She: The Volcano and the Reservoir.

This has nothing to do with H Rider Haggard; this is not about She who must be obeyed, but she who must be endured.

I saw her today. She said ‘hello’ politely, and I replied with something equally inconsequential while keeping a firm grip on the volcano which grumbled immediately and then erupted as usual. To continue the Ayesha theme, the volcano might be said to be That which must be kept hidden.

And then the same thing happened as always happens: some reservoir of something vital deep inside of me dropped to an uncomfortably low level. I felt empty of some essential but unidentifiable resource, and the feeling continued for some time. It brought me low as it always does, even though I wouldn’t label the lowness ‘depression.’ Depression is different.

The last seven months have been rocky for me; seven months of a serious and undulating health issue which is still ongoing. I still have cause to consider that I might not be here this time next year, and I’ve said on this blog before that for the first time in my life I have felt the need of both practical and emotional support. I imagine it’s something I needed to feel in order to understand those who feel it habitually. It’s never been one of my habits and so I never understood it before.

The interesting fact is, however, that every time something happened to produce anxiety, disappointment, depression, and even fear, she was always the first person I thought of. She was the one I looked to to provide the kind of support so aggravatingly lacking, even though she wasn’t there and never will be.

I should say that this is none of her doing and is not, nor ever can be, of any consequence to her. This is my cross to carry, but I have to say that it gets a bit heavy at times. Furthermore, it isn’t how it must appear to a disinterested observer. I never had any romantic aspirations in her direction because, in the final analysis, I am ever the rationalist. I always knew what the many barriers were – not least the overwhelming age gap between us – and so I always managed to keep my inclinations from slipping over onto that most perilous of roads. This is something more subtle and more profound. It feels like an unbroken connection going back through the mists of time, an invisible connection which tugs mercilessly to be made manifest again. I suppose I’m being fanciful in saying as much, but that’s how it feels.

A couple of hours after I’d seen her today I began an imaginary conversation with her. I’d just rolled a cigarette and was smoking it when she walked past me only a few feet away. She appeared not to have noticed my presence, although it’s equally possible that she had noticed but chose the pretence as a better alternative to saying ‘hello’ again. That would be understandable. And then I watched her walk to her car and drive away, at which point the reservoir level began to rise again. That’s how it always happens.

I need to get her out from under my skin. I’ve tried many times to do that; I’ve even thought that I’d succeeded on occasion, but it seems not. She continues to haunt and haunt and haunt, even though she doesn’t know she’s doing it.

So what do I do about all this? Learn from it, I suppose, as I always do.