Three years ago, I stopped writing this blog. It still gets read, here and there. So I supposed it was time for an update.
When are we finally OK?
When we believe we are.
There is no magic solution, no wands or rainbows, or fairies. One day, I guess, you come to the realization that life is OK. That you are happy. That whatever has led you to where you are was needed, necessary - and that you like where you are.
Not that the demons of the past don't still haunt. They do, sometimes. Not that the bad decisions you made about yourself don't still fuck you up now and then. They will. Not that your work is done. It's never done.
But through this, if you can wake up enough to know it, people have loved you. Teachers have appeared along the path when you've needed them. If you have a roof over your head, enough food to eat, clothes on your back, and something or someone to live for, its enough.
My first teacher, when I was around 15 or so, was Viktor Frankl. He taught that though sometimes we have no choices in the physical circumstances or our life, we always have the freedom to choose our attitude. “Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space is our
power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our
freedom.”
Finally - he taught
“Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how'.”
I have a why.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Sunday, October 19, 2008
When are we finally OK?
Last night my conscious and semi conscious mind were on a roll.... I would dream something, disturbing - nd then I would half wake, and ask my unconscious something else - and go back to dreaming. I slept hard for nearly 12 hours, and woke exhausted.
I wrote all of it out - and somehow, my finger slipped, and I managed to delete the whole entry - (I never know, when this happens, if this is an act of God or of technology....) We are now 10 hours later, and I will try and see what my mind has processed of this.
For those of you who know me or have read my work, you know my back ground and my life story. I grew up in violence and abuse, alcoholism and addiction, frightened and insecure as long as can remember. I do not say these things for sympathy - but only to explain the theory of development that comes with such a back ground. Let me state, categorically, that I am infuriated when I see some of these forces still driving me, beyond my conscious mind, after so many years.
When being raised in situations such as these, children find clever adaptive strategies, to make their lives still livable. We must. My eldest brother, he became detached, and cold. He doesn't suffer, because he doesn't FEEL. My middle brother, arguably the most sensitive of the three - well, I am not sure what his strategy was - just that he found Jesus... and he is OK. Don't look - don't tell.
Me? I set out to be the best little girl in the world. I became compliant, forgiving, christian in my soul. I heard the voices of Gods and angels. I beleived that every one was good underneath, and that if people weren't sick and injured and ill - they would not be the way they are.
I believed what Anne Frank said - "in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.” I tried to forgive everyone, 70 x 7. I turned the other cheek.
Sounds good, no? Well, out of all the maladaptive ways to deal with dysfuntion - I suppose that this might well be the best, but it is not driven out of health or purity, it is driven my a neurotic need to be loved, out of a need to make sense out of a world that is fundamentally senselss, a world that is broken - full of broken and damaged people.
Because of good genetics, or being a lonely child, or some sense of struggling against chaos - I began to route my escape early. I found God in a small Kenosha church when I was 7 - and I became a devoutly liberal progressive Christian at the age of 7.
As a young teen I read Fromm and Frankl - where I discovered self responsibiity - that one must MAKE meaning from meaningless suffering. These ideas saved my life at a time when life was too unbearable to live.
As an older teen I discoved Jane Roberts, who channelled a spirit named Seth. Now, regardless of our shared skeptisicim about people who channel spirits, this material was good. It taught that we are responsibile for our reality, and we can change our reality by changing our thoughts. I also was introduced to Dan Millman - another author who talked about living life with a purpose. These books propelled me into college, into finding a life of my own, beyond the small world of my home town.
I dabble in wicca, in Christainity, Buddhism. I read Jung, Hillman, Moore. I listen to Pema Chodron, I work through toltec shamanism, step by step. I write and think about these issues a lot. I have studied the deep thinkers, I have gone through hundreds of thousands of dollars of therapy. I chant, I pray, I study --- I have worked my whole life long on 'personal growth' -
And perhaps I have come a long way towards my child hood dream of attainin some sort of spiritual enlightenment... but, I'm still broken. I am still that 6 year old child wanting someone to take care of her. All this work - all this reading - all of this emotional pain of trying to heal....
When is it going to be that I consider myself OK? When will I outgrow my nuerotic compulsions, my needs for nourishment from others? Am I lovable if I am still broken? And, more - is this drive to grow, to really really grow - is not this just another nuerotic manifestation of a child like attempt to make some bargain with the powers that be - "If I become perfect, will you love me then?"
