Willing to Remember the Pain

Had some nightmare/flashbacks to 9/11 again this week. Hadn't felt that since this summe when I'd had a really rough go of things. Then, looking for another email, I came across this one I'd written this summer. Feels good to have moved on from a lot of that pain, but feelings linger.

Wow. So I can understand that your silence says it all. But I can’t understand why you’d choose that method to deliver the message.

I thought I’d say this to you at some point, but I guess I’ll have to write it instead.

Look, I realized in Nevis that I’d seen, done, and felt so much more on 9/11 than I’d accepted. I saw people burn to their deaths. I saw a couple in flames, holding hands be torn apart as they hit scaffolding. There’s more, but you get the idea.

I’ve never used 9/11 as an excuse for anything. I hate when people ask me about it, in large part because it makes me feel guilty because they want me to wear it as a badge of honor. Being there was no badge of honor. I was utterly helpless as thousands of people died around me. That’s the reality, and it feels awful.

I’ve no idea why this all came up while I was in Nevis. But it did. Sure, I realized that I thought I loved you, and that shook me up some. Maybe that was a catalyst for the whole episode, but maybe it was simply time for me to deal with reality anyway. Maybe I saw something on the plane ride down there. I have no idea. But whatever the cause, the pain around that 9/11 experience hit, and it hit hard. (And here even now, I want to feel guilty for leaning on 9/11 as a driver for my own feelings and actions. But fuck that. I feel stuff from that day. It is what it is).

I freaked out. Personally, emotionally, I was wrecked, and as you and I weren’t even able to talk but for brief moments, I was irrational.

Ironically, I’m fine now. I actually feel like I have access to a part of my mind and my feelings that had been locked away. I had to feel what I had to feel about that day, and I’ve done that and while it’ll always be a part of me, I’ve moved on.

What kills me here is that I can’t fathom that you won’t call, much less email. Did I hurt you? Have I scared you?

You once told me that you thought I was naïve because of some of the optimism and hope in what I say and write. I never understood why you thought that, as I’ve been through and seen so much. I’ve been hurt, I’ve been betrayed, I’ve failed and so much more. I’ve been rich amongst whites and poor amongst blacks. Hell, I’ve been on Wall Street for years, and there’s no more cynical, and often evil place on the planet.

But perhaps I am naïve. Rightly or wrongly, I thought you cared a lot about me. Did I completely misread what we were? I was so close to you, had shared more about my life (including the 9/11 stories I’d shared with you that I’d not shared with anyone else), and trusted you. I knew that my feelings were moving fast, but we talked and interacted so much that I just believed in you, in us, and trusted my feelings. I can’t believe that you realize what it feels like to be on this end of your silence. Did I completely misread who you are?

Call me or write me or something.