Un (Be) Longing Part 3

anthrometronom
1 day ago
13 min read

A fragmented mirror reflecting an upside-down image of a person.

Trigger warning: Both physical and emotional violence are discussed in the following text; neglect, bullying, depression and alcohol addiction are explicitly and implicitly mentioned.

Un Be

Longing

Text by Luisa Brühne (Freie Universität Berlin)

Part III: Darkness

There was a lot about you that seemed familiar to me when our paths crossed for the first time. You seemed to carry a darkness inside you that seemed familiar to me. It was as if you were carrying the darkness I was trying to hide to the outside. It's not a cold darkness, no, it's a warm, glowing darkness. I wanted to let myself fall into it. To find comfort in it. I remember feeling very uncomfortable in my skin that evening. I had my curls in a messy knot on my head and was wearing my glasses, which always made me feel insecure anyway. Even more than my appearance, I was ashamed of some of the things people said. I hoped that you wouldn't think that I felt the same way. I remember that at some point we were sitting on the sidelines, drinking Sterni and talking. Your smell caught my nose. Dark, with pink speckles. A flower meadow with black roses that exuded an irresistible scent. I wanted to lie down in them. The thorns didn't bother me. We drove home together. I even thought I could feel something between us. Still, I was sure you hadn't noticed me. After all, I was just me. Six months later, we ran into each other again. When you stood in front of me and your scent caught my nose again, I found it hard to concentrate on what you were saying. You told me that you had seen me the other day. When I asked you where and when that had been, your answer came quickly and precisely: on March 7th in the Ringbahn on Greifswalder-Straße. In the meantime, it was May 1st. But you wouldn't have dared to say hello to me. I looked at your face. Was it just my imagination or did you seem a bit nervous and unsure? And was it just a coincidence that you only spoke to me and looked at me, even though there was another person standing next to me? A few weeks later, the two of us met for the first time. As it turned out, you didn't really seem to be sure whether I just wanted to meet up with you for a friendly beer until my body lay naked in front of you and your fingers were inside of me. My signals didn't seem to have been so clear after all. The more I got to know you, the closer I took you to my heart. All your little quirks. From your menthol cigs (if I ask you for one, you don't have to tell me every time, I remembered it the first time) to your statement that you didn't know what the water at Fusion tasted like because you brought your own water. For 5 days of festival. You're edgy, but the gentlest creature I've come across in a 3 long time. You can swim in my ocean and you're not afraid of the deep. For the first time, I don't have to dive alone. My desire for deep connection and true intimacy seems to be about to be fulfilled. My heart seems to have decided to trust you without the consent of my head.

We are lying in my bed. You tell me about yourself. I tell you about myself. You hold me in your arms. My tongue stumbles forward. I realize how I can no longer do anything about it. The words tumble out. They seem to come out of nowhere. It hits me like a wave. A sob runs through my body. When I tell you, no, when I share it with you. Even before I've finished, you seem to know what's coming. You hug me close to you and whisper words in my ear that feel good. You kiss me on my forehead and soothe me with your words. You make me feel very soft. So vulnerable and yet safe. You hold me in your arms.

***

Diary entry 17.11.2023

I cried today. After such a long time. It was beautiful. It was unexpected, but I've never felt as safe as today. Held like this. In your arms. Your words have given my grieving soul the protection and love it has longed for so long. Which she was denied for so long. I want to give her the space to grieve. To mourn the fact that it took so long to open up. To mourn the fact that she was involved with the wrong people at the wrong time. To mourn that she couldn't escape (this situation). To mourn that she didn't receive the love she needed. To mourn that it took so long for her to encounter not just listening, but understanding and empathy. To mourn that her childhood ended at that moment and was taken from her. I feel a deep sadness for my 9-year old soul. For too long it has wandered in the darkness, shrouded by an even darker shadow. But now I have found her. And I will look after her and give her all the affection she deserves. My little, lost, grieving soul, I see you and feel your pain that wants to be felt. I take care of you. You are safe with me. And I cry every tear with respect and joy at being able to give you a safe home.

***

No. Not this time. You won't win this time. I have made my decision. You can't change my mind. My love is a one-way ticket with no return option. You can give me all the shaking, tightness and sleepless nights you want, it's too late for you. You will try to drive me insane. You will try to become bigger than me, you will want to devour me with your darkness. I know you want to warn me. I know it would be so much easier to just leave now. I know you're afraid of being hurt. I can't take away your fear. Getting hurt is the risk of trust. Let's stay and trust.

