It's funny how such small things can send you into a tailspin.
I got a small note from my ex-friend BiB yesterday. There wasn't anything personal in it (it was literally only one sentence in length) but just to see it in my inbox? Before I opened it I felt that sickly sort of mixed feeling of dread/anticipation start churning in my gut, and my breath caught in my throat. Gahhh.
So I opened it, read it. Sat there a moment before I realized that a smile had started to settle on my lips. Though the note said nothing, it said something......if that makes sense. It said we haven't spoken for nearly a month now and BiB's still reading the last note I sent and it was saying BiB probably thought I was going to cave and get back in touch and was just now starting to realize that I was serious. It was saying that BiB was thinking about me. And that was why the smile was on my face.
Yes, I'll admit it. I want BiB to think about me. I don't want to be an afterthought, I want to be a regret. I want to feel confident that BiB realizes that what happened between us was a direct result of my unwillingness to accept the kind of treatment I was receiving. I think this -- an extension of contact this far removed from our last communication -- is a bit of acknowledgement that all of that is already clear to BiB.
That is, if I'm not just making a mountain out of a molehill (gee like I've never done that before.) Sometimes a sentence is just that......a sentence.
I want to say that this thing doesn't bother me that much but I'd be lying and I don't feel like lying to myself much anymore. BiB matters a hell of a lot to me and what BiB thinks of me and about me matters a hell of a lot to me. I know it's best that things are the way they are but that doesn't mean I have to like it.
It also doesn't mean I'll be re-establishing contact. I'll respond to the sentence with a sentence, as politeness is called for in this instance. But I won't be using this as a springboard to try to reconnect. That ball is not in play in my court. It is in BiB's.
((Song: "Stupid Girl" by Garbage. Lyrics here:
http://www.garbage.com/discog/?v=so&a=1&id=6 ))
Friday, June 29, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Bwuhahahaha.....
Oh yeah! Gotta love this post. Go here immediately:
http://underthepalms.blogspot.com/
and scroll down to
Sunday, June 24, 2007
A Matter of National Pride
Hah!
(oh, and this is nice too, a speech about jealousy.......http://tacit.livejournal.com/157242.html ))
.
http://underthepalms.blogspot.com/
and scroll down to
Sunday, June 24, 2007
A Matter of National Pride
Hah!
(oh, and this is nice too, a speech about jealousy.......http://tacit.livejournal.com/157242.html ))
.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
The Flies and Spiders Get Along Together
I've decided on a new place to live. It's a great apartment, three bedrooms -- one for daughter when she comes to stay a few days -- and the layout is great! The price is awesome and the location is good though not primo (meaning I could move a bit more north and have to drive less but this one is across the street from one of daughter's friends and only about 4 miles from my current home.) V and I will move in around mid-July.
I'm excited. My own place. I can decorate my own room, in my own way. I can surround myself in new things with new energy and.....and......oh perhaps it's silly. But I am full of anticipation. A new phase is about to begin. Here's to making it the best new phase that I can.
I'm turning 40 in 5 days. Wow. Talk about a new phase! I'll get back to you on my thoughts about that after the dirty deed is done, hehehe.
The best thing about today? I spent time with my kiddo. She and I talked a bit on the way to an antique mall today and I brought up something I heard her say a few days ago to her. I'd heard her say she wanted to tell some chick in the mall that she was a lesbian -- which was different from being bisexual as she's said in the past -- and I mentioned this to her. I asked her if she still considered herself bi, or if she'd changed her mind and was lesbian. She said that she was lesbian, not bi -- I asked her to clarify that she only liked girls and she said yes, only girls -- and I nodded and said that was fine and then asked her why it had changed. She said it hadn't, just that she was feeling more confident in allowing herself to show her true feelings. I told her that was a good thing, that I was happy for her and that I supported her, and moved the conversation on to other things.
We went into the antique mall and wandered the place, picked out a horseshoe gun rack for her .22, and sat eating together at a little tea room attached to the mall. She tried a goulash-style beef soup and I had a turkey sandwich and we shared -- more like devoured! -- a warm chocolate cake with nutmeg and cinnamon baked in and whipped cream and strawberries on top. Thank the gods she inherited my love of chocolate!
We talked and spent time together. Precious moments. I looked at her across the table and just thought about how proud I am to be her mom. I am so totally un-objective about this kid. She's so great in so many ways and I can't wait to see who she is when she fully becomes her own woman.
On the drive from the mall I told her I wanted her to see the apartment I was thinking about and so we stopped by. She wandered around the place and nodded and I could see she liked it; her eyes were lit up in that way she has when something excites her. She was seeing possibilities and I could see she was thinking about how nice it would be to spend time there. She told the man showing us the place that "her mom was moving out of her dad's place and getting her own place with her friend" and there was no hint of upset or discomfort, she was merely stating fact. I made a mental note of it.
On the drive back to the house I brought it up. "So, kiddo, you are okay with this?"
"Sure I am, mom," she replied.
"Well," I started, not sure really how to start except dive in, "well, I'm glad, because for so many years I was worried about how hurt you would be or how it would damage you forever. I thought you'd hate me. I thought you'd blame me."
"Mom, the only way this would hurt me is if you and dad hated each other. And you don't."
I was quiet a minute, absorbing my daughter's maturity. Then I asked her, "Well, me and your dad aren't angry at each other or anything, you know. But haven't you ever thought that being angry at each other would make more sense? That if we were fighting we could yell I hate you at each other and then just leave? I mean, aren't you the least bit curious about why two people who love each other would still break up?"
"Maybe, mom. Maybe it would make more sense. But I'm glad that's not happening here."
I looked over at her. "Me too, honey. Because I love your dad. I'll always love your dad. And someday soon when you're a bit older I'll sit you down and explain in detail why this is happening if you ever care to know. All you have to do is ask. I figure you're probably old enough now, you are pretty smart, but I'll let you ask me if you want to know. Even your dad has wondered how we tell people what happened, if we're not angry.....how we explain it, you know? And I say it's hard to explain except that...." and here I paused. Gathered my thoughts, and pushed on.
"Well, let me try to explain it this way. You know how sometimes people just grow up and become different than what they were as kids? Adults do it too. It's like for years you wear one pair of pants, your favorite pair, and one day you find you've outgrown them. You didn't want to outgrow them, it just sort of happened. And even though you love them every bit as much as you ever did you can't wear them any longer. So you don't throw them away because you love them so much, you just fold them up in your drawer and keep them forever. But you can't ever wear them again. You just can't. You know?"
"Yeah, mom. I know." She smiled at me and for the first time I could really see and feel the truth of what she was telling me. She was truly okay with it.
And I felt an incredibly huge weight slip off my shoulders.
((Song: "Frank Sinatra" by Cake. Lyrics here:
http://artists.letssingit.com/cake-frank-sinatra-kn92jg5 ))
I'm excited. My own place. I can decorate my own room, in my own way. I can surround myself in new things with new energy and.....and......oh perhaps it's silly. But I am full of anticipation. A new phase is about to begin. Here's to making it the best new phase that I can.
I'm turning 40 in 5 days. Wow. Talk about a new phase! I'll get back to you on my thoughts about that after the dirty deed is done, hehehe.
