The breeze that is produced as I fan through the pages of The Scrabble Dictionary smells musty and aged. The pages are colored old; that yellow color that looks like tea stained cloth. The air against my cheeks feels good nonetheless as I fan through the letters Q, R, and S. I am looking for the right word. Not for the board; for my feelings.
It is a day with a nameless feeling. As I have made my way through the storm of emotions that go hand-in-hand with divorce, I have become much too acquainted with each one: sad, angry, peaceful, etc. But it is also in this divorce that I have come to realize that there exists an array of emotions too unique and complex to have identities.
And such is life. I cannot over-dramatize the emotions that play a diminutive yet devastating role in this my current state. However, it is a stubborn thing in me that wants to understand. What is the identity of that which causes me to dream the things I do? When the emotion of anger marries that of regret, how do I refer to its combination?
Adorned in an imaginary lab coat and protective eye wear, I bravely set out to classify that which mysteriously descends upon my heart. The official Scrabble dictionary in one hand, my journal in the other, and a dimly lit, quiet room; when the usual ache deep in my stomach sets in, I get to work.
Just as my science grade for junior year testified, experiments are not my strong point, scientific, emotional, or otherwise. This task is a great undertaking so I plan to give up, and with good reason. As the one year mark hauntingly approaches, the emotions of divorce have graciously begun to fade. And as they lift their weight from my shoulders, I find that they disappear into a world where they mingle and mix only to come back unexpectedly to reminisce.
Cue brief stomach ache or random spurt of anger travelling down arm into rapid fist. The dangerous blend of formerly prominent emotions hits fast and unpredictably. A quiet walk down Kenmore Ave on a sunny evening is disrupted by my clenched fist. Maybe a sound, a sight, a smell triggers a feeling and just like that I am overwhelmed. But it is only present for a mere minute, for as fast as it arrives, it disappears.
I look forward to the ones that flood me with excitement or subdue me with sweet peace. The melancholy ones are usually over rated, the hurtful ones just plain hurtful. But the contrast of emotions makes me feel alive. Their random occurrences, whether positive or negative, are bittersweet reminders of what I survived.
“Survived,” at that word’s utterance my shoulders relax. I feel good. And by “good” I mean happy, joyful, superb, fearless, free, hopeful, excited, light, supreme, blessed, strong, cheerful, amazing, marvelous, incredible, glad, courageous… Oops, it’s nameless.
