All Tied Up

Yesterday, I had a really bad day.

I woke up crying, I got dressed crying, I went to class crying, I drove to town crying, I lie in bed crying. I cried in the chair opposite my counselor and I cried in the cafeteria just looking at my pizza burger and I cried at work with my laptop in front of me so I could maybe hide the tears and I cried in the arms of a dear friend who whispered that they are proud of me. I cried a lot.

I hadn’t cried so much in one day in a long time. I wasn’t even sure I could keep crying — I have no idea where the tears were even coming from, but there must be giant wells somewhere inside me that have just been sitting on the very edge of a cliff for weeks, swaying back and forth.

And yesterday, they tipped over.

The breakdown that had been awaiting me for months, looming over me like a dark storm cloud, tantalizing and taunting, broke me.

For months I had been dealing with something that I knew would eventually need an end. The story had a beginning, and a middle, but the ending was unclear, ambiguous and unrelentingly daunting and formidable. The situation needed closure, some sort of bow to wrap it up all nice and pretty so that I could tuck the box of memories back in my mental filing cabinet to open again only in the far future, when the memories would be merely Polaroids instead of a black and white silent movie complete with melancholy orchestral instrumentation.

And I knew that this was what I needed, and I had known for a while, but when I awoke yesterday morning to the opportunity of closure, the wells tipped and the breakdown that would break me commenced.

I did get closure. And it was probably as tidy and as neat as it could be if you look at it from the outside. It’d look like a little white memory box with a perfectly-tied red ribbon.

But if you looked closer at the red ribbon, you’d notice that the ends on either side were frayed and withered, and that the box itself was beaten up and scratched and torn, because someone had tried to close it improperly seven too many times.

Yesterday was extremely difficult because the closure I had been awaiting and yearning for was standing directly in front of me, looking me right in the eye, and I didn’t want it anymore.

I wanted the box to be re-opened. I wanted the box to be made new. I wanted the box to be re-painted and just shown a little care and time.

But closure was staring me in the face, and it offered me the red ribbon. And I knew there was no option but to take it. Maybe two months prior, or even one month, I could’ve turned my back on closure and kept the box open even just a little while longer. But not now. The distance between the falling action and this upcoming resolution of our story seemed miles upon miles apart. Mountain ranges stood between the two points, and I could no longer even see where the story had left off. So I took a deep breath, deep enough that my whole chest rattled and my throat caught on my tears and my eyes stung and turned pink. And I took the red ribbon with shaky, unsure hands and I tied a neat little bow.

I didn’t know that closure would hurt so much. I thought that after everything was tied up, I would just go on living life. I had no idea that in order to tie that red ribbon into a neat little bow, I first had to re-open the box and peer inside.

I had no idea that even after tying the bow, I would still be able to see everything inside the box. I didn’t know that all of the bruises would ache and that all of the cuts would sting. I didn’t know my heart would feel this much even after such a long time.

I didn’t know I would regret tying the bow. Not enough to undo it, but enough to ache inside. I didn’t know that I would feel empty and alone even though truly nothing had changed and the ending that had come was the one that had been foreseeable all along.

I thought I would be okay, but when the wells tipped and crashed into the chasm below, breaking and slamming hard into the ground, I broke too.

I am broken.

But I am mending.

What I want to remember most about this is not the strength it took to tie the bow, or the happiness that preceded or the melancholy doubt that followed. It isn’t the crying or the headaches or the desperation or the words that were said.

It’s the unrelenting love that was shown to me all day, even when I was incapable of truly demonstrating or showing reciprocity. I want to remember Kelleyann, who gave me a hug and reminded me that she loved me. I want to remember Bri and Jake who sent me love from afar and listened to all my ranting texts about my messiness. I want to remember Jehane, who sat across from me at the lunch table and let me guide the conversation wherever I wanted so I could pretend I was okay for just a few moments. I want to remember Hannah, who sat on the arm of our couch and listened to me explain a situation she won’t ever be able to understand. I want to remember Abby, who met me in my messiness and spilled out unconditional love for me. And I want to remember Matthew, who held me while I cried and told me he was so proud of me for doing the right thing. I want to remember the love they each showed me, in their own ways.

I had a really bad day yesterday. I did a lot of crying.

But I also felt really loved yesterday, and maybe tomorrow I’ll do a little smiling.