Reminders

It's funny how things like a song or scent can take you back to a certain time in your life, or even a moment. The scent of an ex-boyfriend's cologne - often caught in a whiff on a subway car filled with high schoolers - instantly reminds me of the excitement of the first relationship and the terrible distress of having to dump someone.

It also comes with objects, for example when I found my wedding band, stowed away in a box in my new apartment. A twinge of sadness about what it should have meant, along with a terrible, suffocating weight.

But the worst transporting moments are evoked by feelings. For me, it comes in the middle of the night. Irregular late night shifts have left me, on more than one occasion, staring at the ceiling at 4:30 in the morning, feeling absolutely helpless as I hope that sleep will come.

That feeling of helplessness takes me to a terrible moment, the moment when I felt something snap inside me, when I felt both totally trapped and completely detached from my relationship. The point where, deep down, I knew no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep pretending that things would be OK, that maybe there were some things that I couldn't do, and that it was possible for things to be broken beyond repair.

My relationship didn't end that day, not officially. And it wouldn't for months. But for me, that day symbolizes everything that was wrong with that point in my life.

And, like all unpleasantness, even when you've moved past it and are thankful to have shut that door, the reminders can still cut you to the quick. Especially in the middle of the night.