Looking Back: Inside Out – The Hidden Struggle! by U.C. MeNot

Restored from the Empower Network archive (2011–2017), lightly edited to meet our current advertising standards. Views are the original author’s.

The following are excerpts from my unpublished journey of self-discovery that I wrote over 10 years ago. To follow from the start go to the Introduction.

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Looking Back

When I look back, I realize that it was just a matter of time before I ended up in the arms of a consenting female. Thankfully BG was the one — it’s not easy to hit the jackpot on the first try. True, the pain I’ve gone through since then really sucks, but the joy I found with her is something I don’t think will ever pass my way again. As I see it, the only thing problematic in our relationship was the physical packaging (or rather, lack of it) on my part.

BG means so much to me. What I feel for her is unlike any other emotion I have ever encountered. I am yet to unearth, in any terrestrial language, a word that (on it’s own) can fully describe it.

When I’m with her my feet don’t touch the ground. My soul bursts spontaneously into songs containing the most exquisitely-crafted lyrics. The finger of love continuously writes poetry across my heart. The world seems to stand still as every cloud devoid of a silver lining is chased away by the sunshine of pure, unadulterated bliss.

BG and I were compatible in oh so many ways. On an intellectual level, we had the connection a surfer has with his board. When we rode the sea of conversation together, no wave was too high nor too low for us to attempt. The surf was always up. Even if sometimes we came crashing down, we weren’t afraid to admit our errors, take blame and …..in the words of songbird Aaliyah — ‘try again’. Those intellectual adventures were indeed a breath of fresh air in a world enveloped by verbal smog.

We could talk for hours upon hours about any and every thing. (My phone bill could attest to that.) No subject was taboo; no question too dumb to be broached. Everything was up for grabs. There was always a smooth rhythm of give and take in our verbal exchanges. We were like two pros playing a friendly game of talk-pong, rallying back and forth; neither concerned with keeping score; just content to keep the ball in motion.

We both loved the use of puns, and could stretch an illustration to its elastic limit. Playing mind-games was a regular pastime of ours, for her especially. She loved to tease my mind. She would vividly relate various situations to me and I, gullible as I was when with her, would unquestioningly accept every word as fact. Then, when she’d realize that I wasn’t catching on, she’d laughingly say that she’d been kidding.

Ohhh, I hated when she did that to me. It showed me that, despite having more years of education and experience than she, I could still be outwitted by her. It would hurt my ego but I loved her still. Yuh see, she knew just how to soothe and comfort it. She’d even laugh at my jokes, as corny as some proved to be.

Emotionally, as well, we were in sync. It was almost as if we were twins. We could sense what the other was going through even when our only link was paper and ink. We would give to each other the strength needed to press on. Like the purple triangle prisoners of the Nazi era, we refused to let the other give up despite the internal and external torment we were both experiencing.

BG always knew just the right thing to say or do to rescue me from drowning in my pool of self-pity into which I fell from time to time. She was everything I could ever want. She was …..IS my soul-mate.

I believe there was only one aspect in our relationship in which we were unable to be linked as lock and key. Everything else between us was just right, almost perfect. That’s why it hurt so darn much when we had to part. It felt like my heart was being ravaged by a school of piranhas.

Living was killing me. How I longed to be the victim of a drive-by shooting; or the hostage chosen to be made an example of so that the terrorists might gain an edge in the negotiations. Every night, as I cried myself to sleep curled like an unborn child in one corner of my queen-sized bed, I prayed that it would be my last.

My only sanity came from my self-imposed hectic schedule. From six to six, or later, I was out of the house doing all I could to keep myself mentally-distracted for as long as was humanly possible.

In the presence of others I put to practice all the acting lessons I’d been forced to teach myself over the years; and my performance certainly merited a Lifetime Achievement Award, or something like that.

Yet I could not escape the fact that Apollo (the Sun-god) worked on a fixed schedule. His daily trek across the sky would have to end; the horses needed their rest.

I tried to delay the inevitable by staring into the face of my 19″ conversation-dominating companion. But sooner or later I would have to return to my cell wherein I would be forced to battle my personal demons until finally, devoid of tears and energy, the Sandman’s dust would take effect.

So read the story of my existence for the first few months after she flew out, primarily because our communication had been cut. I had no way to contact her — no address, no telephone number, nothing. Eventually, communication was restored and that greatly relieved some of my stress.

While I was grateful for the little part she allowed me to play in her life, I knew I wanted more. Like the detectives who try to keep the kidnappers on the line for as long as they can so that the call can be traced and a location determined; I figured that as long as the lines of communication remained open I had hope of locating that hideout in her heart that would cause her to willingly return to me. We’re meant to be! She cannot deny that forever, can she?!

I must admit, however, that certain parts of my life did suffer damage as a result of our whirlwind relationship. My walls of protection against hurt and disappointment have certainly grown taller. My list of criterion for trusting others has grown longer. I don’t even trust myself. I’ve put my friendship department on hold, telling any new applicants that there are no vacancies. While I maintain a measure of civility with those already in, I do so from a distance, behaving like a sumo-wrestler — belly-butting any who come too close.

I know I’ve hurt some people along the way and I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was an inexperienced driver behind the wheel of the 200 horse-powered “To-have-found-and-lost-true-love” racing car. I didn’t know how to control it. Even now I’m still learning, but they’ll be lessons I’ll never be able to forget.

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Molded
– Dahlia Lamy

Chorus: You are what you are
‘cause of what you’ve been through.
You’ve gotta face the fact — there’s no turning back.

1) Life is unidirectional.
It’s only forward that we can move.
But nonetheless …..we do our best to hold on to what we once had.
And with these we make sweet memories that keep us warm at night;
as we think about …..a loved one who used to hold us tight.

2) Life’s experience are what shape us.
They mold us into who we are, so that each day …..we but replay the many lessons we have learned.
Some soft and sweet, while others hard;
with bitterness endowed.
If you are to show …..love to others then first you must learn how.

3) Though we might wanna change the past there isn’t anything we can do.
But that’s okay, …..we’ve got today to shape our lives for tomorrow.
With that in mind we watch our steps on the road of life.
At the end of it all …..we want no regrets, no pain, no strife.

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To Be Continued…tomorrow. See you then.

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