There are many ways to burn a bridge. Toss a match; ignite gasoline; dynamite; a bundle of C-4. Sometimes, if you are the unlucky soul to whom this happens, you can even burn a bridge simply by being you and loving.
A bridge in my life was recently burned, demolished. Choices I made resulted in an explosive demolition akin to using every single method listed above at the exact same time. The odd thing is, however, the bridge was smoldering before I took a step in any direction. Did I make the wrong choice? No. I still don’t think I did. I used both my heart and my mind to come to a conclusion. Did my choice have ramifications? Yes. But, also, no. Because, you see, this bridge that has hardly any evidence of its once existing would have burned regardless of my choice.
For a bridge to be a successful structure, all its supports need to be functioning. If one day, a certain support decides to take the day off, there goes the bridge. This is, in essence what would have happened no matter what my choice had been. For, how can I take up the slack on a relationship when the other end has decided to ruminate and steep in the poisonous tea that is jealousy and self-loathing? When this noxious feeling took root before I had even a chance to make a choice? Wrong or otherwise? There is absolutely nothing I could have done. I can say “I love you” and wish happiness and contemplate gentleness and wish Happy Birthday with a smile as much as I want. It won’t matter. It would never have mattered.
It is always so unnerving to find you were wrong about the strength of a friendship. It’s like when construction finally ends on I-15 and you think, “Aaahhh. Now some road trip peace.” Only to learn that in a few months they are ripping it out and starting over. Again.
It’s like believing you have a help-you-hide-the-body friend (if you have confusion, check into the film Grosse Point Blank) only to discover that that friend would much rather expose you, right before stabbing you in the neck with a pen.
It’s like being taken to an island paradise for a week of blissful beauty only to discover upon your arrival, after the boat that brought you has departed, that there is no trace of fresh water. Anywhere.
How can one possibly combat rage that is fueled by irrational, unrelenting jealousy and a refusal to seek catharsis? How can one combat rage when the one so full of fury is determined beyond reason to keep seeing you as the end all demon of a lifetime? I can see no way. It is like that bridge…. If one support weakens and a tidal wave approaches… there is nothing to do but brace yourself and watch it crumble. And afterward, all you can do is search out the next best route to the other side.
So, did I make the wrong decision? No. Absolutely not.
Is there anything I could have done to prevent this demolition? With all the negativity and smoldering that occurred before I took a step in any direction, I can see nothing I could have done to stop it.
Is there anything I can do now to begin reconstruction? At this point, all I can see is writing.
What a perilous journey it is through Girl World.