I'm a wreck.
This emotional roller coaster I'm on is destroying me.
I can't sleep. I ended up dreaming (or wishfully fantasizing I'm not sure) about Thomas the last three nights. It's always the same situation. I find myself in Italy again - this time alone. I am walking on a hidden path - one time it was in the Ligurian hills somewhere , another time it was in the rice paddy fields near his home, another time it was along a lake in Lombardia, but always it was the same deserted path. All of a sudden, he is there with me - he comes out of the forest / from amidst the evening fog / from around a stone wall. I'm not shocked. We greet without affection. Things are casual between us. We talk as we walk along as if it is a normal day's conversation of the events, and as we talk, I start feeling all excited and sparkly inside. We come to a tree / a rock / a wall (depending on the version) and I finally can't stand it anymore, and I press him up against the object in mid-sentence and kiss him romantically. He tenses at first and then melts into my arms and then I wake up... and I smile exhausted but renewed.
I shared with him these thoughts. I thought it would shock him or panic him, but it did not. He's flattered and excited that I am dreaming of him in this way... AAAAGGGHHH! He wasn't supposed to react to my forward-looking thoughts that way!
I'm in a panic. I'm happy and elated one minute and confused and consumed in the next. I'm unable to work. I can't think. I'm disingenuous to you. I'm disingenuous to my wife. I'm disingenuous to him. I'm not thinking clearly. I refuse to face myself.
To make things worse, I drug out my missionary journal and started reading it this morning trying to recall the date of first meeting. I remembered that I was transferred to his city at the first week of December. As it turns out, it was 29 years ago tomorrow that I met him for the first time. He stood in my apartment bedroom door as I was still unpacking. I was shocked a bit, because I wasn't used to having members within the mission apartment, but he obviously was comfortable in doing so with the previous missionaries, and I soon accepted this arrangement as normal for him. He was single, he was our age, (and he wasn't female) and he was enveloped in all things missionary that the elders were doing - so it was good. Within a couple of days I'm expressing my "love" for him and a "bond" with him. Within a week, we are talking and sharing thoughts and feelings about the Gospel and the missionary work and it stirs my heart and I feel something more for him. And by the end of the month we've had numerous close encounters, spiritual experiences, his birthday celebration, the holidays, the New Year... and by the end of the month we've kissed. Well, actually he kissed me in a very sacred and special Italian way... but all the same, as I read my words and find, a bit amazed, that he is mentioned or discussed or something he said is written or an encounter with him is described on EVERY single page... I didn't know this! I haven't reread my words for decades... and now that I'm reading them in this new "light of day", I am overcome by how fast and how strong our emotions grow. I thought it took us several months to get to the point of arrival (I was in that city for five months), but it was very quick and very strong and we connected and all the emotions of those memories are flooding back to me anew. And I'm consumed.
I was "in love" with him when I got married, and though I told HER about HIM before we were married, and though I locked my heart and gave her the key, there has always been a chamber that was locked away for him. I compartmentalize this very easily and I feel no guilt, no shame, no hypocrisy. I feel as if I should, but I don't. I feel none! What I've given her I've given completely. What I've given or saved for him, I've done so completely as well. Each fully their portion. Both are part of my heart. Though it is still one heart, there are separate keys and separate chambers.
Some have suggested that the only way to go forward is to tell my wife everything I'm feeling, and that anything less is wrong, dishonest, disingenuous. Others have wisely counseled to not do anything in haste, but to cherish the moment and to feel the joy and the blessing of it and to be patient. I choose the sagacity of "no-haste" approach...
And to make things worse, I've been re-reading "The Glass Darkly" of savingjohngalt.blogspot.com fame and I've been consumed in JG's journey with Isaac (his Thomas), a French boyfriend that he met in London while working there. If you read his story, it reads almost as an allegory, as if it were symbolic and meant to teach. One day he appears out from nowhere into this blogging community, opens his heart to deep and heart-wrenching events that lead to his turmoil of decisions to leave his boyfriend, his lover, and return to his wife and kids in America, or to start a new life with Isaac. Then, he pulls back, leaves him, returns home, seeks forgiveness, repents, abandons Isaac for his own good, and then Isaac miraculously seeks out the missionaries and is baptized in Europe, and both end up happily on their respective paths and then the blog, as passionate and as heart-wrenching as it was, suddenly ends and JG disappears, never to be heard of again. It's like the Book of Job in the Bible. Job comes from nowhere, tells his tremendously sad story, succeeds in the end triumphantly, and then disappears, never to be heard from again. With JG, it's now been 18 months and I wonder... are they still happy in their respective choices? Did they ever get back together? Did JG stay with his family? Did Isaac find joy in the Church and his conversion?
I'm living in a blogging-consumed fairy tale world. This isn't real... It isn't happening... I am still who I am... I haven't bought my ticket... I'm not going to... But deep down I keep thinking about Annie (Meg Ryan's character in Sleepless in Seattle) where she stares longingly at the Empire State Building and can't help but wonder if he is really there waiting for her... and she has to tell her fiance' "Walter, I have to go".
I know that if I do go, something like the scene in my dream will come to pass (as Damon has warned) and I'll want it do and I'll desire it to and I'll see to it that it does happen and he will be willing and waiting... I am convinced that I will always be in love him, no matter what, even if we never see each other again, just as I am convinced that I will always love her. This is my reality, not necessarily my destiny.
AAARRGGG... this is getting so ridiculous!!!!!!!!! Just shoot me now, please, I beg of you!
When is this eternal adolescence going to end? I really am a serious person. I am not so gaggy and hopelessly romantic.
I really want to curl up and disappear...