Allowing Others

It took a long time for me to realize that I was full of resentment toward Clay for going away for three weeks. I would never have thought I could blame him for wanting to take some time off, whatever the reason. I swore up and down that I was glad he was going away because I needed a break. I was happy to have three free Thursday evenings all to myself. That felt true.

We talked the other night about how I have been feeling since he returned. My grief returned in full force and began taking me down. I had no explanation for its return. There was no anniversary coming up. I’m not searching for a replacement-man anymore. Clay told me over and over of his suspicions that my relapse had everything to do with his absence. I didn’t believe him. I didn’t feel especially angry toward him. Being angry with him for taking vacation felt like an absurdity.

Still, each time I questioned the reasons behind the return of my downward-spiral Clay was adamant about his belief. Once again, I denied the allegation. I told him that I did, however, refer to his vacation time as “The period of time when he was performing human experiments.” He said “That sounds like anger to me.”

Not only did he completely miss the joke, but he called my bluff and popped me out of my denial. I believe him, now, and in one session, the session that was supposed to be my last, I transitioned from needing to be independent of him to just plain needing him. We came to an agreement that I would take a couple of weeks off of therapy.

I realized, as I drove myself to the gym in a tirade of inconsolable grief, that I have been pushing people away since Chris’ death. I have been disallowing people to care about me.

At the gym, I hurt my left pectoral muscle and when the time came for me to do fifty chest presses, the trainer, Ed, told me not to. I argued that I was feeling better and he suggested that I split the fifty reps into two groups of twenty-five. I agreed, all the while thinking, “Fuck you. I’m doing all fifty at once.” I took to the bench and began, but then realized that he cared about the possibility of me hurting myself further.

I thought about Clay.

I thought about Ed.

I thought about how I resist the care of others.

I thought, “Ed cares whether or not I hurt myself.” and decided to split up the reps then suddenly awakened to the thought that Clay cares about me and wants to help. Once again I felt like the five-year-old me in the school yard with my mother and the trust and safety I felt when I was five. I realized I need to begin allowing people to care about me. It’s okay to let people in. It’s okay for me to vulnerable. I am no longer the caregiver.

I don’t have to be unbreakable, anymore.