An endless summer

There was no end to the summer of us
Even when the rain set in and the winds took hold
All we saw was the sun

“Time heals all wounds.”

It’s something that I’ve heard and read everywhere, over many years. While I don’t doubt its legitimacy, as I’m sure it came from a place of experience, and I’ve been able to grasp the concept of it, I never truly understood its process, until today.

I used to think that Time heals us by letting us wallow in our misery, commiserate in self-pity, and indulge in whatever self-destructive practices we feel necessary, until we wake up one morning with the miraculous sensation of having gotten all that pain out of our system. But over the last two months, I’ve come to realize that Time doesn’t heal us — not in the way that we expected it to.

These last two months¬†— 9 weeks, to be precise — have been simultaneously some of the most difficult and most illuminating of my life; in some ways, even more so than the year that was Empire: Lebanon. The first week was, for obvious reasons, the most difficult, and it was during that time, followed by the second week, that I fully allowed myself to wallow and commiserate. But then, once the sheer exhaustion that came from it all took over, and I was finally able to get a full night’s sleep, I knew that come hell or high water, I would have to find a way to get my life in order again.

This is the part where Time, in its infinite wisdom, works its magic to help us heal. Two weeks after my initial descent into self-destruction, we were finally able to talk to each other like normal people again, only this time, we had the reality of not actually being in a relationship to stop us from falling back into old habits and old arguments. And after those first two weeks of virtual silence and careful small talk, we both acquired a new level of mutual respect, understanding and undeniable love that made us realize that if there was one thing above all else that we wanted, it was to be together.

A year ago, I wrote an updated post about what it felt like to be in a long-distance relationship, based on the expectation that we would be together again very soon. In the seven weeks since we renewed our resolve to make this relationship work, the concept of a long-distance relationship has shifted drastically. Where once the premise of being in a relationship like this was just patience and suppressing any insecurities, our dynamics are now centered on actively doing what needs to be done, for however long it takes, in order for us to one day be in the same country again.  And as difficult as the last seven weeks have been, they have also reaffirmed our commitment to each other, and to the goal we have set for ourselves.

And that is how Time heals us. It allows us to be sad for a while, and it gives us the space we never even knew we needed, in order to clear our minds, assess our options and reestablish what we want to achieve. Then, once Time knows we are ready, it opens our eyes and shows us its endgame that we were always meant to look out for.

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