***

A storm is raging inside me. It whirls through everything. My entire nervous system is in turmoil. It wants to warn me about you. My heart says yes, but my body says no. I long for you, but physically I can't let you touch me. I haven't been as sure of my feelings for a person as I am with you for a long time. And now my body is going completely crazy. When I'm with you, I feel very soft. Very vulnerable. I feel like I'm losing control. And that scares me. I have no control over my feelings towards you, which are so strong. So strong that I can't feel them all at once and sometimes they come over me like a wave. So strong that sometimes they seem to drown me. They scare me. They exert an insanely strong attraction and fascination on me. It feels like an intoxication. I fear in equal measure as I long for the feeling of drowning in my feelings for you. To be swallowed up. Into a pleasant darkness. And in it, pink flashes. My feelings. Pink and black. The more I fight them, the stronger they become. And with them my fear. The fear that it's just me of us feeling this way. The fear that I'm alone in free fall. I'm not afraid to trust you. Rather, it's the fact that I trust you blindly that scares me so much. I feel so strongly that I want to give myself to you. In my most vulnerable form. To melt in your arms. And that scares me beyond belief. To have to relinquish control. To let you have power over me. Sometimes it feels as if fire and water are coming together inside me and fighting against each other. A blazing fire against a roaring waterfall. Fear against need. A feeling that is almost unbearable. Leidenschaft. Passion. My closest friend always used this word to describe me. Everything I do, I do leidenschaftlich, passionately. Even my loving. Especially my loving.

My heart aches. A whirlwind in my head. Everything too much. Too intense. I lie down on the kitchen floor. In despair, I don't know whether to cry or laugh and end up doing both. I ask her why it hurts so damn much. She lies down next to me on the cold kitchen floor, turns her head towards me, looks deep into my eyes and says: ‘You know Lu, when you're as leidenschaftlich about love as you are, there can be no love without pain. It's called Leidenschaft for a reason.’ I stare at the ceiling in silence for a few minutes. ‘Will it stop at some point? The suffering?’ I ask. She sighs; ‘I can't tell you that, maybe it will, maybe it won't. You have to know whether it's worth it in the end. Or whether it will destroy you.’

In your arms I have found what I have longed for so long, but can I allow it? Will it be worth my leidenschaftliches loving?

***

Can you be abandoned by people who were never really there? I didn't understand it at the time. I didn't understand where my desire came from and why it was so present. And how it changed me. It turned me into a person who longs for closeness and yet fears it at the same time. All my youth I wished that someone would save me. To take me away from "home" and bring me to another place where everything is better, where people take an interest in me and look after me with the love I needed. A place where I am understood. I longed for the intimacy of being understood. To be able to be me and not have to prove that I am loveable. From the outside, I seemed to have had a sheltered childhood. On the inside, I was lonely; no one seemed to be really interested in me, let alone understand me. No one had access to my inner landscape. No common interests, different political attitudes and different feelings. For my parents, I was always too much of the wrong and too little of the right. Too sensitive. Too political. Too idealistic. And at the same time, I didn't make enough of myself. I didn't shave my legs like a woman should. I didn't wear enough feminine clothes. And whenever I had my curls cut a little shorter again, my mother would sigh loudly and say; ‘But your beautiful long 6 curls’. As if I had caused her pain with my personal decision and cut off my femininity. Today, I still love the feeling when my hair just grazes my shoulders.

We sit at the dining table and argue. It's personal. My mother is crying. You are screaming. I scream and cry. I want to leave. You bang your fist on the table. ‘Nowhere are you going,’ you scream. Tight. Anxiety. I can't breathe anymore. ‘You're not going to stop me,’ I say. And then I laugh in your face and say; ‘When I tell my friends...’, but you interrupt me; ‘You won't tell your friends any of this. What happens here in the family stays here between us.’ I think I see panic in your eyes. My throat tightens. Trapped. The family argument. How lucky I am that this offer from family is not good enough for me for this argument to carry any weight. Does the thought of outsiders finding out about this situation seem to frighten you because you know that your behavior is not right? I know that arguing with you any further is pointless. 2 more years. Then I'll be gone.

My parents were always there and yet never. They took care of me, but it didn't seem like the right kind of care. Did I have too high expectations? That's what they would say. Was it not enough for me that they gave me a roof over my head and supported me in many things I did? They would call me ungrateful if they read this text. They would be hurt. Because they had tried to look after me to the best of their ability and will. At least that's what I assume. But what if your own ability is limited by societal, social and political circumstances? Due to unresolved traumas in the past? My mother suffered from postnatal depression. She didn't get the help she needed back then. I can't remember ever feeling held by her. Can't remember any physical or emotional closeness from her. But how is a person who can't even hold themselves supposed to be able to hold another person? How can a person who can't be there for themselves be there for another person? My father grew up with an alcoholic father who beat his mother. My grandmother managed to leave him and build a new life with my father and his brother. How can something like that leave no traces, no wounds?

You cannot be a safe place for me if you have not healed your own wounds.

I don't blame my parents for only being able to love me as much as they could. That might have been enough for someone else. But not for me.