I wrote all of it out - and somehow, my finger slipped, and I managed to delete the whole entry - (I never know, when this happens, if this is an act of God or of technology....) We are now 10 hours later, and I will try and see what my mind has processed of this.
For those of you who know me or have read my work, you know my back ground and my life story. I grew up in violence and abuse, alcoholism and addiction, frightened and insecure as long as can remember. I do not say these things for sympathy - but only to explain the theory of development that comes with such a back ground. Let me state, categorically, that I am infuriated when I see some of these forces still driving me, beyond my conscious mind, after so many years.
When being raised in situations such as these, children find clever adaptive strategies, to make their lives still livable. We must. My eldest brother, he became detached, and cold. He doesn't suffer, because he doesn't FEEL. My middle brother, arguably the most sensitive of the three - well, I am not sure what his strategy was - just that he found Jesus... and he is OK. Don't look - don't tell.
Me? I set out to be the best little girl in the world. I became compliant, forgiving, christian in my soul. I heard the voices of Gods and angels. I beleived that every one was good underneath, and that if people weren't sick and injured and ill - they would not be the way they are.
I believed what Anne Frank said - "in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.” I tried to forgive everyone, 70 x 7. I turned the other cheek.
Sounds good, no? Well, out of all the maladaptive ways to deal with dysfuntion - I suppose that this might well be the best, but it is not driven out of health or purity, it is driven my a neurotic need to be loved, out of a need to make sense out of a world that is fundamentally senselss, a world that is broken - full of broken and damaged people.
Because of good genetics, or being a lonely child, or some sense of struggling against chaos - I began to route my escape early. I found God in a small Kenosha church when I was 7 - and I became a devoutly liberal progressive Christian at the age of 7.
As a young teen I read Fromm and Frankl - where I discovered self responsibiity - that one must MAKE meaning from meaningless suffering. These ideas saved my life at a time when life was too unbearable to live.
As an older teen I discoved Jane Roberts, who channelled a spirit named Seth. Now, regardless of our shared skeptisicim about people who channel spirits, this material was good. It taught that we are responsibile for our reality, and we can change our reality by changing our thoughts. I also was introduced to Dan Millman - another author who talked about living life with a purpose. These books propelled me into college, into finding a life of my own, beyond the small world of my home town.
I dabble in wicca, in Christainity, Buddhism. I read Jung, Hillman, Moore. I listen to Pema Chodron, I work through toltec shamanism, step by step. I write and think about these issues a lot. I have studied the deep thinkers, I have gone through hundreds of thousands of dollars of therapy. I chant, I pray, I study --- I have worked my whole life long on 'personal growth' -
And perhaps I have come a long way towards my child hood dream of attainin some sort of spiritual enlightenment... but, I'm still broken. I am still that 6 year old child wanting someone to take care of her. All this work - all this reading - all of this emotional pain of trying to heal....
When is it going to be that I consider myself OK? When will I outgrow my nuerotic compulsions, my needs for nourishment from others? Am I lovable if I am still broken? And, more - is this drive to grow, to really really grow - is not this just another nuerotic manifestation of a child like attempt to make some bargain with the powers that be - "If I become perfect, will you love me then?"
Thursday, September 25, 2008
A Perfect Love
I went to church last week, and the new Priest, Reverend Barbara Cawthorne Crafton (yeah - a chick priest.... how cool is that!) gave a sermon that touched on how some of us really truely believe God is like us - that God loves what we love, hates who we hate - she said that we had better hope its not so.... because the only creature that really knows how to truely express pure and unconditionally perfect love is the dog. The rest of us are going to hell, (including cats....).
One of my spiritual mentors, Don Miguel Ruiz also speaks of this. Our dogs love us perfectly, just as we are. They are not angry with us when we don't have time to play - they are always happy to see us. When we are late coming home, they greet us at the door smiling - joyful at the fact that we have returned. They don't judge us or try and change us. And when we need something from them, they are generally there immediately, with a kiss and a cuddle. (Ok - this does not apply to chow chows. Chow chows are cats in disguise....)
Now, I have been trying very hard to love like my dog. (Minus the neediness.... my dog is really needy.) I have been working to put this principle into practice. Sometimes I am fairly good at it.... sometimes like my dog though, I get worried and will do the emotional equivalent of eating a pair of shoes when I suffer from seperation anxiety....
