What it Takes to Heal/Unashamed

"You don't want to hurt me but see how deep the bullet lies.
Unaware, I'm tearing you asunder. There is thunder in our hearts.
Is there so much hate for the ones we love?  Tell me we both matter, don't we?"
-Kate Bush, 'Running up That Hill'

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Yes, I keep Wiseau-ing on about her.   I know.  Everyone's annoyed.  I'm usually not this much fun. (insert facepalm emoji)  Sorry, I'm doing my best staying a step ahead of a slo-mo breakdown.

Dana apparently needs me to move on without my ever hearing from her.  I need her to talk with me so that I can move on and heal.  We are at an impasse and we continue to hurt each other when we should be trying to help each other heal.

My friends on Facebook think my pain is just unrequited love.  Fair enough, they know what they see.  As far as it goes, it's true.  There's so much more to it than that, though...Ive been through unrequited love and lost love before and gotten through.  I fell out of love again, my heart mended.  There's more to this one, this isn't the same thing at all.  There's a backstory I cannot tell anyone. 

I have not been reaching out to Dana as anything more than just a friend.  Dana understands that if no one else does.  I don't expect her to harbor feelings of love for me, we were never that to begin with.  And I'm sure she's already with someone, though I don't wish to know about it.  At least, not from anyone but her.  Point is, her being with someone else is not an excuse for her treating me so badly as a friend.  She knows that too.  She knows she's been hurtful.  The question is whether she'll do anything about it.  Whether she will put this right.

 The way we parted was abrupt.  It was tragic.  Putting it mildly, it was without resolution for either of us.  It left questions, it left misunderstandings, and it left deep wounds that for me have never healed.  And if Dana absolutely cannot bring herself to speak with me, if her conscience cannot move her to act with any compassion...then I think she never healed either.  She might need this as much as I do.  Ironically, she runs from it at any cost.  The cage isn't me, it is her fear of facing me.  The bird within refuses to set itself free, thinking that removing me from her awareness will do the same thing.  I could move to the Moon and she wouldn't be free: If I died she would be in that cage for the rest of her life because she never faced her fear of speaking to me.

If I could get over this unaided, I would have a long time ago.  Her freezing me out without even telling me why will never make that happen (she seems to be betting that it will), it only makes things worse.  I love her and usually admire her, but the wounded part of me thinks she's a cold, selfish, cowardly, uncaring person unworthy of the hope I hold. She's used up the faith I used to have in her.
I've needed this every single day for thirty years: answers, resolution, closure (though her letting me back into her life would be preferable to closure and a decent, honest goodbye).  Dana finally offered closure to me this past October.  I was so close.  Then she pulled it away - and at the lowest, most terrified, most vulnerable point of my life.  Why would she do that??  How could she do it?  Why make the offer if she didn't mean it?  I've known people who didn't like me, and a few who hated me.  None of them ever did anything so heartless. 

I am certain that I have finally gotten a few things across to her, after having tried and failed for so long...that I am a fiercely loyal and dedicated friend, that I have always - always - been on her side and would have stood by her anywhere or backed her on anything.  And that I'm in love with her.  And that her absence and her silence have been damaging.  And two or three other things best kept private. 

I'm not ashamed of showing my pain.  I'm fighting for my soul with the only thing I have, words.  And I'm not going to hide my love for Dana Marie Cooper. Not from anyone, least of all Dana herself.  That's a lesson I learned long ago from another love I missed out on, someone I lost the chance to tell.  Diane Schwartz and I clicked (at YMA, Willamette  University campus, 1980).  Diane disappeared without ever knowing that she meant something to me.  I'll never let that happen again.

If I still mean anything to Dana at all, even just as a friend, she hides it magnificently.