The Wounds That Frighten Don’t Heal Properly

Sometimes you have these moments where you let your crazy out. I am playing Tears for Fears again… but only one particular song: “Head Over Heels.” I know he loves Tears for Fears… especially this song. So the single version, where it is only “Head Over Heels” is on repeat.

And in the back of my mind, there’s that shame creeping in. The evil voice going, “How fucked up do you have to be to want to torture yourself like this?”

Yes, I love the song… but evil voice has a point, too. I’m doing it to torture myself. I want to marinade in thoughts of him, of good things, of things he told me before sex decided to show up and ruin everything. Everyone that says sex fucks up a relationship: listen to them. They’re all right, and I am now one of those people telling you just that. If you want to stay friends when you sober up, don’t fuck your friends.

Because once you do, you get feelings, and those feelings, they get you all messed up inside. You start obsessing over every tiny moment, like, “Oh, he smiled at me a certain way” or “Why did he have that tone when he was talking to me?” It makes you jealous because you don’t have him as yours, and you want to be with him again. You want him so bad that the way he kissed you plays on repeat in your head.

And the moment you think you’re getting over it, it comes back. You listen to fucking Tears for Fears on repeat and start getting these little glimpses. The rabbit hole is calling you back in and you’re fighting like hell to stay out of it.

Because you know it’s a trap. You know that he can’t be man enough for you. You know you deserve better than to be strung around and treated like it was your fault you fell. That he was the victim in your game, and that you weren’t a victim of the way he toyed with your head. That it was ok that he gave you hope and fucking annihilated it.

And I’m getting all of this from one song on repeat, might I add.

They say you only regret the things you didn’t do. How do you process it when part of you regrets the thing you did do?

More importantly, should I regret it? Should I let myself feel that and process it or do I need to be pushing that out of my head and saying that it’s done and there’s nothing I can do? Both seem right and wrong. Processing it might lead me to over-analyzing, which is like the ideological gateway drug to obsession. However, pushing it out of my head only leads to rage.

I’m a huge fan of Incubus, and when I think about that kind of rage, I always think of the song “Just a Phase,” where Brandon Boyd sings:

I am bottled, fizzy water

And you are shaking me up

You are a fingernail

Running down the chalkboard

That I thought I left in 3rd grade

It’s that kind of rage, where all you want to do is release the pressure before it tears you apart inside.

If I’m honest with myself, I have a big problem with that kind of bottled rage. I can’t talk about my feelings as candidly as I should. I’m afraid of my feelings being out in the open. It’s letting your wounds breathe, the self-inflicted damage being completely exposed. When you let yourself be that vulnerable, people can rub salt in that wound, and because you’re so exposed, it hurts a whole lot more.

And I know I’m scared of that because it has happened to me. A lot of the people I’ve encountered aren’t good at vulnerable. They run or they destroy.

It sucks, because I try to be gentle, even if it makes me awkward and unsure of what to say. I don’t want to hurt them when they are opening their wounds to me. I mean, at least not intentionally.

I still hold onto the hope that someone exists out there who will heal the wounds rather than make them wider. The hope is dimming though, and I’m not sure how long I have until the light goes out.

We have to talk about the hard and slightly saddening stuff if we ever want to be truly happy. I think today was that day for me. Tomorrow will hopefully be better.



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