Thursday, October 30, 2008

Who Started Out So Young And Strong Only To Surrender...

Lately I've felt like giving up. I haven't been filling out job applications and instead I park my ass in front of the TV and stare at it until the day turns into night and its time for bed. Lather, rinse, repeat. I think about picking up a book but when I do I fall asleep, or get bored, or I think I don't have time to plow through 500 pages.

The frustration I feel is palpable. I want out of my apartment. I want to live by myself and not with a roommate at my age. I want a job that isn't something someone right out of high school can do. I earned a certification in order to change this but I'm learning that since I don't have any experience in the legal field no one will look twice at me.

This frustration and hopelessness paralyzes me. I know that the only way to change it is to....well....change it, because it sure won't change itself. Perhaps I'm just easily discouraged. Perhaps. But I've wondered if I'm not simply falling a bit deeper into what Kübler-Ross says is the fourth state of grief, depression. It seems like I've been here before so who knows, maybe I'm cycling back and forth between anger and acceptance and depression. I'll sure be glad when there's more of the one thing I can't change -- time. The passage of time will help.

Part of me longs for what Springsteen called the "Glory Days." If someone walked up and gave me the choice I wouldn't go back, but still....

When you're young or naive or just feeling full of potential and possibility, experiences are shiny and fresh. Unminted and unexplored. Nearly everything felt incredible or unique. Spending time with friends and bonding over long nights of passionate discussion, or non-stop wisecracks limned with liquor. Hearing them tell their stories for the first time and sharing your own. Discovering other people; discovering yourself in the process. Asking those who, what, where, when and why questions and not despairing if the answers weren't set in stone because you knew you didn't really know the answers anyway...they were only right at that moment and they'd change week to week anyway. Nothing felt immutable or hopeless yet.

That was heady stuff, that was. But like anything else it changes.

Years pass. You know yourself better. You're familiar enough with yourself that you know how you'll react to a lot of things before you even do them. The experiences that enriched you and led you on that voyage of self-discovery seem more like peanut butter and jelly rather than filet mignon. They become commonplace, the stuff of everyday instead of the unusual. You want to feel that same jet-fueled rush of connection that you used to but your senses betray you by dulling the essence of it all. You find yourself telling the same old stories and you listen to your friends tell their same old stories and it doesn't feel comforting any longer, it feels stifling. This disappoints you. You don't like that it does and you try to ignore that it does and you try to enjoy it like you did before. You want to enjoy it like you did before! But you don't as often; it comes only rarely.

Some fight this....this atrophy....by pushing the envelope more and more. Risking. Gathering new experiences. And others would say that if you vary the scenery -- get new friends or new surroundings -- that you can have that glittery newness back again. But I know that moving or swapping friends isn't a permanent solution and I am certainly not a risk taker. Instead, I'm a mourner. I mourn the loss of excitement. I mourn the idea that I have to exchange the people I care about for new models just so I can feel any freshness about life. And above all, I mourn the fact that I am the type of person that simply cannot remember that familiarity does not necessarily breed contempt.

So I don't know if it's apathy or just exhaustion. Which reminds me of another lyric -- "life goes on long after the thrill of livin' is gone." It's hard for me to get excited any more about life lately. There's a quote from some song about that, but it's not coming to me at the moment though it feels right on the tip of my tongue. Oh, wait! -- it's David Bowie's 'Changes' -- "and it seemed the taste was not so sweet."

I hope this means that when I finally get a taste of sweet, it'll be all that much sweeter?


((Song: "The Pretender" by Jackson Browne. Lyrics here:
http://www.lyricsdepot.com/jackson-browne/the-pretender.html ))

Monday, October 20, 2008

You Tried Your Best But You Were Only Being You

I've always believed my ex was a bit more emotionally developed than many men, but now I've begun to wonder how much of this development was his own and how much was dependent upon my feeding him the proper signals.

Some months ago the ex and I had a heated phone conversation about his impending nuptials and how fast he'd moved with Yo, and some of my behavior during that call was something I wasn't proud of. I ended up revealing more of my hurt feelings and regrets than I cared to and after it was over and we'd apologized to each other I resolved that I wouldn't let myself lose it like that again. I have my pride.

