Posted by: Jack Hope | Monday April 29, 2013

The Chair

It’s funny how something can be out of mind and out of sight for so long that the fact that it’s been out of mind and out of sight can suddenly be noticed. Such as it is when it comes to Peter, my ex whom I’ve mentioned on and off on this blog.

My last post on the subject, Five Years On, was specifically me noticing that I no longer thought much about him at all.

My mind no longer wanders down those well-worn tracks of its own accord any more.

Many may wonder why my mind often did go down those same mental paths when the relationship was all of 2 years long and now over 5 years in the past.

That’s Clinical Depression for you folks! The Depressed often obsess about things, the mind of a Depressed individual being drawn into those same repetitive patterns, like the needle of a record player playing one of my grandmother’s old worn out records.

Since Peter was and is still to date my only significant relationship, naturally the mistakes and foolhardiness of it drew me in making me an obsessive depressive.

That this has been ending has been the surest sign I am slowly mending.

Naturally, that means something had to come back and remind me of all of this again.

As part of this recent trip to Vancouver, I decided to go ahead and close out my storage locker. A few months ago I would have considered this “quitting” but now I’m seeing a bigger picture, a picture of what I want to attain for myself.

And maintaining a storage locker, with the attendant fees, for the remainder of the year and possibly longer, isn’t the smartest thing to do.

And well, frankly, I’d like to have some of my stuff back.

But there in the storage locker, waiting for me, was the chair.

It’s just one of those leaning Ikea Chairs, nothing really all that special. The cover should probably be replaced.

It’s also the most significant remaining item of my relationship with Peter that is still in my possession. I’ve gotten rid of everything else over the years as I moved about and pursued different goals and life paths.

Somehow though, the chair has always survived every purge. It’s now literally the only pieces of furniture that I actually own, since I have been staying with my parents.

I’m pretty sure there’s some sort of irony in that.

The chair was a Christmas gift from Peter on our first Christmas together. We had been going out for almost a year and he was spending Christmas with my family.

It was the biggest box under the tree. Ever.

It actually couldn’t even fit under the tree so had to be positioned sort of behind it. I have to admit I was really surprised.

I commented on wanting a chair like that in the past but I had never anticipated he would get one for me as a Christmas gift that year.

It quickly became my favourite chair to read in and relax in.

After Peter left though, well things changed. Suddenly my house began to feel uncomfortable to be in. Objects that reminded me of him were undesirable.

Somehow, through the ensuring purges and removals the chair remained in my possession although it was downgraded from “place to sit” to “laundry holder” or “cat residence” or “box storage.” And now its spent over a year in storage.

I opened up my storage locker and there it was, boxes on top of it, a layer of dust collecting around it. The cover will have to be replaced for sure now.

And yet looking at it there, all of the ambivalence was gone.

This is my chair and I want it.

It still symbolizes the same things, love and loss and a person who is no longer in my life. But that’s all a part of my past and my past is a part of me.

I may never have a relationship like the one I had with Peter again. I may never have love (even if he was the wrong person, there was still love) like that with someone in the future.

But I did have it once. This chair is the proof of that and the only thing in the world that can take that love and those memories away from me, is me.

I’m not running from my past anymore. It’s mine.



  1. How true “The Depressed often obsess about things, the mind of a Depressed individual being drawn into those same repetitive patterns, like the needle of a record player playing one of my grandmother’s old worn out records.”

    Re-cover the chair to something that suits you now as a reward for coming so far in your recovery. 🙂

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