The Pirate's Unfortunate Amnesia (and how I Envy it so)
I wish that I was more like you.
I wish I didn't remember every single detail of our life together.
I wish I could erase the memories that wake me up at night. Or wipe out the dreams that keep me from falling to sleep.
I think it's your self defense mechanism (your super power). I think you've always used it to help you to get through your miserable life.
You just forget.
You just wake up and go through the day without the memories of the pain and disappointment you suffered through yesterday.
I also believe that it is the numbness that you described when I met you. You hadn't allowed yourself to remember the pain and that way you didn't have to feel it - or anything for that matter.
But when we met - when you say you woke up - the memories came back and you were flooded with emotions.
You were angry.
You were ecstatic.
You were all over the board with your feelings. Every day was different and exciting. And it made you write again. And paint.
Ironically, I realize that I ended up being the compass that guided you to dig deep.
And after digging, you discovered a chest of all of the things you had buried over the years, a treasure with all of your lost hopes and dreams.
Those first four months were an amazing time. They are my favorite memories. Watching you wake up each day with excitement in your eyes and adventure in your soul.
I so loved being a part of your journey to find you again. I loved learning about that person you had lost and were getting to know again.
And then the reality of your situation came crashing down on you. You were aware - for the first time. You could remember all of the things that you used to do that made you who you were. And you could remember all of the things that happened in your life that took that person away.
And then you saw an opportunity to get it all back... but at a cost.
Having to deal with all of that - that is heavy.
I read somewhere that depression means you're living in the past and anxiety means you're living in the future.
And over the past few months, you've been living in a world of both. Bouncing back and forth between the future you thought you could have - the one you wanted from the time you were a child but had lost and just found again - to the reality of where you are now and how you got here, and the devastating truth - you gave up all of your dreams for someone else a long time ago.
You gave them up with good intentions.
But you've come to realize how that sacrifice was lost, misused, and misguided. No. You will always be tied to your situation and that is the heaviest burden anyone could carry.
All of the expectations and pressure. All of the gaslighting that made you feel like it was never enough. That would never end. As long as you live, no matter which life you choose, that ball would always be chained to your ankle, holding you back - making what should be a walk in the park feel like a miserably painful shuffle across a swamp.
A true 526.
So, you've done it again. You've made a sacrifice. You've chosen to put away all of the gifts that God gave you to live a life that someone else has designed for you. You've packed up all of your things and put them in boxes once again (literally and figuratively).
And most likely, you won't remember all of the things that made you smile over the last 18 months. You'll forget that feeling you got when you grabbed my hand before the movie started and whispered into my ear, "I really, really love you," just before you kissed me.
Or the time you took me out for a pint at that pub and surprised me by pulling the box out of your chest pocket to give me the most precious gift I've ever received in my life.
You won't remember the excitement of being lost on the trail, and how good that BBQ tasted when we found civilization.
You won't remember the fear of lowering me 80 feet on my own make-shift anchor and the exhaustion and irritation you felt that you had to go up after and clean your gear.
You won't remember the comfort of traveling together through the airport, playing games on the plane, or the peace we felt on my porch - whiskey in hand.
You won't remember the feel of the brackish water on your skin as we swam in the creek on that hot summer day with cuts on our fingers from eating crabs.
Or the way my dog would chase after us on the canoe and the panic I felt as the waves pulled us closer to the river and away from the shore.
You won't remember any of it. You will push it away and shovel it into a box to be buried.
And for that, I am jealous. Because I will remember each and every second of our life together. And one day I will die... thinking of you.
How lucky you are to have someone love you so much. To have a treasure buried away to remember one day - if you ever wanted.
And how unlucky I am to have to feel it. To be buried under the weight of that X, waiting for someone to come shovel me out of the sand.
I wish I didn't remember every single detail of our life together.
I wish I could erase the memories that wake me up at night. Or wipe out the dreams that keep me from falling to sleep.
I think it's your self defense mechanism (your super power). I think you've always used it to help you to get through your miserable life.
You just forget.
You just wake up and go through the day without the memories of the pain and disappointment you suffered through yesterday.
I also believe that it is the numbness that you described when I met you. You hadn't allowed yourself to remember the pain and that way you didn't have to feel it - or anything for that matter.
But when we met - when you say you woke up - the memories came back and you were flooded with emotions.
You were angry.
You were ecstatic.
You were all over the board with your feelings. Every day was different and exciting. And it made you write again. And paint.
Ironically, I realize that I ended up being the compass that guided you to dig deep.And after digging, you discovered a chest of all of the things you had buried over the years, a treasure with all of your lost hopes and dreams.
Those first four months were an amazing time. They are my favorite memories. Watching you wake up each day with excitement in your eyes and adventure in your soul.
I so loved being a part of your journey to find you again. I loved learning about that person you had lost and were getting to know again.
And then the reality of your situation came crashing down on you. You were aware - for the first time. You could remember all of the things that you used to do that made you who you were. And you could remember all of the things that happened in your life that took that person away.
And then you saw an opportunity to get it all back... but at a cost.
Having to deal with all of that - that is heavy.
I read somewhere that depression means you're living in the past and anxiety means you're living in the future.
And over the past few months, you've been living in a world of both. Bouncing back and forth between the future you thought you could have - the one you wanted from the time you were a child but had lost and just found again - to the reality of where you are now and how you got here, and the devastating truth - you gave up all of your dreams for someone else a long time ago.
You gave them up with good intentions.
All of the expectations and pressure. All of the gaslighting that made you feel like it was never enough. That would never end. As long as you live, no matter which life you choose, that ball would always be chained to your ankle, holding you back - making what should be a walk in the park feel like a miserably painful shuffle across a swamp.
A true 526.
So, you've done it again. You've made a sacrifice. You've chosen to put away all of the gifts that God gave you to live a life that someone else has designed for you. You've packed up all of your things and put them in boxes once again (literally and figuratively).
And most likely, you won't remember all of the things that made you smile over the last 18 months. You'll forget that feeling you got when you grabbed my hand before the movie started and whispered into my ear, "I really, really love you," just before you kissed me.
Or the time you took me out for a pint at that pub and surprised me by pulling the box out of your chest pocket to give me the most precious gift I've ever received in my life.
You won't remember the excitement of being lost on the trail, and how good that BBQ tasted when we found civilization.
You won't remember the fear of lowering me 80 feet on my own make-shift anchor and the exhaustion and irritation you felt that you had to go up after and clean your gear.
You won't remember the comfort of traveling together through the airport, playing games on the plane, or the peace we felt on my porch - whiskey in hand.
You won't remember the feel of the brackish water on your skin as we swam in the creek on that hot summer day with cuts on our fingers from eating crabs.
Or the way my dog would chase after us on the canoe and the panic I felt as the waves pulled us closer to the river and away from the shore.
You won't remember any of it. You will push it away and shovel it into a box to be buried.
And for that, I am jealous. Because I will remember each and every second of our life together. And one day I will die... thinking of you.
How lucky you are to have someone love you so much. To have a treasure buried away to remember one day - if you ever wanted.
And how unlucky I am to have to feel it. To be buried under the weight of that X, waiting for someone to come shovel me out of the sand.
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