Since then I've kept that internal promise though it's been much harder recently. Their marriage has stirred up that sleeping giant. Screw friendly; civil is about all I've been able to muster up. One would think that ex knows me well enough to see through my facade but he gave me some cause to wonder last night when he invited me to a dinner at his next-door neighbor's house. This next-door neighbor had many dinners over at his place with me and the ex, and now he wants me to go over there and share dinner with the old neighbor and the new wife? Can you say awkward?

And oh yes, there was the great moment when her boy called my ex "Daddy!"

Maybe later on I'll be able to share a dinner over there but right now I'm too raw and I don't think he gets that because unlike me, he's got distractions and this new family to help him funnel away or cover over any underlying emotions. My reactions to his marriage probably won't make much sense to him -- after all, I was the one that left! I was the one that didn't try to save anything or didn't want to! I was the one that wanted him to find a happier relationship! -- all of that is true in and of itself. But as in anything involving the heart, there's much more to it. I just don't want to have to explain all of it to him.

So I refused dinner. I don't think I could have said no any faster without being rude. I might have skated along the other side of rude even though I tried not to. I left soon thereafter and when he reached around to hug me I pulled away ever so slightly and he just ended up patting my back. I said a quick goodbye and made my escape.

The only way I can continue to do this is to distance myself from the lot of them. I didn't have to before he got married but I do now. I don't like crying myself to sleep at night and I can't let it get to me like that for too much longer. The only way I can keep that from happening is to pull away. The more I cling to the what was, the less I am able to deal with the what it is now, and I have to do that for my own well-being.

I'm sure he'll notice the distance eventually. Maybe he'll even understand it. Hopefully he'll understand it without being told and that for right now and for some time from now, sacrificing the closeness we had is the price that's got to be paid. We can talk about our kiddo. Time will do the rest.


((Song: "Runaground" by James. Lyrics here:
http://www.cmt.com/lyrics/james/runaground/1382514/lyrics.jhtml ))

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Nobody Told Me There'd Be Days Like These

I spoke to BiB last night for the first time in months and he stayed up a little later than usual talking to me. It was nice. Seems he's doing fine. He mentioned that it was an odd coincidence and he thought it funny I should pop on to Trillian after such an extended period away since he'd received a gift from another character, a chest that I'd instructed he be given in the online RPG we used to play together. I mentioned I was surprised he hadn't trashed it and he said no, he'd placed it in one of his chests. So there it is taking up space, something he really hates. That speaks to me. It's always a slight surprise to learn -- no matter how often it happens or how much wisdom you gather as you age -- that what you think and what someone else thinks are not the same.

I'm having a few troubles with the ex being married. I know eventually it'll fade but right now it's right there in my face. I was thinking today about my reaction to it and then wondering how it might feel and how I might react when he and Yo have their own child. I was thinking that it might be harder than I care to think it will.

I know I'm being selfish but in this odd way I always harbored a belief that kiddo would be enough for the ex -- maybe because she's enough for me -- and that he wouldn't want or need to have anything else. Doing it again seems like saying the first time wasn't good enough. Even though I know he views it as expanding her life and giving her other options and I have no doubts that it will, I suppose it just isn't how I'm built. I remember the feeling of having her and how it opened my heart in a certain way that no one before or since had ever been able to do. I remember being very vulnerable. It's no secret I have fears of intimacy -- deep ones -- but with her, I had absolutely no choice or control. It was a roller coaster I couldn't stop and get out of. It was the sccariest and simultaneously most fulfilling thing I had ever experienced.

That, and if I'm honest....having a child together was something we shared. He and I. Our child. We were on that particular roller coaster of fright and exhilaration together and he was the only person that ever really saw me exposed in that manner.

