Beautiful flower.
I was blessed with baby blues, thanks to relentless recessive genes, along with every family member in my inner and outer DNA circle. As far back as the single digit years, I’ve been wearing glasses to help my lightly tinted but deeply blurred vision. Nearsightedness is all I’ve ever known.
Last night I was told to listen to a song called Gravity. My dear friend recommended that I hear it, given the newly learned circumstances of an 8-year-in-the-making cheating boyfriend who broke my heart over the course of two full American Presidential terms in office.
The person who he had the invitation-only surprise slumber party with behind my back shares a mutual friend of mine, and thanks to the uncanny wonders of Facebook unsolicited messages, pops up on my personal screen’s side column as a suggested addition. [The social media programmers really need to figure out a way to incorporate tact with digital gal-pal matchmaking of ex-lovers]. In any event, my curiosity got the best of me & clicked on the public profile only to see the very same song posted on her wall. I hadn’t yet listened to it and the cosmic yet eerie serendipity of the moment led me to go ahead & hit play.
As I watched the video while paying close attention to the lyrics, my stomach simultaneously went through a meat grinder. I literally felt sick, to think that another woman could feel unprecedented love at the exact same time that I do about this man. That raw realization shook my core through a cyberspace bullet.
Not only were the acoustic melodies like a musical paradise for my sound senses, but the words themselves were a carbon copy reflection of my own heart. The depth of the singer’s despair was palpable. I could virtually taste the unadulterated misery of feeling total and complete vulnerability at the hands of a man.
There aren’t many other songs that have ever accurately depicted my sense of helplessness. However, during those painful 4 minutes, I was mostly consumed with my disgust for unknowingly sharing the same person under the covers while I was preparing to articulate vows for a lifetime commitment together.
I ripped myself off of the computer, knowing that no good could ever come from any interaction, directly or indirectly with him or her from this point forward. I may have shared a deep love, but I was not willing to share a mutual misery too. Archiving that part of my life will be neatly tucked away in the past.
Then this morning, while appreciating the sunshine that has been in hiding for quite sometime behind gloomy clouds, unexpectedly a ray of amazing grace delicately wrapped around me. I realized that the crippling effects and emotionally feeling handcuffed beyond my will was no longer existent. That song resonated how I used to feel for years, but that was not my current reality.
Previously suffocating from missing my best friend would always, always, always lead me back into his arms. The law of attraction on many levels was greater than my will power. His presence alone pumped life back into my lungs. But suddenly, it occurred to me, as if reading from the holy grail in the crevice of my frontal lobe: He is not my air anymore.
In that very moment, the earth slightly shook below my ballet flats. After dedicating so much of my energy into a revolving door relationship, it felt incredibly liberating to finally be set free. I could see… with 20/20 vision. I could breathe…a sigh of relief.
I am no longer defined by a 1-way love. I am no longer stifled by the force of his insurmountable gravity. That is no longer the song of my heart.
