What Brings You Here? Pt. 2
At night, I sat on my friend's porch deep in the forest, tobacco pipe in hand. The house in the forest held so many memories, and it seemed to keep me grounded.
“Do you miss the blend
Of color she left in your black and white field?
Do you feel condemned
Just for being there?
I am not your friend!
I am just a man who knows how to feel
I am not your friend!
I'm not your lover! I'm not your family!
Yeah!
Yeah!”
- Sowing Season by Brand New
The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me' hits it every time, I just never realized how on point it was. MY GOD, they know! How did they know?
“I think you need to turn this off. I just can’t handle it right now,” she said. “This upsets me too, and I can’t sit here and rock out to the lyrics ‘I’m not your friend, I’m not your lover.’ I’m drawing the line—let’s change the song.”
My best friend and partner of 12 years had tears in her eyes.
Together, we had been in this defective polyamorous relationship. We tried everything to make it work, but the man I had been hopelessly in love with suffered from a severe case of weaponized incompetence.
It had been seven years of trying with him and it was never going to work out.
She talked about how horribly he treated me and how he always managed to make me cry whenever she left the room. She would tell me repeatedly:
'He doesn’t show up for you, for himself, or for anyone else.'
To add insult to injury, he straight up disappeared on us—and on his toddler—for over a month.
We had both caught him with a drink in hand. A few people in town came forward to share the “big secret” with us. His barista had even spilled the tea.
The guy had 'fallen off the wagon,' while living with his abusive mother all year, and he had been seeing someone else. It was all right under my nose.
While we were at home working, studying, and caring for our family, he was always gone, doing what he wanted. He's doing what he wants.
We should do what we want too.
At the cabin, I found any reason to drift away into 'Jesus Christ,' and with friends, we exchanged quirky, enthused looks as we recanted and listened to 'Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis.' For those of you who can relate, yes, we made sure to switch over to their album 'Daisy' for good measure.
Brand New is one of those bands that I’ve never had the privilege of experiencing live—a disappointing fact considering my teenage boyfriend, who wasn't even into music, won a contest and saw them perform. It's lame for me, though I’m sure the show was terrific.
Upon hearing their live cover of Julien Baker’s 'Sprained Ankle,' which I recognized immediately, the entire fan community took to the online forums to talk about this brilliant new song they had heard at the show.
It made me laugh, but it also felt quite elevating—
What a treat for those who have lived through quiet suffering.
The Wizard and I first met in October. Our initial sessions were incredibly confusing. One minute, I was healing through some kind of dream that had moments of break-up sex; the next, I’d spend 45 minutes crying during our follow-up.
'Is this it?' I wondered.
Then things worsened.
I couldn’t stop blinking when triggered; I was constantly blinking. This ran parallel to my newfound sound-sensitivity symptoms that had appeared almost overnight.
A clank of pots or a sudden ruckus from neighborhood dogs would send me scurrying under a desk or dropping to the floor.
I was panicking, experiencing some sort of post-traumatic crisis.
It took months before I told my therapist how badly I was struggling with these issues. I wish I had spoken up sooner because she could have addressed them in just a few sessions.
Trauma therapy was off to a good start, but my family grew increasingly concerned about my progression of physical 'tics.'
At one point, I found the phenomenon hilarious. I set up a camera as if to say, "Hey, look at me, folks! Every time I play my ex-boyfriend's psychotic messages, I start rapidly blinking and displaying nervous tics."
When I shared this with the Wizard, she was unimpressed.
In fact, she barely flinched; instead, she leaned forward, looked me directly in the eyes, and said, "I need you not to do that."
‘In my defense, I was just trying to track my progress.’
"Yeah, I hear you, but I need you to archive it and move on. We're trying to clear these somatic issues, and if you keep playing with your brain like that, it’ll cause much distress. Just put that away for a while. Let’s focus on getting better now."
It would be after our third session that I invited the man who had broken my heart to meet for a reconciliation, with the therapist serving as mediator.
He agreed to come, but only if it suited his schedule.
He didn’t ask how I was doing.
“Keep myself awake at night
'Cause whenever I close my eyes
I'm chasing your tail lights
In the dark, in the dark, in the dark
And I know you left hours ago
I still haven't moved yet
I knew you were gone months ago
But I can't think of anyone else.”
- Something by Julien Baker