Even though I've wanted him to have what I couldn't give him, it's different now that it's happening and I'm actually feeling him receding from me instead of merely contemplating its possibility. Even though I know rationally that he's not as shallow as these things I am mentally throwing at his feet, my deepest insecurities and fears come out and I translate them into concepts I can understand and nuggets of blame I can place. Mental darts of accusation designed to encourage my own self-pity. Places where I can rest my troubles at someone else's feet instead of picking them up and owning their weight myself. I know that most of this isn't anything HE does or doesn't do but how I'm allowing my own issues to bob to the surface. He's not my husband any longer. I have no chains I can bind him with and no control over his life. I chose this and I was right to choose it. I can't decide to cut him loose and want him to live his life and be happy and still expect him to mourn me and stay true to my memory. It's my responsibility to deal with the small childish part of me that wants that to be so.

I guess I don't really grasp the idea of wanting another child. Who knows, maybe my heart just isn't big enough...or I am less inclined to take risks. Lord knows my choices of men have been 'safe' enough. In my case, many things I attempt to do twice end up cheapening the experience of the first time or rendering it more commonplace. In my heart of hearts, thinking about him having another child makes me feel that our marriage and our child will become less special to him. But again, I'm imprinting my reactions onto him. Having kiddo was the most unique of experiences and I can't imagine caring to repeat it and risk taking away from the memory of that uniqueness by blurring it with or overlapping another.

Then the impatient part of me says to the rest of me: Does it make you feel like you loved him better if you sit and mope about this? You acted like a bitch and when you had the chance you didn't want it. You knew it wasn't right for you. Of course you can afford to act like a martyr for love now that you're 'safe' and you don't really have to risk anything or feel obligated to make any effort. When you were in it, you knew it wasn't really worth it enough to you. So are you angry at him or are you more angry at yourself? Have you not yet reconciled or accepted who you are? And why on earth do you expect him to continue to worship at your altar?

Yes, there is that. That part of me makes a lot more sense and it's the part I'll eventually listen to.

Or to streamline the entire thing: It's like I'm standing at the gravestone of our marriage. The things we did -- get married, have a child -- those things have been done. Pay the proper respect to the dead and don't sully memory by trying to make replacements.

I know that eventually in order to truly move forward, I'm going to have to stop living like a widow. I'm just not quite ready yet.

((Song: "Nobody Told Me" by John Lennon. Lyrics here:
http://www.bagism.com/lyrics/lennon-legend-lyrics.html#NobodyToldMe ))

Sunday, October 12, 2008

...

Ex and Yo came over this evening to drop off a washer and dryer for me. It's our old set; they decided to use Yo's. It got dented on the way over because some nimrod teenager rear-ended them on their way over. His insurance was 2 days expired so ex gets stuck having to deal with his own policy's uninsured motorist coverage. Luckily no one was hurt. I have yet to find out if the washer even works.

I only glanced at ex's ring finger once. A shiny new band replaced the one he wore with me. I'd love to say that I sailed through the meeting with ease and panache but I didn't, not really. I was just fine when they were here excepting I couldn't muster up the words to say congrats like my roommate did. I watched the ex carrying the washer and dryer up the stairs to my apartment and even though Yo was standing right there I had to watch myself from being too overprotective of him. He had been seriously injured a few years ago and small things kept popping up in my head, times when I took care of him and how I've always taken care of him. And even though it's been a year and a half since I moved out and a little less than a year since we divorced, it's a habit that's hard to break.

I wonder when I'll finally be able to fully reconcile my head and my heart or when they will finally seamlessly blend without even the hint of the regression they put me through now. I wonder when I'll be able to say congratulations and leave without turning -- literally or figuratively -- to look behind me.

I wonder when I'll really stop loving him.

Thursday, October 9, 2008

It's An Institute You Can't Disparage...

Shopping with my kiddo was the theme for this past weekend. We went shopping a total of three times without dragging of feet or whining about having to actually go, which -- I believe -- is a record for us. The first time was for a bra. The second was at this cool vintage shop in the arts district. The third was at a ritzy department store's discount outlet. I'll speak of the bra last.

Now my kiddo normally lives in overly baggy jeans and skate shoes and hoodies two sizes too big. Most people who meet her think she's a boy and with good reason. Her hair is cropped short to meet JROTC regs, she doesn't wear makeup, and she wears sports bras that smush her down.

