Follow:

Balance, Culture, Italy, Life, love, spaghetti, Words

Puzzle Pieces

I am on an emotional rollercoaster. I just had breakfast with a good friend of mine, and ended up crying almost from the offset. Merely trying to form words is too much for this fragile state I find myself in. The waitress stood back for a moment while I tried to dry my tears on my napkin. It was a little awkward. But I have been in this state for days. Where I used to wake up bright and early at 6:30am ready for the day, I now find myself hitting snooze until well after 7, unable to drag myself into the light and face these feelings. It’s coming from a late night phone call from Cazzatore, and a couple of pieces I have yet to put in the puzzle. But here we go.

 

I do not like people to know that I have these emotions. I have a very high defensive wall to protect myself from them. I hate being seen as an emotional, crying mess, but sometimes I end up showing this part of me, much to my chagrin. I strive to keep a tough exterior, impermeable and strong. And yet, I am often a disaster. Relationship after failed relationship, I have broken down, whether or not I was the catalyst in the destruction. And I have often been the driving force, consciously or subconsciously. I have never been able to commit. I have fallen deeply for some, ending up breaking his heart and mine because I can’t take steps in the commitment direction. And so much of my life has been spent wondering what the hell is wrong with me, doing this one thing that seemed so easy for all those around me. I stopped trusting myself at a point. But I have never been able to hold back, to not jump into something when I felt that familiar stir. Things always ended, and never very well.

 

I thought this inability to commit was going to be a lifelong curse, and that I would ultimately end up alone. And then one day I went to Italy and met a boy. Someone who was just like me in so many ways, such as a shared love of languages, a sense of humor that is bound to both amuse and annoy those around us, and a love of the same places-Brasil, California (he studied in the city I live in). And we were different where it mattered too. When I got wound up and cranky, he was relaxed and focused, dousing me with humor and patience. We spent 2 and a half months in a state of happiness and I fell madly in love. And he told me that he has never been able to commit. We are much more alike than I first suspected.

 

Now, this revelation floored me. C.R. says he was born to be someone’s partner. Every action he makes and every word out of his mouth scream commitment. Every word, that is, except those seven. “I have never been able to commit”. But I marched blindly on, ignoring that which I didn’t want to hear, and embracing the moments of joy. I convinced myself that he would change his mind. And it wasn’t hard, because he seemed every bit as immersed in us as I was. Happiness was breaking upon me in waves.

 

I called him a few days ago (it seems like a lifetime). There was something obviously wrong. He asked if he could call back the next day. Hanging up, I felt searing pain. I immediately assumed (perhaps selfishly) that it was about me. And then I did something that no one should ever do when consumed by emotion. I wrote an email. As part of my defense against pain and the inability to control my fate, I wrote something that basically said, if you don’t want to do this thing anymore tell me sooner rather than later. Well, as the fog cleared, I began to realize that this was probably not the thing I wanted to do, to someone who was afraid of commitment. As I later found out, his problem had nothing to do with me, but the damage had been done.

 

He called me around 10pm that night, my time. Which means it was around 6am his time. His voice was groggy and upset. “I couldn’t sleep, I was thinking about that email you sent me”. Here it comes, I thought, making my way outside onto the cold porch. He was feeling guilty about giving me the wrong idea. He was torn up and confused. He likes me a lot, after all, but he’s never been able to commit. Two conflicting emotions. We had a long talk, in which I reassured him that I expected nothing from him. That we should spend time together while it’s good, and not necessarily forever. My overall sense of happiness, after all, is not due to him, though he helps it. I will continue living, breathing and laughing with or without him. I told him that he had to stop worrying about what he was doing to me, and just be in the moment. I am a grown woman, and I will walk away if it becomes too much to bear. These things I told him and more. And while I gave him the opportunity to walk away, if that was what he wanted to do, he didn’t take it. We ended up making a few jokes before hanging up. He didn’t want to end things, but he wanted to know it was all right to be free.

 

I believe these things I told him. I, of all people, know what it’s like to be unable to commit, and how everybody in the world can make you feel terrible for it. It’s who he is and it’s who I was. Every single relationship I ran away from, I can look back at and say, Ah, so that’s why that happened. I continue to be friends with many of the people I never made it with. I really believe that there are reasons for everything.

Today, after I cried over breakfast and again in my car, I called him. I would not let him hear me upset, but I did want to hear his voice. And it was almost as if it had never happened. He was funny, and we joked and he told me about some restaurants he wanted to show me when I get back to Florence. As if everything was the same. But it isn’t the same. I am now caught in a web of insecurity. Whereas happiness reigned before, I now find doubt. I now know how fragile it all is, and how quickly it can be lost. And day-by-day, I avoid talking about him with people because I don’t want to count my chickens before they’re sure. I do not want to be the one whose heart got broken. I don’t want people to see my weakness, and judge me if it all falls apart. The one time I feel that I commit to one person (maybe because I know he doesn’t want to commit), and it’s all hanging by a thread. If there is one thing I want for myself, above all else, it is to always take the leap into the unknown, get lost somewhere between hope and a dream, no matter how much it hurts or I’ve been hurt. I never want to become so jaded that I tiptoe through life, missing out on the best experiences of all.

 

So day-by-day, I hope and try not to hope. I cry and try not to cry. I dream and try not to dream, knowing that I can only take one day at a time, breathe in and out over and over again and be here with me now. I am here and alive. I am going back to Florence, and I will, through time, know if it is meant to be. Until then, I write and I live and I laugh as much as one can laugh, while crying over breakfast.

 

Share on
Previous Post Next Post

You may also like

No Comments

Leave a Reply