***

My dearest closest friend, I can't write about love without writing about you and our friendship. Maybe bond describes it better at this place, at least that's how it feels to me. We knew each other for a long time before we ever really spoke to each other. I have always admired you (and still do). Your acumen, your talent with words like no one else I know, and your standing up for injustices that you couldn't reconcile with your morals. I can't remember the exact moment when our acquaintance turned into a friendship. I only know that you were suddenly just there. Whenever we spent time together, something began to glow inside me. Everything felt intense, yet light. You told me that you always admired me and were a bit intimidated by me before we really got to know each other. You always wanted to be a bit like me, and I always wanted to be a bit like you. Our mutual admiration for each other. I remember you telling me one day that you weren't sure for a long time at the beginning that you weren't in love with me. I'll be honest, I was very flattered by that. However, you were happy that a friendship had developed between us, because friendships are more enduring than romantic relationships and you wanted me in your life for the long term. Is there a better reason not to have a romantic relationship with each other than this one? I don't think so. (Even though I'm sure we would have had an incredibly hot love affair).

With you, I didn't feel like a stranger for the first time. I felt just right. You seemed to like everything about me, especially things that had always been too much for others before. You could listen to me and my thoughts for hours without getting tired or distracted. You could hear my silence. You were there. Always. For the first time in my whole life, I felt safely bonded. You were the first person to really see me. You didn't see what you wanted; you saw who I was. 8 With all my feelings, thoughts and needs. You accepted me for who I am. And didn't want me any other way. You gave me the love that I have always longed for.

A balmy summer night. We're sitting on the balcony. More badly than right, I roll myself a cigarette. You've been quiet for a while. Looking at the hilltop, behind which the sun has long since disappeared. I light my cigarette in silence. Only the crickets chirp. You turn towards me. You suddenly seem very vulnerable and nervous. I realize that you want to share something important with me. "There's something I've wanted to tell you for a long time," you say, "and I think you've suspected it for a long time and somehow know it." I try to put as much love into my gaze as I can. When the words come out of your mouth, the shock is deep. Yes, even though I've suspected it all along. I don't know what to say at first. Everything feels inappropriate. 'I'm sorry,' I say and start to cry. Tears are also welling up in your eyes. I get up, go to you and give you a big hug. I hold you. ‘I like you the way you are. What happened to you doesn't change the way I see you or who you are to me.’ ‘I'm so ashamed. Even though I know I don't have to be’ you say. ‘I'm so glad you finally know now. I've wanted to share it with you for so long. I'm so relieved.’ I hug you even tighter. I hold the cigarette out to you.

You take it with trembling hands. I want to protect you from all the evil in this world, even though I know that's not possible. But for this moment, we are safe. Smoking and embraced, we look at the mountains. The crickets are chirping.

- Provence, July 2021

There is a big difference between telling and sharing. I could tell the whole world about my pain and I would still feel lonely. But if I can share my pain with just one person, I am no longer lonely. We shared a pain that, although it was not the same, seemed to come from the same family. We shared the intense feeling of emotions of all kinds. We shared the curse and blessing of being able to drown in our Leidenschaft.

My friendship with you is the most beautiful and truest love. You are my eternal summer.

Epilogue

I'm standing on the cliff. The waves crash against the surf. Behind me is a green meadow, its grasses swaying gently in the wind. In the distance, I can see a small island that is completely barren. It seems strangely familiar to me. I walk down to the beach, unhitch the boat and row off. The closer I get to the island, the stronger the swell becomes. The sea seems to be particularly choppy today. With a lot of effort and strength, I make it to the island. There is no landing stage. I have to climb. I attach the boat to a branch sticking out of the surf. I pull myself onto the island. It is completely barren. Isolated. A child sits on a cliff and looks out to the open sea. I approach it with heavy steps. It shows no movement. I sink down and sit next to it. It still shows no movement. It continues to look out to sea with a serene but sad expression. "I knew you would come eventually. I've been waiting for you.’ ’I'm sorry,’ I say, ‘I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. And that I left you behind back then.’ The child turns to me and looks into my face. His features are soft. ‘It's okay. You didn't have a choice. I forgive you.’ A great relief floods through me at his words. I know what I have to do. ‘Do you want to come with me?’ I ask. The child's eyes light up at my words. ‘Are they healthy? The trees?’ he asks me. ‘Yes, I think so.’ ‘Then I'd like to come with you.’ We get up and I take her by the hand. Just before we leave the island, she stops and turns around. ‘I have a wish,’ she says.

‘This island, I want to plant it. I can't do it on my own. Can you help me?’ ‘Yes’, I say and squeeze his hand. "Together we can do it." I help him into the boat. The waves lull us gently over the calm sea. We are safe.

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The characteristics and feelings described in this text could indicate a possible mental disorder. If you identify with this and suffer, please seek professional help. If you or someone you know is in emotional distress, here are some free and confidential support services:

Berlin Crisis Service

24/7 by phone: +49 30 390 63-00

www.berliner-krisendienst.de

Telefonseelsorge

Germany-wide, 24/7 crisis line: +49 800 111 0 111 / +49 800 111 0 222 / 116 123 www.telefonseelsorge.de

Muslim Counseling Line

MuTeS, 24/7: +49 30 443 509 821

www.mutes.de

Doweria Helpline

Russian-speaking, 24/7: +49 30 440 308 454

www.doweria-chat.de

Depression Info Line