Love me, Loudly

by Jess Kolbe

  I stop and turn to him and he kisses my hand, “Goodnight, Evie.” He doesn’t even really look at me, then turns and walks to his car, not even waiting for me to respond. I’m speechless, he’s halfway into his car when I somehow manage to say “see-ya.” I stand at the door, knowing that was vastly different, tears flowing.

  I felt the rip, kind of like the connection was being torn from me, what happened? Is this in my head? What did I do? This hurts, I’m hurt. I make it to the bottom of my shower to allow the water to comfort me. While my tears flow, the tormenting thoughts engulf me. The torrent of my fears and monsters roll on by with their most agonising memories, the reruns of my harrowing hurts confirming why I’m unworthy of love and on why I am so damaged, how I fuck everything up and the final twist of the knife. Sam was lucky to escape me. I’m somewhat grateful for the worst of demons for staying in the background smirking at pathetic me, which helps me to convince myself of the lie, that I’m reading way too much into this, long enough for my tearful cries to become exhausted, sleep, swallowed by my darkness creeping over me to offer comfort and safety.

  Sunday morning, after tossing and turning all night, bouncing between confusion and reassuring myself that it’s okay, and it was just an awkward space, even though I know it wasn’t just an awkward space, it felt torn away when he didn’t look at me in the eye, I was so caught up in the feel of him, the feeling of safety, of skipping off to the rest of our lives.

  Fuck me, I will not let anyone make me feel this again, repeats in my thoughts, complete fear-based thinking trying to make me avoid the pain closing in on me. I am unlovable.

  The next few days I’m every emotion: mostly stunned with an enormous number of tears. I have some understanding of what I need to do, by allowing my pain to wash over me, attempting to go through the motions of my fear and not let fear own me. I can’t be triggered again, I will not allow this to dictate a full-blown crisis, reminding myself to be authentically me. At the same time, allowing it to feel big, because clearly, I am so wrong and read our chemistry wrong, didn’t I? Luckily, I can work from home and have some degree of function, I feel like my inside are red raw, like meat that’s been tenderised. I’m somewhat proud that I’ve only sent two unanswered text messages: a timid ‘a good morning,’ and panicked ‘are you ok?’ Considering the number of thoughts telling me to track him down, and the thousand times I didn’t press send only, to find defeat and my wounded heart.

  Last night I convinced myself to call, I didn’t leave a message because I’m a fool, a fucking fool.

  I’m angry because I uncovered hope, I felt the possibility of love, an actual love that could exist for me, the kind that we all dream about and never really believe in, you know ‘that kind of love’. My thoughts are battling between ‘could this love exist?’ and that I am entirely unlovable. I had bouts of giving up on that possibility and now I have experienced a possibility that gave me hope. My hope feels like it’s been ripped away, part of my heart is screaming you were better off when you didn’t believe in the likelihood of love, when you hadn’t truly experienced a felt moment. A flash of pure connection of heart to heart, finding a synced beat, my body confirms his feel to me, feeling him in all of my corners as my grief is screaming from my pain, one instant feeling like your souls accepted and nurtured, is enough.

  I heard and felt him loud and clear: fuck off. What the fuck happened?

  I feel cut off, I feel exposed and stupid because he is just gone. That was a once in a lifetime kiss, I allowed myself to dream big, everything was going so well, I was too much, I know, too much, too desperate. I keep going over it, grappling with what’s happened. I had shed my skin and allowed myself to show up in the possibility of love and now after working through the rejection and hurt of being cut off like that, I will start to feel my way back to me.

  He had to have realised this was more. I mean, we talked about it, didn’t we? I haven’t become a shadow of myself that doesn’t leave her house and mourns for months on end. I didn’t give him my power. I have worked and functioned, spent time in my sun and by the water healing with Mother Nature, the one constant in my life. I’ve worked with my torment, allowed space to express the pain, confusion and loss.

  Sam felt so real, I truly thought he was in it with me so he must be in a coma somewhere, rather than blanking me. Anything other than to feel the shame of his rejection, was it just bullshit? Was he playing with me?

