Thank You For Allowing Me To Feel Again

 Michael Ramey
Michael Ramey

Never would I have imagined, not in a millions years, that I’d be taking a trip down memory lane, to revisit a past I’d consciously tried to forget since with my last.

Certainly not with you.

We lay in bed last night, as we do on most nights, getting lost in our own thoughts while embracing the calmness that resonated merely from one another’s company. I looked over at you, your eyes closed, studying the way the night light reflected off of your face. My mind was racing and I was scrambling to find a more appropriate way to bring up the topic of “us”.

The phrases “we aren’t working” or “things aren’t the same” don’t take you by surprise anymore. I’ve been sending you off on this lone roller coaster ride of emotions not long after we’ve met. As much as I felt selfish for disturbing this peaceful moment by my uproar, I wasn’t able to get past the fact that now your guard is up more than ever, and that you’re constantly on the fence. Those were your exact words.

I could tell you were tired, more so frustrated. You looked at me but didn’t say anything, giving me the go to continue. I started to ramble, my thoughts all jumbled up. So many words were coming out of my mouth but the conversation was going nowhere. I saw those eyes of yours start to glisten, and I was hit with the fact that you made no attempt to fight it. You’ve proven to be stronger than I was by letting your guard down.

I urged you not to say anything, as if anybody else around you would even be interested in my life story. I get that everyone had their own burdens. Some arguably have it worse than I do. However, it didn’t lessen the effect it took on me, and subsequently how I entered into relationships. I told you about my family, dove more specifically into my mom. How I’ve spent majority of my upbringing telling myself I would never let it plague me, unwilling to go down that same self-destructive path. And though she didn’t, I believed.

Life was still worthwhile and in finding beauty in the broken. I’ve come so far, I told you. Hence, I have a fear of commitment. To go into a relationship, I had to trust blindly, equivalent of me taking the risk of jumping off a cliff, not knowing if I’d be grazed with the abundance of the water, or hit with the giant rocks beneath. If you looked at me differently one day, or forget to call me back like you’ve promised, I’d take it personally, tell myself it was a sign to get out before I get hurt. I wouldn’t be able to live up to that girl you met on our first Tinder date. I embodied so much more. It was an obsessive behavior, and voicing it aloud only validated how cynical I’d sounded.

You remind me I was only 25, there’s so much in life that’s coming for me. I sobbed into your chest while you hugged me. I could feel the damp pool of tears I’d created in between your chests. Embarrassed, I tried to pull away but you hugged me tighter. You told me you were sorry I had to go through it. It only made me cry harder because in an effort to prevent myself from getting hurt, I was hurting people around me. You too, have your burdens. I sensed it from the early days we’ve met. The way you carried yourself, your body language, the stare in your eyes when you’re distraught or upset.

I invited you to talk about your story, but you told me you weren’t ready. I knew the only way for me to heal was to take that leap, yet I keep telling myself I’m not ready. I pulled up the blog I had written one year ago for Mental Health Awareness Week, feeling confident I would be able to share it with you. To be honest, I’m afraid to admit I haven’t quite figured out what it’ll take. Or how long it’ll take for that matter.

I told you I loved you, because you were a beautiful person both inside and out. You gave me a safe haven tonight to feel again. I will forever be grateful.

You and I both know I’m not looking for you to convince me yet again, to remind me I might be letting go of something good. We’ve exhausted that conversation before. How I was able to form such a deep emotional connection with another person was mind baffling. We lay there for the rest of the night. I knew that come tomorrow, it would be another day. We wouldn’t speak of this again because what’s to be said has been said and what’s to be done has yet to be done. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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