“It is the darkness that makes the light visible, and not the other way around.”
--Nancy Venable Raine
I don’t like all this “becoming.” Six years of becoming someone I don’t recognize. But of all the things I have “become,” I am at the do-or-die transformation now. Being Pain Queen doesn’t work any more. Pain Queen is on her last leg. And she just can’t take any more pain. So I must become a person who does not desire it. Who doesn’t seek it. Doesn’t turn to it. Doesn’t count on it. Doesn’t accept it as a permanent affliction.
I must become a person who does not love HIM. Who couldn’t possibly love a man who has brought me so much pain. I must stop thinking I love him. It’s just too twisted to “love” the source of my pain...
...I have loved him for a thousand years. A thousand years and as many lifetimes as it took to finally “get” that love does not equal pain. Love does not equal pain! This pain I feel is a result of HIS “love.” That’s crazy! That’s flawed! It’s insane to think I “want” that! So I have to stare it down now, this epic “Love,” the love that brought me to the floor. Stare at it til my eyes burn with one final blast of pain and then leave the ashes behind. I have to kill Pain Queen and become someone else yet again. Ugh.
I’ve “become” so many times throughout the six year ordeal; and Pain Queen took a while to evolve. I start out as Independent Woman, and find myself hijacked by that grandiose love. He sees that independence but never understands it. He can never, ever be alone so he secretly covets it so he has to steal it away. And I let him because I’m secretly tired of having to shoulder through everything on my own. So it isn’t much of a stretch for Independent Woman to become “Hot Chick.” Hot Chick is a novel diversion and I kind of like becoming her because no one ever paid so much attention to that part of me, much less referred to me in that way. No one had ever, ever said I was “hot”...and it was kind of fun—not to mention extremely flattering—to think maybe, just maybe for once it my life it could possibly be true if I’d only let it happen...
...It soon becomes not-so-hot to be Hot Chick, cause Hot Chick is expected to be so hot all the time. Hot Chick has to pretend like she likes all those toys and that lingerie. Hot Chick gets so tired of having to strap on the six-inch heels just to have any physical contact. Hot Chick feels just like a doll—all plastic with stiff, changeable parts. “Put your leg there.” “Hold your head like that.” “Leave that on.” “Turn that way.” Hot Chick slowly becomes Stewing, Brewing Girl. She stews every time she yanks on yet another flimsy outfit—and longs for the distant time when her bare skin was enough for a man.
Thus the “becoming” of Insecure Girl. Of all that I become, Insecure Girl is the one that feels most familiar. She’s not good enough the way she is and even when I’d dress her up in lingerie and heels she’s shaky and scared. Off-kilter, frightened of the possibility and inevitability of random rejection. Insecure Girl tiptoes around and stuffs all the feelings down, down; until they became as dark as the “Magnificent Love” that created her. Insecure Girl is no fun at all. A skeleton, really. Bobbing and weaving around the IEDs of that “Love.” Ducking and diving for those little scraps of “magnificence.” Those little crumbs of attention that fuel her through the ever-looming silences.
It is sick.
Insecure Girl has to become something else to survive. So Zombie Woman is born. The walking dead. The lifeless shadow. The end result of the Grand, Epic, “Soulmate Love.” The “special” one; the “chosen” one; the “exceptional” recipient of his singularly unique, all-encompassing “Love.” Of everything I’d become, Zombie Woman is the worst. A ghost, I flinch at nothing. The rages and pleading tears meet a gray wall of stone. The threats and the proclamations sound the same, “blahblahblah.” Zombie Woman is the one, however, who doesn’t care anymore if she’s abandoned...and she is, and eventually Pain Queen emerges. And at least she feels something. But Pain Queen is killing me. And I am on the Endangered Species list.
So I grab onto the little God-thread, the thin Spirit-wire that’s wound tight down inside of me and force myself to become a person who DOES NOT LOVE anything/anyone who keeps Pain Queen alive. I must STOP the thoughts that there was anything “good” about ending up like this. STOP romanticizing the drama and the pain. STOP acting like I’m a helpless victim. STOP being HIS victim. I must become somebody who values herself enough to at least TRY to become someone better, stronger, happier, wiser...
I do not like the process of having to become somebody who rejects the things I clung to for so long. Something that defined my life, as painful as that had “become.” That is what I had “become” though, a big receptacle and repository for pain. A keeper of pain. A reveler in it. Sick from pain. Sick from his sickness. Sick. Sick. Sick. And I’m fucking sick of it.
Yes. Pain Queen must die if I am to live. I write a nice eulogy for her in my journal; she earned every word. I light a candle and watch it burn down into nothing but smoke.
Like some avenging angel with soot-stained wings I fly out of it and trust that the pain will stop. I force the flight. And crash. And fly and try again, until I’m convinced that flying in the dark is still better than flying into the darkness again and again.
I step on The Path Forward and commit to becoming a survivor...then a thriver...then a lover of life. The most worthy and grateful lover of life.
I remember a quote from Kahlil Gibran. He said “The deeper sorrow carves into your being the more joy you can contain.” I want to become a container of joy. This is my new “becoming.” One moment at a time, for however long it takes.
Dear Brothers and Sisters in Strength and Recovery.
I did it. I killed Pain Queen. She didn’t go down easy...but I became stronger than her by working the Steps here on The Path Forward. I’m still becoming...and I like it! Becoming whole. Becoming wise. Becoming strong. Becoming happy. Becoming a great lover....of life. This is my wish for all who stop here. It works if you work it. In the two years and 50 days I’ve been out, I’m becoming the best “not spinning” yet. Happy, N and PD free 2013 to all who land here.
(not) spinning AND IT FEELS GREAT!