The best thing about today? I spent time with my kiddo. She and I talked a bit on the way to an antique mall today and I brought up something I heard her say a few days ago to her. I'd heard her say she wanted to tell some chick in the mall that she was a lesbian -- which was different from being bisexual as she's said in the past -- and I mentioned this to her. I asked her if she still considered herself bi, or if she'd changed her mind and was lesbian. She said that she was lesbian, not bi -- I asked her to clarify that she only liked girls and she said yes, only girls -- and I nodded and said that was fine and then asked her why it had changed. She said it hadn't, just that she was feeling more confident in allowing herself to show her true feelings. I told her that was a good thing, that I was happy for her and that I supported her, and moved the conversation on to other things.
We went into the antique mall and wandered the place, picked out a horseshoe gun rack for her .22, and sat eating together at a little tea room attached to the mall. She tried a goulash-style beef soup and I had a turkey sandwich and we shared -- more like devoured! -- a warm chocolate cake with nutmeg and cinnamon baked in and whipped cream and strawberries on top. Thank the gods she inherited my love of chocolate!
We talked and spent time together. Precious moments. I looked at her across the table and just thought about how proud I am to be her mom. I am so totally un-objective about this kid. She's so great in so many ways and I can't wait to see who she is when she fully becomes her own woman.
On the drive from the mall I told her I wanted her to see the apartment I was thinking about and so we stopped by. She wandered around the place and nodded and I could see she liked it; her eyes were lit up in that way she has when something excites her. She was seeing possibilities and I could see she was thinking about how nice it would be to spend time there. She told the man showing us the place that "her mom was moving out of her dad's place and getting her own place with her friend" and there was no hint of upset or discomfort, she was merely stating fact. I made a mental note of it.
On the drive back to the house I brought it up. "So, kiddo, you are okay with this?"
"Sure I am, mom," she replied.
"Well," I started, not sure really how to start except dive in, "well, I'm glad, because for so many years I was worried about how hurt you would be or how it would damage you forever. I thought you'd hate me. I thought you'd blame me."
"Mom, the only way this would hurt me is if you and dad hated each other. And you don't."
I was quiet a minute, absorbing my daughter's maturity. Then I asked her, "Well, me and your dad aren't angry at each other or anything, you know. But haven't you ever thought that being angry at each other would make more sense? That if we were fighting we could yell I hate you at each other and then just leave? I mean, aren't you the least bit curious about why two people who love each other would still break up?"
"Maybe, mom. Maybe it would make more sense. But I'm glad that's not happening here."
I looked over at her. "Me too, honey. Because I love your dad. I'll always love your dad. And someday soon when you're a bit older I'll sit you down and explain in detail why this is happening if you ever care to know. All you have to do is ask. I figure you're probably old enough now, you are pretty smart, but I'll let you ask me if you want to know. Even your dad has wondered how we tell people what happened, if we're not angry.....how we explain it, you know? And I say it's hard to explain except that...." and here I paused. Gathered my thoughts, and pushed on.
"Well, let me try to explain it this way. You know how sometimes people just grow up and become different than what they were as kids? Adults do it too. It's like for years you wear one pair of pants, your favorite pair, and one day you find you've outgrown them. You didn't want to outgrow them, it just sort of happened. And even though you love them every bit as much as you ever did you can't wear them any longer. So you don't throw them away because you love them so much, you just fold them up in your drawer and keep them forever. But you can't ever wear them again. You just can't. You know?"
"Yeah, mom. I know." She smiled at me and for the first time I could really see and feel the truth of what she was telling me. She was truly okay with it.
And I felt an incredibly huge weight slip off my shoulders.
((Song: "Frank Sinatra" by Cake. Lyrics here:
http://artists.letssingit.com/cake-frank-sinatra-kn92jg5 ))
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
It's So Hard To Do and So Easy To Say
Who am I kidding?
We are people after all, he and I. We need the passion and the fury. We need to feel needed. I need it just as badly as he does. I try to deny it but it's true.
He needs someone else that gives him the things that I can't any longer. Can't and don't want to give. Here I am, asking him to give up things he needs for a woman whose love doesn't give him all the desires of his heart, who can't love him in all the ways he deserves to be loved and desires to be loved -- with all five loves, with her whole soul. What right do I have to ask that of him?
The guilt I feel for pretending to be the woman he married and not the woman I have become is too heavy a burden for me to bear any longer. He wouldn't wait for me to leave him if he knew the extent of my deception. He would be the one to leave. I don't deserve him and I know it. So for all that he's given me, I will grant him this last gift and walk away before I hurt him any longer. I love him too much not to.
I am tired. So very tired.
((Song: "Walk Away" by Ben Harper. Lyrics here:
http://www.benharper.net/?page=music§ion=lyrics&id=10 ))
We are people after all, he and I. We need the passion and the fury. We need to feel needed. I need it just as badly as he does. I try to deny it but it's true.
He needs someone else that gives him the things that I can't any longer. Can't and don't want to give. Here I am, asking him to give up things he needs for a woman whose love doesn't give him all the desires of his heart, who can't love him in all the ways he deserves to be loved and desires to be loved -- with all five loves, with her whole soul. What right do I have to ask that of him?
The guilt I feel for pretending to be the woman he married and not the woman I have become is too heavy a burden for me to bear any longer. He wouldn't wait for me to leave him if he knew the extent of my deception. He would be the one to leave. I don't deserve him and I know it. So for all that he's given me, I will grant him this last gift and walk away before I hurt him any longer. I love him too much not to.
I am tired. So very tired.
((Song: "Walk Away" by Ben Harper. Lyrics here:
http://www.benharper.net/?page=music§ion=lyrics&id=10 ))
Monday, June 18, 2007
Clinging To A Past That Doesn't Let Me Choose
I woke up a few days ago thinking a lot about what the next phase of my life will be like and what the last phase has meant to me. Specifically, I thought about the love I hold for my husband and why -- even though I know he is the love of my life -- that it is time we part.
There is a wonderful song (lyrics here) by Michael Nesmith called "Conversations." In it, Nez speaks simply and eloquently about the changing nature of a longterm relationship. It’s always reminded me about what I’ve always felt about my husband deep in my heart. I feel that way still. I'll feel that way until the day I die.
You would think that if I loved him like the song says I would stay, and that if I'm choosing to leave, I must not love him anymore. A lot of people would say those are the only choices and that it's just that black and white. But it's not. If only everything was that simple. Life -- real life -- is in the greys.
It is imperative that I shine a light on the greys.
In thinking about how to go about writing a post that would really represent what I felt, I remembered a book by Ed Wheat that I read a long time ago – actually it was given to me by my first fiance’s mother – called “Love Life.” It’s written through a quite Christian viewpoint, and while I am by no means a religious person, some of the book’s basic ieas can be viewed objectively without any religious or moral prejudices. It really resonated with me, enough so that even through the last few decades I find myself thinking about it on occasion. Most all the people in anyone’s life can be placed into one of these areas. Anyway, it talks about five facets of love, each a different aspect of a whole. Ideally, one’s lifelong partner is someone in which all five types of love are represented. So I thought to use these facets in order to really get my thoughts organized. Otherwise, I’ll just be all over the page and end up frustrated that I’m not able to really express what I want to express. So I’ll name the five facets, define them….and explain why he fits or doesn’t fit.
