On the Heels of…
I had a marathon conversation last night with an ex from 10 years ago; and reconnected with her (Terra), via something she came across in my blog. The last half of the conversation created a feeling of great discomfort for me–both then, and this morning. My dreams were filled with people from the past, and anxiety tinted the start of my day.
I was aware that in this phone conversation, I had slipped back into old habits and patterns of response and emotion. Our conversation was triggering me like a pack of firecrackers. She is, at the moment, inextricably attached to so many painful memories. She is attached to that battle with the Government/VA, that pain, disability, depression, ostracization, helplessness, and sense of generalized abandonment. While I know she was not responsible for all of that, she was still attached to that time period, and there remains a strong association in that regard.
She has an association also with my first and second bands, and with the only woman who broke my heart; the one I was recovering from, when Terra came along. Terra gave me back that feeling that I was valuable and worth loving.
Last night, I didn’t even realize I still carried all that emotion from my life 10 years ago. The way I somehow became the villain, the scapegoat for everyone concerned. I thought I had healed and left it all behind. (These are the lies we tell ourselves). I guess I had merely buried it, ignored it and got on with my life as best I could. But you musn’t bury something that isn’t dead, or you run the risk of something along the lines of Pet Cemetery…specters raised from the dead to terrorize you. But how do you kill something without a MEANS of killing it? I never got closure in that situation. So I buried it alive.
A lot can happen to people in ten years. I had hoped that talking to Terra might allow me to reposition her in my life–not as that person a decade ago, but as someone familiar, yet new. Obviously, that’s going to be more challenging than I thought. I have a great deal more self-work to do when I get settled into my new life.
Terra’s mention of my previous bandmates, and other “musical people” topic in general, to include looking at professional photos on the Internet she had taken of them, also triggered me. I have always felt betrayed by them. After I was the one who did the bookings, the management, the publications and marketing, provided the van to carry the equipment, which was purchased on MY credit, and never got reimbursed or compensated for the wear and tear on, and gas for my vehicle, and also being the principal song writer…it was doubly hurtful to be pushed out of both bands. On top of performing with my ex (the one who broke my heart) and being mistreated and insulted by her at every turn…I had to walk away from something that was very much like a marriage to a person I was still in love with; while still being in love with that person still in the band. Now, I see these musical people from my past doing the music again, and enjoying that process and being respected, accepted and admired, and those feelings of betrayal and unfairness well up again. Why didn’t I get to have that? It wasn’t like I didn’t work hard enough for it.
I was saved only by the information from my best friend who had returned from Colorado to inform me that change had come to that area too, in the form of affordability and an even wider variety of experiences waiting to be had. And then I researched again and found that every single thing I was missing in my life, was to be had there. That’s when I gained another caveat about life: Just because you have made a decision previously, it does not mean it still applies now. Things change, people change, and you have to look at the facts all over again and see if that decision you made still applies. Fortunately, I discovered mine didn’t and this opened up other possibilities for me.
So I began the goal of relocating, and it has taken me a solid year to get within 6 weeks of actually getting out of here. Setback after setback, betrayals, disappointments, misfortune, new health issues, and loneliness all colored the fabric of that scratchy cloak, but I wore it. I wore it and I vowed I would be free of it as soon as humanly possible.
Then a blast from the past unearthed my tenuous bomb shelter. And I was reminded with as much shock and ferocity, that I never really did have a grip on all of it. I had merely chosen to ignore it until it appeared to move away.
But I’m not done. I refuse to let go of this dream. I will not let this be my life. I will create another one. Again. And while I am weary and struggling to keep my chin up, I’ll push through this obstacle too, because this pinpoint of light shining in a dark place is searing my eyes, and it’s all I have.
On the Heels of… — 4 Comments