54. apocalypse

It was a revelation, a reckoning, and a relief, all in one.

Today was apocalyptic: from the Greek ApokÃlypsis, a "lifting of the veil", or finding out something secret.

It brought the catastrophic ending of a friendship due to betrayal. Remember yesterday, when I said if you wanna piss me off, lie to me? And if you really wanna piss me off, lie to me and then gaslight me? 

“Gaslight me, and I’ll gas-light you,” she says, as she stands up from her lawn chair, surveying the bridge of connection that once extended between them.

Catastrophic (adj.)

1. involving or causing sudden great damage or suffering.
2. extremely unfortunate or unsuccessful.
3. involving a sudden and large-scale alteration in state.

I’ll be blunt, because I am drained. I tended a relationship with great care in an effort to live my values of helping someone through a dark night of the soul in their life. I made choices to trust when doubt was raised about the veracity of their communications to me, and I was taken advantage of in the process. I gave time, energy, trust, and money in this care-giving, and the premises upon which my giving was extended all turned out to be lies.

Today, after 2.5 years of falsehoods came crashing down around us in the span of 20 minutes, I moved with practiced fluidity, grabbing my gas can, languidly picking up my flame thrower, and then walking a slow spiral as I recounted where we found ourselves: 

“You have caused great damage in your choices, and as a result, great suffering. It is unfortunate that we’ve come to this: your efforts to string me along in your lies have been unsuccessful. Now, we have a sudden and large scale alteration in this dynamic: where there was once friendship, there will now be only space. Do not contact me ever again. If you do, it will be harassment. This is goodbye.”

I hung up the phone, hit ‘block’ on all channels, put on my sunglasses, and torched all the bridges between us. As I felt them burn, my body responded; I felt numb, but with a wildly racing heart. Eerily calm, but short of breath. Every muscle in my body was tensed, coiled, ready to spring into action. 

I was furious today in a way I haven’t been in a very long time - perhaps ever, actually. I think this was the most clear angry I’ve ever felt.

By clear I mean I knew where I stood, and what I stood for. I knew what values got me there, and what choices. I saw in my mind's eye every time my intuition tapped me to explore a warning bell, and saw each conscious choice to extend trust. I reviewed each time I opened a clear invitation for this person to come clean, and saw every time they met me with insistent and intensifying deception. I saw what compelled me to tend this relationship despite red flags, and I was proud of myself for my giant brave, tender, and sometimes foolish heart. 

A revelation, a reckoning, and perhaps also a relief. No more sob stories and crises. No more desperate cries of need. No more outlandish, dramatic tales of victimhood. No more holding what was never mine to hold. 

I am no stranger to betrayal. This is not the first time I’m tasted this bitter medicine. It’s possible that it won’t be the last. But, I will tell you this: I can taste it and know it is medicine now, which I never knew before. 

I can feel in my bones how just this - revelation, reckoning, catastrophe, relief - is the just right lesson I needed to take my words of the year and combine them, to step into the beauty of boundaries. 

I am hurt, and I am angry, but I am also so fucking glad it’s over. I’m so glad I got the truth. I’m so glad that I don’t have anyone else in my life who pulls this kind of shit. And I’m so glad I didn’t let this person any closer than I did. 

That’s it, that’s all I have tonight. Looking around, all the fires are out, and I’ve got one hell of an adrenaline hangover. 

I strap my flame thrower to my back, pick up my gas can, survey the landscape of lost love one more time, remind myself who I am, stand tall, and walk on.