Rebuilding the wall

broken hearted wall

It had to happen eventually. Of course it had to happen. It would have been highly unusual — not to mention far too good to be true — if it didn’t happen at some point.

But no one told me when or how it would happen. No one told me that it would happen when I least expected it, and worse, when I gave it the tiniest window of opportunity to happen. So when it did happen, just this afternoon, I felt about three simultaneous effects: my stomach turning inwards on itself, my head beginning to spin, and the breath being knocked out of my body.

“Babes I have realised ur [sic] too tough.. Its [sic] not easy to convince u for anything…”

We are taught — whether directly by someone or indirectly by our own subconscious and experience — to put up a wall around ourselves, to protect ourselves from getting our hearts and spirits broken. But every now and then, something — or more precisely, someone — comes along and starts nicking at it — whether with a careful fingernail or a pickaxe — and before we know it, we ourselves are helping them along by taking down the wall we so carefully constructed.

Of course, once we’ve taken down that wall and let our guard down, it doesn’t take much to make us wish we’d kept the wall right where it had been. The most horrifying part is, half the time we don’t even remember or realize how easy it is to become so comfortable in our surroundings that by the time the realization dawns, it’s too late, and the mending and rebuilding starts all over again, in one vicious cycle.

I allowed this to happen. I allowed for that window of opportunity by letting my guard down and believing, just for a moment, that after eight weeks of all this back-and-forth, I was safe, that the unspoken agreement still held, and that maybe, just maybe, I could actually do this and be OK doing it. And after taking some time out to breathe and regain some feeling in my abdomen, I started rebuilding my wall. It’s a reality that bites more sharply than anything else, but a reality that I have to face on my own.

Because I have no call to fuss, or scream, or rage, or even cry (and you know it’s serious if even I am incapable of tears). I made the extremely conscious decision to get myself into this situation, and it is now entirely on my own shoulders to stick it out until someone eventually has had enough of this. I decided that I would put up with everything that came with being in this position, that the short highs I got would be worth the long, very long, lows.

And so I will just keep rebuilding that wall.

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