Perhaps I am Not Psychotic

I am in the midst of reading a book by Barry Levinson, and in it I have found a passage that struck me very deeply. It goes as follows:

Maybe you can never understand the significance of a moment. And that which you cannot define or explain will continue to play itself over and over again in your mind. The brain is like a computer, forever seeking an answer, and it’s possible that until the question is solved, the question remains on that screen in the back of your head forever.

Suddenly some clarity has entered my brain. After my last breakup, I was so confused for so many months that I played the scenario back in my mind over and over again so often that I nearly got sick of it. Nonetheless, the images and the thoughts would not go away. Now I know why. Well, really, I’ve known for a long time, I was just struck by how eloquently my own situation seemed to be described by this simple passage found in the middle of a book I just happen to be reading at the moment.

I’ve always found it funny how things like that happen, you read a certain passage, meet a certain person, or go to a certain place at a certain perfect time so that the events of your life gain sudden clarity or change paths as if in some preordained outplay of fated events. This one is no exception.

The problem with the break-up, the fundamental error in my partner’s choice to do so, was in his inability to give me a proper explanation for the break-up. His half-hearted attempt included words like ‘we both have very busy lives,’ ‘I’m not ready for a relationship,’ ‘I want to be your friend, I’ve never had a true gay friend,’ and ‘I need to focus on myself.’ All words we’ve heard before, but very hollow when compared to promises of our first Christmas together, assurances early on that he was ready for a relationship, the purchase of matching cookware (‘so that we’ll have two of everything when we live together’-his words, not mine), and numerous trips through newly built homes and furniture shops fantasizing about our dream home (again, his idea) only days before. Talk about ‘love disappearing overnight.’ None of the explanations given held any weight, and the more my ‘computer’ brain went through it, the angrier I became that the truth was not revealed, that I was denied a proper reason, a truthful answer for our separation, the one thing I begged for. The most amusing thing he said to me was that he ‘could have just been mean to [me] and made [me] hate him like he usually did with others he’d dated.’ Like this so-called friend thing was some sort of consolation. Thanks.

And, of course, the entire time I was going through this, the deeper it went, the more psychotic I felt I was becoming. But here, right here in front of me is the explanation I needed, the proof that perhaps I am not, in fact, psychotic in over-analyzing the situation. It’s a matter of a question without an answer, without a satisfactory solution that allows it to be put to rest. And certainly, I cannot be blamed for that. I asked for an answer and was whole-heartedly denied. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that there weren’t problems with the relationship, that maybe it was, in fact, not meant to be, and that maybe I was at fault for certain aspects of what went wrong. All I’m saying is that I wanted the respect that comes with telling the truth, no matter how much it hurts, especially when you are asked so directly to do so.

The sad thing is that I know what went wrong. I know the real reasons for the break-up. I just wanted him to say the words so that I could know for sure and I could move on knowing my own mistakes and feeling like everything had been said that needed to be said. If we’d been able to thoughtfully sit down and talk about it, then maybe we could have been friends, close ones at that. Maybe that was too much to ask, though. You can’t go from telling each other everything, opening your heart up the way I did, back to a casual friendship just like that. You have to work out the kinks. Friends are still open with each other; and, most importantly, friends are honest with you no matter how much it hurts. Holding back only leads to resentment, and such a sudden withdrawal as occurred in this case only leads to utter confusion.

In any case, I’m glad to know that maybe I’m not completely psychotic. If I couldn’t get that confirmation from my former fling, then I’m glad Mr. Levinson was around to shed some light. Thank you, sir; you’ve helped more than you know.