And oh yes, the first four are called “natural” loves. The fifth, agape, is a love of action and determined reason.
Epithumia: a strong desire of any kind, to set the heart on; long for, rightfully or otherwise; to covet. When used negatively, lust; when positively, desire.
I haven’t felt this sort of love for him consistently for years. I probably stopped feeling it strongly as early as two years into our marriage and it continued to decline until by seven years in, I was faking it the majority of the time. When I drank I felt some of it resurface, though honestly I could not say whether it was the simple lust for sex or if it was confined to him as a person. I don’t think this is unusual behavior for me – the carnal desire I feel for any man rises in direct correlation to how hard I have to work to possess him. When I’ve “caught” him and it becomes normal and then moves towards being a duty it begins to decline. I think this is a natural reaction and not limited just to me personally but it matters because when you factor in my dyspareunia, that nearly-consuming desire is what keeps me going through the pain. I often wonder how I will deal with that with the men to come. As long as my desire for them outweighs the pain, I’ll be fine, but when it doesn’t? I am frightened of what happens after that.
Eros: romantic love, not always sensual but the idea of yearning to unite with and the desire to possess the beloved; romantic, passionate and sentimental. Differs from infatuation, which is a response to physical externals or impressions that have been overvalued. It’s the kind of love that lovers fall into and write songs about. It’s been called rapture. Problem with it though: it needs help because it is changeable and can’t last a lifetime by itself. Eros wants to promise that a relationship will last forever but it cannot keep that promise alone.
Another sort of love that I don’t feel for him too often. Infatuatory love is the sort of love that I feel when I want to write poems and my whole heart and soul is all wrapped up in how incredibly wonderful some guy is! I miss that love and sometimes I wonder if in looking for ~that~ feeling, I am missing the fact that I have something much deeper. But I’m trying to talk about eros so I’m struggling to put aside my longing for that high that one can only feel for someone who is not known well (see my quotation sidebar!) So eros…..I feel this love for hub on occasion. I feel it when I look at him and my admiration for who he is inside and for his character rises up in my heart. When I feel so lucky for knowing him and knowing that he loves me. One would expect that this sort of love should make the levels of epithumia love rise up as well. It did, anyway. But even when eros does rise up in me I tend to stomp it down after a bit because I know that if I followed through on it and let it lead to epithumia (which would only be fleeting and then turn, midway, into dread and obligation to follow through instead of stop) it would send mixed signals and confuse him. I’ve told him as much and he’s said that yes, it would. So in conclusion, I feel it but not as much and as freely as I should.
Storge: a comfortable feeling, a sense of belonging, a sheltering sort of emotional refuge.
This one, I’ve got covered. I definitely feel this way about hub. I deeply value the fact that he and I can just enjoy each other and have each other’s backs no matter what. I can depend on him for anything and everything. I know his love is strong and true and reliable. I can let my hair down and just relax without having to wear a public game face. I can bitch and yell about whatever life hands me and he’s there to tell me that I can handle it. He’ll listen and express his belief in me and I can feel deep down that he’s not just saying it, he means it. When he needs me to lean on I offer my shoulder. I support what he thinks and feels, and give him my utmost confidence in his ability to provide and decide. He is a man in my eyes, one worth my consideration and my respect. I enjoy his company and we don’t have to go do anything or act a certain way or put on some fakery to entertain each other. There’s no pretense or anything. When I am with him, I am home.
It is this love that I am scared to lose with every fiber of my being. I am frightened that I will never be able to mesh so deeply with another like I have with him. I feel this for him like I feel it for no other human being on this planet and that includes my dearest friend. So many years of us being together in this way, the roots of this love have twisted and turned around me and sunk so deeply into the earth of what I am. I am terrified, knowing that in order for me to leave him I must tear away these roots. I wish to all that was holy that I didn’t have to. I have cursed the fates and have laid on the floor crying my eyes out, wishing that something could take away the need in my husband for the loves that we are lacking so that we could live in the light of this one and in the one that comes after it, phileo. I have the need in me for the first two loves as well but those are changeable, inconstant loves, and I wish that we could be open about our needs so that we could satisfy them with someone else for brief times, with each other’s permission, love, support and trust. Then, those temporary needs satisfied, we would come together again back to the bedrock love. This one. The one you can’t just replace with some other random body or transient rush of hormones.
Phileo: Cherishes and has tender affection, but expects a response. Love of sharing and communicating. Eros makes lovers, phileo makes dear friends. Share each other’s most intimate thoughts and dreams, share time and interests. “Love may be blind but friendship closes its eyes.”
Expects a response. Yes, the conversations we can hold deep into the night. The random long deep discussions. Listening to each other, not feeling like we have to defend our positions to each other but truly ~talking~ with interest and holding value for what the other’s perspective is. We hold each other dear, we have a rapport that goes beyond the politeness that we even give to our friends. We can disagree. What I think and feel I am not ashamed to share. We understand each other’s humor and laugh at the same things before we even have to explain them…we ~don’t~ have to, we just know. Not only do I love him, but I like him. I find him genuinely interesting and funny and smart and warm and loving.
I’ll save agape for a moment. I want to dwell a bit on these last two loves.
About 90% of the time, my life with my husband is like I describe above. Surface and deeper, it is a contented sort of experience. Yet, the times when phileo and storge love are not enough are so vitally important, that it rocks our marriage. There are times when I miss the passion and fury of a new love and I know he misses the wife that gave him that once upon a time. I miss those first two emotions and wish that I could find them again in my husband. I know that I can’t, though. I’ve tried for years and have failed. It is not there to be found. Too many things have happened to kill that part of it. I have finally come to accept the truth of me, which is that those sorts of feelings don’t resurrect in me very well and when they do they are not permanent. My sex drive was never as strong as it is in others even on my best days. Permanent physical passion is not part of my emotional makeup – if it ever was, which I doubt given my history. Over the course of the physical trauma of my dyspareunia amongst other equally traumatic emotional issues it all died, at least where he is concerned. Too much is attached to all the things we did to each other when my dyspareunia went undiagnosed for so long. Like I’ve told him, he happened to be the one that I placed all my negative feelings on, as he was the only one there.
Ah, the havoc we wreak. Lessons we learn. Harsh, horrid ones, with collateral damage. I wish he could live on that bedrock I mentioned above. And he wishes I could find those first two loves again for him.
If wishes were horses.
Agape: totally unselfish love, that values and serves without need for reciprocation. Exercised as a choice of will, not as an expression of emotion. No dependence on feeling; focuses on what you do and say and not what you feel. It loves, no matter what.
This one is difficult. The most difficult. If we could honestly and faithfully practice this one perhaps we could make it. If he practiced it, he’d choose to be satisfied knowing that the love I hold for him was the best that I was capable of and he would put aside his need for a wife that desired him physically as well as emotionally. If I practiced it, then I would choose to give him the things he needs and submit to him without regard for the emotional price I would pay in doing it.
Ah, but our needs are at odds. Whose needs are more important? Whose get satisfied and whose do not? We can’t have it both ways. No matter which way we would choose, someone is not feeling fulfilled. Resentment would fester. Trust would diminish. We would both suffer in silence even while being proud of ourselves for putting the other first.
