Cant Fix You

It was a clear autumn day. Outside the birds were chirping and the breeze was blowing, and the sun was shining brightly. She looked out of the window into the horizon unsure of how they’d gotten here. She sighed, as a melancholy tear rolled down her cheek. She looked at him. His eyes were wide, and bleak, and tortured. And though he was flailing his limbs, yelling at the top of his lungs at her, she could only hear the beating drum of her heart as it became more and more anxious and self aware.

He parked the car abruptly making her jolt out of her seat, hitting her head on the dashboard. And everything inside her screamed for help. But she knew better, so she composed herself.

He couldn’t understand why she didn’t see things his way. It angered him beyond control. She could always push that button in him. He spewed venom with every word, like tiny jagged swords they carved their way into her being, as she wished the earth would swallow her whole. As much as she loved him, she would never be enough. She’d do something or say something to anger him and they would always end up here.

He gripped her forearm and she flinched. And in rage he clenched his fist and struck her. Her head tossed back from the brunt of the force. She gathered herself and held on to her stinging face. And for the first time it was then she understood she would never be able to fill the void inside his heart.

She tried. Oh, how she tried. She invested 8 years into a relationship that only took and took till it left her unequivocally dry. But the truth was there was no band-aid or stitch big enough to cover that which ailed him. Instead of helping him mend the loose ends of his life and fulfill his anguish, she seemed to fall right through it. His demons were many and the burden she had to carry was heavy. He never helped shoulder the weight. It was always her responsibility to make things right for him.

For a long time she thought if she held on long enough she’d help chase away his pain. She thought she could soothe away his ache. She thought that staying one more day would make the difference. But his love was like walking through a mine field; it was unavoidable that any slight movement would cause an explosion.

Their relationship was volatile to say the least, and she stayed as long as she did because she feared him. He coerced her to believe she would never be strong enough to do without him. So in between the fights and the bruises, in between the screaming matches and the throwing of objects… she lost herself somewhere in his darkness. Consumed her life in the bitterness and sorrow she thought she well deserved.

She hadn’t always been this woman. She used to be radiant, confident, and proud. But he stripped from her every inch of good in her soul and left her drowning in dismay. See it’s hard to find strength when you’ve been beaten. It’s hard to find the words when you’ve been quieted. It’s hard to keep the faith when you’ve been broken. And it’s so easy to lose yourself among the wreckage.

So she believed he loved her in his own way. But his way was unrelenting. His kind of love was like walking barefoot on shard, broken glass. The jagged edges cutting into the core of her being. She was bruised and scarred, and haggard. All things are bearable in small doses, but when it’s constant. It’s jarring.

They drove home in silence. Her left cheek still throbbed from the pain, as her body shook from head to toe. She breathed slowly, trying to compose herself, trying to muster up whatever little courage she had left inside her rickety bones. It would have been easy to fall apart, to let the tumultuous down pour of tears that welled up inside her overflow. He expected that.

Instead she went inside quietly and didn’t say a word. He went directly to shower and she walked straight to the back closet where they kept their suitcases. She packed quietly and quickly. She grabbed some cash she kept hidden in a shoe box. And next to the bed on the coffee table she left her golden wedding band and a note that read: “I don’t know what it was that made me love you so unconditionally, or what it was that made you hate me the way you do. But today I finally realized one undeniable truth… I can’t fix you. It’s not my responsibility. You’ve gotta face these demons on your own. And I gotta get far away from here. This is not just a battle lost darling, this is the whole war and we have nothing left to weather…”

She got into her car and put the car on drive. She wasn’t sure of where she was going. She wasn’t even sure of what she’d do when she’d get there. She just knew she had to take her life back that day. So she turned that car into the highway, and put the beams on high, it was a dark road ahead … but she’d always find the light.

Pablo Neruda once wrote “Someday, somewhere, anywhere, unfailingly, you’ll find yourself and that, and only that can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life”. This was her moment. Realizing your worth is a dire part of human existence. Realizing that you have to make your well being a priority is indicative of how much you value that worth.

They say that there is no safe way to remain in a relationship with a person who has no conscience. The only solution is to escape. Coming to this realization is the hardest thing yet. But at some point there will be an unwavering comprehension that you are allowed to walk away from toxic relationships and people who only hurt you. You are allowed to be selfish and unforgiving. Don’t let anyone bury you so far beneath the earth before you realize you are running out of air.

At any point you have the power to say “this is not how my story will end”.

Love you most

It was the third day of spring. I was sitting in the passenger’s seat talking away the drive. I’d been so long since her and I had been on a night out alone. But there we were, headed to a day of errands, a late dinner and a movie.

We were discussing an upcoming trip to NYC and when it would be best to take it before or after the wedding. And the subject turned to Wedding. I took over the conversation asking her a million questions. I always valued her opinion most of all. She knew me better than most of all. And as the unofficial Mexican Martha Stewart, her opinions truly mattered.

