So…. I have this running list of blogs that I write… errr, need to write. Most of my deep thoughts reside on cocktail napkins, little post-it notes, ripped corners of my portfolio legal pad.
"Death & Serenity - Chloe, write a blog on this. Use this song (Bookmarked in Pandora)! DON’T FORGET!"
Such subjects that pop into my head during deep conversation, thought, or maybe just watching and listening to others around me in a coffee shop as I pretend to scroll through my Facebook feed, when I’m really just soaking everything else in. <—— That’s one of my greatest tricks, I suppose. Somehow I’ve gotten through life, tricking everyone into thinking I’m doing anything but paying attention to them or the atmosphere, when, actually, that’s ALL I’m doing. I often cavalierly state what a wonderful parallel thought processor I am - it’s true. My mind works in two ways: what you think is going on, and what is really going on. I blame my childhood for this grand skill.
I digress, as per usual. Anyway, I was thinking on my way to work this morning - it’s been a while since I’ve waxed poetic on the subject of Love or matters of the heart. And it’s not that I haven’t altogether; I have, just not on a public platform. Happening upon a few old voice memos last night, just before bed, that were recorded sometime between 2012 and early 2013, left me with a sweet taste in my mouth - a different and refreshing outlook, if you will - unfolding another layer. This layer, ever there, just hadn’t paid much attention to it in a while - made me think this morning, “I should write a blog on this.” Admittedly, it was a toss up between the subject I am going to speak about and the subject of Soul Mates… Which if you have Facebook and remember when I used to write epically long “Notes”, you have seen my thoughts on Soul Mates - circa 2008. I will write on that again, I promise, possibly even weave a little of my feelings into this. However, for now, let’s talk about Love, Being IN Love, and Repairing a Broken Heart…
(Okay, all 3 of those are a bit overzealous for one blog… but I’ll try to cover some, but definitely not all bases.)
Where to begin? Ok, I’ll start with where my thoughts were sparked, then go back to the very beginning - Momento-style flashbacks and current day.
Tuesday afternoon, my mother and I are emailing back and forth discussing her recent birthday trip to California, mixed with inquiries of my romantic life, which I enthusiastically respond to. Then I get a separate email: “Speaking of goons who don’t know your worth, I saw a picture of THAT goon on the cover of the AJC with his Wonder Woman - who looks NOTHING like the REAL Wonder Woman, or as gorgeous as you are…” No need to really go on about that. Needless to say, yes - of course, because of the amount of mutual friends, nerds alike, and the fact that I do not live under a rock - yes I had seen the picture, however, tossed it to the side with the 30,000 other D*Con pics I saw over the past few days with multiple friends and former acquaintances. It’s not like I didn’t know this was happening. Anywho, with that email, along with the intermittent conversations brought up about said “goon” by multiple family members - from California to New York - over the past year, with the, “I can’t believe that!”, “That’s so disappointing”, “I really believed in him”,”You’ll find better”, “He was a child” - Blah Blah Blah, BLEK - VOMIT! I again, in writing this time, as opposed to just saying it in passing, said - “Mom, you, Melo, Swan - everyone needs to STOP drudging up the past and looking for ways to bring it up in conversation. It’s over, it’ve been over, leave it there - please, I am fine. It does no good to move forward, if you stick in the past.”
So then after that conversation, I’m deleting stuff off of my phone in preparation for a new one, later in the evening, and happen upon these voice memos. They were of a few sordid evenings, where me and AJC cover boy were out and about or driving and being unbelievably silly. to listen to them was actually hilarious, I had forgotten they were even there. But afterwords, instead of being sad, or having feelings of remorse, regret, or any of the like negative emotions - I actually smiled a very sweet smile and fell off to sleep with wonderful dreams of what may come, with him as far away from my thoughts as one could be. Why? How?
How is it so possible to mend a broken heart? So quickly? Defying the 1/2 time ratio that has become a common timeline for people to live by - which, if ya ask me, is kinda bs.
This is How…
1. It completely depends on what your heart is broken over. To have a broken heart, doesn’t necessarily mean that you’ve been in love or even loved someone or something. It simply means, that you invested yourself enough to become vulnerable to a rift or immediate unwanted change in the situation.
2. If it is Love, it absolutely 100% depends on what kind of love, as there are a ton of varying levels, which we do not have time to get into.