Guess what? That’s what we’ve been trying to do. It doesn’t work. At least it doesn’t here.
I wish he could really see how much I love him. There’s a deep part of him that doesn’t believe that I do. I cannot blame him for that. But I mourn the loss of it all.
((Song: "I Will Remember You" by Sarah McLachlin. Lyrics here:
http://www.sarahmclachlan.com/discography/lyrics.jsp?song_id=780 ))
There is a wonderful song (lyrics here) by Michael Nesmith called "Conversations." In it, Nez speaks simply and eloquently about the changing nature of a longterm relationship. It’s always reminded me about what I’ve always felt about my husband deep in my heart. I feel that way still. I'll feel that way until the day I die.
You would think that if I loved him like the song says I would stay, and that if I'm choosing to leave, I must not love him anymore. A lot of people would say those are the only choices and that it's just that black and white. But it's not. If only everything was that simple. Life -- real life -- is in the greys.
It is imperative that I shine a light on the greys.
In thinking about how to go about writing a post that would really represent what I felt, I remembered a book by Ed Wheat that I read a long time ago – actually it was given to me by my first fiance’s mother – called “Love Life.” It’s written through a quite Christian viewpoint, and while I am by no means a religious person, some of the book’s basic ieas can be viewed objectively without any religious or moral prejudices. It really resonated with me, enough so that even through the last few decades I find myself thinking about it on occasion. Most all the people in anyone’s life can be placed into one of these areas. Anyway, it talks about five facets of love, each a different aspect of a whole. Ideally, one’s lifelong partner is someone in which all five types of love are represented. So I thought to use these facets in order to really get my thoughts organized. Otherwise, I’ll just be all over the page and end up frustrated that I’m not able to really express what I want to express. So I’ll name the five facets, define them….and explain why he fits or doesn’t fit.
And oh yes, the first four are called “natural” loves. The fifth, agape, is a love of action and determined reason.
Epithumia: a strong desire of any kind, to set the heart on; long for, rightfully or otherwise; to covet. When used negatively, lust; when positively, desire.
I haven’t felt this sort of love for him consistently for years. I probably stopped feeling it strongly as early as two years into our marriage and it continued to decline until by seven years in, I was faking it the majority of the time. When I drank I felt some of it resurface, though honestly I could not say whether it was the simple lust for sex or if it was confined to him as a person. I don’t think this is unusual behavior for me – the carnal desire I feel for any man rises in direct correlation to how hard I have to work to possess him. When I’ve “caught” him and it becomes normal and then moves towards being a duty it begins to decline. I think this is a natural reaction and not limited just to me personally but it matters because when you factor in my dyspareunia, that nearly-consuming desire is what keeps me going through the pain. I often wonder how I will deal with that with the men to come. As long as my desire for them outweighs the pain, I’ll be fine, but when it doesn’t? I am frightened of what happens after that.
Eros: romantic love, not always sensual but the idea of yearning to unite with and the desire to possess the beloved; romantic, passionate and sentimental. Differs from infatuation, which is a response to physical externals or impressions that have been overvalued. It’s the kind of love that lovers fall into and write songs about. It’s been called rapture. Problem with it though: it needs help because it is changeable and can’t last a lifetime by itself. Eros wants to promise that a relationship will last forever but it cannot keep that promise alone.
Another sort of love that I don’t feel for him too often. Infatuatory love is the sort of love that I feel when I want to write poems and my whole heart and soul is all wrapped up in how incredibly wonderful some guy is! I miss that love and sometimes I wonder if in looking for ~that~ feeling, I am missing the fact that I have something much deeper. But I’m trying to talk about eros so I’m struggling to put aside my longing for that high that one can only feel for someone who is not known well (see my quotation sidebar!) So eros…..I feel this love for hub on occasion. I feel it when I look at him and my admiration for who he is inside and for his character rises up in my heart. When I feel so lucky for knowing him and knowing that he loves me. One would expect that this sort of love should make the levels of epithumia love rise up as well. It did, anyway. But even when eros does rise up in me I tend to stomp it down after a bit because I know that if I followed through on it and let it lead to epithumia (which would only be fleeting and then turn, midway, into dread and obligation to follow through instead of stop) it would send mixed signals and confuse him. I’ve told him as much and he’s said that yes, it would. So in conclusion, I feel it but not as much and as freely as I should.
Storge: a comfortable feeling, a sense of belonging, a sheltering sort of emotional refuge.
This one, I’ve got covered. I definitely feel this way about hub. I deeply value the fact that he and I can just enjoy each other and have each other’s backs no matter what. I can depend on him for anything and everything. I know his love is strong and true and reliable. I can let my hair down and just relax without having to wear a public game face. I can bitch and yell about whatever life hands me and he’s there to tell me that I can handle it. He’ll listen and express his belief in me and I can feel deep down that he’s not just saying it, he means it. When he needs me to lean on I offer my shoulder. I support what he thinks and feels, and give him my utmost confidence in his ability to provide and decide. He is a man in my eyes, one worth my consideration and my respect. I enjoy his company and we don’t have to go do anything or act a certain way or put on some fakery to entertain each other. There’s no pretense or anything. When I am with him, I am home.
It is this love that I am scared to lose with every fiber of my being. I am frightened that I will never be able to mesh so deeply with another like I have with him. I feel this for him like I feel it for no other human being on this planet and that includes my dearest friend. So many years of us being together in this way, the roots of this love have twisted and turned around me and sunk so deeply into the earth of what I am. I am terrified, knowing that in order for me to leave him I must tear away these roots. I wish to all that was holy that I didn’t have to. I have cursed the fates and have laid on the floor crying my eyes out, wishing that something could take away the need in my husband for the loves that we are lacking so that we could live in the light of this one and in the one that comes after it, phileo. I have the need in me for the first two loves as well but those are changeable, inconstant loves, and I wish that we could be open about our needs so that we could satisfy them with someone else for brief times, with each other’s permission, love, support and trust. Then, those temporary needs satisfied, we would come together again back to the bedrock love. This one. The one you can’t just replace with some other random body or transient rush of hormones.
Phileo: Cherishes and has tender affection, but expects a response. Love of sharing and communicating. Eros makes lovers, phileo makes dear friends. Share each other’s most intimate thoughts and dreams, share time and interests. “Love may be blind but friendship closes its eyes.”
Expects a response. Yes, the conversations we can hold deep into the night. The random long deep discussions. Listening to each other, not feeling like we have to defend our positions to each other but truly ~talking~ with interest and holding value for what the other’s perspective is. We hold each other dear, we have a rapport that goes beyond the politeness that we even give to our friends. We can disagree. What I think and feel I am not ashamed to share. We understand each other’s humor and laugh at the same things before we even have to explain them…we ~don’t~ have to, we just know. Not only do I love him, but I like him. I find him genuinely interesting and funny and smart and warm and loving.
I’ll save agape for a moment. I want to dwell a bit on these last two loves.
