To Love and Lose
Once upon a time…
There lived a shy little boy and a chatty little girl. Though the two lived really close they never knew each other. That was until one day, the girl entered high school. They met for the first time on the school bus. The boy eavesdropped on her and for the first time spoke to her. Although she was especially irritated, the boy responded. It was with those words that a lifelong love blossomed…
“You love me, you just don’t know it yet.”
Through the many trials and errors of high school life they grew together. And so, They lived happily ever after.
Or so I thought. Life is not the fairy tale I made it out to be. August 2008, my angel flew away. The woman I loved for ten years of my life lost faith in the power of love. More importantly she lost faith in me. What follows is my most honest recollection of the end of the era of Ryan and Lisa.
When I first met Lisa, I was little more than a persistent annoyance. Gradually, “like a fungus,” I grew on her. She was my first friend, whom I had met at 15. That little boy desperately yearned for love, and she accepted. We became inseparable throughout high school. She even graduated early to keep pace with me. Ultimately, due to my growing family dysfunction and her desire to widen the gap she felt between her parents we moved out on our own. Truly, we demanded our freedom to leave behind the stains of childhood.
Our apartment years were far from a nirvana. My darkness and her porcelain demeanor fought many battles. Moving beyond, we asked, “What next?” Purchasing a home seemed the obvious answer. Unfortunately our American dream was in the hands of Judas the Contractor. It did not go well and stress always marred our relationship.
All was not war, however. We loved as hard as we fought. Shortly after buying the home we were married. We were ever confident in our ability to weather any storm. It took 3 long years, but the house issues eventually settled.
With the tumultuous waves settled to a peaceful reflection Lisa was left with a void. “What will I do with the rest of my life?” Waitressing was not the solution. Then, one day, in the midst of her woeful exile, her answer walked in and sat down at her table.
“This is it!” “This is what I want to be!”
Her epiphany was a chatty RN munching assembly line breadsticks. The next piece was a friendly pair of regulars. Tom and Colleen were in their 50s and never had children. When they learned of Lisa’s mission they instantly adopted her. They constantly tipped outrageously to help fulfill her goals.
Meanwhile, I was stagnant. I was content with enjoying my home. I couldn’t understand why Lisa wouldn’t relax and enjoy what we built. I also had a crippling fear of change stemming from a vicious cycle of depression and guilt. Depression from a series of unsuccessful jobs. Guilt from inadequacy, feeling as though I couldn’t be the man Lisa deserved. Once Lisa had realized her ambition, she began pressuring me to utilize my vast potential. I was lost. The home and “happy” marriage was more than I ever had imagined. What more could there be?
Then, Colleen grew ill. She developed Alzheimer’s disease. Lisa had recently completed her STNA license certification as a mini trial for nursing. Lisa had embraced Tom and Colleen as surrogate parents, feeling a closeness to them she was unable to with hers. She became Colleen’s caregiver. Between Colleen, school, and serving, it meant 100 mph weeks and very little sleep. The stress and exhaustion weighed heavily on her.
A new civil war began. I tried relentlessly to get her to take her school and work slower. Slow was not in her vocabulary. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t share her vigor for a pursuit of my own. I was clueless and feared what new horrors change would bring. She misunderstood my concern for her welfare as denying her independence. In the war of hearts, I was quickly losing ground.
April 25th, 2008-Lisa’s 25th Birthday, her “Other Mother”, Colleen died. I didn’t realize it yet, but as I carried the casket my marriage was tethered to it. As the dirt went over, the fuse was lit, and the countdown began.
As the two who loved her most, Tom and Lisa fell into a deep depression. Both began drinking heavily…
“More and more just to get through the day, more and more just to feel okay.”
Lisa still worked 70 hrs weeks (now at a nursing home) as well as attend school full time. Often she didn’t come home. A gnawing sense of dread and paranoia washed over me. Not for a suspicion between them, but for her safety.
