- a term to designate a large ship or building
- a heavy clumsy ship or the body of an old ship unfit for service
- a ship used as a prison —usually used in plural e.g. every prisoner sent to the hulks
- an abandoned wreck or shell (as of a building or automobile)
- one that is bulky or unwieldy
ICB and I are done.
I wanted more. After 6 months, I knew that this was a man that I admired, respected, lusted after and deeply cared about. I wanted him to meet my family and my friends and to integrate my life, because when he was around he made everything better. The world stopped spinning as much and the overwhelming became more achievable. He made me feel grounded. Talking to him made me settled. I wanted more of this. I had reached the point where holding back on my emotions, restraining myself because I intuitively felt that he wasn’t ready was becoming an unmanageable burden (exhibit A). I was losing my battle against my brain that relentlessly tells me I am not enough for someone to love, and too much to handle (exhibit B and C).
ICB has his own shit to work through. Some of his wounds and fears remind me so very much of my own in 2014. And just like people told me – and were right – that I was strong enough to work through the stifling limits I imposed on myself, I know he is very close to breaking through his own traps and owning the brilliant, kind, talented man he is already is. But I also recognize from my own experiences how very hard and consuming that kind of personal growth is. He is in for a rough ride. A worthwhile one, but a hard one. Until he works through his shit, neither one of us can tell if his reluctance to let go and see where this lovely journey of ours can go is due to a lack of connection or due to his paralyzing fears and doubts. That is something only he can answer, and the longer I stick around, the more I am confirming to myself that I am not enough for him to break through his self-imposed barriers. Having spent years trapped by my brain and my fears, I know how awful it feels to see wondrous people come into my life, yearn to connect and be unable to do so. My continued presence would be harmful to myself, and an excruciating burden to ICB. He has enough on his plate.
We both cried.
I’m still crying.
I feel grief, because this guy helped me see the colors after almost 12 months of being color blind. He accepted me in ways I’ve rarely felt accepted, turning my shameful inability to manage my emotions into something charming. No matter what ugly side of myself I showed him, he never wavered. Always there. Seeing me, and focusing on that which is good and admirable in me, which made me want to be more of that. He helped balance out how I saw myself and my place in the world. In the 6 months that I’ve known him, my life has frequently been turned upside down (coming out of a depression, the never ending aftershocks of Hickster, a diagnosis of borderline, and a promotion that is completely kicking my ass). Knowing he was there, a stable presence, has given me hope and courage.
I feel grief, because I could not give the same gift to ICB. I feel grief for the trapped pain he is in, for his fears that get in the way of him being his best self – if his unbest self is anything to go by, the world is missing out on greatness. I feel sorrow for the hard times that await him as he struggles through some of the challenges that have been thrown across his path, and the vulnerability that he has yet to embrace. I mourn the loss of all the moments that might have been. The possibilities of joy. The comfort of intimacy. Being a witness to each other’s transformation and growth.
I feel scared. This promotion is stretching me to the limit, my shadow is doing cartwheels and starting the countdown to the moment where I snap back into depression. The next 3 months are going to be very challenging. The wave of hysterical panic is gaining momentum now that I face it alone, without ICB to smile and kiss me on the forehead and tell me, “you got this, my little Hulkette“.
I feel shame at how selfish my reaction is.
I feel tired at the stretch of loneliness that awaits me.
And I can’t help but wonder,