About 90% of the time, my life with my husband is like I describe above. Surface and deeper, it is a contented sort of experience. Yet, the times when phileo and storge love are not enough are so vitally important, that it rocks our marriage. There are times when I miss the passion and fury of a new love and I know he misses the wife that gave him that once upon a time. I miss those first two emotions and wish that I could find them again in my husband. I know that I can’t, though. I’ve tried for years and have failed. It is not there to be found. Too many things have happened to kill that part of it. I have finally come to accept the truth of me, which is that those sorts of feelings don’t resurrect in me very well and when they do they are not permanent. My sex drive was never as strong as it is in others even on my best days. Permanent physical passion is not part of my emotional makeup – if it ever was, which I doubt given my history. Over the course of the physical trauma of my dyspareunia amongst other equally traumatic emotional issues it all died, at least where he is concerned. Too much is attached to all the things we did to each other when my dyspareunia went undiagnosed for so long. Like I’ve told him, he happened to be the one that I placed all my negative feelings on, as he was the only one there.
Ah, the havoc we wreak. Lessons we learn. Harsh, horrid ones, with collateral damage. I wish he could live on that bedrock I mentioned above. And he wishes I could find those first two loves again for him.
If wishes were horses.
Agape: totally unselfish love, that values and serves without need for reciprocation. Exercised as a choice of will, not as an expression of emotion. No dependence on feeling; focuses on what you do and say and not what you feel. It loves, no matter what.
This one is difficult. The most difficult. If we could honestly and faithfully practice this one perhaps we could make it. If he practiced it, he’d choose to be satisfied knowing that the love I hold for him was the best that I was capable of and he would put aside his need for a wife that desired him physically as well as emotionally. If I practiced it, then I would choose to give him the things he needs and submit to him without regard for the emotional price I would pay in doing it.
Ah, but our needs are at odds. Whose needs are more important? Whose get satisfied and whose do not? We can’t have it both ways. No matter which way we would choose, someone is not feeling fulfilled. Resentment would fester. Trust would diminish. We would both suffer in silence even while being proud of ourselves for putting the other first.
Guess what? That’s what we’ve been trying to do. It doesn’t work. At least it doesn’t here.
I wish he could really see how much I love him. There’s a deep part of him that doesn’t believe that I do. I cannot blame him for that. But I mourn the loss of it all.
((Song: "I Will Remember You" by Sarah McLachlin. Lyrics here:
http://www.sarahmclachlan.com/discography/lyrics.jsp?song_id=780 ))
Thursday, June 14, 2007
We Interrupt This Program.....
....to warn of an impending storm that will prohibit this blogger from updating anything until the weekend. Must. Save, Computer.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Telling My Whole Life...
I was reading blogs this evening and I liked the "Old Tape" idea that Poly puts forward in his blog (which is fantastic, by the way, since I know a couple much like them personally.) Read it here: http://perverselypoly.blogspot.com/2007/06/old-tapes.html
But this post is really about AlwaysArousedGirl. I was reading AAG's blog this evening (see my sidebar, people!) and something she said struck such a deep chord in me that I had to copy it and give credit where credit is most certainly due:
"Sometimes I think I should never have gone down this path. I should have stayed frozen, married, dead (or at least dying) toward sex. Having touch and intimacy and then giving it up is too much sometimes. That’s the danger. That’s what wounds me.
I want to believe that actions have the ability to move backward and forward through time, shoring up (though not completely fixing) past damage and foreshadowing future happinesses. I want to believe that no matter how brief those amazing moments are, they help."
This explains a lot more about me than I will ever be able to share in this place.
I can say that these thoughts apply so very deeply to BiB and I. I've often wondered if BiB was meant to come into my life to give me the amazing moments that we shared. I have trouble remembering them without pain at this time, sure, but I know eventually the pain will wash out like dirt in old denim. When it does I'll be left with something lived-in, familiar and comfortable, and every faded stain will be a badge I'll point to that brings back warm memories. I look forward to that. When I get there -- and I will -- I'll celebrate the fact that BiB was a part of my life and even more than that, was the matchbook being struck that illuminated my correct path. I hope one day I'll be able to find BiB again and say thank you. And mean it.
My heartfelt thanks, AAG, for placing the last years of my life into a few simple but poignantly beautiful paragraphs.
((Song: "Killing Me Softly" by Roberta Flack. Lyrics here:
http://www.guntheranderson.com/v/data/killingm.htm ))
But this post is really about AlwaysArousedGirl. I was reading AAG's blog this evening (see my sidebar, people!) and something she said struck such a deep chord in me that I had to copy it and give credit where credit is most certainly due:
"Sometimes I think I should never have gone down this path. I should have stayed frozen, married, dead (or at least dying) toward sex. Having touch and intimacy and then giving it up is too much sometimes. That’s the danger. That’s what wounds me.
I want to believe that actions have the ability to move backward and forward through time, shoring up (though not completely fixing) past damage and foreshadowing future happinesses. I want to believe that no matter how brief those amazing moments are, they help."
This explains a lot more about me than I will ever be able to share in this place.
I can say that these thoughts apply so very deeply to BiB and I. I've often wondered if BiB was meant to come into my life to give me the amazing moments that we shared. I have trouble remembering them without pain at this time, sure, but I know eventually the pain will wash out like dirt in old denim. When it does I'll be left with something lived-in, familiar and comfortable, and every faded stain will be a badge I'll point to that brings back warm memories. I look forward to that. When I get there -- and I will -- I'll celebrate the fact that BiB was a part of my life and even more than that, was the matchbook being struck that illuminated my correct path. I hope one day I'll be able to find BiB again and say thank you. And mean it.
My heartfelt thanks, AAG, for placing the last years of my life into a few simple but poignantly beautiful paragraphs.
((Song: "Killing Me Softly" by Roberta Flack. Lyrics here:
http://www.guntheranderson.com/v/data/killingm.htm ))
Take a Risk, Take a Chance, Make a Change
For ease of further posting, from now on I'll efer to my ex-friend as BiB. I don't know how many times I can type "ex-friend" without getting writer's cramp. Hah!
Yesterday I went to look at a few apartments. I just took a cursory look to get some idea of what my salary range for new jobs needs to be. I won't do any serious looking until tomorrow afternoon.
I am planning to move in with a longtime friend of mine that I'll call V. He was present at the birth of my daughter and is just back from a decade-long stint in the military. He needs to find a job and settle into civilian life. I need to find someone to share expenses, and so does he. Hub doesn't mind this either -- he and I talked about it -- because unlike finding a roommate that neither one of us knows too well, he also knows that V is trustworthy around our daughter. That is a huge, huge plus. V won't be bringing back a lot of unknown people to the apartment and introducing a lot of strangers into my daughter's life.
Living with him will be interesting, for sure. I've had other friends of mine living with me in my house over the years and with only a few exceptions -- most notably the easy fun I had living with my best friend -- the relationship between us became a bit more strained than it had been prior to cohabitation. I don't want that to happen here but I'm a difficult person to live with, I'll admit. I like things done in my home the way I want them done. I'm organized and particular. Of course V's been in the military, which is nothing if not organized. I mentioned these concerns to V -- and will continue to do so as issues present -- and V told me to make lists for him and he'll do those things without complaint. He said he preferred that since he was used to lists and orders. Ha! I'll see if that's true!
