We didn’t talk about feelings, though they were all over the spectrum. We used to say that we were either engulfed by the fire or stone cold frozen.
We were so passionate about serving God and people. There was nothing we would rather do than be all consumed in The Lord’s work. We felt not just the warmth but the burning passion to live like Him, for Him and with Him. Nothing else mattered to us but our servant-hood to God.
So how did two people so set on a life of service turn to emotional abuse, drugs, alcohol and self-destruction?
The bitter cold; it came after the flames and was strong enough to stop the fire and freeze every inch of love that filled our bodies. The complete absence of feeling showed the way to worldly comfort. There was no joy in the bitter cold.
He knew me better than anyone I’d ever known. And I knew him equally as well. It was a dangerous and unrelenting friendship that showed its face in the form of lust. The entanglement of emotions and legs led to a lack of tenderness when it came to the sex. When we were together, the only thing we felt were each other’s bodies, rushed and forced. It was a physical response to the inside numbing pain we felt. I remember the sex and I remember the pain. There was no love.
We may not have shown it to each other, but we were more than capable of love. Our ability to love was likely our greatest weakness. Love took everything out of us and left nothing in return. We fed others and never ate anything substantial. We starved ourselves. When the hunger was uncontrollable, we fed each other empty calories of voided devotion. We were still hungry but it was enough to get us by.
At the time, we were exactly what we thought we needed in another. We lived in our own little reckless world of hot and cold, love and numb, mania and depression. Eventually a sense of solidarity shown light in our little world. We grew fond of each other and sought refuge in our nothingness. Was it love, perhaps not, but togetherness? As quickly as the fondness came, it went.
The jar of peanut butter and the visit of an old friend caused his frigid heart to melt, just a little bit. She came bearing buds smuggled in a jar of peanut butter. Peanut butter or weed, it changed the one sided love to include his once frozen heart. It changed my heart as well, to a blistering degree of heat. I was most definitely not numb. I was in all way shape and form, in love.
Nor his love nor mine ruined our union. Daily, we adventured in our world seeking weed, beer and each other. Every fight, lonely night and intoxicated word led me close to him. I used every opportunity to ruin him, ruin her, ruin them, and eventually, ruin me. The sex didn’t stop, it developed. She had no idea and I had no intentions of telling her. Every time we slid under the covers, I won. I wanted his heart the way he wanted my body. Though he belonged to her, he was with me.
In my private mind, I knew I won when I saw those two pink lines on the stick I’d just urinated on. The thought of a family with him never crossed my mind even while starring at the message in my hand. It was all just a game and I ended it with my pretty little pregnancy test. The reaction from him was far from desired and all the sudden made the win feel like a boulder against my bladder.
Later that chilly night, we walked to the frozen lake. As we walked further and further in to the water and away from the shore, I saw no need to return. He whispered words as I shut my eyes to the sound of the wind. The cold hit my lips and heart as he spoke of the desolate future. His words swirled in the wind and lost meaning with every breath I focused on. I savored them all, as I knew they would be some of my last.
To be continued…