The Heart’s Serie #1
« The escape »
I drew this picture when I started to feel healed. « Healed » is a big word, but at least better, when I started to feel a little bit alive, when the taste of little things made its way back in my life. This story almost got me, it’s like I came back from the dead.
Because it’s cute to post funny pictures but sometimes, behind the curtains is hidden a dark, moist, bug-swarming place, and it happens, and we should talk about it too. Being sparkly happy everyday is a fight against darkness, it’s a fucking struggle, but back then, for months, on the ground, destroyed and ashamed, I couldn’t fight anymore.
I went to get help after it – yes it means seeing a shrink in a softer way – and one thing stood out more than the others in my head : when you have known this kind of person ONCE, you don’t get fooled again. You smell them from miles away like a shark with blood.
So yeah, I will do something with this picture someday. This story needs to be told. I wanted to wait until I was healed, until my stomach ain’t no longer aching.
The Heart’s Serie #2
« The spell in the wilderness »
No matter how devoted people around me have been, some fights have to be led alone. Friends, family, they were all here, along the road, giving me encouraging taps in the back, and awaiting for me at the end of it with a towel, a pint of beer and a piece of chocolate cake.
But the climbing, the long exhausting road to the top, had to be done alone. And oh my god, it seemed so f*cking long to me… When I opened my eyes, I also blamed myself of course, because a fellon sneaked his way into my life and I gave him a first-class seat.
Yes I lost some toes in the frost along the way, but the strength it took me will stay forever, and this too, is mine, and mine only. When I started to bounce back, I was unstoppable. No matter how brutal it was, that bitch of a lonely spell in the wilderness was really worth it.
The Heart’s Serie #3
« The Quarantine »
Losing him was torture. But losing myself for someone was even unacceptable. I had to run away. Trying to forget what I felt to remember what I deserved. To rationalize. To hand over the reins back to logic.
My heart, that douchebag of an organ, was childish, agitated, irrational, and basically made me act recklessly.
Enough already, let’s put on a straitjacket and see if you still play smartass !
I imposed myself a drastic cut with my emotional self, to accept the pain and its side effects, to not fight it, to not foolishly overcompensate, to not seek for comfort in men’s arms in desperate search of a little love, to not take shelter in ephemeral easiness hoping to find long term solutions.
So I waited. And waited. I repeated to myself « Be patient. Be patient (For god fucking sake it feels so long!) Be patient. ». And I ate french croissants (applicable with each individual’s favorite food). *
And to not call him. Because inner peace ain’t like losing a ring in the grass : there’s no use looking for it in the same place you lost it
The Heart’s Serie #4
« The Retreat »
And someday, finally, some peace. To avoid emotional outbursts, I quit everything that could have been a trigger, such as drinking and partying too much. Eat a little, go home early, see real friends : it has been my very own little way of taming my recovery. And you can’t win some calm back through abuses. I had to build it all over again.
I had accepted so much: senseless drama, spiteful criticism, isolation, anger, chaos… Why is it like this with him? Why does he treat me this way? Do I deserve it? Did he really mean that? What went wrong? When? WHY?
You know what ? There is no truth to find. No empathy. No possibility of sensible answer from him.
You know what ? My peace was way more important than torturing myself trying to understand.
You know what ? I-LET-GO
I gave it my whole gut strength until it slipped on me like water. I made a paper windmill out of his fucking storm. A duck pond out of his landslide. A little cabin out of his ruins. A little origami chicken out of his dark thoughts.