Looking past the other more surface issues, and though I know that I need a roommate for practical purposes, I have this urge to have my own space after nearly 20 years of living with somone else. What if I want to bellydance for exercise? What if I want to lounge around in my sweats without a bra as I do in my own home now since I hatehatehate bras outside of public life? Will I feel comfortable doing that with V around? I doubt it. Grrrr. Hub says it'll be different making a new home with someone rather than having that person move into my existing personal space. He says that territorial urge won't be there. Perhaps he's right but my control issues are pretty strong at times. V and I might butt heads a few times.
At any rate, I can deal with it for a year. This is not a forever thing. I'll know more about how I feel and where I want to go a year from now than I do right now. Everything is very unstable in my head nowadays. I'll need the breathing space and distance.
Speaking of my daughter, hub told me something about her this morning. Last evening the two of them took a walk with the dogs around the neighborhood and had a chat about the choice that she will have about living with him or with me. He mentioned to her that she and I had a close relationship and he said she screwed up her face and said in a disbelieving, sarcastic tone of voice, "What? Me and Mom? No way."
Ouch. Things like this hit me in the gut.
I know she's only 14. I know that she's hurting about this whole thing regardless of what she allows to show. I know she probably harbors some protective feelings over her father -- I did with mine when my parents fought and it seemed my mother was being ridiculously harsh and demanding. I realize that she might think I am "at fault" here for breaking up her family. I can't even defend my position internally and say that she isn't right. That sort of thing strikes at the heart of me because of my own guilt feelings even as I soldier on, knowing that I am doing what needs to be done. And it hurts me that I hurt people I love. Especially that I have to hurt her. I feel so selfish.
I just hope one day she understands.
When she was 11-12 and I was wrapped up in my own depression, trying to come to a conclusion about where my life was going to go and if I could continue doing what I had been doing for years, I saw nothing past that and neglected her a lot. She and I were close and then we weren't. Now she is guarded with me for the most part -- guarded with most people. Did I contribute to that part of her personality? Did she develop a hard shell to deal with the rejection she felt? Or was she those things already and I just amplified them? I don't know, but it eats at me. My god, being responsible for another life is such a huge thing.
I know I am a selfish person. Perhaps I should never have been a mother. I think about that in my darker moments when I think I've placed her in my peripheral vision. I keep resolving to include her more fully in my life and I do for a while. Then it fades away around the day to day humdrum stuff and she's just there, a "for granted." Perhaps that's normal for people to do, and perhaps it's also good for her. Perhaps it teaches her a valuable lesson regarding entitlement -- that the sun doesn't rise and set upon her 24/7. Then again, perhaps it teaches her that it seems her mother doesn't give a shit about her. I don't know.
I am breaking away from some of the things that suffocated me. I want to be that person I know I am. Baby steps. I've begun to make promises to myself and keep them. My daughter is the biggest promise I ever made.
I intend to talk to V about getting a third bedroom.
((Song: "Breakaway" by Kelly Clarkson. Lyrics here:
http://www.kellyclarkson.com/main.php?em995=33311_-1__0_~0_-1_6_2007_0_0&content=album&album=33241&em977=33241_0__0_~0_-1 ))
Yesterday I went to look at a few apartments. I just took a cursory look to get some idea of what my salary range for new jobs needs to be. I won't do any serious looking until tomorrow afternoon.
I am planning to move in with a longtime friend of mine that I'll call V. He was present at the birth of my daughter and is just back from a decade-long stint in the military. He needs to find a job and settle into civilian life. I need to find someone to share expenses, and so does he. Hub doesn't mind this either -- he and I talked about it -- because unlike finding a roommate that neither one of us knows too well, he also knows that V is trustworthy around our daughter. That is a huge, huge plus. V won't be bringing back a lot of unknown people to the apartment and introducing a lot of strangers into my daughter's life.
Living with him will be interesting, for sure. I've had other friends of mine living with me in my house over the years and with only a few exceptions -- most notably the easy fun I had living with my best friend -- the relationship between us became a bit more strained than it had been prior to cohabitation. I don't want that to happen here but I'm a difficult person to live with, I'll admit. I like things done in my home the way I want them done. I'm organized and particular. Of course V's been in the military, which is nothing if not organized. I mentioned these concerns to V -- and will continue to do so as issues present -- and V told me to make lists for him and he'll do those things without complaint. He said he preferred that since he was used to lists and orders. Ha! I'll see if that's true!
Looking past the other more surface issues, and though I know that I need a roommate for practical purposes, I have this urge to have my own space after nearly 20 years of living with somone else. What if I want to bellydance for exercise? What if I want to lounge around in my sweats without a bra as I do in my own home now since I hatehatehate bras outside of public life? Will I feel comfortable doing that with V around? I doubt it. Grrrr. Hub says it'll be different making a new home with someone rather than having that person move into my existing personal space. He says that territorial urge won't be there. Perhaps he's right but my control issues are pretty strong at times. V and I might butt heads a few times.
At any rate, I can deal with it for a year. This is not a forever thing. I'll know more about how I feel and where I want to go a year from now than I do right now. Everything is very unstable in my head nowadays. I'll need the breathing space and distance.
Speaking of my daughter, hub told me something about her this morning. Last evening the two of them took a walk with the dogs around the neighborhood and had a chat about the choice that she will have about living with him or with me. He mentioned to her that she and I had a close relationship and he said she screwed up her face and said in a disbelieving, sarcastic tone of voice, "What? Me and Mom? No way."
Ouch. Things like this hit me in the gut.
I know she's only 14. I know that she's hurting about this whole thing regardless of what she allows to show. I know she probably harbors some protective feelings over her father -- I did with mine when my parents fought and it seemed my mother was being ridiculously harsh and demanding. I realize that she might think I am "at fault" here for breaking up her family. I can't even defend my position internally and say that she isn't right. That sort of thing strikes at the heart of me because of my own guilt feelings even as I soldier on, knowing that I am doing what needs to be done. And it hurts me that I hurt people I love. Especially that I have to hurt her. I feel so selfish.
I just hope one day she understands.
When she was 11-12 and I was wrapped up in my own depression, trying to come to a conclusion about where my life was going to go and if I could continue doing what I had been doing for years, I saw nothing past that and neglected her a lot. She and I were close and then we weren't. Now she is guarded with me for the most part -- guarded with most people. Did I contribute to that part of her personality? Did she develop a hard shell to deal with the rejection she felt? Or was she those things already and I just amplified them? I don't know, but it eats at me. My god, being responsible for another life is such a huge thing.
I know I am a selfish person. Perhaps I should never have been a mother. I think about that in my darker moments when I think I've placed her in my peripheral vision. I keep resolving to include her more fully in my life and I do for a while. Then it fades away around the day to day humdrum stuff and she's just there, a "for granted." Perhaps that's normal for people to do, and perhaps it's also good for her. Perhaps it teaches her a valuable lesson regarding entitlement -- that the sun doesn't rise and set upon her 24/7. Then again, perhaps it teaches her that it seems her mother doesn't give a shit about her. I don't know.
I am breaking away from some of the things that suffocated me. I want to be that person I know I am. Baby steps. I've begun to make promises to myself and keep them. My daughter is the biggest promise I ever made.
I intend to talk to V about getting a third bedroom.
