From the minute I landed back in Ibaraki, I have felt overwhelmed with a sense of homecoming. Dear friends, acquaintances, and even shop owners I knew during my time here, have given me the warm welcome as well as the sameness of being that I hoped for, beyond my expectation. And I am struck by what this place is to me.
I was worried that it would all be so tied up in Junji, that our relationship coming to an end would end so much of what this place is for me. But I know now, it is so much bigger than that. And I am grateful. However, this ending does not come without it’s challenges. For all the joy I feel to be here again, I also feel so much sadness for how different he is to me. So far away. As soon as I said the word a few months ago, that pulling away began, and thus began my anxiety spirals with every day he would not respond to me, with how short his answers have become, and with the aching for his affirmation and love, which he has rightfully been letting go of. It just hurts so much.
When I first saw him, I was not washed with the desire or lust or even abundance of amorous love that I thought I might feel. I was certainly happy to see him, but it felt different. It actually really felt ok that it was different too. And that first night was so magical–friends and music, laughing and talking, drinks and food, late into the early hours of the morning. He was a part of it. And I was glad. To sing with him again was what pulled it all together and made me feel the true sense of coming home. I felt so hopeful, that maybe, everything would be ok. That maybe, we could indeed transform into good friends, and it wouldn’t be so hard.
And as the days have come and gone, they have brought beautiful and loving reunions with so many wonderful people from my life here. Kohsei at the airport, and almost every day since. A steadfast friend who walks beside me with ease and understanding. Ayumi and Chiho, students who reached out to me, reminding me that my work here was important–maybe more than I give myself credit for. Kaori, whose openness with me, sharing of herself, affirmation, and genuine appreciation for who I am makes me feel so at home, and sure that I did, in fact, made some impact here. She assures me, she is always waiting for my return to work beside her again, whenever that may be. Azuma, my teacher, whose warmth and easy nature allow us to continue our coffee shop conversations as if no time has passed at all. Schu, Shouji, Chinatsu, Poky, Ozaki-san, Konishi, Ayako, Aya, Suzy, Yumi, Yumiko, Hisabon… immediately making me feel like I have been here all along, like I have been a part of the conversation, the music, the family, through two years away. I am beside myself with gratitude for this place, these people, this gift in my life. Even some folks who I only knew a little bit before, have come forward, reaching out and spending time with me beyond my expectations. Assuring me that everyone is waiting for a more long-term return, but is so happy I have come for this week in the meantime. There’s a feeling of so much possibility for me here still. For new friends and deepening the relationships with those I have already come to know. For new music and new heart connections with other musicians. And I haven’t even seen everyone yet! I’m at the halfway mark of my trip, with a few very big reunions to come, including Brandon, Mika, and Seanacey! I am so blessed.
But, the other side of the coin–the thing I knew would be hard and is proving to be so: Junji. I have seen him. He has been here, in the background and in the foreground. But like I said, so far away. I want to talk to him, but I don’t even know what I want to say. He did come over on Sunday night. We did sleep together again. But I don’t know if either of us were there. I don’t know if either of us said more than a few sentences to each other. And since then, I haven’t seen him or barely heard from him. Just a few messages late yesterday night to tell me he wouldn’t be coming out–too tired. I don’t blame him for that. It’s been a string of many late nights in a row and he has had to work so early the next mornings. But today, not one word. In the same fashion of so many days since I first told him I thought we needed to end it. The contrast is so sharp from how present and responsive he has always been before, it is jarring. I looked back through some old conversations (probably a bad idea), and before January, he would never go more than a few minutes without responding to me unless he was asleep. On rare occasions when I didn’t hear from him within an hour, he would finally respond with an apology and explanation, and words of love and affirmation. So I know, it’s not for nothing that this silence is so difficult and painful.
I don’t even know what I really want from him. Well, communication, obviously. But about what? What do I want him to say? What do I even want to say to him?
Kohsei has been a true blue friend and support through some challenging moments. He has held my hand and held me together, listening without judgement and offering compassionate validation of my feelings, without saying words against Junji either. He says for Japanese people, it is very hard to go back to being friends after being lovers. I told him, that isn’t just Japanese people–it’s most people. I told him, I just want it both ways, though I know it might not be realistic. I told him, Junji is so important to me, it hurts and scares me that I might not get to keep him in my life. I told him, I am so afraid that ending our romantic relationship means ending everything. His friendship, his partnership in music, our easy comfort together among our friends. I don’t want to lose him completely. He nods and hugs me. He knows.
Maybe what I want is better understanding. I have no indication of where Junji is with all of this, except his silence. And maybe that’s all I’m entitled to. Up to now, I wasn’t thinking of ending things with him as a “breakup.” I didn’t want to see it that way. I wanted to see it as a transformation. But I did initiate this ending, and maybe that’s the way it feels to him. Maybe I won’t get to know. But this waiting for a response. This not knowing when I will see him, when I will get to talk to him, it’s wearing on my nerves and driving me away from being present. I want to drink in all of this beautiful love from my friends, all this music, all this time shared. I don’t want to get stuck on this wanting to be different. But I don’t know how.
Breathe. Gratitude. This is going to be okay. It is only a moment, and it will also pass. And I know now, as I began this entry, that Ibaraki will still be waiting for me with loving, opened arms, Junji or no.
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