Dark love

Jon called around one o'clock yesterday afternoon. I already knew what was going on. He was in a noisy place; I assumed the airport. He wouldn't say much. Just that he's heading out on his vacation. And he said "vacation" in a sarcastic tone. I didn't fall for his ploy; I didn't beg him to come back. I just said, "Okay," as though it was the most normal thing for him to do. I'm pretty sure I fed his anger. Then I sent him a text message. To tell him I love him dearly, but I can't hold him back anymore. I wished him a safe trip and good luck on his adventure. He didn't respond. He was probably already up in the air.

By the time he called, I was already three hours into my hell. I woke up with Celine Dion's "I'm Alive" in my head. If you listen to it, it's actually a beautiful song about how someone could open you up and make you feel so alive. But it was played during the closing ceremony of the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer, that Dee and I walked in 2003 in Portland, Oregon. So, I associated that song with survival, with overcoming a catastrophy.

So, there I was, playing it over and over. And over and over. Doing nothing else. Just sitting. Just listening. Just remembering. Catatonic. Silent. Occasionally, a burst of tears. One after the other in the morning, then less so as the evening came.

I'm remembering things that I've already realized after my first breakdown, which happened even before the divorce. We are bound to each other emotionally and strongly. It is a codependence that neither of us could get out of, nor are we willing to. There's still the tiniest hope of waking up and realizing it was all a bad dream. The hope that we are who we used to be -- young, dedicated to each other, and so in love.

But it's not a dream. I've changed, and he longs for the old me. He had changed, and I long for the old him. I've moved forward and he lagged behind. We no longer have the same dreams, nor the same lifestyle, nor the same outlook in life. We had hurt each other too much that starting with a clean slate is impossible; the old demons would keep sticking their heads up. And neither of us is willing to work it out. It would require too much work, too much effort, too much time.

I know why he's going to the Philippines. He wants me to think he's looking for the old me, the younger me, in someone else. It's a lie. He wanted to leave the country since his illness started. I was the reason he moved to Las Vegas instead. He thought I would be going to school in California. He wanted to be near me. Now, he knows I'll be spending half the year in the Philippines for my business when I get out of school. He still wants to be near me.

I grew up feeling unlovable. With intense feelings of inadequacy. In fact, the one time when my sister Dee and I stopped fighting incessantly was when we realized we both felt unlovable and inadequate, but for different reasons. When Jon came into my life, I thought, how could someone like him love me?

Then, fourteen years later on Valentine's Day, he said he didn't love me anymore. "Not like that," he added. I was devastated. I filed for divorce that year. If he was just trying to get a rise out of me, if he was just joking, it was cruel joke. He recanted, during the divorce and afterwards. He kept saying he loved me. But I had stopped listening. My heart, on the other hand, traitorously kept listening. So I couldn't cut loose. Not quite going back, but not quite leaving either. I reasoned, it was just for the sex. Nothing more. It's a lie. How could I turn away when someone I love still loves me back?

I've honestly tried. I fell in love. I dated. But I never went deep. It was all superficial. And this tragic love story continues.

Every time I see him, everytime he has another "incident," I follow Persephone to Hades, to the darkness of my soul. Then I come back to the light, to the real world, where nobody understands why I cannot let go of this link, this connection. Where I deny there's more to it than just physical need. Because I'm afraid that, if I admit to this deep unrelenting emotion, I would lose my time above ground, that I would always be buried in the darkness.

But I know that I'm not a victim here. He would not be able to control me and manipulate me if I didn't allow him to. But I let him. Is it codependence? Is it obsession? Or is it a love so strong and so deep and so denied that it has become dark?

I don't know. But, for now, I struggle once more to head back to the light.

And yet, here I am, bringing this secret, this revelation, up to the surface with me. It's no longer a secret, it's no longer hidden, it's no longer dark. Now that I've brought it to the light, will it still have the same control over me? Will it survive the light, will it transform, will it dissipate? Would I have to go down again?

Today, I listen to another of Celine's song -- "Have You Ever Been in Love?" And this one isn't entirely about Jon....