Even when I'm rouged old lady, crispy popcorn in a retrospective showing of Harry Potter, or the loving grandmother of three grandchildren, or a lonely elderly lady stuck on the puzzles, I will remember one winter evening.I will remember verbatim, heck, letter by letter, as he told me: "I'm Sorry, I'm not coming back. Don't cry, you all will be okay". And his back is quite another, and as the door banged, and as I ran after him barefoot - first on the concrete steps, then the snow and did not feel the cold, and he didn't even turn around even once.
Yes, all this must have looked like a scene from a soap Opera melodramatic obscenely. And if I were the Director, I cut it from the movie forever. But then, back home in the snow, tears and cigarette smoke, I swore to myself that whatever happened in the future, whatever Alzheimer neither broke a memory I will never forget and will not forgive.
Broken beads
When you throw (that's also a terrible word, as if you were an unnecessary thing, bored with a toy), the whole world has been blown to bits and think it will never be collected and not glue. And the older you get, the more painful the separation. In nineteen experiences as the outbreak of the match, for a moment algegra fingers, thirty - five, as smoldering in the palm of ember, which is impossible to shake off.
If we compare the relationship with the beads (and why not? ), each parting is break yarn. Clap and beads scattered around the room, and you collect them, re-strung, knotted on a string bundle. Then another, and another, and then gradually begin to understand that the more knots, the weaker the thread. And before you make another, you think - is it worth it? Anyhow broken.
A friend of mine for his life tied a lot of knots. When we were twenty and she broke up with her boyfriend, we all night drinking cheap wine and cursing men. She already was a smart girl and said the classic phrase: "I will not allow anyone to cause me such pain".
But somehow - with breaks in a year, two or three, " repeated one and the same. She called and said, "I walked away from him" or "He left me", and again we sat in the kitchen until morning.
In the fall she broke up with a man, with whom she lived for five years - a record time. They all was OK (not great, no, it is not a fairy tale), she believed that her necklace is not threatened. But the man was to stay on the job, to go on business trips, smelling strangers spirits, and then gathered his things, asked not to make cheap scenes and out of her life, gently closing the door.
My friend went through all the usual stages postrating syndrome (her term): wept, cursed man, cursed himself, felt sorry for himself, tormented by questions "why? " and "what's wrong with me? "that didn't leave the house for weeks, watching soap operas, eating chocolate, stroking the cat, cleaned the apartment to Shine again cried, sat on a diet, off a diet, went to the beauty shop, engaged in shaping and shopping, endlessly waited for the call, called herself and threw up... it Usually helped. But not this time.
When loomed on the horizon a new man, quite promising in all senses, my friend... scared. Said, "I can't. Another parting I just can't stand it." And all my assurances that the scheme "we are together, we parted" not only went nowhere. As men. My friend no longer wanted to collect beads and tie knots.
To turn the page
To start from the beginning - it's really hard and scary. This fear is a protective reaction of our psyche. Experienced skydivers say that the worst is not the first but the second jump is when you already know what's waiting for you, it is very hard to force myself to step into the void and relive the sensation of falling.
We are all very different - strong, weak, independent, insecure, proud, vulnerable. And there are no General rules and ways of dealing with fear.
But I know that helped me once when I was alone and month lay on the couch, turning off the phone and stupidly staring at the Wallpaper under the clock muttering TV? Awareness of the simple fact that I am not alone. That someone now too bad and hurt and possibly even more than me.
I then thought that it would be arranged in the manner of "by alcoholics Anonymous" "Anonymous society of women experiencing a breakout. I even imagined this picture - thousands of women standing in line to say "Hello, my name is so-and-so, I so many years, and once again I broke up with someone you love" - in different languages, in different cities, a sort of chain of broken hearts encircling the earth. And for the first time in a terrible, tear, bitter as wormwood tincture, the month I wanted to smile.
And this was the second step. As they say therapist, a smile is a good prognostic sign. It is not meant, of course, that the world immediately smiled back. But I became a little easier.
Time is the best doctor, know it all. And according to four Manhattan women to forget a past love, you need to pass the half period during which you were together.
Actually, forget it truly is not always possible. Past irrevocably. It's like SMS-ka former sent after three strong cocktails, which in the morning I regret terribly, but the "message delivered" and there is nothing you can do about it. We should be able to accept it, to accept and to forgive myself for my mistakes, to turn the page and read the book of your life on. There is still a lot of interesting things.
Revolutionary road
Sometimes it takes weeks, months, and we do not notice, absorbed in their experiences. There are in automatic mode: alarm clock, Breakfast, subway, work, subway, dinner, sleep - with possible variations. From this stupor hard to get off, this state sucks, as a quagmire. Where something happens and you live like in the twilight zone. You do not want, you have all been, and thank you, more than this is not necessary. Heart sealed and put in a locker. First you lose interest in yourself, and then others gradually cease you to notice.
And so on until one morning you don't meet in the mirror completely unknown woman, on which watch do not want. That means it's time to change. Because you're not this, not this pale indifferent mol, you're alive.
And to prove this, we need to take another step - change. You can start with small things - with a new haircut, new shoes, a new lipstick, a new gym - whatever you like. The main thing is to push yourself to break the deadlock. Go, finally, a movie with a friend, sit in a cafe, take a walk around the city - just like that, without any reason. To take and let yourself free.
They say to look in the face of fear - so, already halfway to defeat him. And if a new relationship - or rather, their unhappy ending, threatening, and don't need them to get. Maybe I should afford to live today, not looking forward, not thinking of how it will all turn out.
One of my friends in this situation practiced natural picaporte as personal therapy. Got acquainted with a man for one night. Not for the sake of sex. In order again to feel like a woman on a first date, when everything is so romantic, beautiful and end with a single kiss, and no further, no call - no call".
When stop worrying and accept life for what it is, with all its thorns, grievances, trouble - she really is getting better. Tested on my experience.
Yes, I will never forget that winter evening, when ran through the snow after the receding indifferent figure this cinematic frame vrezalsa in memory forever.
But I will remember and more. After a month I stopped crying at night in the pillow. Three were able to talk about it with a smile (a little nervous, but still). Five - kissing. A year later I became really well.
I have not forgotten. And you have not forgiven. But now I simply have nothing to do.
Author:
Leshchenko Yu
Source:
Леди@mail.ru
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