“Each relationship when it ends really damages me; I never fully recover. That’s why I’m very careful with getting involved because…it hurts too much.” – Celine, Before Sunset
Like Celine, I never completely heal from the ending of a relationship. It leaves an open wound. After 20 years of enduring these little traumas, I’ve gone into shock, unable to feel, to grasp my reality. I’ve told you before that a piece of my heart resides with J. He carries it with him now – and mine is diminished by the same amount. I wonder if perhaps not just J has taken my heart, but every person with whom I’ve bonded – family, friends and lovers. Each person cuts off a little piece, like a butcher slicing meat, sliver by sliver.
Now I sit here, hollow, the pieces of my heart scattered and consumed by those I’ve let in. Is anything left beneath my breastbone? I can’t seem to feel anymore. I’m spent – a shell.
The French call an orgasm “la petite mort”, the little death. Perhaps emotional bonds are as well.