I have been not well. Stricken by a nameless something that stripped me of my senses and left me wandering around in a misty place - confused and troubled. The first symptoms manifested last September. I kept saying that ‘somethings very wrong with me’. Time ran backward and simultaneously. An hour might be a month and what happened this morning was yet to come. Words stuck together or got lost in trains of thought. Did I do that? When was...didn’t I...and on and on. Keeping track of things was impossible. It was like everything had wings and flew off.  Mostly I was dismissed. Told I was overreacting or “maybe she’s on drugs”. That’s my favorite. Most days I wish it was a beautiful high that took me away.  

There was one constant, a lovely tender presence that never failed to hold my hand. A presence that assured me that i was ok even when we had no idea I was getting sick. In those early days of crushing anxiety, depression, confusion, mania - when I lived in a world of shifting realities not knowing how long ago or where or whether things had occurred, there was one unfailing, unwavering presence that stood by my side, even when I didn’t deserve it. 

There were long desperate hours where I was lost, locked in a prison I didn’t know existed. Through all of it, there would always be a gentle touch, a sweet smile pulling me out of the fog. Before, when I was first gripped by this, there was only one that quietly understood. The compassion I found in green eyes and brave kisses to cheeks and mouth, reassuring words, “it doesn’t matter if you sprouted twigs and leaves I will still love you” 

The tragedy is that while I wandered lost in mist, dense neurons misfiring, my only tether fought my demons with my while fighting his own alone. That truth lays itself bare upon the table. It can’t be missed. 

We went long and far on our journey. Loved with purity unmatched by any I’ve known. We also fought, not only demons and neurons but each other as well. One of us crossed a line. It doesn’t matter which one. One of us let go of the hand they held and the other wandered away. It’s not without some sadness we parted ways. It wasn’t so many days ago we sat together, dimly lit room, eyes on each other, love a visible bond between us and we imagined a future time when all those monsters he’d chased would be a thing with no more power. 

There were perfect days, they stand beside the ugly ones. That will be enough, it will have to be. It never took long before the monster came to call and when it left it took my heart. If you’ve ever had to say goodbye to someone after they had already left. Did you ever wonder, was there some inkling, that it would be so final? Sometimes it’s best because if I’d known I never would have let him go. And he is where he wanted to be and this too will become a part of our love story. When you love someone you want what they want for themselves. And so it is. I loved a shadow and the shadow is mine forever bound by one unwavering truth. For a while, we both had everything we ever wanted. And it was good. 

With every falling tear, a part of my heart releases the hurt of absence and I find pieces of me, him, us in this place that used to keep me bound in an endless cycle of desperation. I can hear echoes of words, "I will always love you, sweet girl"  that sound more like lies than something to hold on to. Suddenly love has become the enemy. And as memories fall so do my tears and with each unbelievable turn of events, acceptance comes. I have become numb.

This is my story. It isn't extraordinary nor is it dull. It simply is. This is a human life, nothing more. This where I begin, in the middle. I wanted to start here because in so many ways this love that dies, that once lived, this love was singular to me. It hardly matters whether it was riddled with lies or not. For me, it was pure, raw and sincere. Our truth is made up of all the lies we tell ourselves, our truth is what we tell ourselves to get through the night, our truth is our experience. Whether we are honest or not the lives we live are the lives we make. And this is mine.