Being a human, rather than a dog, makes this hard though. I want something back for my love. I'm a capitalist at heart. If I love someone, I want their attention. Unlike my dog, I can "insist" on getting my investment out. But - thats not the same as love. That's a quid pro quo. I love you IF you feed me, play with me, scratch behind my ears. My dog would NEVER do this. She loves me truely, even if I am being the worlds biggest bitch, if I forget to feed her, if I get too busy for long walks. She might be unhappy - she might get a little nuerotic on me - but she would never threaten to withdraw her LOVE if she doesn't get her way.
I have always tried to live my life - and to teach those in my care - one important principle: An honorable person does the right thing without fear of punishment or hope of reward.
I think, maybe, that this maxim applies as well to love. If one chooses to love, commits to love, you must do it without fear of punishment or hope of reward. This requires bravery.... it is a fearsome way to live. Of course, this doesn't mean you let yourself be abused.... (my dog has no choice if I abuse her, of course...) So - if I love, and do my best to not put conditions on it.... to be ethically consistant with myself, I must love without an agenda - without worrying that I could be hurt, without hoping that it will end in the perfect dream.
Thats not my job. My job is to simply offer my love, to be happy to see my loved ones when they show up, to forgive instantly to the best of my ability - and to keep my heart and spirit open. I have taken - to the best of my ability - abandonment of those I love - off the table. (If I dont get my way I dont love you anymore....)
I am not perfect like my dog. If our god is an unforgiving god, I will never be perfect enough to obtain heaven. I hope and pray that god is like my dog; and I will stuggle to be like that image of god - the one who knows how imperfect I am.... and loves me any way. And I will try to mirror that kind of perfect love, however imperfectly I do it. Because in my heart, I think the world we live in is heaven or hell..... and it depends on how we dream it.
One of my spiritual mentors, Don Miguel Ruiz also speaks of this. Our dogs love us perfectly, just as we are. They are not angry with us when we don't have time to play - they are always happy to see us. When we are late coming home, they greet us at the door smiling - joyful at the fact that we have returned. They don't judge us or try and change us. And when we need something from them, they are generally there immediately, with a kiss and a cuddle. (Ok - this does not apply to chow chows. Chow chows are cats in disguise....)
Now, I have been trying very hard to love like my dog. (Minus the neediness.... my dog is really needy.) I have been working to put this principle into practice. Sometimes I am fairly good at it.... sometimes like my dog though, I get worried and will do the emotional equivalent of eating a pair of shoes when I suffer from seperation anxiety....
Being a human, rather than a dog, makes this hard though. I want something back for my love. I'm a capitalist at heart. If I love someone, I want their attention. Unlike my dog, I can "insist" on getting my investment out. But - thats not the same as love. That's a quid pro quo. I love you IF you feed me, play with me, scratch behind my ears. My dog would NEVER do this. She loves me truely, even if I am being the worlds biggest bitch, if I forget to feed her, if I get too busy for long walks. She might be unhappy - she might get a little nuerotic on me - but she would never threaten to withdraw her LOVE if she doesn't get her way.
I have always tried to live my life - and to teach those in my care - one important principle: An honorable person does the right thing without fear of punishment or hope of reward.
I think, maybe, that this maxim applies as well to love. If one chooses to love, commits to love, you must do it without fear of punishment or hope of reward. This requires bravery.... it is a fearsome way to live. Of course, this doesn't mean you let yourself be abused.... (my dog has no choice if I abuse her, of course...) So - if I love, and do my best to not put conditions on it.... to be ethically consistant with myself, I must love without an agenda - without worrying that I could be hurt, without hoping that it will end in the perfect dream.
Thats not my job. My job is to simply offer my love, to be happy to see my loved ones when they show up, to forgive instantly to the best of my ability - and to keep my heart and spirit open. I have taken - to the best of my ability - abandonment of those I love - off the table. (If I dont get my way I dont love you anymore....)
I am not perfect like my dog. If our god is an unforgiving god, I will never be perfect enough to obtain heaven. I hope and pray that god is like my dog; and I will stuggle to be like that image of god - the one who knows how imperfect I am.... and loves me any way. And I will try to mirror that kind of perfect love, however imperfectly I do it. Because in my heart, I think the world we live in is heaven or hell..... and it depends on how we dream it.
Monday, August 11, 2008
One Life
It could be that I have many lives to live. In my bleak understanding of physics and time, it is quite possible that I am simultaneously living many lives, all in the same moment - in many different dimensions and even historical periods. Of course, this is possible.
The problem is, I am only fully aware of the life I am living in my current understanding of NOW. And I only get to live this life - according to my current state of consciousness - NOW. There are no 'do overs' that I will ever be aware of - its not like a game where you can take your move back.
