So it seems what numbs my mind ails my heart, but “avoiding” it (as my doc recommends) also ails my heart. My numbing of choice this night, wine. This looming feeling visits often but has become like an old book on the shelf in a familiar room. I know the pages well, worn from thumbing through over and over again. Not always off the shelf to revisit, but always in the same place when it comes on.
I have not said “I love you” in a relationship in seven years. Seven.
Admitting this recently, out loud, was the trigger for the affliction, this night. Could it really be that long? This night, is the culmination of each and every attempt at getting there again and failing. Sometimes I am the culprit of failure, sometimes not. Sometimes, it cannot be helped. I am a fragment of their story or them, mine. Changing me, sculpting me, giving me new tools for the future or sharpening the ones I have earned from surviving all I have so far.
I am happy, I have a great life. Amazing actually, especially comparatively. I love a lot, daily. And, I truly love myself. I am comfortable and confident in my own skin. None of that, however, negates the fact that I would love to share it all with my person, if he exists.
This night, I am missing what I have yet to find. An escalation of greatness and fulfillment. It is not regret or grief, but more of a longing for more. More than my solitude, which I also love.
This late night, my heart is ailing.