When I call chaos love

It’s only hard when I think about it. 

When I command myself stay in the present, and don't allow myself to disect the intoxicating world we create together - then it’s easy. 

But on nights like Friday, when I look at my phone and wonder why he unshared his location, and my mind starts to excavate for where he could possibly be, and the parent voice in my head can’t quite keep up as I start to crave his presence, I start to think.

When the parent can’t keep up, the craving turns to insatiability. 

“I can’t send another text.” Why not? Blow up his phone? He loves it when you act a little crazy. 

“But I don’t want to act crazy” None of this is that serious anyways. Plus, it’s him. He’ll always be there. He’ll always let you back in.

 “I don’t want to give him the satisfaction that I care” But you do care. You do want to talk to him. You do feel annoyed and hurt that he unshared his location and didn’t answer your call. You do hate it that he’s secretive when he travels. 

“But I have no claim on him. I’m not entitled to his location. I’m lucky he shared it with me in the first place.” Are you happy with that? 

Bethany, are you happy with that?

“No, but not everything has to be perfect, ya know. And I don’t want to ruin things. I love it when we pick up the phone and talk for an hour that feels like seconds. I really like having him around right now while I walk the unfamiliar streets of LA and narrate my every thought to someone equally as witty, as intelligent, as playful as me. He can keep up.” Do you ever feel like you’re keeping up? Do you ever get tired of listening for the layers between the soundwaves of his words, searching for the place you have in his heart? Do you ever get tired of the split second thought that you silence after the phone call wondering “will this finally go somewhere?” 

Do you ever get tired of telling yourself not to expect anything from him?

“Stop. That’s when I tune out. That’s when I go present. I focus on the waves, my to-do list, on how lucky I am, how fully my life already is. I don’t want to overthink this. Let him come to me” 

You’re not going present. You're dissociating and calling it mindfulness 

I know you tune me out. Because I hurt. I don’t feel good. I’m trying to tell you my stomach hurts. 

When you start to think about it, you start to feel like you want to throw up, don’t you?

It started as a bad taste in your mouth, which you swallowed down and smiled away. Then it lived in your gut, an uneasiness you scrolled away.

Then a grumble - we both heard it. And you soothed it telling yourself it’s childish to worry about an upset stomach. You dismissed it saying “But think about all the other organs in my body that are working so well!”

Well now I want to throw up. 

“He told me it’s childish when I block him” Bethany, do you hear how soft your voice just got when you said that? You’re terrified.

You’re terrified to do what you need to do in order to feel good. Why? Because he taught you that when he hurts you enough that you finally step away without a word, it’s a flaw on your part. Not a flaw on his.

You've reached the limit of being hurt enough to leave and scared enough that your plea will land on deaf, mocking ears that you close the door in silence.

That warrants an apology, not name calling. 

What did you tell him when he asked why you keep blocking him?

“I said, ‘I have a hard time being friends with you because that’s never how I’ve felt about you. Then I start overthinking wondering if I feel that way because I want what I can’t have, or if it’s real. And then I get sick of overthinking and I block you”

And what did he say to that?

“He laughed, then said ‘well then just stop thinking’”

Have you, Bethany Simko, ever once in your life stopped thinking? Has your million mile an hour, poetry at midnight, finds meaning in every ocean wave brain - Ever. Stopped. Thinking?

“No”

No.

“Thinking is how I thrive. It’s how I color the world around me. Introspection is like water to me. The world inside my mind is one I will never get sick of” Then don’t you find it strange that you can only justify this connection when you avoid the canvas in your head?

Don’t you find it strange he told you to abandon yourself in order to tolerate him?

Think about it. In that moment of vulnerability, when you admitted he’s not just a friend to you, he joked with you.

In that moment, he should have provided you a soft landing. Honesty. Even if he didn’t feel the same, the situation required him to sit still, to be honest about his intentions in juxtaposition with his actions, and for him to mind the fucking gap between what he says and what he does . It didn’t call for evasive humor about how your thoughts are the problem.

He knows there’s a gap.  You know there’s a gap. Everyone knows there’s a gap. You’re allowed to think about the gap.

Please, think about the gap. 

This weekend, when all of your friends were talking to their boyfriends on the phone, sending them outfit pics, talking about random inside jokes- you were doing the same. To someone you can’t even ask for clarity from without being called dramatic. 

