18 - The Taxi Ride

"Hello, darkness, my old friend" - Simon & Garfunkel (The Sound of Silence)

Let’s get personal. Recently, I received news about J that has once again taken me on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. Some feelings were new acquaintances who surprised me with their presence; others were companions who haven’t visited in many months.

Now if you’ve been following along, you know that I’ve avoided revealing specifics of the past couple of years. And though I’m confident the drama would make a banger of a script for a Lifetime movie, this is intentional. I’ve only asked a handful of loved ones to bear the weight of those hellish moments with me. Plus, I feel zero need to win anyone over to my side.

Well, I’m going to sing a slightly different tune today. Why? First, I think I’ll need to provide just a few details to provide an accurate report of my emotional state. Second, I’ve mostly transitioned into viewing this part of my life with a retrospective lens, so it’s at least manageable to bring up old memories. And third, maybe, just maybe, I need to vent.

So, let’s meet the main characters of my emotional state during a brief, but long, taxi ride (à la Inside Out).

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It was a pleasant, calm day in Kathmandu as I waited for my taxi to arrive. Partly cloudy, 70F, slight breeze. Seven minutes away. To pass the time, I opened up Instagram and browsed through a few new messages. One in particular caught my attention. A friend had reached out to provide encouraging words in response to “J’s recent engagement”.

The taxi pulled up to the driveway. My eyes locked onto those last three words, and my breath caught for a moment. I remembered to tell the driver where we were going, looked down at my phone, and read them again. That has to be a typo, right? The person who divorced me in large part because she “didn’t believe in marriage anymore” is engaged, less than two years later? Unbelievable. Disbelief and Disgust, welcome back.

I had to double-check with other friends who confirmed it through social media - hooray, internet. As Disbelief, Disgust, and I once more became acquainted with each other, I found myself laughing out loud at the absurdity of the situation. Followed by a bad taste in my mouth. Then some more laughter. While the car zipped through the uneven streets out of the city, I buckled up and mentally prepared - I was expecting more company.

Simmering on J’s current hypocrisy and past betrayals, my blood boiled, and one feeling aggressively shoved aside the others. We share a complicated history, this one and I. Most of my life, I’ve refused to let him in the door, but he barged in on his own this time. Anger, make yourself comfortable.

To be honest, anger isn’t potent enough of a word; I was livid. With teeth clenched and metaphorical smoke steaming out of my head, every single deeply hurtful conversation from the past couple years came flooding back. ‘I don’t love you anymore.’ ‘Maybe people are supposed to move on to a different partner when they fall out of love.’ ‘I hooked up with someone; I don’t need you to forgive me.’ And, of course, the text that ended it all for good: ‘I filed for divorce.’

We teach kids that sticks and stones can break our bones, and words will never hurt us, but from my experience, the latter cuts much deeper.

Of past injustices and trials from this marriage, I could go on and on. But then, Anger was off and…gone. Grief took his place, hovering over a foggy graveyard of youthful ideals, far away in the distance. I took a deep breath and walked over to her. We looked down at the surrounding tombstones - Marriage, Innocence, Trust, Commitment, Time.

In this cemetery of what-could-have-beens and if-onlys, every tombstone represented something I had lost and wouldn’t be able to get back, at least not in its original form. Together, we mourned each one, though no tears were shed. You see, Grief matures over time, from loud, uncontrolled sobbing to quiet, stoic contemplation.

Grief and I didn’t speak. After all, some matters of the heart are best understood in silence. Eventually, we looked at each other and nodded, coming to a mutual understanding that this moment, though painful, was necessary. We knew we might not see one another for a long time. She floated away and faded into the fog.

yes yes I know this is Joy, but close enough for the metaphor :)

The taxi was now entering the town of Bhaktapur, a UNESCO site and my next stop. I felt myself breathing normally again as we cut through the cobblestone streets, passing several centuries-old temples. We have one more character to meet, our last arrival. She’s a newcomer, but like this religious site, I suspect that she is also ancient and has existed for as long as people have. My theory is that she remains dormant in us until (if?) we’re gifted some perspective.

I’m not sure what her name is. At her worst, she’s a relative of Indifference; at her best, she’s the mother of Forgiveness. We can call her Serenity for now. Whereas Indifference shies away from getting to know my traumas, Serenity treats them as old friends. She exudes calm, and in her presence, I feel lighter. She illuminates how my dark, small troubles contrast against the bright, grand world. She leans over to me and in a voice that cuts through my doubts and defense mechanisms, she asks, “Do you really want to hold onto this?”.

I consider what she’s asking.

No?

No.

I don’t think I do.

I open the door and step out - I’ve arrived.