So - with only this one very precious life - how do I want it to be? What shall be its shape? Out of what shall I construct it?
On my magical oddessey to France, I went on a shamanic journey. A vision quest, so to speak. It came to me that my life is shaped by relationship, from the connectedness with the others in my life. It is these relationships that give my life meaning, validity, freedom and form. The people in my life provide the architecture and the intrinsic structure which allows me to dream the dreams I follow.
I am not alone. We are, none of us, alone. Or rather, the aloness we have is a perception, or a choice we make - but it is not really our natural condition.
Each person I touch or who touches me provides me with a mirror and informs me of who I am. Those relationships that have always made me suffer are those in which I can tell that the other person cannot see me - and my reflection in their eyes is broken - I am not real, I am only a figment of their imaginations.
I had that with Nick, (not so much anymore - he does see me now...) - I had that with my friend Ames, and I have that with 'the boy'.... but for the most part? People can see me.. I am not invisible or imaginary at all. Furthermore -- I love who I see reflected in the vision of my friends and lovers and pals. I like the shape of who I am, and what I am becomming.
This might be one of the first times I have ever realized such a thing. I LIKE myself, I like my life - and I am blessed by the connections I enjoy and the love others hold for me.
Furthermore, I had the opportunity to examine how I have constructed my life. Other than my very bad habit of trying to MAKE other people see me when they don't (which leads me to suffer greatly....) - my life is really a masterpiece. I'm not sure how I have achieved this, to be truthful --- I have a job that is good for me, which provides me with freedom, creativity, and where I am truely valued.
I have a life's work - a vocation and calling to which I have been faithful. And which , after years of struggle, finally seems to be beginning to take a shape and a form that will allow me to serve it fully.
I have a son, who is a joy to me. He loves me always, and I think I am a good mother (were I a bad mother, all the rest would be meaningless). We are a family - small, and a little broken.... but good. Still good. And my ex husband, though I am still trying to bring myself to full forgiveness - he finally, after years of struggle, see's me, loves me, and admires me. He has always supported me in my dreams, and for this, I am truely grateful.
I often put my attention on what is wrong, I take for granted what is right. This is - well - it is the very defination of living in a state of sin, I think.
I have travelled the world. I have eaten in the finest restaraunts. I have drunk gallons of champagne, and I have known many beautiful men (and a couple of stunning women as well.) I am surrounded, now, by bright and wonderful people.... and have been my whole adult life through. I have books, and poetry, and music in my life... not to mention some very neat technology. I have a closet full of nice clothes and beautiful shoes, and enough money to provide all the basic needs of our life
I am - at this moment, still young and strong - with a still sharp mind and a very good education.
I have friends and partners, who love me truely - who care for me, trust me, and need me just as much as I need them. I have people who do take care of me, who are concerned when I am sick and sad, alone and lonely - in trouble - and who rejoice with me when I am joyful and succeed.
I am rich beyond imagining.
So, the future of this one life? To begin of course, I want more of the same! More travel, champagnem food, friends, work, sex, adventure. I want to see my boy grow tall and strong. I want a lifetime, filled with perfect moments, glorious sunsets, sex on the beach, and work which fills my soul.
And maybe, someday a someone to share this life with, and build a new dream of the future with.... a friend to adventure with. I want to reach the stars so at the end of this life I can say "Good Job, Well Done... you made a life, and it was good"
The problem is, I am only fully aware of the life I am living in my current understanding of NOW. And I only get to live this life - according to my current state of consciousness - NOW. There are no 'do overs' that I will ever be aware of - its not like a game where you can take your move back.
So - with only this one very precious life - how do I want it to be? What shall be its shape? Out of what shall I construct it?
On my magical oddessey to France, I went on a shamanic journey. A vision quest, so to speak. It came to me that my life is shaped by relationship, from the connectedness with the others in my life. It is these relationships that give my life meaning, validity, freedom and form. The people in my life provide the architecture and the intrinsic structure which allows me to dream the dreams I follow.
I am not alone. We are, none of us, alone. Or rather, the aloness we have is a perception, or a choice we make - but it is not really our natural condition.
Each person I touch or who touches me provides me with a mirror and informs me of who I am. Those relationships that have always made me suffer are those in which I can tell that the other person cannot see me - and my reflection in their eyes is broken - I am not real, I am only a figment of their imaginations.