You’re in a relationship without the safety, surety, trust, or support of one. 

You don’t realize the emotional labor until you say it outloud: I am in a relationship without the safety, support, or stability of one.

Everything we share “isn’t that serious” and yet it means everything. 

The conversations are lighthearted, playful, intoxicating. But the silence afterward? It digs a hole in your chest, doesn't it?

“I don't like thinking about this. I don’t like this and this hurts."

Good, you’re finally where you need to be. Realizing how much this hurts.

Block him.

“But should I say anything? He’s gonna roll his eyes when he realizes he’s blocked. He’s going to be so annoyed and think I’m immature and silly”

Good God woman, look at what he’s done to you.

You’re afraid to set a boundary because it will annoy him.

Are you seeing it?

“That's like…manipulation” 

Exactly. You’re afraid to make a move that sets your heart at ease you because it bothers him.

That my friend, is what we call the result of manipulation.

Ask yourself, “Do I love him or am I waiting to be deemed good enough to be chosen by someone who will always take everything they can get from me?”

“But, I like his soul”

I know you do, Beth. I believe you. 

You like how addicting he is. You like the way he knows how powerful you are. You like that when you pull away, he comes chasing after you like clock work. 

But I also know you’ve confused being seen as powerful with being chosen. 

You like the feeling of being chased...even if that chase is leading you in circles.

I know what you’re asking, Beth. I know what you won’t say out loud. “Is there a world in which he eventually chooses me?” Yes, there is. It’s not even that crazy to think about. 

Let’s say you stay. Let’s say he calls you back in the morning with his usual, “Hello miss Bethany did I miss a call?” and you’ll quip back, “Yes excuse you, what else could you have possibly been doing than sitting by your phone waiting for me to call?” And off you would go into a giggly hour or two in your shared world. 

Off you would go, confusing chaos for chemistry. Confusing passion for love. 

Your nervous system would settle into its familiar routine of push-pull, happy to have the task of hyper-vigilance to keep it entertained. 

Off you would go, bracing for the next shoe to drop. You would be back here in 2 weeks, with disappointment brewing in your gut, trying to convince yourself to stop thinking. 

But Beth, don't you crave something more? Something more than just a story you're addicted to? More than a fairy tale that never, ever, ever, ends?

If you stay, he'll give you glimpses of love, and you'll continue to second guess your passion for him and your desire for him to just choose you already. You'll keep wondering what's wrong with you, and if there's something you could do to finally get him to realize what he has in front of him. You'll keep coming back here, questioning if wanting stability and clarity in love is "asking too much".

The part that sets the ache in my chest on fire is that you would never know what it’s like to not perform for love. 

This exhaustion is bone deep and your bones can only handle so much. I don’t want to watch you turn to dust while you justify the love that’s ‘not that deep’.

This is the part where you say, "It’s fine, right? He’s just a friend anyways and it’ll all work out. It’s not a big deal, it’s not that deep."

Beth, try telling your creaky bones it’s ‘not that deep’.

What I see, is a woman who's never known softness that stayed without her doing anything to deserve it.

My love, I think that you have never known anything else. I think that you’ve never heard a real apology and you don’t know what it feels like to have someone hold you in your softness. You don’t know what it looks like to be loved without asking or chasing. 

You have no idea what color the sky is supposed to be, you’ve always thought it was grey. How were you supposed to know to look for a blue sky? How were you supposed to know what to accept as love?

I’ve heard you say, “Once my real love comes along, I’ll release Utah Boy.” But, do you think you’ll even recognize a blue sky if you keep calling the grey skies home? 

If a bright sky came your way, it would feel foreign, the sun would hurt your eyes. Uncomfortable. Too bright. And you would say, “this doesn’t feel right” and go right back to your rainy day that feels like home.

Don’t you want to know what it feels like to have a home in the sun? 

I’m glad your stomach hurts when deep deep deep down you know that you’re not getting the fairytale love that your 5 year old self wanted.

Beth, you’re allowed to ask for more. You’re allowed to be unsatisfied with something even if its “not that serious”.

You’re allowed to explore what else love can feel like:

Can it feel calm?

Can it feel consistent?

Can it sit with your mind and hold all of you? 

“I’m going to find out”

Yes, Bethany, yes you are. 

And when he calls and you don’t answer, and you take a long breath instead- that’s the sound of the sky beginning to turn blue. 

xoxo, your big sis beth