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Memorandum
To: My Heart
From: Heather B.
Date: February 10, 2009
RE: Apology
It has recently come to my attention that I owe you an apology. A groveling, on my hands and knees begging for forgiveness type apology. As if pleading will get you to understand why we have the relationship that we do: Fairly normal and sturdy with gentle slopes then sudden drop offs as we traverse this life of ours.
But never like last year. I wish I could take everything back. I wish that you hadn't been broken and because there were times when your breaking physically hurt every other part of me, I have never wanted to discuss it with you. Perhaps if we avoid the subject all together we can both move past it and act as if it never happened. Yet every time we're back to that sturdy plateau of 'just ok' you let your displeasure known.
You, my friend, are passive aggressive and I am good at keeping you in your place and (pretending) just letting it go.
Did you know that just forgetting doesn't work? Of course you do because my God, you're like a buzzer that goes off every few weeks constantly reminding me of The Things. I press snooze and there you go again, you go off. Maybe if I confront you on things you'll feel better. We'll feel better.
Before you broke, I had heard of it happening to friends of mine. Just stories I thought and it was silly and suddenly all of my friends were crazy, hormonal, vying for best supporting actresses in a Drama. They never fully explained what was going on besides through a veil of tears. Sadly, I do not understand anything sputtered with snot and tears.
But the day you broke. The part I remember most vividly is walking into a hotel room, ignoring my germophobia towards hotel room floors and sliding down the wall. A huge breath was about to escape but it turned out to be a sob. I had saved my tears for seven DC blocks. Not regular Manhattan blocks but long ass, L'Enfant designed blocks. I got to the hotel, grabbed a Grey Goose and tonic and went upstairs with these deep breaths. Upon arrival though it was over. Something else was inside of my chest and it stomped right on top of you. You were crushed and spattered across my torso. I felt parts of you escape up my throat forcing more tears because how could something so intangible, just a simple feeling, hurt that much?
The days and weeks after were a blur because instead of mending you and allowing you to heal, you were jerked around for four more months. Four fucking months. Each time you'd hit the wall of utter exhaustion and despair and let me know by forcing me into days where I could do nothing but eat dairy products and drink Jack Daniel's. It was such an inexplicable thing that with each day I would complain about the pain and why it was so hard to move all because YOU - what seems this tiny little muscle that has generally been good to me - was so very injured. There was nothing for me to do and I couldn't explain that feeling; how I could feel every beat, squeeze and tug. I would hold my hand to my chest and breathe slowly thinking that no, this couldn't be real.
There's this quote that I love and I used it when I wrote about you, " I don't know why they call it heartbreak it feels like every other part of my body is broken too". That's how it felt. There are so many events in life; some massive and some minute but with each there's no way to fully describe the experience to someone who has never gone through such an event.
I had a broken heart and people said that it would take time. As I've aged, time has actually gone faster but the time it has taken for you to heal and completely set, reminds me of being six years old and waiting for Christmas. Eons. The Earth orbited the sun dozens of time in the span it took for you to be on the path to OK.
It's my hope that with this communication you will know how incredibly
