Moving on after breaking up -- does attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADD/ADHD) complicate things?
Spring marched in first with a rainstorm on Saturday followed by days of sun. Mother Nature could be a tease, but more likely than not this signals the arrival of this new season and perhaps the promise of new beginnings, and potential resolutions.
The Boyfriend . One moment you are a couple, suspended in the you that became we, wrapped up together in a penthouse in arguably one of the greatest cities in the world, and there are plans and promises of a potential future, and then it crumbles. We did not live together and yet, for a while, our lives were intertwined. We spent most, if not all, of our spare time together, with him mostly coming to the city and staying at my place. Now there is an overwhelming sense of loss and disbelief, and just knowing on the very logical level that even if fate brings two people back together again there are many unanswered questions.
I’ve replayed the scenes in my mind of what happened and what went wrong, told and retold the story again until it felt like a broken record, only the record is still there and occasionally when memories surface it spins.
I wondered how much the revelation of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADD/ADHD) played a role... But when the clouds parted, there came a revelation: Everyone has issues, comes with baggage, and everyone has demons. There is no blame, no right and wrong, and even if there were it takes two to conquer and destroy. You live and you learn. I’ll accept that what is done is done. The lessons are clear as day (but is it a cloudy or sunny one?): Next time maybe I’ll reveal the ADHD sooner, or maybe never.
For several nights after he left I did not want to go home and be reminded of that day, that weekend. A good friend came over night after night, and we polished off bottles of red wine, white wine, and mixed drinks with a base of vodka. She talked of the death of her husband, it has been two years and counting and time heals some wounds and yet the hole is always there. She hears his voice, sees him walk around the apartment and there isn’t a day that goes by when she doesn’t think of him. When I hear her story I just want to sink into the floor and die. Will it ever get better? This is a question that has long surfaced in the dead of winter and now it looks like the weather has been on the upswing. One awakes to sun and leaves work with sun. There is hope.
So I’ve chosen to hit the gym instead of the bar. Swimming has proven to be a solace, a place where one can disappear in silence, a sport that has come through for me again and again especially in the darkest moments of life. That is something that The Boyfriend understood, that swimming is a part of me. Maybe it calms the demons within and from the chlorine emerges a calmer more sane self.