The Art of Connecting Realities
Today's entry is from a journal entry I wrote in 2015 reflecting on a monumental moment in my life that occurred Memorial weekend in 2014.
In 2015 this was still the way I saw things and I love that I can share that reality and live in this one at the same time.
My reality today does not negate what that reality was, they are forever connected, forever exchanging data and forever linked. It is just as my reality 7 years in the future is forever linked to my reality now no matter how different they may be.
For all purposes of anonymity I have changed the name of my Girlfriend at the time.
Three
The love story begins on a Friday, its Memorial Day weekend, and I am on my way to an unexpected but very necessary trip to Detroit. Unexpected because Nicole and I planned a camping trip which fell through three days prior, necessary because there has been an undeniable tugging on my chest that change is looming.
I touch down into DTW by way of McNamara terminal and text my Dad, “hey Dad just landed, on the way.” I wanted to let him know I had landed and to see if he was on route, as he was coming straight from work to pick me up. Time spent one-on-one with my Dad is something I have always enjoyed, because for better or worse, we have built our scars through many missteps but have always managed to see each other on the other side. It is in his attempt to always try and see where I am coming from that enables me to see his intention.
My Dad calls my Mom to let her know we are on our way, to which she replies, “Oh great baby, will you pick some bread from Kreus and Muer?” I ask him who is over the house, he says, “Frank and Ash, Katie and Addie, Aus and Casey ,the babies, Nana and the Franks.” I recline in my chair to better enjoy the 40 min drive from the airport to home.
As the Verville’s, we are so happy to live life like this, open and chaotic, expecting friends or family to stop by unannounced. We adopted a philosophy early on that whatever we had it would always be shared. This idea is perfectly personified by a family mission trip to Costa Rica, in which upon our return we found the kitchen completely destroyed by water, from a friend leaving behind a clogged toilet. Coming home tonight to a full house is natural and is life at its best.
As we pull into the driveway, I see Zoey, my family's Yorkie poodle at the door jumping. Getting out of the car, Austin and Casey pull up behind us moving, as if the driveway were a freeway. Having just run to the store to get ice for the Memorial Day party we’re having the next day. Austin, my younger brother and the funniest person I know proclaims, “welcome home golden boy.” It is in his joking warmth that I know I am home.
Entering the house, I am met by a chorus of playful screaming and laughter from my baby niece and nephew, as two-year-old Maxine and DO are playing on the floor. Maxine is trying to prop him up on his feet, as it seems he will take his first steps any day and she wants to be the one to make it happen. My Mom hugs and kisses me, and lets me know to take my stuff down to the basement or to put it in Aussie’s room, as the guest rooms are all occupied by the married people. I choose the basement.
Addie is cooking Maltagliati, a type of pasta typical of the Emilia- Romagna region of Italy, which consists of fresh pasta, eggplant puree, confit pheasant and cured egg yolk for dinner. Everyone drinks, eats and laughs until their bellies are full and their hearts are warm.
It is in the distraction of family that I forget anything is tugging at me. As 1:30 am hits, Aus and Frank head to bed and I decide it is probably a good time to call Nicole and see what she is up to. When she picks up the phone, there is a very solemn almost crushed undertone in her voice. I ask, “What’s wrong?” She responds,” It is the same thing every time when you go home. You say you’re going to make me a priority, but you never do. I am supposed to be your wife one day and you can’t even pull yourself away to text me and let me know you’re busy. Enjoy your weekend with your family, as I think it would be better if we talk when you get back to Baltimore. I love you.” As she hangs up the phone, I am hit by a wall of guilt and painful shame. It immediately feels as if my heart is being ripped from my chest. Every lie and selfish act I have committed during our relationship is attached to this hurt and under a heavy fist that feels like it is bloodying my face. Laying in the darkness, there is no security in my thoughts or surroundings, only emptiness. As the pain becomes unbearable, I go up the stairs to sleep on Aussies bunk bed needing to feel the warmth of another person around me. But there is no escape. I lay motionless, pushed down by an invisible force, which has taken control of my body. As I lay motionless for what seems to be hours, I received the clearest of messages, “Let go.”
The next morning, still unable to comprehend the events of the previous night or what, “Let go” means. I go into a shell. Deciding to be withdrawn emotionally and physically. I retreat into my mind, knowing that in 48 hrs I will be in my apartment by myself, and will not have to answer to anyone but myself.
I disengage, repeatedly telling everyone, there is nothing wrong and that I just want to be silent, until it is about time to go to the airport and my Mom, asks,” Would you mind if we go and look at some of the houses Daddy and I are looking at buying in Detroit? I would love to show you.``
Approaching the timeless and rapturous old homes of Indian Village my heart can take no more. I stopped my mom in mid- sentence as she is talking about a beautiful five-bedroom ivory laden house, that would enable us to still have her side sleep over for Christmas. “Mom, can we just go to the airport now?” “ But Your flight is not for another four hours, baby,” she says.. I don’t know if it was the beauty and hollowness of the old neighborhood, or if it was being in the security of the woman who gave me life, but I began to weep as the message of “Let go” meant to let go of my relationship with Nicole. I wept for the way I had been acting, I wept for the things I had done, I wept in utter panic for the fear of the unknown. So much of who I was and how I was, are wrapped up in this relationship. She stopped the car and just let me cry until I was ready to go.
After getting through security I see the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf café and decide to get a coffee and collect my thoughts. My face is red and swollen from having wept, and all I want to do is get myself together but the only thing in my mind is the message “let go”. As I sit down and reach for some hand sanitizer from my carry on. I notice that I had brought my journal with me. I pull five sheets of journal paper out and began to write. For another hr, I sit and write every single thing my heart, my fears, my doubts, my hurt, my anger and as the tears come pouring out and the five pages come to a close I am granted momentary peace from a painful memory in which Nicole said,” Alexander, as much as it breaks my heart, I will gladly give you up, should you turn into the man God wants you to be.”
The Art of Connecting Realities
Oh my heart!! Your writing truly takes me somewhere else, I feel like I’ve been there before, long ago. So poetic, so raw. We are blessed with your defined emotional center and your ability to communicate the feelings and emotions we didn’t even know we had. Thank you thank you thank you!
Ouch. Hugs to you Alex 🤗