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 ))

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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 ))

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 ))

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 ))

We Interrupt This Program.....

....to warn of an impending storm that will prohibit this blogger from updating anything until the weekend. Must. Save, Computer.