cara Esther,
I’m E., a young lawyer who for months has been looking for the answers to his love pains in your sentences. Today, I decided to write to you.
Coming to the point: now almost a year ago i cheated on my boyfriendI felt left out because of his work and I fell, in a period of great stress, into a canvas bigger than me.
We had a future perspective, but impatient and in a moment of emotional fragility I succumbed to the attentions of another man.
Discovered the deception I went out of my way to recover, working primarily on myself with months and months of therapy. He, distant but pungent enough. The classic “you go your way but I observe you from afar”, an invisible thread to bind us.
The improvements in my psychoanalysis journey have been clear, but I’ll get to the point.
After months of silent buzzing he granted me a couples therapy session. On the occasion he expressed little, he spoke of confusion and fears, dismissing us with an “I’ll think about it”.
When I got off the studio, the unthinkable happened: after a nasty argument, his emotionality got the better of him and he succeeded in a romantic kiss.
I went back in time, it gave me hope, I believed in slow and imperceptible progress. I rejoiced, waited, prayed, cried, but… nothing.
His reaction is objectively in line with his words: confused, but I really don’t know how to take it anymore, I think I’ve run out of resources, both to go on (which isn’t what I want), and to want me again Well.
We are symmetrical in not being at the point of giving up, given that, neither of them is willing to say it’s over.
Here is my question: what to do in these cases, when you have done that much which, even if understood, was not enough?
A sentence from your book warms my heart which says “After all, you realize love when the alternative is not possible: it cannot be done without you, so we might as well start thinking about being with you for the rest of the life. life”.
Is it possible, despite everything that is nothing, to still hope for it?
I hug you
AND.
Esther Viola’s answer
Dear E,
Hope again. I’ve always done it, saving myself. I have always given up on the street, due to tiredness, exhaustion of strength, strokes of reasoning obtained with breadcrumbs.
The power of hope
It was the only way I could. Hope is too powerful, fabulous goddess, sure remedy. The sun always beats us, in the palaces of hope. Let’s face it: hopefully because hoping makes you feel better.
Then of course, there are those magnificent corsairs of life with a revulsion for expectations. What I would give to have been one of them. Now I would write to you perhaps from a rocket going to Mars.
It is the omnipotence of “what do I do now?”, being in love. Great bouts of confusion, then you console yourself alone, after which you say “goodbye”, always alone, then you rephrase it into “let’s see what happens”. You can do anything except choose. Going wrong somewhere, that is, love without remedy.
It saves us the fact that guessing or making mistakes doesn’t change anything: ask those who seem happy to you if they deserve their happy life or have they made the combinations anyway. And find some happy honest ones (very rare dodos), to ask him the question.
It is not so much having the possibility of an intelligent choice, as recognizing it in time, gear up for the swallowing of the toad.
Therefore there is no reflection that holds, E. If they don’t put us at a crossroads, no one will change course. The only subject the lover is prepared for is waiting: he expects everything to go well or he expects it to pass. In the middle we say “we’ll make it this time too”. And do you know what? We do well.
No aphorisms for you, nothing at all. Stay to see how it goes, if that’s all you can do.
Or run away and change everything, run away even crying, if needed, it would be the best thing, you already tell yourself. But these best things, who has ever known how to do them? Where are these blacksmiths of their own destiny, what families did they have, where do they get science?
We like to convince ourselves that we are resolute, capable of resisting, capable of starting over. A little heroic, when we talk about how that time we got back on our knees and pulled ourselves off the ground. But let’s keep the epic of making it for when it’s really needed, the worst, the real one, never comes as a decision, always as a blow to the forehead. The possibilities, how beautiful the possibilities are, how big you have to be to get them out of your head, give up, make other lives that aren’t the one we want.
Must one wait to be desperate to become invincible? But isn’t there another way? Meanwhile it’s spring, E., something to do while the world doesn’t go as we say we find it safe.
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