Week 3 of 52 in the rebuilding of Ben Quam

1:42pm
Wednesday, September 8 2010

"When it rains it pours."

There's a moment that all addiction speciaists talk about, a moment that until hit makes it very hard for an addict to clean him or herself up. They refer to that moment as "rock bottom." I thankfully have not had to go through any addiction counseling, but I realized the term itself applies to many other facets in life.

I stayed up way too late on Sunday night talking with a friend about how hard breakups are and how awful this world can be. Not the best way to fall asleep, as thoughts like that tend to slip their greazy little fingers into your subconscious and color your dreams with their ink blots.

I dreamed that I was sitting in rush hour traffic, and my nose began bleeding in the car. At first I wiped it away with my hand, but more and more blood kept flowing. I started grabbing papers and garbage from the back seat to try and contain the spurts, and my heart began racing. Not knowing what to do, I threw the car in park and got out yelling, "Someone please help me!" but everyone looked at me like I was a freshly-bitten zombie. My heart was beating faster and faster...and then just stopped. Everything went silent. No engine idling, no honking, not even wind. Just silence. I was at peace for a moment, until I looked down at my hands to see even more blood. I began to faint, and then woke up.

This is not a good way to wake up. Ever.

I streched and shook it off a little, and remembered how excited I was the day before about going to the Twins game with my good friend Jaren. I grabbed my cellphone off the charger and noticed 5 missed texts and 3 missed calls. Holy crap, I overslept for a game at 1:05pm. Ugh. I called Jaren to apologize, and thankfully he was forgiving. We decided to meet up after the game and have a beer.

I went to grab some food, and recieved another text. What I read stole my breath from my lungs. A guy that I walked home with every day from Jr. High had passed away. Damn, that is sad. Another great sense of humor gone from this unfunny world. As I sat there thinking of his family, I got another text. All I saw as the adrenaline from shock hit were "liver faliure," "If I drink again I'll die," "23rd floor of the Hyatt with a bottle of this and a bottle of that." Quick phone call, and then 3 hours of the oddest conversation I've had in a hotel room. Love him like a brother, worry about him like an older brother.

I would've stayed there all night but a fantay draft was drawing near, and I needed laughs in a feverish way. Jokes were made, beers were had, and things were settling into a decent end to a shitty movie. Until I got the next lovely bit of info that absolutely crushed me. I was informed by a guy I'd never met that my wife is already dating someone else.

No no no no no. My stuff is still in the house. I'm not even gone yet. She hasn't filed papers. This cannot be. Please let this not be.

I faked it for the rest of the night, thinking that if I just didn't acknowledge it, it would go away. But it didn't. It festered and boiled and ate away at the inside of my stomach until I thought I had an ulcer.

So I drove home. It was the quietest drive I've ever taken. I just kept shaking my head. No.

I walked in the door, no dog to be found. That means she's staying somewhere else. This has happened a lot lately. No.

Poured a helluva drink.
Stared at it.
Stared at it again.
Brought it to the bedroom.
Stared at it some more.

And then, as the realization that not only were we not going to get back together, but that she already moved on and had a whole new life ready and waiting all this time, and that it's with the ONE GUY I'd always been afraid of this happening with, the same guy who 3 weeks ago said,

"Hey man, I'm so sorry to hear about you guys. Just know that I had nothing to do with this, because my wife cheated on me and I could never do that to anyone, much less you."

And I started shaking. Not trembling mind you, actually shaking. But in that moment, in the dark and alone and shaking uncontrollably, I had an epiphany:

I had finally hit an emotional rock bottom. Physical manifesation of a mental emotion. After this day, and all it dumped on me, I actually cannot hurt anymore. I'm finally through the flames of the heart into this weird, purgatory-esque numb. My friend, coworker, and confidant called me to see if I could watch her oldest son while she went to the hospital to see her younger one, and I just said "no." No guilt, just numb. I couldn't do any more emotions.

I poured the drink out, and took a shower. Then I went to bed.

I had a dream again, this time standing in front of a mirror in a dingy bathroom and only wearing a tank top. I had a cleaver in my left hand, brought it to my right bicep, and turned it on the bone in a full circle. It didn't hurt, and it didn't bleed. I poked around with my finger, and the inside of my flesh just looked like ahi tuna soaked in day-old grenadine. Sticky and wet, but not bleeding or hurting at all. Then I simply looked in te mirror and smiled.

I woke up in the morning, talked to XM and she confirmed the news that she was in fact dating, packed up my car with my first load to La Crosse, and left.

I don't know if this numb feeling is where a healthy mind/heart/soul is supposed to be when going down this path, but I don't know if I have a healthy any one of those. All I know is that I slept 8 hours last night, and I didn't dream once. I'm going to come back to the cities this weekend for a my last night DJing at Bootleggers, and my goodbye party on Sunday the 12th.

I know this isn't really filled with any light or hope, but this is no sitcom. This is life, and rarely do things that are this hard fix themselves that fast. I'm not angry anymore, because it doesn't matter. Being mad will only hurt me, because she doesn't care about my feelings at all. The last thing I said to her was, "Be happy," and I meant it. Two miserable people in this world does no one anywhere any good.

So now starts the La Crosse chapter. Our apartment is available on the 19th, so then for the first time since August 1st I'll have an actual home. I need that. The feeling of being unwanted and homeless combined can wreak havok on the spirit of a man.

But the bathrooms here smell like gummi worms, so at least I have that.

With love and a crooked smile,
BQ