It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me and I’m feeling numb.
I was young when my mom met my dad and five when they got married. When she met him, she didn’t like him very much and wasn’t in the slightest bit attracted to him. He wasn’t everything she wanted but he was definitely everything she needed.
He fought for the woman he wanted and loved. And I know my mother, she can be ridiculously difficult if she wants. And here they are living happily ever after.
My dad is the best man I know. He may not have conceived me but he is my one and only father. Forget that sperm donor who decided I wasn’t worth shit.
My dad is a good father and a good husband. I know what love is because of my parents and it’s what I’ve always wanted for myself.
If I could find a man with a pinch of the compassion, care, selflessness, love, thoughtfulness, honesty that my father possesses I’d be set for life. I’d be happy forever.
But here I am, with a man that doesn’t have just a pinch, but a bucketful of those qualities. And I ruined that shit.
I want to fight, I do. But I’m so disconnected from my emotions that all I can offer is monotonous garble.
My head hurts. I feel sick. I just don’t feel too great right now. At least if I was anxious, I would be feeling something. But even my anxiety is doing it’s thing independent of me.
I’m not sad. Just frustrated. But now I actually want to be sad. I need answers. I need to know how I feel about everything.
I should go to work but my head hurts too much. I want to sleep…
* * *
Igor, if you’re reading this:
You were mine from the start. You already had my heart. You didn’t even have to try hard. It was always with you.
But my heart, it hurt. Wounds that were yet to heal. And as you tried to fix it with your love, patience and care, it hurt. It hurt so bad. And I couldn’t take the pain. My heart was too wounded. So I took it away from you so that I could fix it myself. And I tried so hard to fix it alone but I was doing it all wrong. I was hurting myself even more. I consulted my brain on numerous occasions but my brain didn’t know what to do either. But I kept going back, asking more questions, making sure I was going down the right track, to no avail.
And all the while, I had your heart in my hand. But I was so focused on fixing mine, I forgot yours. In fact, I wasn’t showing it the love and attention it needed to thrive and I invariably started to cause it pain too.
I had two hearts. Both of which I was hurting. But what I should have done was to allow you to keep my heart and continue to heal it while I worked on nourishing yours. But I was so scared that you’d hurt me that I didn’t realise I was the one causing pain, to both of us.
I only ever wanted to present you with my best self. I wanted to give you the best experience, the best sex, the best everything. But I’m not perfect and I failed. I failed on numerous occasions.
But maybe imperfection is what makes love and life beautiful. Maybe there’s a beauty in falling out. Maybe there’s a beauty in seeing someone at their most vulnerable, at their worst. Maybe there’s a beauty in my anxiety and my overthinking and my inability to just be. Maybe there is, I don’t know.
But what I do know is that I want to give being imperfect a chance. I failed at perfection and it hurt me more than anything. So I give you my imperfect heart, wounds and all. I give you my mood swings. And I give you myself.
I can’t promise you perfection, but I can promise you all of me. And if I fail at that, which I probably will, I’ll try again and keep trying until you have me in my entirety.
I’m sorry for everything.