Am I over it? Not exactly.
One never quite gets over that kind of a kiss. That twisty twirly, what-the-hell-is-my-name? and, please-don’t-ever-stop sort of embrace.
And that’s okay. Actually, it’s more than okay. All relationships should have those moments that are etched so deeply into time that no amount of willpower or voodoo can undo them. For those become our portals into eternity. The reason we still believe.
And yes, it was perfect. And then it just wasn’t.
It was all you ever wanted, until the roadblocks came marching in; bullying the heart, ridiculing your dreams and leaving you speechless on the other end of the line. Sound familiar? It should.
I dare say, it’s the storyline of most romantic human relationships. Some are easier to move past than others. Some we may forget. But others, others aren’t that simple.
Under your skin, you say? No, these will tear off your skin. Nocturnal-like, they hack their way into our darkest fears, tugging at our sense of worth and becoming a mirror for all the things from which we wish to hide. They make our heart melt into a million different flavors, leave you drenched in puddles of sweat on tan colored linens.
Their voice, like an old, familiar movie, serenades us into hot August afternoons. Scents, sounds and hazel eyes, steadily drip, making their way into the bloodstream, heading straight—-for the soul. It’s too late, you’re toast. And unbeknownst to you, your sense of identity, fantasy and freedom are fused; within a glue made of something foreign, dangerous and very very sticky.
And then, it’s over.
Like a fish speared straight through the flesh and then tossed back into the water, left to recover from the shock of near death and expected to just instantly remember how to live again. We try to remember. But we can’t forget.
How does one move on?
Some take the superficial route and do a number to their head. Pink, bleached, completely shaved off. The crazier the better. Piercings, tattoos, weight loss, weight gain, slutty to nice, nice to slutty, you name it.
You can’t be the person who felt that kiss. That truth. You want out. And maybe not recognizing yourself for a short amount of time will fool the memory. Yeah, maybe it will. But for how long? And to what expense? New wardrobes aren’t cheap. And tattoos could just become another permanent scar of an impermanent pain.
But the eyes, they rarely lie.
I did all that. Plus some. But the pain never forgot my address, and the fantasies kept on knocking on my door. Then poetry came, then speaking out. Expression helps. Yet, there was something about allowing his name to linger on my tongue that felt like shackles.
Finally, I stumbled upon this thing they called meditation.
If like me, you’re secretly and irrationally in love with Mr. Deepak Chopra, you’ll appreciate this next bit.
Youtube after youtube video I scoured for answers, then something struck me. It described how a consistent practice of meditation could erase karma. Or something to that effect. Erase karma? To me this sounded like a poetic form of amnesia. Why, yes, just what I needed! A way to escape the loop.
I was Clementine, and what I needed was a spotless mind.
So I embarked upon a year of stillness.
Five minutes per day. Then ten minutes per day. I tried guided meditations, walking meditations, laughing meditations. I gave up, then tried again. Eventually, I didn’t have to try anymore. Eventually, the silence became my refuge. Eventually the tears heard no whistle.
You see, what they don’t tell you about meditation is that at first you don’t see much difference.
It’s like when you paint a wall, the first couple coats of paint are never really the color you’re going for. It’s the same when you’re sitting in silence. The more you do it, the deeper and richer the color of your peace becomes.
The same way muscles still burn fat long after a good workout, silence burns through residual paranoia and delusion after you’ve been sitting for a while. You end up becoming instinctively drawn to returning to that special you time. It just feels good.
The pain became duller. The burning questions were losing their edge, and somehow I had regained a part of myself that I don’t think I ever really owned. My creativity soared.
I made peace with the real reason we broke up.
Oddly enough, nothing had changed—but my perception had drastically shifted. I felt whole. I had tapped into a love that would never leave me. A Presence that didn’t demand my perfection in order to bestow it’s love. I had found my breath.
Fast forward to now.
It’s been a year and a half since my heart shattered.
I sometimes think that if it hadn’t been for that spiral into despair I may have never given stillness a chance to enter my life.
If you need some encouragement and guidance, do reach out to me. Sometimes I think to myself, how could doing “nothing” change everything? And the answer is, I don’t know. But the truth is, it did.
Author: Katerina Pappas
Editor: Renee Jahnke
Photo: Author’s Own