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Interlude: Limbo and the lake house.


Emotions are all very well, but shouldn’t they be restricted to only happening one at a time, otherwise how the hell do I know what I’m supposed to be feeling?

Life started running in slow motion, every day stretching out wafer thin, until it seemed like I’d never reach the point when I could finish work, rush home and call Her, see Her face, hear Her voice.
It was becoming more and more difficult to stay patient and focussed on everyday life. I found myself looking for any distraction to lull my treacherous subconscious into a false sense of security, to persuade the malicious little voices in the dark places in my head that everything was going to go without a hitch, and that their constant attempts to undermine my sanity by presenting me with terrifying images of the whole fragile dream crashing down were not going to work.
Easier said than done when the voices are backed up by a whole battalion of emotions, all trying to get in on the act at the same time.

The medium of internet video communication is a strange thing. It manages to give the illusion of closeness while at the same time making it seem as though She’s further away. Accentuating instead of reducing the geographical distance between us and, coupled with the timezone difference and the change in the daily rhythms of Her day now She was staying at the house on the lake, it made me feel suddenly disconnected from Her.

Which was about the time I realised this emotional roller coaster ride was a lot more complex than just a series of highs and lows, feeling miserable and/or lonely followed by the all too few, eagerly grasped moments of happiness and contentment whilst bathed in the light of Her love.
It was more like one of those fiendish carnival rides that spin you round in three different directions at once, all the time going up and down like a bipolar yoyo, leaving you with no idea which way up you are, let alone which way you’re heading.

I’d never experienced this sort of psyche-battering cocktail of emotions before, as they seemingly competed for mastery over each other by using my nervous system as a battleground.
If the resulting sensation was anything to go by, Low Grade Constant Anxiety was ahead by a nose, always hovering there in the background as a base on which to stand the second and third place podiums of Rampant Paranoia and Whining Self-Pity respectively.
All of which made it even more extraordinary that Her love and serenity could shine so brightly through the dark clouds. Like the sun cutting through the morning fog, She never failed to brighten my life the very second I saw Her smiling face.

And yet…it was impossible for me to apply any logic to these uninvited feelings, they defied explanation or rationalisation, were immune to reasoned thought or sensible analysis and refused point-blank to go away.
I began to dislike the way my brain worked. It was like having a running commentary on my own subconscious, patiently and gleefully whispering in my ear the whole time, cheerfully pointing out how horribly unreasonable I was being, without offering anything in the way of help or advice.

I’d been thrilled with how the change in Her environment had so positively affected Her health and happiness and it was truly wonderful to see Her and Her daughter being so well looked after by such good friends.
The waterfront property was in a beautiful, peaceful location and was very obviously a place perfectly suited to rest and recuperation, with glorious views, a hot tub on the patio overlooking the lake and with wild birds and animals taking food from the feeder poles on the decking, it was a place where the two of them could regroup for the next stage of their journey and I couldn’t have been happier for them.

And yet…when the time came for the daily management review by the Voices In The Dark Place, there was always one at the back, pointing to the ugly patch of selfish envy that wouldn’t come out no matter how hard I scrubbed or tried to ignore it.
The Voice would say; “You’ve only seen Her for an hour all day and now She’s sitting in the hot tub or having dinner with Her friends, and what are you doing? You’re sitting here, absently playing with your phone, your life on hold, just waiting for Her to spare a few minutes to call you.”.

Just the very thought that I might have thought that, even for a second, appalled me, made me feel selfish and insensitive to what I knew She was going through.
At other times I’d think; “No, actually it’s only fair, I’m in love with Her, I should be able to see Her whenever I want” and feel perfectly justified in doing so.

An hour later I’d feel guilty about thinking that too.
As I said, emotions are all well and good, but there are only so many I can take at once.

What we needed was a distraction, something to keep our minds off the separation.
Well, as all my documents had now arrived with Her in the mail, the next distraction should be the final step, the submission procedure and having the visas issued.
Oh, and the small matter of raising the money for their plane tickets.

As it turned out, we were about to get rather more of a distraction than we’d hoped for.


About trueromantic/dalecooper57

Blogger, writer, animator, photographer, maker of strange electronic "music", there's no end to the things that I'm getting quite good at.

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