Something serious for once ...

Despite having made a substantial number of lengthy posts under this blog, it’s quite rare that I write about something personal. Having been raised in something of an authoritarian household, where discipline reigned supreme, I may have become a little too accustomed to keeping my emotions at bay. Well, this particular post will invariably change all that ….

Some days back, I went for a short stroll in the Rocks, a rustic area to the north of the Sydney CBD that is regarded as being amongst the more popular of Australian tourist destinations. Deciding to avoid the humdrum of the main street, I instead weaved my way through various back alleys until, at long last, I arrived at Observatory Hill – a spectacular city park overlooking the harbour.

Given the rain and cold weather, virtually no-one was around. Standing under an umbrella that wavered perilously in the high winds, I spent several minutes staring out towards the Sydney Harbour Bridge, at that time coated in a fine mist of rain and fog. There was something immensely beautiful and timeless about the image, as if I had been transported into a black and white photograph seeking to capture ‘still life’. Although numerous vehicles were no doubt passing over the bridge during those moments, all were rendered close to invisible owing to a heavy sheet of rain falling from the west.

For quite some time, I wished silently that someone was there to witness this immensely beautiful sight, specifically a young woman named Anissa whom I had proposed to several years prior. It is not she who said no, but rather her parents who threatened to ostracise Anissa should she make the ill-considered decision to marry someone not of their choosing. At day’s end, she was essentially stonewalled into doing her parents’ biddings, despite my best efforts to persuade her to do otherwise.

I can still recall with the utmost clarity the moment Anissa advised me of her final decision. My emotions that day were mixed at best, an intense mix of anger, confusion, frustration and, above all else, sorrow and regret. It beggared belief that an intelligent and independent person, apparently possessed of both rationale and logic, would choose to sacrifice her own happiness for that of two backward-minded bigots. Even more upsetting was my renewed perception of Anissa. A woman once admired was reduced to farce, little more than a confused child held hostage to the alleged ‘best intentions’ of those that raised her.

At the time in question, I honestly felt that no sacrifice would be too burdensome were it capable of securing Anissa’s presence in my life. Given my feelings, I could neither understand nor respect her actions in giving in to the objections of two exceptionally small-minded individuals. Slowly but surely, doubt began to seep into my every thought. Had she ever really loved me? Was there sanity in revoking the heartfelt promise to marry someone at the behest of those whose words defied all logic? Did she realise just how much pain she’d put me in?

At first I thought only of myself, perhaps rather selfishly given the immensely difficult position Anissa had found herself in. I remember her weeping pitifully, whispering ‘I am sorry’ between every heartfelt sob but being too dumbstruck to respond owing to my disbelief. I remember walking away, prying her hands loose from mine and screaming that she not dare follow me. In the month that followed, I regained some composure and tried my utmost to dissuade her from making a decision that would invariably come to be regretted. At first, she listened, but later appeared to have ‘deceived’ herself into believing that the right decision was made.

For now, there’s no need to delve into the specifics of what transpired between Anissa and I in the coming months in terms of seeking to understand one another. It may well be that certain things are better left unsaid.

In wishing that Anissa was by my side, I came to think back to ‘that day’ and the sheer pain of the ensuing emotions is beyond description. Every single breath became laboured, as if a chore, and the world around appeared to have sunk into the earth. Put simply, I felt as if I were standing utterly alone with nothing to hold on to. No sense of belonging, of feeling loved or needed, of even having a home.

A few short seconds later my mobile phone rings.

“Mate, I know it’s the weekend but we both agreed to get some sh*t moving along today. There’s no f*cking way I’m pulling an all nighter on this job so how about you haul ar*e and make your way to the office?”

Difficult as it may be to believe, the above words lent more comfort than I would care to admit. They actually provided a harness out of my moment of misery, for no other reason than conveying the impression that I was ‘needed’ for something.

Later that evening, after my colleague had effectively 'packed it in' after several hours of brain-storming, I spent close to 3 hours sitting alone in a dimly lit boardroom - watching the rain in the distance. I contemplated the numerous transitions I had experienced in my life: living in over 20 countries, attending 14 different schools, successfully completing four degrees, being admitted as a solicitor. One milestone after another, and none had been easy. Despite this breadth of 'life experience', it dawned on me that I had absolutely no comprehension of where my life was headed. The more I thought of Anissa and her absence from my life, the more I felt as if I had no ground on which to walk upon. Worse yet, I was afraid to leave the office due to serious concerns over my judgment and state of mind at that point.

Life has truly reached a new low, in seeking comfort behind office walls.