3. If you’re IN LOVE - forget it, you never get over it. It stays in your heart forever, it just gets easier and you find ways to see the world in a different light. i.e. If you are truly, unabashedly, unconditionally (which is terrifyingly hard), IN-LOVE with another - you will want their happiness no matter what, and you will find your happiness in theirs, even if it is not by your side. I think being truly in love is the closest to being truly democratic in your actions, as humans can become.
Heart Break Hotel… (now we go to the way way back)
If you ask me, how is it easy, how do you do it? I will tell you, first, it is never easy - ever. Those who say it is should have their temperature checked to see if they’re alive, if they are - you should question their soul. But it does get to a point where you are more capable of putting situations and things into perspective, slicing and dicing your emotions and being more apt to move through them in a quicker fashion. This is where it helps to go from the beginning.
For me, personally, I think my heart was broken at such an early age - even over things I did not fully grasp the weight of entirely. Then as I grew older and had more of a cognitive and psychological ability to fully analyze and understand these things, it was like a long, drawn out heart break. Then just the ideas of what I had in my mind of what things should be, became heart breaking. And all of this was before the notion of “being in-love” was ever introduced into my little mind and world. So you see, it totally depends on the things that are making your heart break. I will say, as a child, I ran away in my mind. I could not run away physically, so I escaped to a fantasy world in my mind, but paralleled it with the real world - constantly telling myself, “There is a reason for all of this. God is preparing me for something bigger, something worse. I am being made strong for a purpose that is bigger than myself.” Of course, some might say - that in of itself, is a bit of a fantasy. ER doctors would tell you that bad shit just happens, no rhyme or reason. I will tell the naive - bad shit happens to good people - open your fucking eyes. Despite my escape into my dreams of a time where there would be no heart break and only peaches and sunshine, I never wanted to be too far removed from the present. I always had a strong pull to be present in my world and my emotions, I wanted to feel them, I wanted to log them, analyze them, make sure they were real and truly felt at the appropriate times. I never wanted to be that person, who hid so far away and blocked so much out that it would haunt them later. Nope, took it like a champ (well, mostly).
Luckily, this heart break was paired with a pretty heavy dose of Love and learning what strength was. Without fail, through all the things that broke my heart from an early age - well into my 20’s, whether she knew about them or not, my mother was always a pillar of strength and love. I watched as she had her heart torn apart, I watched her stand tall and not just survive, but go through life with such grace and strength. I’m not sure she realizes just how much she taught me by just being, and by me just watching. She also loved me and my brother with all of her being and then some. Even through times when I was an angry teen, I never, not for one second, ever questioned my mother’s or family’s love for me. My family taught me what it is to love unconditionally, to fully accept another, and to love through even the roughest of weather and darkest night. Some people, I know, are not lucky enough to have that - some people only have the heart break and nothing to counter it - and for that, I am sorry.
Fast forward, 18 years later: My best friend dies. I will never forget the phone call, or the way the sunlight was peaking through the shades in my dorm room. I remember laying awake in bed, astonishingly early for a college student on a Saturday morning. It was 7:11am. I was laying there, watching the light creep across the ceiling, and I was overcome by an indescribable feeling of peace and serenity. There was a comfort in the autumn air that was more special than the day before. I smelled roses. The phone rings an annoying and would be startling ring, except I’m so calm, it doesn’t really phase me. There’s a part of me that almost doesn’t answer because I want to stay in this moment. But I know it’s my mother, even before I pick up, and I know she’ll call again if I don’t pick up… “Doll baby? Chloe? (her voice breaks)” “Are you sitting down?” I of course, immediately know there is something very wrong, as I have never heard these words come out of her mouth. — “No, and I’m not going to!” I pace back and forth in my room, wrapping the phone cord quickly around my finger. “I want you to sit… Jillian died early this morning…(I’m not sure how much time elapsed) … Chloe, did you hear me?” Me: “Mom, I have to go. I will call you later. It will be ok. I just have to go, I have to make some calls.” I calmly hung up the phone. I looked at the clock again, quickly doing the math on time zones of all those I was about to call. Do I call first or sit for a moment and collect my thoughts? No, call first - definitely call. Noah was my first call. He was in Houston at the time, dancing for the Houston Ballet. They were an hour behind my time even. I called until he picked up, I quickly told him the news and told him he had to find a way to get home. We could meet in Memphis and go together if we needed to. Then I called her house. I called and called and called - of course nobody answered. Then I called her mom’s girlfriend at the time - Debbie. Debbie then told me something she never should have, but I guess felt so compelled to. She said, “Chloe, I’m so sorry. Jillian knew you loved her. She did ask for only two things before she passed - she said she wanted to speak to you and to Noah.” My heart jumped in my throat, as I swallowed hard, pushing down the urge not to jump through time and space and strangle the woman on the other end - I asked, “WHY didn’t you or anyone, ANYONE call me?! I would have found a way to get there to be there, to be with her, to be beside her, laying in that bed with her to make it better…” To which, Debbie replied - “Chloe, you are our second daughter, we all KNEW you’d would have died trying to get here. We were already losing one, and could not bare the thought of anything happening to you -so we didn’t let you know.”