((Song: "Breakaway" by Kelly Clarkson. Lyrics here:
http://www.kellyclarkson.com/main.php?em995=33311_-1__0_~0_-1_6_2007_0_0&content=album&album=33241&em977=33241_0__0_~0_-1 ))
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
When You Walk Ahead You Leave Me Behind
A few more days have passed. I'm going one day at a time and it's bearable. There are times that I am enjoying taking that deep breath and realizing I am free of all that baggage that I carried around concerning my ex-friend. Then there are other times that I think back to the times we laughed and shared and bonded and it makes me want to cry in a strange mixture of loss and frustration. I find myself dwelling on those times and wondering what the hell happened.
But there are other things in my life now that need my attention. Hub and I spoke of the cutoff date for me to leave the house. We agreed that it would be best for our teenaged daughter (who can pick where she wants to live and has so far chosen to stay with her dad) if I left for a month or so prior to her going back to school. Even though she is aware that her dad and I are going to be splitting, I've been here at the house and nothing has really changed. Hub said he worried that she was making the decision to stay with him because it was the only thing she knew and that she does not realize the gap that my absence would make in her life. He wanted to be sure she made an informed decision and so if I left for a month or so before we filed any paperwork or anything, she'd be better able to gauge who she wanted to live with. He also admitted that he needed the time too, to learn how to handle many things that I have handled the last 17 years -- bills, nightly meals, housework, our daughter's schedule, etc. He said it would be just as good a training period for him.
I couldn't argue with that. I, too, want our daughter to choose what she wants -- even if that is to go back and forth between us at her leisure. Hub and I both have her as our first priority. I want him to make the transition as easily as it can be done as well. He's been really great during this and he told me that I've also been more than accommodating. He told his family about all the choices I've made that I did not have to so that everything was as easy as possible for all of us. His family said I was always welcome in their house, and my parents have said that hub is always welcome in theirs.
All in all this could be so much worse than it has been. It is a testament to both of us that it isn't. I look at my hub -- how he is handling this with such grace even though I know he doesn't wish to split -- and I think to myself that it is an example of how I should act with my ex-friend. Even though I am the one hurting -- even though I am the one that feels wronged and invalued -- there were two of us and hence, two perspectives. I will not succumb to my more vicious, hurtful instincts. I know I'll feel better about myself and my actions over the long term if I accept with grace.
Now to find a job and get on with things. I am on a deadline. Haha, hub does know me well. I need deadlines. I was taking it easy, staying around because I didn't have anything really pushing me to go. I have to thank him for that as well. He really is such a good man.
But I just don't feel that spark anymore. More fool me.
Lastly, a fabulous Dorothy Parker poem from Pretty Number's blog (see my sidebar):
Unfortunate Coincidence
By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying ---
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.
((Song: "Strangerman" by Ringside. Lyrics here:
http://www.ringsideband.com/discography/?assetid=907118&count=1&exp=track&songid=23097&lyric=true ))
But there are other things in my life now that need my attention. Hub and I spoke of the cutoff date for me to leave the house. We agreed that it would be best for our teenaged daughter (who can pick where she wants to live and has so far chosen to stay with her dad) if I left for a month or so prior to her going back to school. Even though she is aware that her dad and I are going to be splitting, I've been here at the house and nothing has really changed. Hub said he worried that she was making the decision to stay with him because it was the only thing she knew and that she does not realize the gap that my absence would make in her life. He wanted to be sure she made an informed decision and so if I left for a month or so before we filed any paperwork or anything, she'd be better able to gauge who she wanted to live with. He also admitted that he needed the time too, to learn how to handle many things that I have handled the last 17 years -- bills, nightly meals, housework, our daughter's schedule, etc. He said it would be just as good a training period for him.
I couldn't argue with that. I, too, want our daughter to choose what she wants -- even if that is to go back and forth between us at her leisure. Hub and I both have her as our first priority. I want him to make the transition as easily as it can be done as well. He's been really great during this and he told me that I've also been more than accommodating. He told his family about all the choices I've made that I did not have to so that everything was as easy as possible for all of us. His family said I was always welcome in their house, and my parents have said that hub is always welcome in theirs.
All in all this could be so much worse than it has been. It is a testament to both of us that it isn't. I look at my hub -- how he is handling this with such grace even though I know he doesn't wish to split -- and I think to myself that it is an example of how I should act with my ex-friend. Even though I am the one hurting -- even though I am the one that feels wronged and invalued -- there were two of us and hence, two perspectives. I will not succumb to my more vicious, hurtful instincts. I know I'll feel better about myself and my actions over the long term if I accept with grace.
Now to find a job and get on with things. I am on a deadline. Haha, hub does know me well. I need deadlines. I was taking it easy, staying around because I didn't have anything really pushing me to go. I have to thank him for that as well. He really is such a good man.
But I just don't feel that spark anymore. More fool me.
Lastly, a fabulous Dorothy Parker poem from Pretty Number's blog (see my sidebar):
Unfortunate Coincidence
By the time you swear you're his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying ---
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.
((Song: "Strangerman" by Ringside. Lyrics here:
http://www.ringsideband.com/discography/?assetid=907118&count=1&exp=track&songid=23097&lyric=true ))
Monday, June 4, 2007
Here is Where the Story Ends
Friday was a day of changes for me. I've had some time to think about those changes over this weekend in solitude as my family went away for the weekend to visit one of my husband's siblings.
When change is imposed upon me that I don't wish to have changed, I have a very difficult time accepting it. I fight it, even if in the end it is the best thing for me. My pride refuses to let me go easily into that dark night. But this time I made these changes myself. I finally did what I had told myself to do way back in January. I knew it was the best thing even then but couldn't seem to get myself together enough to stick it through. It's funny, though, how the smallest little thing just becomes that straw that breaks the camel's back.
I had a friend. I wanted to make it into the kind of friendship that is the kind that I have with a few other people in my life so I knew that having it again with this person was possible. I thought that if I stayed long enough and weathered enough that this person would realize that, and want what I wanted. Besides, I didn't want to let go. I needed that person as well.
I can't tell you how long I've known somewhere deep down that this person wasn't as invested in the relationship as I was. I kept seeing little signs of it, I'd feel hurt, but I always managed to tell myself that if I just hung in there a bit longer then things would begin to settle into a more comfortable place. What made it harder to place most of the blame upon the other person's shoulders was that I knew that my own motivations for maintaining the friendship weren't completely pure. I often struggled with trying to keep my instincts to control and force the boundaries of the relationship at bay. So if I was struggling then the other person was too, right? It was just enough to make me question my gut.
So what changed this Friday?
I went to a physical therapist's appointment on Friday morning about my dyspareunia. I've spoken of it a bit here and even that much can give anyone a glimpse into what sort of an issue this has been for me. So imagine how much more intimately my friend knew about how much it has! I wanted to share what I had learned -- I was excited and optimistic and had been thinking that perhaps I'd been premature in dismissing the therapist as useless. I tried to share this, even precipitating my remarks by giving consideration to keeping it generalities as opposed to specifics.
And this friend? Not one word of concern. Not one. I would have expected perhaps, "I'm happy for you," or "I hope this works for you." Even people that I know as acquaintances asked me politely about if I thought I was going to be helped and they didn't even understand exactly why I had needed to go. My boss had asked. Some coworkers. But this friend? Not a peep. It was as if I was talking to a wall.
