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 ))

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 ))

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 ))

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))

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))