I have not written in awhile. I am not sure if it is because I have been so busy or simply because I am starting to feel better. The depression that I felt choking me has released its’ grip a bit. Smiling is a little easier. Though I still feel some anxiety, it is not binding me the way it was before.
Which brings me to my writing. Throughout my life, I have started numerous journals with the solemn vow to write in them often. But I never stick with it. I know writing is therapy for me. But it seems I write more often when I am in a dark place. Not only more often but better as well.
This weekend was really nice. I left home to go to my dear friend’s house in Pennsylvania. Friday was a crazy day for me- I worked late until 7. Then I had to get my car from the dealership because it broke down earlier in the week. I had dinner with my ex and there was wonderful live music. We lingered and listened to her beautiful voice, my son danced around merrily, and I was stressed because I knew I had a ton to do, but I was happy. Not only happy but in the moment if only for that moment. Afterwards I rushed to the grocery store to get food for my best friend and her boyfriend (they were watching Gage for me) and finally got on the road around 11:30pm.
My friend Matthew has done a lot for me this past year. In many ways he has saved me. He helped me move from the cursed townhouse into my apartment, has loaned me money when things got tight, but most importantly, he has been here for me to talk to. He knows about my addiction, my relapse. I thought for some reason my dark secrets would repel him- in fact I counted on it. I flung out my dark secrets like weapons, thinking surely I would see judgement in his eyes. But he loves me despite all of that. Matt is a godly man. You just do not meet people like him anymore. He goes out of his way to help people and would help anyone because as he says, “It makes him feel good to help.”
I love him dearly, as a friend. A few months ago we crossed a line. I had went to his house to detox; the pills they gave me for my shoulder were no longer needed and I wanted to go to a place where drugs were not just a phone call away. In those two days, we became intimate. And I fear it has forever changed our relationship. He claims otherwise but I KNOW he wants more with me. I just do not see him that way. I am not meant for him nor he for me. I almost wish I was; he is a wonderful man who would take care of me forever. But it’s not there. That spark, the unspoken, intangible pull that one in love feels towards another, that is missing.
I picture the girl for Matt. She is a Christian. Sweet, loving, and kind. Someone not quite as damaged and dark as I am. Someone a little more pure.
He claims to know we are not going to be together in that way and says he accepts it. But still there were the lingering touches and light kisses on my forehead. It makes me uneasy. I do not know how to tell him not to attempt this closeness. That it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know how to go back to the way things were before. And perhaps we cannot. Maybe once you cross that line, there is no turning back. But I do not want to lose my friend. As I type this he is rubbing my knee. We are driving back to his house from the wedding I agreed to go to months ago. Have I given him the wrong idea even though I have been straight up and honest about how I feel (or do not feel)? Have I somehow acted in a way that he still has hope for more? How do I go back to the the way things were? His friendship is sacred to me, it has saved me. But I cannot force feelings that I do not have.
But the sun is shining. I have a book on my lap and delicious Starbucks in the cup holder. I will worry about what to do about Matt later. For now, I’m going to enjoy the ride. Get lost in the stunning views of the mountains. And get home to my little boy.