Hurt, I terminated the conversation. I went to sit down in the living room and thought about it for a few minutes. It was then that all the times I had given this person encouragement and support came rearing up in my memory. I asked myself, was I really going to let this pass? Was I going to teach this person that I could be treated that way? If I made it clear that my feelings had been hurt then, as friends would, the consideration this person held for me might make itself known. A piece of me knew that it was a test of sorts, a gauntlet thrown down. I knew as I stood to go continue the conversation that what this friend did at that moment would make all the difference.
I expressed my hurt feelings and explained that I would have liked to have heard some concern or pleasure at what might be a turning point for me after so many years. And what did this person say?
"I'm tired of this. Really. Everytime I show up and we talk you have to have "the talk." So spare me, okay?" And this person terminated our conversation.
And that was that.
I was hurt to the point of feeling numb but not surprised. The choice was so simple that it wasn't even a choice any longer. This person was not my friend and it hadn't been my imagination, my gut had been right for months. I could have no more glaring evidence of that. I spent the next hour excising that person from my life and I wrote them a last email and sent it. I was still numb but it was as if I could finally breathe a little deeper. I had done it. I was proud of myself.
That was on Friday.
Looking back on it from a few day's perspective, I have to acknowledge to myself that I'd been clinging to a ship that had sunk long ago. It's hard to admit that there's a vast gulf between what I wanted that friendship to be and what that friendship actually was. Granted, it didn't start out one-sided; I pushed and each time I pushed I lost a little ground. I had a lot at the beginning but I always wanted more. I know this, so by no means am I ignorant of the part that I played in this disintegration.
Ha! How ironic that the only tangible gift this person ever gave me was an album by the Cure aptly entitled "Disintegration."
All I've received from this person so far has been posted in a public forum, a generic "Good luck in whatever you do, and we'll see you around." It is all that I will ever receive.
I know that, but I have to admit it hurts.
((Song: "Knowing Me, Knowing You" by Abba. Lyrics here:
http://www.guntheranderson.com/v/data/knowingm.htm))
When change is imposed upon me that I don't wish to have changed, I have a very difficult time accepting it. I fight it, even if in the end it is the best thing for me. My pride refuses to let me go easily into that dark night. But this time I made these changes myself. I finally did what I had told myself to do way back in January. I knew it was the best thing even then but couldn't seem to get myself together enough to stick it through. It's funny, though, how the smallest little thing just becomes that straw that breaks the camel's back.
I had a friend. I wanted to make it into the kind of friendship that is the kind that I have with a few other people in my life so I knew that having it again with this person was possible. I thought that if I stayed long enough and weathered enough that this person would realize that, and want what I wanted. Besides, I didn't want to let go. I needed that person as well.
I can't tell you how long I've known somewhere deep down that this person wasn't as invested in the relationship as I was. I kept seeing little signs of it, I'd feel hurt, but I always managed to tell myself that if I just hung in there a bit longer then things would begin to settle into a more comfortable place. What made it harder to place most of the blame upon the other person's shoulders was that I knew that my own motivations for maintaining the friendship weren't completely pure. I often struggled with trying to keep my instincts to control and force the boundaries of the relationship at bay. So if I was struggling then the other person was too, right? It was just enough to make me question my gut.
So what changed this Friday?
I went to a physical therapist's appointment on Friday morning about my dyspareunia. I've spoken of it a bit here and even that much can give anyone a glimpse into what sort of an issue this has been for me. So imagine how much more intimately my friend knew about how much it has! I wanted to share what I had learned -- I was excited and optimistic and had been thinking that perhaps I'd been premature in dismissing the therapist as useless. I tried to share this, even precipitating my remarks by giving consideration to keeping it generalities as opposed to specifics.
And this friend? Not one word of concern. Not one. I would have expected perhaps, "I'm happy for you," or "I hope this works for you." Even people that I know as acquaintances asked me politely about if I thought I was going to be helped and they didn't even understand exactly why I had needed to go. My boss had asked. Some coworkers. But this friend? Not a peep. It was as if I was talking to a wall.
Hurt, I terminated the conversation. I went to sit down in the living room and thought about it for a few minutes. It was then that all the times I had given this person encouragement and support came rearing up in my memory. I asked myself, was I really going to let this pass? Was I going to teach this person that I could be treated that way? If I made it clear that my feelings had been hurt then, as friends would, the consideration this person held for me might make itself known. A piece of me knew that it was a test of sorts, a gauntlet thrown down. I knew as I stood to go continue the conversation that what this friend did at that moment would make all the difference.
I expressed my hurt feelings and explained that I would have liked to have heard some concern or pleasure at what might be a turning point for me after so many years. And what did this person say?
"I'm tired of this. Really. Everytime I show up and we talk you have to have "the talk." So spare me, okay?" And this person terminated our conversation.
And that was that.
I was hurt to the point of feeling numb but not surprised. The choice was so simple that it wasn't even a choice any longer. This person was not my friend and it hadn't been my imagination, my gut had been right for months. I could have no more glaring evidence of that. I spent the next hour excising that person from my life and I wrote them a last email and sent it. I was still numb but it was as if I could finally breathe a little deeper. I had done it. I was proud of myself.
That was on Friday.
Looking back on it from a few day's perspective, I have to acknowledge to myself that I'd been clinging to a ship that had sunk long ago. It's hard to admit that there's a vast gulf between what I wanted that friendship to be and what that friendship actually was. Granted, it didn't start out one-sided; I pushed and each time I pushed I lost a little ground. I had a lot at the beginning but I always wanted more. I know this, so by no means am I ignorant of the part that I played in this disintegration.
Ha! How ironic that the only tangible gift this person ever gave me was an album by the Cure aptly entitled "Disintegration."
All I've received from this person so far has been posted in a public forum, a generic "Good luck in whatever you do, and we'll see you around." It is all that I will ever receive.
I know that, but I have to admit it hurts.
((Song: "Knowing Me, Knowing You" by Abba. Lyrics here:
http://www.guntheranderson.com/v/data/knowingm.htm))
Sunday, June 3, 2007
As Soon As You're Born You Start Dying
A friend of mine and I spent the day together on Friday and experienced something that has stayed with me these past few days. A deaf man stepped in front of a train that was pulling into the station we were waiting at and was hit and dragged. By the time we ran to the train others had dialed 911 and all I could see was the man's head against the wheel. I thought for a moment that he had been decapitated. Then he moved. By the time that police and the ambulance arrived, the man -- against all shouts to the contrary -- worked himself out from under the train and stood up. He had been incredibly lucky. The train's wheels had not rolled over any part of his body. Against all odds, he'd been hit by a train and had lived with nary a scratch.
It made me think about the randomness of life, and death. Anything can happen at any time. We are all just here by cosmic luck.
((Song: "Sheep Go To Heaven" by Cake. Lyrics here:
http://www.lyricsdownload.com/cake-sheep-go-to-heaven-lyrics.html))
It made me think about the randomness of life, and death. Anything can happen at any time. We are all just here by cosmic luck.
((Song: "Sheep Go To Heaven" by Cake. Lyrics here:
http://www.lyricsdownload.com/cake-sheep-go-to-heaven-lyrics.html))
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