Doom X Heartbreak

September 14, 2021 - 5 comments

Doom.

This is my bass guitar, “Doom” (take a guess what music genre I like). It’s not a particularly cool or expensive guitar. No fancy pickups, no custom body, nothing. Two of the knobs have even taken it upon themselves to fall off when I practice. It’s basic. It’s boring. And it’s probably one of the most important things I own.

I bought Doom over a year ago from a small shop on Guitar Street in Saigon. My then-boyfriend (henceforth referred to as X) and I had returned there a week after spending the better part of an afternoon going from shop to shop in search of a used bass guitar. The one we finally came upon was not only new, but just as cheap as the used ones we’d looked at. I sat by as X tested it out, occasionally having a chat with the shopkeeper in a mixture of his broken Vietnamese and the shopkeeper’s broken English. Despite my failed attempt at haggling down the price, I decided to bite the bullet, and walked out proudly with a shiny new bass slung over my back. The experience was only made better by X’s shared excitement about my new toy.

I don’t remember how or when I arrived at the decision to start playing bass, or if it was even my idea for that matter. I just remember that at some point, X had started roping me into practicing riffs on his acoustic guitar on a regular basis. I’d been interested in playing bass for a long time, but never had the confidence to follow through with learning. It always seemed too intimidating, too much work, too outside the realm of my abilities. But for some reason, X was really determined to get me learning. Before I knew it I was playing guitar and enjoying it. Wtf? It was as if he casted a spell that lifted away all my doubts and hangups about being able to play an instrument.

It wasn’t magic though. X was not only a skilled guitarist, but an equally great teacher. He pushed me just enough to get my fingers on the frets and practice until I lost all sense of time. He explained theory with the curiosity of a scientist and the passion of an artist. He gave me exercises that were just enough of a challenge to activate my hyperfocus, but not so much that I wanted to give up. I finally felt like music was something I could feasibly pursue and not just something I’d dabble in for short bursts of time, ultimately leading nowhere.

X was best music teacher I ever had. He was also the worst boyfriend I ever had.

The music lessons were a small patch of weeds in the middle of a desert wasteland. For all the good X cultivated in that pocket of our relationship, he did tenfold the damage in the rest of it. When I say X was the worst boyfriend I ever had, I don’t say so casually. I even debated whether he took that spot over my first boyfriend who emotionally abused me for nearly 4 years. But when I think about the impact X had on me over the course of the year we were together, in proportion to my overall mental stability (I was a much less resilient and stable person during my first relationship), I’d say the ppm of toxicity X brought to my life is unmatched.

9 months into our relationship I discovered that X had been cheating on me from the beginning of our relationship. He’d been sexting numerous girls across all social apps available. He even solicited prostitutes. He kept all of this a secret from me. One day he tried to convince someone come to his apartment to sleep with him. The next day I met up with him. I gave him four origami flowers with poetry written inside as a Valentine’s day gift. He gave me herpes.

This doesn’t even break the surface of everything he did to me. To be clear, he never laid his hands on me–it’s not in his nature to be violent. What he did do was lie to me, gaslight me, and maim me emotionally to the point where I became suicidal. It’s been over 7 months since I last spoke to him, and some days I can still feel the cuts he left throb in my soul.

The thing about abusive relationships, what makes them so hard to walk away from, is the rare moments of emotional bliss you get to enjoy in between all the fights and tears. Those vignettes of happiness that you reminisce on years later. I wouldn’t wish what X did to me on anyone, but I can’t lie and say that I don’t cherish the breadcrumb moments that had me hanging on desperately to a relationship that was killing me on the inside. All those times we were in perfect harmony and felt nothing but pure love for each other.

Lighting each other’s cigarettes during breaks at comedy shows.

The nights of getting high and cooking dinner together.

Flying down by the canal at night on his Honda Dream singing our favourite songs.

And of course, the hours he spent teaching me how to play guitar like no one else could. Showing a level of patience, support, and encouragement that would fool anyone about his capacity as a boyfriend. I play bass now because of him. I bought Doom, my very first guitar, with him. His memory is intrinsically tied to the massive object that sits in my room staring at me every day.

I still feel pangs of anger when I think about X and the things he did to me. Some days when I ruminate too much I even wish he was dead. For the most part, however, I feel much more stable and content than I ever have. I can pick up Doom and play a song X had taught me without being overcome with painful memories.

And that is why Doom is so important to me. It’s not just a cheap instrument. It’s not a reminder of one of the worst times of my life.

It’s a totem for my newfound resilience and strength. I can reconcile the darkest days of my life with the best days, and the dualisms that can exist in others. Life isn’t perfect, and people most certainly aren’t. I’m going forward with my life knowing that whatever happens to me, it doesn’t have to become baggage.