Small world, afterall

I was running a little late today, which turned into a lot late when I realized I wouldn't have time to go to campus then leave for my 1:30 flu shot appointment, then run back to campus without setting myself up for a pointlessly disrupted day. I decided to take my time at home, leave at 1:00, then go to campus by way of the doctor's office.

Since I now had all this "free time" at home, I decided to charge a bracelet I had recently bought. Huh? Charge? It's sort of like this, although I'm pretty casual and believe in personal ritual as a means of self awareness. I'm rather agnostic about the whole external power spirituality thing. So if I'm not all super wicca, what am I doing charging bracelets? Over the summer, I had gotten myself a bracelet that was quite similar to this new one. It was the middle of the miserable chaos of moving and realizing that my long term live in boyfriend T and I couldn't continue as we had been. The bracelet was sort of an impulse buy....I was looking at them and decided I needed a good luck charm, a talisman to remind me to be hopeful. So I picked what I thought was the deepest, prettiest lapis bracelet, brought it home, cleansed it, and charged it. I wore it for a while on days when I was feeling kind of low. Then I gave it to T. I regretted it.

The day T and I both acknowledged that we couldn't be as intimate as we had been was the day I gave him that bracelet. It was in the summer. He'd just re-established contact with me after being silent for weeks right after our moves. He was working on a draft of his dissertation. At least that was the declared reason he had been less than (emotionally or physically) available for me. We had "a talk". I knew at the time that it was unlikely we would ever be restored to partners. I was acting on my last hope that if he had space to be who he needed to be right now, to fight his own battles away from the shadow of his warrior-spirited girlfriend, to work through some of the discomfort of establishing an adult relationship with his parents without having to deal with my reactions to his frustrations with them, that maybe we could stay connected just distant. I hoped that if we stayed connected, we could reassess things later and see if we wanted to be with who we had become in the meantime. T wouldn't even say "breaking up" that day. He cried and I held him a lot. He said "separated" and he said love and he said a lot of sweet things for the last time. On a not very far down level, I was pretty sure it was the last time, but I truly wanted to be hopeful.

I was so sad and confused that day. I thought as soon as he took the bracelet that maybe it was a mistake to give it to him. I know why I did it. I was feeling protective of him when I offered it, despite feeling deeply frustrated by his chronic indecisions, hurt, somewhat betrayed, and very overlooked. I had spent the last two years watching as T seemed to erode.

Whenever I saw him until we were completely done in early Fall, he was wearing the bracelet. After things fell apart completely for us, when he came over to take the things he'd left behind, he was wearing it. It made me extremely upset to see it on him. A reminder of all my good intentions (and all the good they didn't do). I said I wanted it back. But I didn't really, I didn't want it for me. When I had it, it felt less special, less mine. I was horrified, thinking that I had been so petty. I realized later that I hadn't wanted him to have it anymore because it being on his wrist was a symbolic way my strength and resources continued to be at his disposal while he continued to recede from me. He had withdrawn from me long before "the talk", so all that was left to do was for me to withdraw from him. Asking for my bracelet back was a way of doing that.

I tried cleansing it again, but I left it in salt water for too long and it got kind of cruddy. I decided it had served its purpose, possibly more than that, so I destroyed it and burried what was left. Around Halloween, I bought a new one. That is the one I was charging today.

I decided I'd focus on restoration of hope. If you read the blog, you'll know this time of year tends to leave me in quite a state. I realized recently that when I get really down in December, what I feel can best be described as a loss of faith in the people around me, as well as in myself. I get into more arguments because I see negative or less than positive motivations and intentions even from the people who love me. I have to remind myself I am loved, that I love, and that I can trust the people near me. This year, that will be hard. So much of what reassured me and bouyed me last year feels like betrayal now...nothing feels good enough to shine through that. Mind you, I don't spend every single day in this state. My point is this is a state I am much more prone to slipping into this time of year and this year the path to it is a bit shorter. Christmas, as previously discussed, is a murky and dark time of year for me. It pretty much always has been.

So I thought about love and hope. I considered that this is life. Without the blissful joy and the pain when it fades, the human condition is little more than colliding bags of water each navigating a path of least resistance from the cradle to the grave. The point, or a point, is to have something richer and deeper as you go. I thought about why I have been thinking of T lately, trust, betrayal, and whether or not I did do the right thing. I tried to focus on the idea that I can still hope even in this darkeness.

And then it was 1:00. Hustling my way out the door (Candles out? Cell phone on? Jump drive in backpack?) I managed to get to my doctor's office by just a bit after 1:30. As I approached the parking lot, I saw a green subaru wagon, like the one T bought this time last year. I reasoned "Not a big deal. There are a TON of those cars around. It's not like T was the only person who drove a -"
After I saw T's yellow backpack in the front seat, the license plate was just redundant.

As I wrestled my seatbelt out of the driver's side door where I had just crushed it during my unglamorous exit from the car, I wondered "What is the opposite of serendipity?"

Inside the doctor's office, T was standing at the receptionist's window, his back to the door. He was wearing a grey fleece I had bought him last year at Christmas. From where I stood pretty much frozen in the doorway, I could see the side of his face. Soft skin I couldn't touch often enough just three years ago, but which had held far less allure since our love became ambiguous. While I stood there, mostly I felt pounding waves of resigned regret, not for what I did in breaking up with him but for the fact that breaking up had become necessary. Recognition of the necessity didn't stop the sorrow though. I stood there feeling regret over his cheek, his neck, his long beautiful hands which he rested lightly on the counter in front of him. He turned a little, offering a view that allowed me to regret his profile, his lips, and his eyes.

I stepped into the room and let the door close. "I can't just stand here behind him waiting for..what? For him to turn around and walk into me?" I thought. I felt like I was stalking him. So I said "What a coincidence". He didn't hear me. I came further into the room and sat down in a chair, thinking the noise and peripheral motion would draw his attention. Nothing.
Finally, I said "Hey Tom..." twice. The second time, he literally spun around to face me. I watched a deep pink flush spread up from his neck.

I said "Hi. Strange coincidence, huh?"
He said "Yeah, I was getting my flu shot..."
I said "Me too! Funny thing, right?"
T stepped away from the counter and said "How are you?" without any trace of sarcasm but also without much warmth.
I said "I'm..."
And the doctor appeared, saying "Why don't you come on back now..." to me.
I said "Oh..." and stood up. T took a few steps towards the door.
T said "We uh, we can talk later..." with a hesitant rise while he took another step towards the door.
I looked pointedly at the direction where the doctor had walked down the hall and said "Um..."
T said "...I'll be on campus" in response to my unasked "When?"
Seeing this as his usual duck out and feeling sad and somewhat disgusted for both of us, I said "You'll be on campus? Well, ah, that doesn't necessarily guarantee that we'll talk, does it?"
T made a noise, nearly at the door, but it was vague and could have been either affirming or denying. Because it is nearly December, I took it as affirming that he had no desire to talk to me on campus, here, or anywhere else.

I walked down the hall to the exam room, partly wondering if T would wait, mostly expecting he'd be gone when I got done, and knowing it wouldn't be anything personal, not really, becacuse it never was.

Before the doctor came back in the room with the shot, I looked out the window and saw T's car was already gone.