However, the world progressed as though nothing was amiss. Soon, it was nearing Lisa’s entry into the Nursing Program. I could not longer fight working a second job and begrudgingly accepted a position with her. Our proximity only increased the mounting tension. The cracks in our armor were beginning to show.
Finally the bomb went off and my world crumbled to pieces. The last week of July, following another fight I demanded to know the root issue. I received the answer I never wanted to hear…
“I don’t love you anymore.”
After a three day absence she returned home. However, that night I found an incomplete letter to Tom that finished, “I can’t wait until my divorce is over.” After pulling the arrow from my heart I immediately woke her. Without a word and in a panicked rush, she got in her car and drove out of my life.
The end was a series of saddening and maddening clichés…
“Couple gets married too young.”
“Woman chooses career over love.”
“Mourners seek solace in each others arms.”
“Man falls for wife’s nurse.”
“Woman pities sorrowful widow.”
“DIVORCE!”
Etc., ad nauseam.
Upon Lisa’s departure I feel into a black hole. Carelessness is not in my nature. I feel everything. For the first few weeks I was dead. Frequently, I contemplated finishing the act. Depression waxed and waned as the uncertainty of our finality wavered. I pleaded for help.
My journey taught me this…
When you’re sinking, in over your head, reaching out for someone to help, no one will come. You have to drop the arm seeking pity and use it to pull yourself from the muck. The climb out of the pit is a solitary journey. It’s only when you’re back on your feet that you notice all that stood around you. They are powerless to help, only watch as you cried and flailed, their hearts cut by the shards of yours. They are there to dust you off and stand you up, but never to pull you out. Only you must do that. My fear of change ended there. That which I feared most had come to pass. I survived; scarred, yet alive.
I describe my life as a learning process. Lisa’s life can best be described as a frenzied quest to prove something to no one. What does she have to prove? I always knew she was worthy of loving. She cannot trust anyone, therefore cannot trust herself. In the pursuit of her blind ambitions she sacrifices everything and everyone. When complete she feels lost and confused, until her next futile crusade. She is a soldier without a war. Her “self” is defined by her monochromatic goals. She puts so much of herself into them that there’s nothing left inside. She’s destroying herself from the inside out. Decay in a pretty wrapper.
When Lisa was a child she suffered an extremely traumatic experience. She never told her parents, the chasm between them seemingly insurmountable. It left her feeling sullied and insignificant. Since then, she has desperately tried to prove worth noticing. The child within her cries out, “Please pay attention to me. I need help.”
This inadequacy bled into our life. She is incapable of accepting death, instead diluting her sorrow with an obsession, fixation, or addiction. Her confidence in any decision is brittle at best. She views our marriage as universal shackles, keeping greatness just out of her reach.
However, I must also stand trial for my sins. On several occasions I did show her violence. No blacks eyes or broken bones, but that’s hardly a justification. Each morning I wake alone the weight of this guilt bares down on me. Lisa caught a glimpse of my dark side and it scared her away.
What lingers of my love for Lisa? I won’t hide that I harbor some hostility. Ultimately, though, I will forgive her. Beneath all the rage and guilt, denial and anxiety, I just want her to be happy. I owe her my life, now it’s time I gave hers back. I can never deny the light she inspired in me. She gave me a gift and moved on. As it is frequently said and not understood…
“If you truly love someone, set them free.”
What is true love, anyways? True love is giving all that you have and letting her leave with it. True love is letting go when all you want to do is hold on. It is not dismantling her dreams simply because you’re no longer part of them. Sadly, Love is all too often, a dead language.
As the dust settles, What remains of my life? Our love lies with Colleen now, a wonderful woman who had a huge impact on an impressive array of people. I still trust in the power of love. Now, I stand at a crossroads. For the last decade of my life my entire identity has been “Ryan and Lisa.” The question left is, without Lisa,…
“WHO AM I?”
TO BE CONTINUED…
Written August 2009
Please read "The Phoenix" for Part 2
