#caesarscreek, et. al.

Ashley and I went hiking at Caesar's Creek last week, and during our explorations we had lots of hard talks about difficult things. Our conversation turned to how I've been doing with my struggles in the wake of everything with the Wisconsinite. I told her how I feel almost ashamed for still wrestling with things; I've been through heartache before, but never anything on par with what she brought me. She told me that it's understandable for me to still be working through things, since I invested so much of my heart and life in the relationship. If she were able to cut me out of her life and just keep trucking along, and I'm still trying to deal with the mess, it just goes to show the great disparity between my level of commitment and her own, between the meaning in my words and the lack of meaning in hers. Ashley's amazing, not least because she wants to be my support and encouragement through this challenging time. I think that says a lot about her; most women wouldn't be too keen on hearing their boyfriends talk about such things. But Ashley, she isn't like most women.

I told Ashley that I feel out of joint, a shadow of who I used to be.

I feel like the rope snapped, and this time I just let go.

I feel absent purpose, adrift and abandoned.

There's no passion in my soul, just a deadness in the limbs. 

Things just don't feel "right." Everything feels a little bit off.

"Sometimes I feel like a mermaid in a glass bottle stranded in the Sahara. I wanna pop the cork and crawl out into the sands and scurry with the baby crabs into the ocean, where I belong." That's one hell of a weird way to say "I want things to feel right again." But they probably won't feel right for a while, at least until I'm able to move beyond my love for the Wisconsinite into whatever God has for me. 

I won't lie: I still love her, or at least a part of me does. 

I keep waiting for the day I don't love her anymore. 

I yearn for that day, pray for that day, fight for that day. 

But what if my love for her doesn't ever go away? 

What if all I can do is wait for the day when that love doesn't bring me such pain? 

Not a day goes by absent the pain of what happened. Not a day passes when that hurt and defeat doesn't hang over me like a dark cloud. Things such as joy, peace, and confidence have become crumbling memories. I've never loved anyone the way I loved her, and the fact that the love hasn't withered makes me feel broken as a person and guilty as a boyfriend. Ashley deserves better than me, better than what I'm capable of offering her. 

There are times when the hurt and pain becomes so overwhelming that I just want to run, and run, and keep running, to never stop. Hurt people hurt people, and my biggest fear is causing Ashley the same kind of torment that Mandy caused me. All I can do is keep taking it day-by-day, as I've been doing for the past year, and hope that something changes, that God grants me healing. I grit my teeth and move forward in obedience to Him as I wrestle with questions absent answers. Why would God bring the two of us together, why would He seemingly answer my prayer, only to take it away and expose me to the worst sort of pain I've ever felt? If that's not torment enough, why does He refuse to free me from the burden of loving her? If I'm not meant to be with her, why doesn't He take the pain away, knowing all the problems it creates? I wish I could scrub my hands, my past, and my heart of her. I wish the two of us had never met. How can someone who brought such joy deliver so much pain?

There are too many questions and no answers. Sometimes I lie awake at night consumed by memories and thoughts, questions that go nowhere. I pray into an impermeable silence, begging the Spirit to fill the void in my heart. I want to turn my back on her the way she turned her back on me, but the love she had for me (if you can even call it that) is a pale comparison to the burning, fierce, loyal, patient, and determined love I had for her. I'm terrified that I'll never be able to love again, that I'll be forced to choose between life alone or life with someone I don't love. That fear is genuine, and I pray that it won't be so. I want to work through these issues and come to some sort of clarity not only for myself but also for Ashley. She deserves love more than any woman I've known, and I feel so shitty because my heart isn't yet able to give her that sort of love. I want to be freed from my love for the Wisconsinite so that I can love Ashley with the same sort of love. If Ashley is an answer to my prayers, I want to love her the same way I loved Mandy. But part of me feels that the sort of love I had for Mandy isn't the norm, and every love I experience after her will be but a shadow compared to what we shared. Only time will tell.

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