Of Excuses, Exceptions, & Excesses

So it has been a week since I last wrote. An eventful one. A few people from out of town visited and when they left one by one, it was almost as if they left all at once, leaving voids all around. It’s like the dust has settled and what remains is what matters. Or vice versa. I learned a few things and asked a few questions.

Memories were created. So often memories are built on emotions. They are built on how we felt in that moment which created the memory. That is why, I believe, some memories are so strong. That is why some memories linger. That is why each memory can still evoke that same emotion we’d felt. It is the letting go of the emotions which is difficult and that may well be the reason why a person we haven’t talked to in ages still holds a soft spot in the recesses of our hearts. He or she made us feel good–and that’s what we can’t let go of. The emotions related to a person we don’t want in our lives any longer must be destroyed to truly rid ourselves of the person. Those feelings must be forgotten. Someone asked me what I liked about a certain guy I’d dated. I could think of nothing to say except: He made me feel good. He made me happy, yes. But he made me happy once upon a time. And even that can be tough to let go of.

When is the end really The End? When is it really and truly over? When do we really give up hope? When do we really stop trying? What does it take? What will it take? What must happen to jolt us to reality? What will make us stop making excuses and exceptions?

Sometimes what we think are exceptions are just excuses made for ourselves. When we know we’re making excuses we’re making those for another person’s behaviour. But when we tell ourselves that we’re making an exception, we’re really just making excuses for our own behaviours. We must make these excuses for ourselves because the other person isn’t making any and isn’t even leaving us room to make any excuses for them. So we start making exceptions. It’s our only option. After all, we so desperately want to get along.

Sometimes we think we know exactly what we’re doing. We think we’re consciously making our own decisions when really we’re aligning our thoughts to reflect those of another person. We aren’t really in control. We think we are, but actually the other person is. The other person has made their decision and we are just going along with it. We are changing the way we think so it matches that decision, so it seems like a mutual decision when, really, it’s anything but. It’s an exception we’ve made.  Realising this will only make us more unlikely to change our rules for another person again. One can only hope it will make us stop making exceptions too.

Maybe we learn without even realising it. Tread cautiously, I’d told myself. Subconsciously. I didn’t even know it. But, I suppose now, we do learn. We learn to identify patterns and no matter what appears to be different this time we are prepared for the inevitable. Any deviation from the pattern is simply an anomaly. We want to believe that the anomaly is a change of path, but deep within us we know that it isn’t.

It was on purpose that I would leave a door open for a person’s return and I would leave some means of communication possible, in case they ever wanted to find their way back. But this time, all avenues are closed. When they want to look for a way in, they will find none. This is when it’s truly over. This time it isn’t anyone else’s decision.

I watched that episode of that show. The one which always touches me. That letter, read out over the last few scenes, could always get to me.  It always made me think of what could be when I’d hear it. But now, it didn’t mean anything, it didn’t make me think of anything. It was painless. Now I’m immune. It is when I stop being touched by little things like that that I know I’m over it and I don’t want it back and I never will.

There’s a moment when the clouds part and the sun shines down on the treasure. That’s what it feels like in the moment where the loving stops and the indifference begins. The emotions we were struggling to keep alive are destroyed by a final act and the memories will now fade. This is closure. This is The End. Fin.


Add Yours
  1. hellionworks

    Beautifully expressed, every bit of it. I particularly liked that bit about that moment where the loving ends and the indifference begins. While the circumstances you have described would not mirror mine or anyone else’s exactly, the realisation, and the subsequent restructuring of our emotional response… which again is truly involuntary… is probably the point where circumstances change inexorably, and mostly for the better at that. I’ve had a similar experience recently, and while I did harbour a fair amount of resentment (thankfully, for the shortest period ever), deep down somewhere, the realisation persists that whatever has happened, and whatever I have done as a consequence of it, may not have been perfect, but is as right a thing to have done as can ever be!!

    On another note, I had been waiting for a while for a new post, and as expected, you’ve set the bar a notch higher, yet again! Keep it comin’!!

    • Karishma

      Thank you! Every so often we must take a breather and come back revitalised, or so I hope!
      It’s true that each one of us must go through that tumult, that moment of change which can alter our feelings forever.

  2. My Musings

    The end is when one can say about this person and to this person:

    “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

    Spoken by Clark Gable in the Civil War epic Gone with the Wind, this is the most memorable American movie quotation of all time (#1 on the list). Try saying it aloud, and then smile.


Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.