  No, I like you but… No, you’re a fucking nut job and here is a restraining order, nothing, cut off entirely, it must be something else. I’m confused on what I should trust, at night I ache for his touch and then sadness consumes me. My heart cries deeply at being too much and my vulnerable self at being not what he wanted. I take a deep breath. “Evie,” I say aloud, knowing my monsters don’t like it when I say things aloud, “remember the woman you are.” Trust yourself. The fear voice snarls in the background with an ‘I told you so,’ is my brain trying to release the fear, so I crawl back into the darkness, give up the battle for now and allow my monsters to run wild around me without resistance. The succession of thoughts proceeds: ‘you’re not good enough, too damaged, too confident, too emotional, too independent, too strong, too intense too…too!’ All my fears as to why I’m so unlovable run on repeat in my brain. I don’t fight these feelings, I don’t argue, I don’t justify, I just allow them to roll on by. I sob and surrender to my pains.

  One thing I know in my heart is that I will not allow fear to dominate my life. Pain will be expressed so that fear doesn’t hang around because I am hurt. I have fought hard in my life and pain is to be acknowledged and needs an outlet, otherwise fear sets up house in my thoughts. I will not retreat into closing myself off to life. This will not reinforce a cascade of what’s wrong with me, I focus on coming back to me. I allow myself to experience my pain while being gentle to myself, permitting me to fall apart, to be comforted, feeling in the silence, the big hole of unanswered. I bring kindness to myself and what my heart feels. I am proud that I showed up and that I put myself out there to the possibility of love, these thoughts giving rise to a shift from within me. A slight softening.

  HIM | Ten

  Evie’s tormenting me. I wanted to see her, touch her. She’s haunting me, the feeling of her under my hands, the sweet taste of those full lips, my rising desire at the thoughts of her, her heart. She is truly just her, without the bullshit as she had said.

  Confident, yet I see a genuine vulnerability in her that felt nice. It feels terrific to hold her, to be the man she needs. I want to be that, but at the same time I don’t think I can be. Tattered and tormented, no one understands. I have no-one to talk to. Dad’s gone, and I am fucking losing it. I can’t focus on work. What has she done to me? I want to see her, I want to be near her, to be close to the feel of her. What would I say?

  I am an arsehole, I just cut her off. I have responded. I just haven’t pushed the send button.

  She wants the forever, I can see it in her eyes, the whole 9 yards and I can’t keep my shit together for one kiss, a fucking amazing kiss. She’s too much, she has something over me, or maybe it’s because of Dad that I’m acting crazy, it has all caught up with me. I can’t contain my emotions, I’m a fruit basket. I found myself at her house again yesterday. I am a stalker. I am so shut off from myself, I have no idea what I want. I didn’t even realise that I’d driven to her house, in the complete wrong direction, for an hour, until driving down her street it dawned on me and I ran from my shame. I’m shaking a lot these days, driving past her house, crying. Who is this guy? I don’t even recognise myself. The last week has been horrible. Bouncing between absolute arsehole and babbling in my tears. I know this is probably okay considering my losses, I guess, both Dad and Evie. Something has short circuited in my brain. I’m a fucking broken man. People are noticing, particularly my offsider, poor kid is taking a lot of shit from me. He looked like he was going to cry today when I yelled. Thankfully from somewhere deep within me, I rea
lised and apologised. Gave us both the rest of the day off, fuck. I’m pushing so hard and I can’t believe a woman has done this to me. I’m paralysed by her, by my emotions. She opened a door that was bolted closed! None of this is making sense, in my mind, not her, not anything, the last 6 months.

  Fuck, it all feels like an avalanche I can’t escape that keeps hitting me. It’s not the first time I have driven past Evie’s home. It is, however, the first time that I’ve stopped, and I just can’t leave. I sit staring for 2 hours out the window, not knowing if she is coming home or if I’ll get out of the car, glued to my seat, stuck in desperation to change how I feel, anything other than this. I need to not be that guy that does this, I am not this man.