So I spilled over on wedding colors, and decoration likings. Flower arrangements and mental lists of prices. I rambled on about seating arrangements and list of guests. Never noticing that the more I spoke the more she responded less and less. Her mood heavy, a tear was shed. So crazed into my future I’d forgotten my present. It was in that moment she looked at me and said:

“I’ll miss you.”

There was pain in her eyes. I cringed as I watched her clear her throat. She was immediately uncomfortable for that sign of weakness. That was her way. But I heard it, and it meant the world to me. I smiled gathering up the courage.

“So what color?” She asks, concentrating again on the road, not giving me a chance to respond. She narrowed her eyes and gripped the steering wheel harder. And I knew that was my cue to move on. She wasn’t one to show weakness, or emotion, her kind of love was felt in action. Few “I love you’s” ever crossed her lips. So when she said something, it was rare but it was truthful and heartfelt.

Later that night, as she was immersed into the film in front of us, I got lost in her laughter, in her lighthearted way, and in the gleam of her eyes. She was so beautiful. So absolutely enchanting. And I couldn’t help but wonder if she knew how much I loved her.

Growing up we had a huge gap in ages. I was her bratty little sister, clinging to her by order of mom and not her own wish. When the years progressed we were never partners in crime or confidants but we were each other’s most reliable source. She always had my back and I had hers. It was an unwritten law, and unspoken law, but it was law nonetheless.

We were very different. I was a social butterfly who lived on a cloud. And she was a realist who dreamed meekly. And when it came to love, well we, we were very different on that matter too. I was more my father’s child in that way, in love with love. With me you could always tell who I was interested in. Even as a child I had my life planned around what I thought love would grant me. Silly notions and silly thoughts. But she, well she was more reserved.

And even though it was the case, there were a couple suitors. But for some reason or another, most unaware to me she never found the right man. She set high standards for herself and was much more preoccupied with the enlighten of herself than the search of another’s heart. I loved that about her. Society… not so much. We come from a background where Everyone gets married. And Everyone has kids. The definition of what it was to be a woman in my family. But she never let stereotypes get in the way. She was of a strong character, one who made her in my eyes not as weak as I. I’ve always admired her for that.

The years went on and eventually all her girlfriends married one by one. And I finally became of age to gain her as a friend. And where I went she followed. I grew sick in 2008 and she was irrevocably tied to me. She slept on the floor of a hospital for a year showing me how much she loved me. It was such a selfish time I took from my family then. She gave up all her free time to help ease the burden of taking care of me. And she became more than a sister; she was a nurse, almost a second mother. Never nagging for a second putting her life on hold for me.  

Those 5 years took a hard toll on all of us. My condition though eventually became more manageable. Slowly I took the reins back from my family and from her. And slowly I ventured, heart in hand, out into the world again. I found out with all the extra baggage it wasn’t as easy as when I was young and healthy and vibrant. So I gave up on love, and on myself. I concentrated solely on my close friends and family, and the bond between my sister and I grew stronger. It was unspoken, but we knew that we’d grow old together. We began planning our lives again, trips, and goals to reach. And I think she knew I’d never leave her side. It was comforting in a way, to know that you’d always have someone beside you, who you could share the ups and downs of life with for the rest of your days.

In the past couple of months though, love gave me one last blessing, unexpectedly when I let go of the wheel I ended up right where I belonged. And in the shape of a wonderful man I found out there was still one last story left in me. One last enchanting and beautiful future. One that him and I are writing at the time, and will soon seal and sign.

My sister is happy for me, as is the rest of the family. But it wasn’t till she said those words that I realized my happiness was bittersweet for her. And so, for me. Because though my future is bright, and it makes me overjoyed to think about. There’s also the realization that I leave behind a loving home, and a loving sister, friend, and one of the women I hold most dear.

She’ll always be a part of my life. She’ll always hold a much bigger part of my heart than she’ll ever know. But reality is things won’t be the same. They can’t be. I’ll be married at the end of the year and will start a whole new role in my own life. And she, well she’s got her own life to live, places to venture off to and people to love, hold, and cherish. And these years, the years of our early life, they’ll be warm memories to hold in our hearts, to esteem once our hair is gray and our youth is long gone.

It’s finally late in the evening when we are heading back home. I’ve gotten sick over something I ate again, and she’s rushing me home for meds. I climb into bed finally, agonizing in pain. She walks in turns my lamp on. And hands me a cup of tea. She asks if I want her to sleep with me. I decline and tell her to rest. She’s halfway to the doorway wishing me a good night and I finally say…

“I’ll miss you too… I love you”

She looks back and smiles.

“Love you more.”

“Love you most.”