entry triggered again feature image living room

Triggered Again

Normally I eat sitting at the computer desk because it’s just extremely unpleasant to eat at the coffee table where Nicholas and I typically used to eat every night. If I had another table, I would already pitch this one. One of the legs on it is broken anyway from where Nicholas got angry at me and kicked the leg right off the table. Anyway, for some reason I found myself sitting in Nicholas’s seat eating on his side of the table. Totally triggered and nearly in tears I felt the need to text him.

Image Credit: Pixabay

Despite the looming threat of the coronavirus outbreak, today turned out to be a genuinely good day. It almost feels like a scene from a movie where everyone is quarantined due to a virus turning people into zombies, just by saying that. This morning, I had a pounding headache after writing nearly 3,000 words in yesterday’s journal entry. So, as soon as my sister woke up, I decided to drive over to her place and see if she had any medication for it. After taking the pills, we spent some time chatting until she was fully awake and I felt my headache subsiding. Once she got dressed, we made a trip to the grocery store to stock up on supplies, just in case the President enforces the Stafford act, which I’ll have to look up later to fully understand. In the meantime, a friend sent me a witty text, suggesting that we should stock up because it seems like we might be stuck in one place for a while.

After arriving home, I drove my sister to her apartment and assisted her in unloading her groceries. I then proceeded to unload mine at home. However, every time I engage in an activity that Nicholas and I used to do together, it evokes a sense of longing and nostalgia for him. Despite these emotions, I pushed them aside and focused on completing the task of bringing in the bags. Once everything was organized, I prepared myself a lunch consisting of a delightful combination of better cheddar, chips and salsa, and a comforting bowl of baked potato with bacon soup. Typically, I would eat at the computer desk to avoid the unpleasant memories associated with the coffee table where Nicholas and I used to dine every night. If there were another table available, I would have replaced this one already, especially since one of its legs is broken from when Nicholas angrily kicked it off during an argument. However, unexpectedly, I found myself sitting in Nicholas’s usual seat, eating on his side of the table. This triggered intense emotions, nearly bringing me to tears, and I felt an urge to text him. Despite it being noon, I hadn’t received any response from him yet. In a playful manner, I contemplated sending him a witty message.

Quote by robert beno your heart does not answer your mind your heart reveals the deepest wishes of your soul no amount of clever justifications or smart excuses alters your heart's wish it just delays the richly fulfilling life you truly seek

As always, to my pleasant surprise he responded pretty much right away. I had written a lengthy text and when I do this, sometimes I wonder if he actually reads them all the way through. He had this time and addressed pretty much everything I spoke about. The next text however, I asked a question that I didn’t get the answer to. Really I know his answer to the question I put forth, I just want to hear him say it. When he and I were separated due to the disgusting neighbors calling the cops, and lying to them saying he put his hands on her, they carted him off to jail for a 24 hour hold on domestic violence charges. Yes, he’s hit me, but I would have never called the cops on him. The aftermath of this day was that he and I lost our lives and our livelihood. Everything that we worked hard for and built together was gone. We both lost a lot that day but in his eyes, I lost nothing and he lost everything. In my second journal entry, Stipulations Of Love,  I properly wrote about this. He totally blames me for him not getting to take everything and leaving me with the clothes on my back like he promised he would do if he ever left. Our relationship wasn’t perfect, and in the end I thought we needed a break. I wanted to see if we missed one another, and if we loved each other like we said we did. However, I didn’t call the cops, and I didn’t make him leave. In my eyes he could have said no to his deranged mother and family and refused to go. I pleaded with him in one of the last conversations we had on the phone, yet HE chose to leave.

Overlooking the fact that he didn’t acknowledge this question we continued to text back and forth for a good long while. His chest is bothering him again, and with this crazy virus attacking everyone it’s really starting to worry me. He just got out of the hospital around the 7th of March with a severe case of the flu that eventually turned to pneumonia. Being asthmatic on top of these illnesses brings me much anxiety. Even though we are thousands of miles apart, and no longer in any kind of relationship, I would be devastated if he were to pass away. Honestly, I know I would have to check myself into the hospital just so I could be observed. The love between us isn’t what it used to be. I’m aware of that, but this alive man unfortunately still holds the keys to my eternal universe and my passionate heart.

This morning I talked to my man JP, it’s unfortunate my love for him isn’t as strong and anchored as it is with Nicholas. If it were I wouldn’t be triggered as much as I was today. Like I’ve said, it’s not easy communicating with him, and I literally have to use google translate to converse with him on every message. Do I mind this? Hell no! Something about him intrigues me and makes me want to know more. What you say and how you say it means everything and what he says and how he says it makes my body tremble. Not sexually, but he moves my spirit and my soul. Like no other man in my life, he talks to me and honors me in just the proper ways to make it romantic, and not overly forced. Since we started communicating, I’ve asked myself countless times if he lived closer how would we communicate? Would we have to always use a phone and google translate? In public school I took Spanish for 3 brutal years and lived with a Puerto Rican for almost 13 years, and I still am not fluent in that language. Languages are just hard for me to grasp, and God knows I’ve tried. So, all in all I don’t know where this is going and for now I’m just going to be myself as I have been and continue getting to know him. If anything and we never get to undoubtedly see one another, I will have made the most beloved friend I’ve had in four miserable months, and I will continue to be that until Instagram kicks me off. 

Sweet Dreams
Nadia Darlene Mazonis   

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