The Box

It's 3 weeks and 4 days since I was last face to face with him. I've seen him in public since that day but the anniversary of our last time together has been hanging over me for nearly a year. I remember dates for things good, bad and otherwise, so this focus isn't out of character for me, but it's arguably not healthy. Not that anything will happen on this day but I've told myself this story that I "just have to get past that date". 

A year away from his voice, his touch, his lies, his anger, and his energy. I'd gotten rid of anything in my home with a memory of him but kept a small box of some things I just couldn't give up at that moment. I put the box in my garage storage area, as I didn't want it anywhere near me, but obviously still holding on. My homework from my life coach was to look at what's in the box and ask myself the hard questions as to why I was keeping these things.

I knew of some professional pictures of the two of us at my work's holiday gala that were in the box. I knew that night that we'd never last but wanted the moment anyway. I'd never been to prom or homecoming, I hated my wedding, and at any formal party my ex-husband would always whine about everything and ruin it for me. So I'd wanted to have this experience even knowing the ultimate end would be bad. My life coach asked, "You have the memory and that can't be taken from you. Why do you need the pictures?" I suppose the pictures felt like part of the event for me though I'm seeing it's a little ludicrous when they are stashed far away from me. And would I ever be able to look at those pictures and smile for the good times? Not at this point. 

So I got the box and opened it...

Taking a deep breath I reminded myself I'd opened a box before which felt scary and was actually pleasantly surprised. I also consoled myself with the fact that he wasn't here watching me do this, no one was, so I was allowed any feeling or emotion I wanted to express. The box was much heavier than I expected and this sent fear through me as I couldn't imagine what else was in there besides pictures. I opened it to find that I'd kept what I felt were my best memories of our time together. Ticket stubs, a rose, room keys from special occasions, and a container of bubble gum that he'd randomly bought me one night after I told him I loved the smell of it. 

After looking at the pictures I began ripping them up and in one noticed how tightly my hand was gripping him. I could see muscles were clenched in hopes of grasping this one last time before the end. Perhaps even clutching so tightly to an improbable hope that he'd change and there could be a happy ending.

Before fully demolishing all the pictures I carefully cut myself out of a few key ones where I looked delighted and having a great time. I decided that his horrifying behavior to follow wasn't going to ruin it all for me.

I put everything flammable in my burn bowl (You don't have a burn bowl? Oh I'd highly recommend it!), tossed the rest, and put it on my porch with plans to light it up on April 9th. Though I don't really believe in luck or fate, I'm thankful that on this day I have a hair appointment, a massage and my favorite band is playing! Taking the day off to give this all one final reflection and release (hopefully...I know how shit can come back).