Screw Thanksgiving, I really don't care about it; it's the 25th of December I choose to set my sights on.
This year I actually packed up 95% of my Halloween crap a few days before Halloween even hit because I didn't want to look at it anymore. I kept a few things out for the holiday but that was about it (plus the pumpkins I carved, ooooobviously.) Then I started bringing in the boxes of Christmas decorations the day after. Most of it was from Pottery Barn last year, things I'd picked up because they were super cheap, but there were three large boxes from when I lived with Ken.
Yes, I said it, "Ken." There's no longer a nickname or "my ex," he has a name and I can be a big boy and use it. Not like I'm gonna say it and then look over to see him hovering outside my second floor office window with glowing eyes.
::notgonnalooknotgonnalooknotgonnalook::
I didn't think anything of the boxes when I was bringing them inside from the garage. I figured I'd probably have a twinge of nostalgia going through the stuff but really, we only lived together for two Christmas seasons (dated through three) so it couldn't be anything too bad. I was really burning rubber in getting through decorating, tearing my closet apart in the process and pitching an absolute ton of crap I didn't want/need/know why I kept. I must say, in my experience, I find it is only when you are succeeding at something proficiently that you're most often and quite suddenly thrown backward.
I found this picture; I'm posting it because I feel like I have to, in a way. I'll explain later.
It wasn't lying on top of a pile of stuff, it was instead tucked into an old Christmas card. I save everything and as a result I tend to save holiday cards for a year so I know who sent one to me before and who I should send to in return. The cards were another beast all together, the well wishes and warm thoughts to "Sean & Ken" repeatedly lashing my eyes as I read them.
I had to sit down. Sorta looked around the apartment not knowing what to feel, and then I just... felt it. I let it hit me.
The picture was taken December 25th, 2010, and you can see for yourself on the bottom right corner. We were at my sister's house for celebrating and it had been a marathon day. I'd finally given in that year to go all the way up north to Ken's parents house for Christmas Eve and it was a pretty great trip all things considered. I remember the drive north in particular because I opened at Express super early that day and my hands were sooooo dry and cracked that they were nearly blistering. I remember putting lotion on my hands and pouting about how bad they burned, and then Ken held my hand all the way up because he thought it'd make me happy.
And it did make me happy... one of those simple gestures you overlook in everyday life but in hindsight meant something so much more. We'd just gotten through our year of infidelity (our year, because it took two to tango) and felt as if we had come out of it stronger than ever. We'd fallen back in love against all odds we would and it was just... good. In a word I will say it was "good." Not great, because that would be over doing it, but we were good. We were happy.
After spending the night with his parents, we left early in the morning to drive back to our home in Wrightstown where we opened our gifts for each other. Then we were off to Greenville for the Parker family celebration, and when gifts were opened and the meal was finished, that picture was taken. I look at my face and can't help but wish I knew then what I know now. We were going through the loan process before buying a house and I was weeks away from proposing to him. All of this stuff... all of these "steps" you think you have to take to prove to a person you're in it for the long haul. No one could have predicted at that point it would end the way it did, because we'd already gotten through all of that. The cheating and lying and blahblahblah. 2011 was bringing a fresh start and we were both riding the train to Happytown.
It's been nearly three years since we called off the engagement, told the realtor we couldn't buy the house we'd signed the papers for, and parted ways. It's been nearly two years since I deleted the pictures of us from the hard drive, tossed the letters, cards and notes in the trash, and decided to put my best foot forward in moving on from all of it. When I moved out on my own this spring I found a few tidbits from our relationship because when I originally packed up from Wrightstown, there were things I was not yet ready to part with. I wasn't ready to part with him in the "finite" way I should have. Posting the picture above forces me to not run from it anymore, or not "it" but "him." It forces me not to run from him as a faceless entity because there is no point to do so. Not anymore at least.
What's funny to me about all of this is how much I can remember when I simply decide to. Me and my freak memory, hard at work. Ken loved Christmas as much as I did, encouraging me to play Christmas music in the car in October when we were running errands for our Halloween party. Asking if we could watch The Grinch in early November just to get in the mood. We'd have bought a tree earlier than the weekend after Thanksgiving each year if the lots were open but they never were.
The holidays used to get me down in a certain way but they were better when I was in a relationship. I'm a nostalgic person and this is a nostalgic season that calls up all of the memories of years before and what they meant to you as an individual. The last two years I've been living with family during the holidays so it really hasn't hit me in any way other than "Shucks, I don't have anyone to go to sleep with at night."
Living on my own is a little different in that regard. Suddenly I realize just how alone I actually am. I'm not going to rush out and bag me a man or anything like that but still, it'd be nice to just fall into something with someone and call it good. Alas, I'm picky.
Things were really great with Ken and they were that way for a very long time. It's so easy to look back on something like what we had and only see the ending and the pain it caused, but really, where does that get you? We all hurt and we all get kicked down... I suppose it's really left up to us if we choose to climb back to our feet. It took me a while but eventually I did make the choice to do so.
Finding the cards and the picture today absolutely sucked and there is no way around that. It was the rush in the gut that reminds you of something that once was and it makes you feel sick to your stomach with just how much it is completely and unnequivocally gone.
Gone.
Do I miss him? Yes. I can say so without feeling any shame; I can say so without even batting an eye. You don't ever really stop loving someone, especially when they were your first "great" love. You don't get more than one of those... and once it's happened, that's it. It's with you forever. You can be angry with how it ended and you can curse the heavens and anyone else who will listen, but what's done is done and there's never any going back. Not in that regard, at least. Sometimes I'd like to tell him that, other times I roll my eyes and say good riddance, but for the most part I'm filled with a complacent feeling in my heart.
I learned a lot. Good and bad, but I still learned. And maybe when someone makes it through the barricade of walls/moats/barbed wire/ice/fire around my heart, it'll be the best relationship I've ever had. They'll show up, smile, and show me why it never worked with anyone else, most of all Ken. I suppose having the optimism to look forward to that moment is what saves me from being jilted and bitter. Until then, I don't see a problem in being nostalgic.
It is the holiday season, after all. Ciao gang (c:
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