Sadness on Christmas

I just miss Bobby today, that’s all. That’s all it is. That’s all the sadness is.

Is it Ok to miss him? I’m sorry, Shawn. I wish I didn’t. I wish I was over six years of marriage and nine years of friendship in 7 weeks time. I wish I was over everything good that was mixed with everything hard. But it’s like I said before, diamonds don’t burn away in the fire of divorce.

Bob and I had a lot of diamonds. We did a lot of things right.

I’m gonna miss the pact we had to do nothing. Nothing at all. Two hours with each of our families, sometimes together and sometimes not. He’d golf and I’d paint. We’d watch Netflix at night. We ate shit food for dinner.

A hoagie from Safeway. Frozen pizza from Costco. Oatmeal and yogurt. Whatever. Whatever was around. Nothing. No shopping. No gifts. No plans. No bonding.

Our way of bonding was to not-bond. That was our pact. And I know it sounds strange, but I miss it.

The only thing I wanted when we got together was space. Space to be me. Space to be different. Space to be expansive and grandiose and hidden from the world until I could face it. I got everything I wanted. There was an infinite amount of space. And time. And room. I had the world all to myself.

It was everything I’d ever dreamed. Space and time to be me. It was the loneliest thing I never imagined. 4,500 square feet of room. An acre of land.

I just miss Bobby today, that’s all. That’s it. That’s all the sadness is.

I miss what things were before I got sick. Before PTSD eroded my joy from the inside out. Before space and time and room felt like a suffocating panic in prison.

Hey Bobby, marriage felt like suffocating panic in prison, but it’s wasn’t me — I swear. It was just my body. My body was destroying Life against my will by reliving the death it remembered. I was suffocated in a panic. I was trapped in the prison of a beautiful 4,200 square foot house with millionaire neighbors. It felt like forever because it was. Nine years abuse on Horseshoe Road. Nine years that the proceeded 10 before it.

Hey Bobby, it wasn’t you, it was me. It was my body. It was somatic memory blacked out and forgotten. This is what it believed: “Stay small. Hide. Obey. Get out.”

This is what I said to her: “I don’t want to get out. I love my husband. My husband is kind and wants me to shine. Why are you yelling?” But it was too late…

My body didn’t believe me. She said “Bullshit, Bitch! I’ve heard that one before. You said it when you were being molested at 8. You said it when you were getting raped at twelve. When you survived a suicide attempt at fourteen. When you lost yourself in religious penance at nineteen. When you woke up in a cult at 22. I’ll never believe you again, Rach. I’ll never believe him, either.”

She kept going, “Hey dumb fuck, don’t be a stupid bitch. Don’t play me for an idiot. I’m smart. I’m wise enough to never trust you again.”

And I said “I don’t know what she’s talking about. I have a 12-Step program. I do therapy and read spiritual books. I’m following all the rules. What the fuck is wrong with my body?! Why do I feel handicapped by these health issues? Why can’t I stay on track? Why do I cry during sex? I’m determined to fix it. I’m determined to be a happy person, a good wife, a generous woman with a brilliant brain. I’m determined to make something of my life. I’ll just try harder.”

And she laughed. She just laughed at me. “Ha! Sure. Do it. Try me. Try to lie to me, you broken down piece of shit. Tell me it’s different! In fact, keep me here if you want…and just watch. Watch me win. Watch me be smarter than your misinformed logic. Watch me self-destruct to save your life from this hell of suffocating panic in prison.”

And so she did.

Bobby, my body embodied pain in its purist form. it made me sick. My brokenness was never your fault. I’m sorry for having been battered. For being a pathetic example of womanhood. An expensive, exhausting embarrassment. I’m sorry my body wouldn’t believe me when I told her you were safe. She was stuck in the past.

That’s what it was: she was stuck in the past. The past destroyed our present.

I’m sad my body was stuck in the past. I’m sad I lost 6 years of my life. I’m sad I lost a marriage. I’m sad, that’s all. That’s all the sadness is.