Lost is better than Limping

Hope beyond hope.

The words amicable and reconciliation are falling away from me, replaced by words like court, protection, lawyers.

It is not surreal. It is realer than real. I have my gut instinct back. Not swallowing anymore.

I keep thinking about the early days. When we were in Cuba and one night, very drunk, he got very angry with me because a song had come on the iPod that he didn’t like. It was like it was possessing him. He couldn’t believe that I had liked that song or played that song – something trivial – and he went off the charts. Frothing and flailing and spitting brutal words at me.

I packed my bag, crying, and went downstairs to the lobby. That was it. It was the second time that he went nuts on me in our short life together (6 months at that time).

At some point, as I sat in that lobby, I went back upstairs, not knowing what to do or having the courage to actually leave the son of a bitch in the hotel room and fly home. For whatever reason, I needed him, wanted him… and wanted to prove to myself that I could handle it. I could take it on… I was strong enough to carry that load.

When I went back upstairs he had cut his foot and he was crying. He sputtered something strange like ‘see, you don’t even care…’ (a familiar line, I would learn, after the abuse….).

I put my arms around him and he folded into me. This was to be the nature of our love. Why did I accept it blindly? Was it because I did not know how I should be treated?

And so it was written. And so it was done.

I know that after the dark night of the soul is a sunrise so beautiful it will last a lifetime.