Watch for release of the new single, Sound of Regret, this Friday, June 12.
Laying on my side, squeezing tight my extra pillow, while simultaneously squeezing my eyelids shut harder. I’m breathing shallow breaths, working hard to stay quiet and hold back my tears. My back turned to him, his back turned to me, he lies there quietly on his way to sleep, perhaps already there, completely unaware of my inner trembling, and the work it takes to keep from exploding.
Loneliness can feel like that: together yet alone. That confusing kind of loneliness where you lay next to someone you love, but the chasm is wide, filled with all the things you don’t talk about.
The clenched fist inside my chest, holding tight to all I am too afraid to say, to repeat, to re-visit.
I wish I had known, wish I had realized, that resolution wasn’t the point, that tying everything up with a beautiful bow was not only impossible most times, but wasn’t the goal, wasn’t the purpose of bringing it up again, of asking for some affirmation and clarification so that I could know I was still loved. And I was still loved. But I was not always sure of it.
Instead of asking and seeking, I kept it to myself. I let the nighttime fall over me again and again, lonely even when not alone, and I learned something powerful from that: I am responsible for myself. I am responsible for my place in the relationship, my role in the story being written. I cannot control the outcome, but I can blame no one but myself if I refuse to pick up the pen.
As far as we know, we get one life to live. And, anyway, even if we do live some other life in some other way, how do we know we will remember this one? All I can remember up until this point is the life of 41 years that I’ve already lived - a great gift to have that many years, by the way - and in this one life, I am beginning to understand that reaching toward one another is what matters most in relationship. Keeping your hands open is what will unclench that fist pushing against your sternum, pressing in an attempt to break free. Even the most difficult conversations must be had because it is the only way to open up the path ahead of you, even if on that path is momentary pain that leads to freedom later. The keeping quiet, not saying the thing, not risking misunderstanding, not laying yourself bare with vulnerability is not the answer.
That is the path to regret.
This time, I am different.
This time, I know better.
This time I will roll over, facing the one I love, refusing to keep my back turned in self-protection.
Because this time is the one time, the one chance.
This time I will walk the path to, “This is hard, but I love you still.”