I Hear That Life Moves On

I remember here

I remember you and me

I remember wild and wild and free.

I remember 'stay'

I remember 'please don't ever leave'

I remember you made me believe
That tomorrow and today

The sun would hold our hands

But the night came in to stay

While you made other plans.

I remember time

I remember days slid into years

Building lifetimes, thinking you'd be here.

But tomorrow and today

Well they misunderstood.

And you went along your way,

I think you're gone for good.

You are the sun gone down,

You are the sky.

You are the moon rushed round,

You are goodbye.

I remember 'go',

And I remember 'well maybe you could wait'.

I remember arms reached out too late.

Because tomorrow and today

Are only here so long.

When there's nothing left to say,

I hear that life moves on.

You are the sun gone down,

You are the sky.

You are the moon rushed round,

You are goodbye.

-------------------

In 2004 I dated a guy that made me the worst person I can ever remember being. After months of agony and a rollercoaster romance, he asked me to move to the city where he lived so that we could work together for the summer. Once I got there and had settled into his parents' house, signed my job contract for the next 4 months, and convinced my family that I was not, in fact, insane, he broke up with me immediately, citing a miraculous religious conversion that rendered me "the incarnation of sin" and him asexual. To this day I refer to my time with him as a litmus test for whether I'm doing right by myself and being kind to others. The guy himself I simply refer to as Psycho Ex or The Bad One. Future posts will be reserved to explain the drama that was the summer of '04, but there is an important part of that hellish period that is relevant for today's post.

The greatest thing my mother ever did for my self-esteem (besides give birth to me, which gave me at least a fighting chance) was to put me on a plane to Europe during said 2004 Hell. I remember sitting in Atlanta at my aunt's house, putting up a weak argument against my mother's insightful comments over the phone about how seeing Pyscho Ex at work every day was slowly eroding my self-worth, causing me unhealthy anxiety, and breeding suicidal thoughts in the darkness of my headspace. I had, my mother pointed out, turned into a complete zombie. Psycho Ex had so completely battered my sense of self-respect and my otherwise freely speaking, opinionated personality that I had given up the fight not only in our relationship but also in my life in general. Concerned offers from friends and coworkers to get me out of the house were met with a half-hearted "I'm busy" and a shrug that made it clear I was completely uninterested in a repeat attempt to save me.

One day an e-ticket arrived in my Inbox, accompanied by a phone call. My mother was putting me on mandatory vacation whether I liked it or not. I was just going to have to let my employer know I was taking a week off to go stay with my family in Europe. Still in a haze of pain, I boarded that plane a few days later and prepared myself for the night-long trip. When I woke up red-eyed and groggy upon landing, something unexpected happened. It was as if my mind - my body even - was coming out of the numb haze that had suppressed my sense of self for 2 years. The odd familiarity of my native language surrounded me as snatches of conversation reached me. Then, after I had retrieved my bags from the carousel and exited customs, I stood in the arrivals hall and wept.

One week away from Psycho Ex gave me the perspective I needed to kick off the healing process. When I returned stateside I reintegrated myself into my family life, finally took my colleagues up on their offers of social distraction, and returned to work without a cloud following me. That summer, I realized that all I needed to distance myself from The Bad One emotionally was to get far away from him geographically. My mother's push had allowed me to seize that opportunity and learn a valuable lesson.

If only I could pull the same trick with Raf...