I had that with Nick, (not so much anymore - he does see me now...) - I had that with my friend Ames, and I have that with 'the boy'.... but for the most part? People can see me.. I am not invisible or imaginary at all. Furthermore -- I love who I see reflected in the vision of my friends and lovers and pals. I like the shape of who I am, and what I am becomming.
This might be one of the first times I have ever realized such a thing. I LIKE myself, I like my life - and I am blessed by the connections I enjoy and the love others hold for me.
Furthermore, I had the opportunity to examine how I have constructed my life. Other than my very bad habit of trying to MAKE other people see me when they don't (which leads me to suffer greatly....) - my life is really a masterpiece. I'm not sure how I have achieved this, to be truthful --- I have a job that is good for me, which provides me with freedom, creativity, and where I am truely valued.
I have a life's work - a vocation and calling to which I have been faithful. And which , after years of struggle, finally seems to be beginning to take a shape and a form that will allow me to serve it fully.
I have a son, who is a joy to me. He loves me always, and I think I am a good mother (were I a bad mother, all the rest would be meaningless). We are a family - small, and a little broken.... but good. Still good. And my ex husband, though I am still trying to bring myself to full forgiveness - he finally, after years of struggle, see's me, loves me, and admires me. He has always supported me in my dreams, and for this, I am truely grateful.
I often put my attention on what is wrong, I take for granted what is right. This is - well - it is the very defination of living in a state of sin, I think.
I have travelled the world. I have eaten in the finest restaraunts. I have drunk gallons of champagne, and I have known many beautiful men (and a couple of stunning women as well.) I am surrounded, now, by bright and wonderful people.... and have been my whole adult life through. I have books, and poetry, and music in my life... not to mention some very neat technology. I have a closet full of nice clothes and beautiful shoes, and enough money to provide all the basic needs of our life
I am - at this moment, still young and strong - with a still sharp mind and a very good education.
I have friends and partners, who love me truely - who care for me, trust me, and need me just as much as I need them. I have people who do take care of me, who are concerned when I am sick and sad, alone and lonely - in trouble - and who rejoice with me when I am joyful and succeed.
I am rich beyond imagining.
So, the future of this one life? To begin of course, I want more of the same! More travel, champagnem food, friends, work, sex, adventure. I want to see my boy grow tall and strong. I want a lifetime, filled with perfect moments, glorious sunsets, sex on the beach, and work which fills my soul.
And maybe, someday a someone to share this life with, and build a new dream of the future with.... a friend to adventure with. I want to reach the stars so at the end of this life I can say "Good Job, Well Done... you made a life, and it was good"
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Peace and Freedom
My mom's sent me a book called "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert.
They sent it to me in part because much of it could have been written by me. Her story is similiar to mine, and she and I have much in common.
Excpet for one thing - she is searching for peace and freedom. I am at a point in this book where she is in an Ashram in India, trying to meditate her way to inner peace.... this subject has come up for me so often these days, it seems to be the thing everyone is looking for. Peace and Freedom.
I know that I should want these things... but when I poke about, I find no longing for this. It doesn't resonate with me. One answer to this is "ah, that's your ego, trying to stay in control" - but observationally? Even those who seem to have achieved or to be actively striving in this direction have a healthy dose of ego and quite as much arrogance as I... "Ah, I am striving for peace and enlightenment" is often uttered with a smugness and condescesion that makes me flush with shame and self loathing.
So - if I do not long for peace and freedom, what is it I am after?
Logos and Devotion. I want meaning, and I want to belong to something far greater than myself. If I find these things, I think maybe peace and freedom come with the package, but I am not sure.....
I have expereinced inner peace on occasion, and its very nice. But it is not a solid state. And Freedom? I think I have spiritiual and psychological agoraphobia - because the word itself, if I dwell on it too long - causes a sensation of near panic.
I live in a state of freedom. I am absoultely free, my obligations are a matter of choice. If I choose to accept the consequences, I can easily neglect my commitments and obligations.
My world is too wide, too flat, with too few borders and too much space. Freedom seems to me another kind of prison - a place of no belonging, a desert too wide to cross alone.
It is not that I wish confinement (ok, on the occasional Saturday night, perhaps....) - but I want the bindings of life, of family, of freindship, of duty, of purpose. We are born in a state of freedom, at least we educated westerners... but without the ties that bind us, where do we find purpose, service, and meaning?
Maybe I have this all wrong. It could be my ego speaking, my narcissism, my inner puella who refuses to grow up. But, maybe I have it right. However, like the author of my book - I am struggling just as hard with finding meaning as she is finding peace.
