Sunday, October 7, 2012

Ode To Alanis

Look, Here's The Thing:

There is nothing so beautifully sad or uniquely human as heartbreak. We've all seen the movies. We've all felt the sting. We all know the tagline, "we love each other but it just isn't going to work out." We've all felt the pain so deep it feels as though nothing could fill it.


So it should come as no surprise from my week spent intuiting it that this is the week my relationship ended (mostly because those reading this are already my friends...are you sharing this with anyone new yet or what?). To be more specific, this is the week my romantic relationship ended -- for I am fortunate enough to have amazing relationships with a great number of people, myself not withstanding.


It's a struggle to find in times of great sadness and grief the light that shines on the other side of the bridge. I'd like to yell and scream and point the finger. I'd like to expound upon all the reasons why this isn't my fault. I'd love to shake the person responsible into waking up, into seeing what I understood fifty paces ago. But that's not what it's about.


When this ordeal first came about, The Mother -- in her infinite battle to help others walk across the bridge -- came to me with some Words of Wisdom:


TM: "You know, Mol, there's this Canadian singer named Alanis. She broke up with this guy and wrote a whole album about it and became really successful."


ME: "Alanis Morissette. I know, Mom. It was that guy from Full House."


TM: "Yeah, and Gwen Stefani, too. Same thing."


ME: "Ok, Mom. Why don't you just start calling me Frida."


But she's right. The only thing that we can hold onto when the illusion is broken is that which remains true: the anger that you feel, the memories that you keep, the life that is still yours after the dust settles and all of it that carries you into the future. Like I've said, there is no right or wrong, there is only learning. And sometimes the lessons are more painful than others, but they serve no less purpose.


What I find most cosmically significant in all of the muck that I'm wading through is that I've walked through it before, but with the shoe on another foot. I ended a previous relationship because I had gotten so wrapped up in it I didn't know where it ended and where I began. And find myself I did. Looking back now I can see that it's possible to do both at the same time; to find yourself both within and on the outskirts of someone else. But I honor that it's a process one needs to experience alone sometimes. I really, really hope you do.


I'm not going to pretend to not be angry. I'm not going to pretend to not have all my shit together immediately in the aftermath of the explosion. I'm not going to say that I should have known this was coming, that I wasn't increasingly angry about all that wasn't progressing despite the work I put forth. I can't ignore the beautiful things that I saw and wish could continue, if only one understood the bigger picture. I can't even pretend that I know in my head this is not all one person's fault because that is never the case. But I'll get there.


What I can do is take from this experience the vision of both sides of the coin -- of what it takes to remove myself in order to find myself, and the side that allows for the same in someone else. I can understand that no two people are ever the same, but it takes a conviction that meets in the middle in order to move on the same path. I am still angry and I am still bitter. But I am still me and I will forever keep walking.


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