That day, in a matter of just about 30 minutes, my heart was shattered and broken in so many ways for so many reasons. My entire childhood and life up to that point flashed in front of me, I heard her laughter, I saw her crying, I saw myself the times I got mad at her and yelled, I saw the times we were completely happy and drunk in our love for each other. I smelled her, I smelled the hospital, I heard the machines beeping… And this was my reaction:
I got off the phone with Debbie. I looked out the window, pulled the shades up, opened the window, and looked straight at the sun - just for a few seconds. Then turned around, with my back to the window, the sun beating down on my back - I sat down slowly on the cold tile floor… Closed my eyes, as two of the biggest tears I think I’ve ever produced rolled down my cheeks and I let out one, singular, brave heart style, from the depths of my soul - battle cry. Then I began to smell roses again, and on my deep breath in, I was suddenly filled with a sense of serenity once again. Trembling slightly, I stood up, sniffled the snot back into my nose, wiped my cheeks, put on jeans and went to breakfast. To this day, I cannot tell you what I did the rest of that particular day. I know I was gone from my dorm for a long time, when I returned in the evening, some of my dorm mates had gotten me Sunflowers, they said, “We don’t know what happened - but we’ve never heard a cry like that before, so it must have been bad - but we hope these make you feel better.” It was more than apropos, Sunflowers were Jillian’s favorite flowers.
^^^^That, that is what I was being prepared for. To this day, I look back and am in awe of my reaction to this situation and loss. I don’t think I could, even if I tried, to describe or explain the love Jillian and I had between us. It was more than normal friend love. There was an understanding and a depth to it, that I’ve never felt before - not with any of my girlfriends before or since. I think she was my first soul mate. To this day, when I’m feeling scared or overwhelmed with hurt - sometimes, I will suddenly start to smell roses and I know it’s her. I know her soul is floating out there, parts still intertwined with mine.
I can definitively say, is the hardest heart breaking one can feel. The loss of a soul mate. That, I have only felt once. To lose a soul mate - friend or lover - is something that is earth shattering. But know, that Soul Mates aren’t always who we are meant to be with. They are not always our lovers or mates - sometimes, they are friends. Sometimes, they are there to be our mirrors - to instill a change in us that is necessary, but as only they can.
I have had loves, yes. I have had a relationship with one whom I would call a kindred spirit, definitely <—— and while that one sucked far more than any of the ones I simply “loved”, there is nothing that has ever compared to the heart break I experienced when my dear Jillian died. And for that, I am ever thankful. So, when I tell people how I do it, how I get over a broken heart -
Well… It’s experience. It’s also knowing the difference between varying levels of love and care. It’s not a dark thing or a bad thing. It’s a strength that has been built over many years, it’s a spirit and a will that is unwavering; I have the ability to recover from such things with more speed than the average joe because I have a light in me that cannot ever be extinguished and I will always always look towards that to come out of the dark. I will always seek happiness for others and for myself and will never ever give up on the pursuit of that perfect love. So THAT’S how I can do it. Find your positivity people!
Now… of course, there are a few practical ways to help with heart break - the 10 steps to mending a broken heart - I’ve written that before too. But I think I’ve gone far enough down the rabbit hole for one blog this week! :)
I truly think if more people just respected and loved each other, TRULY, then the world would be a much better place. Places, like yesterday, when I looked back and then smiled fondly on and became happy for another who has found themselves truly and adoringly IN LOVE with a woman, who is not me - but is his perfection and his soul mate. I’m not saying war wouldn’t happen - it would just be far less and possibly over more honorable and admirable causes.
Not sure that the Runaway song was the best one for this post, but it was on the radio this morning when I was thinking, and I liked the sound. That song pick was definitely more about the sound and melody than the band or lyrics - so there ya have it. Like it anyway!