Thought Out

As in well thought out, or out of thoughts, or done with thinking. Take your pick. 

I don’t think I like it here very much. The trees are nice. It’s amazing that they welcomed us with such open arms. Some of the people are cool. But I don’t like the buildings, the dorms are weird, the showers are gross, the food is mediocre, I could go on, but at the root of the issue, if my DTS was here, I wouldn’t mind any of that one bit. Being at North Cascades wouldn’t actually do anything to help me. Not now. 

I’ve been saving little snippets in my notes app as my emotions fluctuate and my mind spins. This is over the course of the past few weeks, but mostly this one. 

9/12. For me, no goodbye is ever permanent. I can convince myself that there is always a chance of seeing that person again, no matter the person. And that hope is enough to sustain me.   I was trying to be extra poetic with that. Really, all that hope does is make me hold on to things that needed letting go of long ago. And yet, without hope, what are we?

9/21. Trevor loved me. In Pattaya. He did. But I can’t fight harder. That’s not how it works.    Reading my outreach journal was a horrible idea. It brought back the reminder of how Other my friendship with Trevor was. So much fuller than any that came before it. And despite my knowing that fighting for us wasn’t going to yield the results I wanted, I still tried, and now I’m worse off than I was before. He said it wasn’t forever before, but now, I’m not so sure. 

Thursday-Even in this specific storm, I trust you.     Oh it’s so hard. Trevor blocked me. On all platforms that I had him on, from my phone number to facebook to Venmo. Right after it happened, I told God I trusted Him. It’s not so easy now, that I’ve had a few days to sit with it. I cried for three hours today. I tried to tell God I trusted Him, but the words tasted bitter on my tongue. 

Later Thursday- It’s a grief that lingers.     Yes, but so is all grief. 

Friday- Unfamiliar people in a familiar place.    I was only in Lynden for a day, but the little time I spent on the base with people I don’t know, with people who aren’t mine, was enough for me to have to realize there will be a lot more processing that I’ll have to undertake. Every inch of those rooms are steeped in memories. The couches where Ashlin, Maddie, and I would debrief. The music area in the green room where JT and I would play guitar. Ashlin’s bed. The office table that hosted Trevor and I many a late night. That one predictably hurt in a special stinging way. I selfishly want these people gone and my people back, but that’s not how it works. I have to move on, and I have to do it gracefully. This applies to both situations. 

Did God intend for it to end like this or did I force His hand?

I knew it would end like this. When everything first happened, my mom asked what I thought the end result would be. And I told her that I didn’t think he’d ever talk to me again. Through sobs of course. I write this through silent crying still. 

I sent him a message on Facebook, after he’d blocked my number. I knew having that pathway open would eat at me. “Stop pretending like you hate me.” Not because I wanted to send the actual message. I sent it knowing he wouldn’t respond. Knowing he would block me. When it happened, I was smiling a smug smile. I don’t know why. Maybe because it’s actually over. There is nothing more I can do. 

I’m free. Not of him. Never of him. Of myself. If I can do nothing more, I can no longer desperately think of words to say. Mail he won;t read. Digital or otherwise. It is done. 

It’s destroying me on the inside, but no one knows. At least not until I press publish. 

No amount of talking about it would make it any better though. The only thing that would make it better is if our friendship is restored, and the only person who can do that is him. He has decided not too, and right now, that feels pretty permanent.