  A car pauses in the middle of the road; I know it’s her. I get out. I want her to see me, a stand-off clearly. I need to feel her, I’m frantic. She drives towards me, not making eye contact. I want her to look at me. My thoughts beg her to look at me. She drives into the garage, gets out and I see those eyes, piercing my heart. The pain in them, fuck, I see how I hurt her. I’m a bastard. What am I doing? Her pain hits me solid in the chest. I’ve no words, nothing is coming out. I inhale deeply, composing myself, scared to death I’ll make things worse. Her eyes pierce directly through to my shame. I can’t tolerate her pain, I want to fix it, I want to hold her, I want…

  I ask her to hear me out and then tell her that she scared the shit out of me, and I freaked out. It’s like I’m watching myself saying all of these things to her and the words continue to dribble out of my mouth. I’m all in now, what more can I lose? I’m trying to explain something that makes no sense to me. What is she doing to me? I’m left with ‘fuck, Evie’ in all of that. It’s the truest reflection of things and that they are just fucked. It enables my panic to subside, my god, it was as real for her as it is for me, fuck it’s all too much.

  I’m trying to tell her what I want, like I have the right to do so. Fuck, I don’t even know what I want. Words again fail me. All I can see is her pain and that I caused it. There is too much emotion. I just met her, and I tell her immediately I can’t be with her, fuck, I can’t hurt her, what am I saying? I’m not the man you need. I’m so conflicted by our situation, by what is going on, in desperation I ask her what I should do? Then from nowhere, from sheer frustration at myself, like I’m talking through my feelings in front of her, having the conversation I should have had by myself, and surprising even myself, explodes: “I didn’t realise this could be love.”

  I’m stunned by my announcement. Shock descends on the babbling idiot while he attempts to take back the comment. Fuck, get out, just get out. My feet are stuck to the ground like concrete, not budging. I return to my ole faithful response, “fuck, Evie.” I don’t have answers. I have no fucking clue what I am doing, I just can’t feel this anymore. I manage to stop, forcing the verbal diarrhoea to stop, just stop speaking. My eyes are pleading with Evie to say something, desperately hoping she will ease the blow.

  Evie looks at me, eyes ablaze. I’m not sure what she’s feeling, but she is scarily composed now. It’s clear I have ruined any opportunity I may have had with her. She is direct and cold. Sort your shit out. She’s ready to meet someone.

  I think I have really fucked this up, again.

  She moves to walk past me, putting her back to me. I don’t know what comes over me, but I reach for her, and she responds with her body arching under my hands, the feel of her against me, those hips fitting in my hands perfectly. I want to see her, so I turn her around. She’s in pain, and on her face is written what I have inflicted upon her. The moment is gone, replaced with the shame of what I have caused to Evie. I step back, in shock at myself and at the pain of how I hurt Evie, as she pushes the garage door closed. She ends by saying “I want you too, but all of you, not just a moment of you.”

  I hear her sobs as the door rolls down to the ground.

  I’m sorry. I muster up another apology. I’m sorry. I’m not sure if she heard or even if it is any consolation for the fucking coward I am. I stand in Evie’s driveway for a long time, frozen in disbelief. Tears tumbling out of me, for Evie, for Dad, for Mum, my sister, for everyone, then cry in my car for another hour or so. I know she’s inside in pain, as am I. I caused this, my thoughts are empty except for hatred and shame. I’m a zombie, dead on the inside, fucking everything up as I go. The days that follow seem to occur with autopilot, frozen by how much I have hurt everyone and my own guilt.

  Ruby, my sister, has perfect timing, arriving at home when I do. I can’t pretend anymore that things are okay. I’m fucking empty. There is nothing left at all and I can’t hide the volcano inside, it’s all gone to shit. If Dad could see this weak man in front of him, he’d be ashamed.

  Ruby is on to it instantly and she won’t leave well enough alone. I know that no matter how dismissive or rude I become she won’t let up. I snap at her in a way that sends her a message to back off, its none of her fucking business. I know I’m a bastard to her now too as she leaves, slamming my door. Fuck, I know I must pull my shit together, but how?

