lunes, 5 de noviembre de 2018

Giving up

I remember the last day we spoke.

He was standing in front of me. I had asked him to talk to me and he made sure he had plans right after so the talk wouldn't take longer than 30 minutes. The walls were all up.

I asked him to tell me what was going on, but he wouldn't. As I insisted, he got more and more angry. I remember him screaming and walking around the coffee table trying to pack some of his belongings. I tried to speak, to ask why he was pushing me away, but that just made things worse.

Then something clicked inside me and I stopped. I stopped talking, I stopped reacting, I wasn't even listening to the words anymore, just observing. Observing him, and myself, and the situation we both were in.

I was feeling really sad, scared and worried. I felt a couple of tears running down my face, my heart beating really fast and my stomach hurting. It was almost nice to feel those unpleasant things because they made more sense and were more real than whatever was happening outside.

So I didn't react. I didn't think about how the situation should be instead. I didn't try to change it. I didn't ask for respect, compassion or understanding. And I didn't leave. I kept breathing slowly and loosing my muscles so they could soak up all the emotions. I accepted life the way it was happening.

I won't forget that day.

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