Today was good! I got to see Linder (we talked for a little) and Jay (we got to talk for hours). Linder was charming as always; Jay, captivating (I was, as always, enraptured). I caught a glimpse of John for a second. He had no expression on his face that I saw. I saw him wave through distorted glass. I smiled (not that he could see me) and waved back. It was a unexpected moment that thrust me into unreality. Fortunately, writing my application and talking to Linder and Jay brought me back together.
Now, however, for some reason, I’m worried about John. As far as I know, he is truly doing great. Yet the fact that he’s going to District II VP and chapter president makes me worried he’s taking on too much. I feel guilty about that too, but I also know it’s not my responsibility. I wash my hands of that.
Regardless, though, I think I’m just overthinking. I’m sure he’s fine, and if he’s not, then he’s mature and cognizant enough to ask for help, whether from me or (more likely) someone else. He has friends and family and mentors and lots of resources. He’ll be okay. I just need to worry about me and my problems and have faith — me? faith? why not! — that those I care about (John, Jay, Ayden, etc) will be able to take care of themselves.
Anyhow, I’m sitting in bed. PMS is still kicking, forcing my heart to palpitate unnaturally, so I can’t sleep. Plus it’s too late for a nap. So I’m just relaxing: drinking lemonade, ate the rest of my chocolate, listening to lofi, waiting for Mom and Dad to come home, feeling the warmth from the heating pad consume my lap. Resting. So much of recovery and integrating sustainability is tied to resting. I guessing I’m staying home all day tomorrow then. I need to clean my desk.
Why does seeing John make me fall into unreality? Perhaps it’s because the knowledge that I care and he doesn’t is still painful, so instead of crying about it, I dissociate. It could also be a conditioned response. Most times I saw him before dropping out, I was dissociating. He isn’t around for my existing in reality, so he’s not a part of it, and every time I see him, I have to reintegrate him in the span of seconds, which very rarely enough. It could also be the fact that since he’s given me some closure, I feel compelled to give some to him too, both to aid my moving on and to assuage my guilt about the relationship. I also just want him to know that I don’t hate him and will still help him if he’ll let me. But I don’t know how to communicate all that, and I don’t know if he’d be even willing to hear it (given he doesn’t care about me or that at all anymore). I don’t know. I just don’t want him to be alone. I know how afraid he was (is?) of that… but he’s not alone, right? So it’s okay? Yes, it’s okay. It’s okay.
I will say: I no longer feel compelled to make up for my “dropping out.” I don’t feel like I need to email Linder to apologize and try to help out with anything. I was an officer, a student; I broke down; I dropped out. It’s nothing to feel guilty about or be ashamed of. I doubt there’s any benefit to anyone if I switch from pushing myself out of spite to pushing myself out of guilt. In the same vein, I don’t feel compelled to make anything up to John either. I just wish the best for him and myself. I think the kindest thing I can for him is also the kindest thing I can do for myself: heal, and to heal, I must not be guilty or ashamed.
The funny thing is I do still love and care about him and still think he’s beautiful. I just don’t want him anymore. I don’t want to be with him, and I don’t want to love him more than myself. I don’t worship him as a mangod. I see him as a someone's son. After all, he's so young. Detatched from him, I see him more as a cosmic child than as a oak of a man. And it’s wonderful to see beauty in life. It’s wonderful to remember I can love someone and not be distraught by it. Suddenly, people are so amazing. They are the universe in motion; they are the descendants of stars given shape and form and voice; they are all of eternity stopped, for a moment, in the realm of space.