  I go for a run to clear my head and because Harold the dog won’t leave me alone. We run for as long and as hard as I can. The sweat hides by tears and frustration at what is happening to me. I hit the foreshore and head down to run in the sand and push myself to almost vomiting. I want this out of me, I want rid of the pain, I want to be free from these feelings of Dad, from Evie, from being so weak. My body is burning. Pain pulsates and weakness everywhere. I collapse, exhausted, spent, fucked.

  HER | Eleven

  Another week passes, and the weather is really starting to warm up again. I’m feeling stronger, getting back to my own rhythm.

  I decide that enough is enough and dress up today, a lovely summer dress, feeling good in my skin, a little shaky yet strong, bringing forth my anchor, my internal power reminding me of the woman I am. Encouraging myself to stand up after falling down, to let life in again. I’m feeling like I’m taking my body back after giving it away. I feel like the emotions expressed are gifting me my mind back, my control to stand strong in my skin. I am taking back what I had given to him. In the dark of the night I nurture, holding and allowing my body to be loved by me, nourishing her with kindness.

  Driving home from work, I turn into my street and I see immediately, a car. I know it’s his car, out the front of my house. Heat rises from my body, instantly reacting with desire.

  ‘FUCK.’

  I thought I had come so far.

  ‘FUCK.’

  I was delusional to think my womanly parts wouldn’t scream for him. My mind is confused, angry and hopeful. I brake in the middle of the street, not knowing what to do. Can I reverse? Shit, I see him get out of the car, fuck. I drive towards him, shaking. This is a standoff. I can’t look at him. I drive into the garage with tears and a solid lump in my throat rising. Internally, I’m pleading, please don’t cry in front of him. He’s there as I open my car door, my whole being shuddering.

  “Evie, please, will you hear me out?”

  I’m confused, I’m hurt, I fight the tears coming, even my breathing is shaking, heart slamming into my rib cage, waves of shock running through my veins. Coaching myself, I swallow harshly, don’t be weak, I don’t want him to see my pain, he can’t see how hurt I am, Evie, pull it together.

  Too late. The flood gates open, I’m crying now, without words, just tears streaming down my face, a silent cry in complete turmoil expressed. Listen.

  “Okay.” I mutter, standing mostly frozen right where I am. He moves towards me and I take a step back. He is in between me and the door to the inside of the house. He looks around, there is no one else around.

  “Evie, you scare the shit out of me, my life is different. That kiss, you, it’s all too much, it was too fucking intense, I can’t, I’m not there, there is too much emotion, I’m not there, I can’t do that much emotion, you are very intense, I’m not ready to settle down. I can’t be who you need me to be, I’m not ready f
or this.”

  He goes on rambling a little, he’s confused, he’s had to fight himself to stay away, to end this, to not respond. I’m angry, not at him, but at myself. I can recognise the panic and fear in him, which makes me even more angry as it’s clear that it’s winning in this very moment. My rational fucking mind brings fucking logic to the situation. The woman in me who can’t bear to see anyone in pain, gives rise to a kindness towards Sam, one that I really don’t want to have for him.

  Sam’s continuing. “Evie, it’s too much, I can’t get you out of my head, I don’t know what to do, there’s so much you don’t know.”

  My tears are well and truly dried up now, I’m mad. I can feel the sensation of anger rising in my body, like a wave from the pit of my stomach. I’m flushed, my body starting to tighten, and freeze. He says he’s sorry that he hurt me, that this type of relationship is new for him, we had chemistry and a lot of it. He says he didn’t realise that it was love, then he’s stumbling over his words trying to take them back, my emotions are starting to rise again, he’s now saying he didn’t mean love, strong feelings and he ends with “fuck, Evie.”

  I see the battle, plain as Jane. It’s not up to me to fix this or make it okay: it’s his fight. I’m silent, in the depths of my own shock, dumbfounded and he’s fumbling around, begging me to say something. He goes on, he felt alive, our potential and continues to repeat “I don’t know what I want.”

  He’s sat out the front of my house twice before, like a fucking stalker and drove away. Today, he couldn’t drive away.