Anyway, she's starting to get interested in "cooler" clothing and things that fit more to size. Yay! We went into a vintage clothing store in the local arts district because it was a way to walk off our root beer drinking binge (kiddo is a root beer fiend and this place had 28 varieties!) We were looking around and I spotted this vintage long-sleeved b&w Lanvin shirt with a street scene on it. On another rack was a v-necked vest, black and shiny "snakeskin" style, that zipped in the back. Both were size 2/4-ish and when kiddo tried them on together they looked fantastic! She fell in love and I knew right then I'd get them both for her xmas present. A little steep, but whatever. I rarely buy anything any more and it was just a great pleasure for me to do it. It's almost like I'm living vicariously through her because she's got the body to wear that stuff and when I had it, I never took advantage.

The third time we went shopping was at a local department store discount outlet. It was during this trip that she tried on a hot pink Anne Klein blazer that looked smashing but was just not cheap enough for my budget after the Lanvin. Kiddo did happen to mention that she'd decided she was happy that her dad was marrying Yo and that the prospect of having a little brother wasn't as bad as she'd originally thought. She told me Yo's son had been talking nonstop to the babysitter about kiddo and that made her feel really good. I told her I thought it was good that she felt that way. And I do. Well, for the most part.

And oh yes.....my ex is getting married this weekend. It's why we went shopping for the bra.

My kiddo is in the wedding but not as one of the bridesmaids, thank goodness. It is sooooo not her style. She's playing the best (wo)man role, standing next to her father. Yo took kiddo out a month or so ago and bought her a black tux to wear that can be used for formal events later on. It's a woman's tux and cut to fit as such -- my kiddo is taller than I am with a lithe frame that very much resembles Katherine Moenning's (who plays Shane from the L Word.) The shirt she got to wear underneath is fuchsia and kiddo loves it. However, the sports bras my kiddo wears just don't work with the shape of the tux so when I picked her up she and I had to go buy a new bra, the first 'real' one she needed to actually size. Coulda knocked me over with a feather when the size she eventually needed was 34D!

All this aside, my feelings concerning the wedding are like a soup, really -- you throw in a little of this and a little of that and even if they don't fit together originally, eventually they make something different. I'm relieved, angry, sad, hopeless, bitter, amused, happy for him, hopeful it works out, replaced, jealous, revolted.....the list goes on and on. I try them on and throw them away like suits. I never know which one I'll be wearing on any given day.

I find myself wondering how soon it will be before Yo gets knocked up. Ex isn't getting any younger and if he waits too long he'll be 60 before the kid would even be out of high school. Kiddo might be getting a half-sibling as well as a step-sibling. There's this part of me that wonders why he feels the need to change what our little family was in order to make kiddo's life 'better.' Making it better implies that whatever he might have told me, he really never believed that kiddo's being an only child was any good. I had the sense of that here and there throughout our marriage but I always thought that one way wasn't any better or worse than the other, just different. It's amazing, how we lived together for 17 years and yet could find ourselves in such completely different places. It's like we never knew each other at all. I know that's not true, but at times it certainly feels like it.

One other niggling thing. I've thought about the time frame he says that he met Yo in but there is something about it that's not quite jiving with what I recall him talking about at the time. I remember him talking about their initial meetings and the aftermath of them months before I moved out. I remember wondering at the time if he wasn't a bit interested in her because of the way the situation played out. Funny, though. He says now he met her a few weeks after I moved out.

He's lying.

You know, that's okay. You'd think -- of all the things that would make me angry and bitter -- that stretch of the truth would be the major sore point. You'd think so. But honestly, it's not. It is knowing that even if he didn't actually cheat, he was guilty enough about what he did feel that he felt he needed to cover over the circumstances of their meeting with the soft cloth of prevarication.

That means he's just as infallible as I am. Now that, I like. Now that is comforting.

((Song: " Love and Marriage" by Frank Sinatra. Lyrics here:
http://www.lyricsdepot.com/frank-sinatra/love-and-marriage.html ))