The Forest for the Trees

For an addict, 'one day at a time' is the most important constant. Don't worry about anything beyond today, beyond this hour or minute or whatever. You have to tackle life as it comes. Don't worry about the forest, just think about the tree that's right in front of you. Don't run into it, figure out how to step around it. Before you know it, you can turn around and look at the forest that you escaped. That's the concept.

But ya know what's really fucked up? When you turn around and you look at the forest, it's kinda pretty. And you didn't really enjoy any of it because the trees were just obstacles, not beautiful pieces of natural art. You don't look at the ground because you can't over think it, so you miss that amazing wild moss that grows everywhere. And you can't look for the birds singing in those trees, because you have to focus on the things that are in your way. You miss the whole fucking thing, and all you can really do is trust that you did what was 'best' or 'healthiest'. That the freedom of standing on the other side is better than anything you missed in the forest.

Except that you can't even enjoy the freedom, because there's another forest right in front of you, and you have to get through that one next. What I'm always wondering now is when it stops? When does living life stop being a chore and start being enjoyable? Isn't it supposed to be? At some point, aren't I supposed to love life completely? Not just fill it up with distractions that will help me get through the day. I'm surviving. I'm not living.

So when I left Maria in the gym yesterday, I went back to my room and called the doctor. I asked him that very question: When is it okay for me to stop trying to survive and just start living? Is that ever going to be possible? And ya know what that fucker told me? That I have to confront the only issue that I have completely suppressed. I told him that I'm not suppressing anything, and he told me that I'm only dodging every obstacle because I haven't uprooted the biggest tree in the entire forest.

"Hey, you."

Oh, look. It's the fucking redwood. "Randy. Hey," I smile softly from my place behind the arena. It's been a hot minute since I've found myself backstage at a WWE event, and I thought I could do it. But stepping inside has been kind of a trip, so I just texted him and asked him to meet me. Baby steps, kids. That's all I can do.

He accepts the light that I'm offering and we puff slowly on our cigarettes, avoiding each other's eyes and opening our mouths to speak without actually forming any words. God, why is it so hard? I can be honest about damn near everything else in my life, so why can't I just do that with him? Why can't I just fucking open my mouth and talk about this last hurdle?

"Look, I'm not gonna waste your time, Randy," I blurt without thinking. Because if I think, I won't say a damn word. I won't be able to. "You and I have been dancing around this issue for a long damn time, man." I expect him to ask me what issue that is, but he just nods. "I tell everyone they're full of shit, but I think the truth is that I am.

"I am full of shit every time I say that I can do this, Randy," I turn toward him, watching his profile as he continues to refuse to glance in my direction. "I can't keep pretending that I can be me without you. That I'm better off without you." There. I said it. Out loud. To the person that I'm supposed to to say it to.

So why isn't he saying anything? Why isn't he nodding anymore or throwing his arms around me and telling me that he agrees? "You and I both know it's not healthy," is all he gives me, taking yet another puff.

Maybe he's just not ready to admit it yet? Maybe he just needs a little more prodding. "See, that's what I thought, too," I tell him. He needs to know that I see where he's coming from, and that I was in the same place not so long ago. Thinking that being with him would mean that I couldn't live without him. That it would mean relapsing and all of those horribly co-dependent things that I don't want to be ever again. But none of that is true. "Randy, I know that I can live without you. I know that I can get in that car," I point toward my rental, "fly back to LA, and live a perfectly fulfilled life without you in it."

"Then why are we even having this conversation?"

Now that I've started laying it out there, nothing seems so hard anymore. All of it feels easy flowing out of my mouth. "Because I don't want to. I don't wanna be me without you. My life is better when you are in it, Randy Orton."

He just flicks his cigarette and turns to me, his hands on his hips. "You can't possibly know that." He shrugs his shoulders. "You and I have never been good. We've never been together like that, Tate." Shaking his head, he finally meets my gaze. "You can't possibly know all that shit." He sighs heavily, and I can tell that it's not easy for him to say that, but I can also tell that he believes it.

But that doesn't mean that I can't change his mind. Doesn't mean that we're not right for each other. Because more than I have ever believed anything in my life, I believe that we are meant to be together. "We were, Randy. We were right," I plead with him to just hear me. "It was twisted, and it was fucked up, yes. But underneath it, we were everything true romance and beauty. There are parts that we don't know yet," I concede his doubts, "That we can't possibly know. But I really want to try it. I want to try to make it work with you."

"Why?" His eyes flit to my hand on his arm and then back to my face and I see the little boy who just wants someone to tell him the truth, and let him believe that the world is how it should be. I see the man that I fell so desperately in love with. "I mean, why now?" he asks, conflict written all over his expression. "After three years, Tatum? We are both in good places. You have a man. I have Jamie," he lays out all of the reasons that we can't possibly work.

But I've thought of all of those things already. And then some. I don't think I would have done this if I hadn't thought of how we can overcome those obstacles. "What is the point of having someone if it's not the person you're fucking nuts about? What the hell is the point of going through life with someone who's just good enough? Especially when you know that there's someone out there who is fucking perfect?" I settled for the life I thought I deserved for years, and it led me to rehab and a fucking life that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I'm not doing it again. Not if I can help it.

Randy says nothing - just looks at me and then the ground. He's shaking. I don't know if he's aware of that, but his arms are shaking. Tears are collecting in the corners of his eyes, but he's trying like hell not to let them fall. I don't want to hurt him, but we can't keep running from this shit. Jamie was right about one thing when she stopped by my place the other night. This shit has got to stop. Business has to be finished.

"Look in my eyes, Randy," I beg him, grabbing his hand so he can't turn away. He doesn't. "You and me? We're cut from the same cloth, kid. And I know you. I know that you love what you do because you love traveling around the world and seeing new things, meeting interesting people. I know that your favorite parts of traveling overseas is dancing in the rain in Paris, and swimming naked off the coast of Morocco. I know that you love being able to do whatever the hell you wanna do on your days off, no schedules and no responsibilities."

I think it would have confused him less if I had just waited for him to walk out the door and then smacked him over the head with a frying pan. Maybe I could have started speaking Mandarin, because I think he might have understood that a little more clearly. Or at least looked like he did. Instead, his face is all screwed up and I think he might be getting a headache.

The best thing to do in this situation is probably back off and give him some time to think about it, but I'm not known for doing the best thing. So I just tightened my grip on his hand and take a step forward. And I go for the jugular. Because, let's face it, all is fair game in love, right? "Can you honestly tell me that Jamie is the kind of girl you can live that life with? The one who can show you the passion and the liberating lifestyle that you need to be happy?" He flinches, and I think maybe I got through to him.

But he doesn't answer. He just opens his mouth to speak and then snaps it shut again, like he doesn't trust his own words at the moment. Okay, so NOW is the time to back off.

"Look, I know it's a lot to spring on you like this," I tell him, squeezing his forearm while he stares over the top of my head. "I just felt like I had to let you know where I was coming from. I want you to think about it," I tell him and pull my car keys from my pockets. "My flight leaves tomorrow morning at 6:30. And I don't wanna give you an ultimatum, but I would really love it if you would come see me off."

And with that, I leave. I don't know what Randy's going to decide. And I don't know what I'm going to do if he decides to stay where he is. As of right now, with the way I feel about him and the life that I know we could have? I just can't see anything else being as perfect.