronger, more resilient and better at protecting myself.
I could tell myself: This was darkness and I cut it away and now there is nothing but light.
It would not be the truth. I had never before felt so connected to life through another person. It was like waking up from a persistent dream that I had thought to be reality.
People always say where there is light, there have to be shadows. And the light between us was shining so brightly, he could be so luminous, that I thought an equally spectacular darkness was the price we had to pay.
I was so wrong.
I have my dark places still. And I will probably always love to dive into the deep dark waters. But now I started to learn what it means to just live under the sun. It is true: Dark and light belong together. But this life does not need to be rough. It can be gentle and passionate at the same time.
We are paranoid.
We live and we breath. We dare and we hurt. We grow and we learn.
We never break. Winds of change erode us, bend us, straighten us (just as they please),
sticks and stones collide: We don’t break. What doesn’t kill us doesn’t make
us harder.We sway and we bruise; we crash to the ground,
just to grow back
we stand tall again,
we are warily eyeing what tries to land in our
crowns and tries to nest in our foliage – we know it won’t bring us down.
We learned to trust in our strength we learned to rely on our roots – we just are paranoid trees.