I found two odd objects on my desk on Friday: a pack of Fun-Dip candy powder from a sweet friend and a discontinued condom package we were thinking of using in the magazine. Sadly symbolic because there's going to be no fun-dip happening for me on this doily-edged, red- velvet day. I'm embarrassed to admit that I have a heart-shaped void where a relationship should be. Not that I haven't had more than my fair share of overnight hook-ups and years-too-long live-ins. But I lack the knack of day-to-day living together that grown-ups my age should have developed. I like the falling-in-love part better than the through-thick-and-thin part. Yes, I know that's incredibly immature, but my teenage marriage was a terrible love accident that I never really got treated for. Lots of casualties as a result, and over the years, I built up a protective carapace of scar tissue where the wound was. After I had lung surgery years ago, a deep scar formed along my ribs and under my breast that for a long time was numb to feeling. I think it sealed off the terror I felt through that time, and in the same way, my love scar sealed off the sadness I didn't want to feel. Unfortunately, it also sealed me off from the sweetness that can come with love. At some point, the scar on my ribs lost its numbness and became a badge of honor, but the one on my neglected, protected heart is more stubborn. I keep it mostly hidden because I feel to blame for it, but my word for 2010 is Change, so maybe there's still time for me to have a change of heart.
2.14.2010
Styrofoam Heart
I found two odd objects on my desk on Friday: a pack of Fun-Dip candy powder from a sweet friend and a discontinued condom package we were thinking of using in the magazine. Sadly symbolic because there's going to be no fun-dip happening for me on this doily-edged, red- velvet day. I'm embarrassed to admit that I have a heart-shaped void where a relationship should be. Not that I haven't had more than my fair share of overnight hook-ups and years-too-long live-ins. But I lack the knack of day-to-day living together that grown-ups my age should have developed. I like the falling-in-love part better than the through-thick-and-thin part. Yes, I know that's incredibly immature, but my teenage marriage was a terrible love accident that I never really got treated for. Lots of casualties as a result, and over the years, I built up a protective carapace of scar tissue where the wound was. After I had lung surgery years ago, a deep scar formed along my ribs and under my breast that for a long time was numb to feeling. I think it sealed off the terror I felt through that time, and in the same way, my love scar sealed off the sadness I didn't want to feel. Unfortunately, it also sealed me off from the sweetness that can come with love. At some point, the scar on my ribs lost its numbness and became a badge of honor, but the one on my neglected, protected heart is more stubborn. I keep it mostly hidden because I feel to blame for it, but my word for 2010 is Change, so maybe there's still time for me to have a change of heart.
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2 comments:
I am entirely too good at the day-to-day stuff of love. Yes, the first teen love left me forever suspicious of the heady days of connection and eager for the industry of life together. But that doesn't mean I don't need attention, particularly physical attention.
This Valentine's Day I'm decades into my "successful" relationship. We get along. We attend to each other's day to day needs. We are supportive. We are good parents. I think he is a good man.
But we sleep in separate beds. We have no common interests or hobbies. We struggle to even find a movie to watch together. There was no card for me today, no token of affection.
Just as you feel a metaphysical connection with the scar on your chest, I do with my broken heart. It is, indeed, broken. Inexplicably broken. It has been "broken" for about a decade now. I have been on a waiting list for surgery and it will happen in April.
During one of the many tests I've had, they discovered I have a hole in my heart. (This is entirely unrelated to the problem I'm being treated for, by the way.)
There are days I know exactly why my heart is broken. And I know that despite the favorable odds given to me by my surgeon, nothing can fix it now.
I've never seen my life described so well or should I say the state of my heart. Thought I was alone out there but guess I shoulda known better!! I hope you find your way out of this labyrinth.
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