I was never one for long goodbyes. I think I was more a “pull the band-aid off” kinda guy. It was in my nature to quit when things went bad and forget. I was good at erasing things from my head, squashing feelings of love and fondness. It was how I dealt with the hard moments, the tears and the sadness in life. Better to forget than to actually deal with emotion.
This led to a slow fall into a confused and pained existence, where my own memory became stunted and broken. You see play with your own memories long enough and you actually start believing the lies you have told yourself and losing the reality of oneself. I forgot so much pain, but also lost the core person I was. In essence I chose to forget me.
Yes, it seems a bit impossible, but I began this talent at a very early age. I guess you could say it is spawned from my own mental illness. Leave the bad things somewhere else and pretend to be someone else. When you begin young, you have so many years to hone. As circumstances went, I was given lots of opportunity to force forget. I never said my life was a good one, but in truth, most of the bad I just let go…poof!
The only draw back to this wondrous talent of mine is that the memories do not actually go. They more hide, fester and gain power. They wait for something to set them free. They know that eventually a personality like mine will have the ultimate emotional test and with it…crack. I do not blame the forgotten for wanting to be free. I think any memory wants to be remembered, put them together and you have a mob wanting to be heard. This is how I define my breakdown, a mob wanting to be heard.
The trigger was the end of a marriage, or rather the end of my family. I am not here to discuss it, I merely mention it in passing. This emotionally charged event allowed the mob to escape. The rush of memory was painful. I do not mean mentally, I mean really physically painful. It hit me right in the chest, like a thousand pounds of pressure crushing me. I screamed in pain, wanting it to just go. I wanted to die and I tried so hard to.
Glimmers saved me.The faces of my children, their laughs, their voices and their love. For the briefest of moments I heard and saw them in the mob. It pushed me back, out of the frozen lake I had walked into. Made me crawl in agony back to the living and made me seek help to quiet all the voices. I will always be grateful to my children, they will never know, but they saved their dad’s life.
When the voices quieted, I also realized that I did not know who I was. I had lived so long forgetting and pretending that the person I was….wasn’t. I was just a lost boy, without dust to fly, without a happy thought. I was nothing, truly just shell. I breathed, I lived and I breathed some more. I was only happy when I was with my kids. This time fed my heart, but when they were gone, I starved.
This was not a good existence, but it was all I had. I never said it was a good life, but sometimes there were glimmers. Give me a bit, and I will ramble some more…