They sent it to me in part because much of it could have been written by me. Her story is similiar to mine, and she and I have much in common.
Excpet for one thing - she is searching for peace and freedom. I am at a point in this book where she is in an Ashram in India, trying to meditate her way to inner peace.... this subject has come up for me so often these days, it seems to be the thing everyone is looking for. Peace and Freedom.
I know that I should want these things... but when I poke about, I find no longing for this. It doesn't resonate with me. One answer to this is "ah, that's your ego, trying to stay in control" - but observationally? Even those who seem to have achieved or to be actively striving in this direction have a healthy dose of ego and quite as much arrogance as I... "Ah, I am striving for peace and enlightenment" is often uttered with a smugness and condescesion that makes me flush with shame and self loathing.
So - if I do not long for peace and freedom, what is it I am after?
Logos and Devotion. I want meaning, and I want to belong to something far greater than myself. If I find these things, I think maybe peace and freedom come with the package, but I am not sure.....
I have expereinced inner peace on occasion, and its very nice. But it is not a solid state. And Freedom? I think I have spiritiual and psychological agoraphobia - because the word itself, if I dwell on it too long - causes a sensation of near panic.
I live in a state of freedom. I am absoultely free, my obligations are a matter of choice. If I choose to accept the consequences, I can easily neglect my commitments and obligations.
My world is too wide, too flat, with too few borders and too much space. Freedom seems to me another kind of prison - a place of no belonging, a desert too wide to cross alone.
It is not that I wish confinement (ok, on the occasional Saturday night, perhaps....) - but I want the bindings of life, of family, of freindship, of duty, of purpose. We are born in a state of freedom, at least we educated westerners... but without the ties that bind us, where do we find purpose, service, and meaning?
Maybe I have this all wrong. It could be my ego speaking, my narcissism, my inner puella who refuses to grow up. But, maybe I have it right. However, like the author of my book - I am struggling just as hard with finding meaning as she is finding peace.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Why do we love who we love
Last week i went out to dinner with 'Romeo'. We had a great time - until he realized he was having a great time, and then yet again started going over 'why it wouldn't work'. Yet again, he asked me how he hurt me, how I could have loved him - etc...
Not to be unkind, but I didn't think he was really smart enough to understand anything I would have to say on this matter... or perhaps he is deliberately stupid, or maybe he just feels confused, guilty, conflicted --- I have no idea. Nor, honestly, do I really care any more. I did my best. It didn't work out. Life and love are like this.
But - the question is important. Why do we love who we love? Why do I love who I love?
At one time, I would pathologize these questions. "I only love unavailable men because I am too afraid to love someone available" or "I loved him because I was an abused child, and was looking for someone to take care of me" - or any number of other pathological reasons that make my choices wrong.
We assume that if we get hurt it is because we have done something wrong, or because someone else has wronged us. But, as I have said before, to love is always to suffer a broken heart, and always - if you love someone, you WILL get hurt. It is the nature of caring - opening your heart makes you vulnerable to others words and deeds, and we are all imperfect and we do hurt each other all the time.
In my frustration at Ale asking me this question yet again, I started thinking more deeply about this question. What is it that pushes us to make the choices we make - for I contend that love is always a choice, whether we do it consciously or unconsciously.
I have loved a lot of people over my lifetime - I have thought myself "in love" a score of times (many times to have it simply vanish like a ghost) - and I have been really truely profoundly in love 5 times in my life.
First I was 14 or so, and his name was Fred. Fred was 4 years older than me, already showing some signs of what would become schizophrenia - and to my adolescent mind, he was the most exotic thing in the whole wide world. Fred was a lot boy, but I saw him as a man. He initiated me into sex and love and fast cars. He gave me a view of a world beyond - of college, of escape - of a world beyond Kenosha Wisconsin and the violence of the world I was in. He would come, he would run off again; there was never a relationship there - but there was a friendship (as the years would prove.....) he represented my yearning for a world beyond and gave me the confidence that I would have a life beyond what I could see. He was like Hades, dragging me periodically into the underworld, and showing me a river I would someday cross. He was Orpheus to my Eurydice. I owe my life as it is now to him, and will forever be greatful.
Then, there was John. I met him when I was 14 or 15. This was my first 'True Love'. This was the teen romance, the innocent love as it should have been. It was Romeo and Juliet, Tristan and Isolde. It was proms and flowers and making out in the back seat of the car. He loved me with his whole heart, and I loved him with mine. I do not know that I have, to this day, really ever recovered from that break-up. This was what love was supposed to be - innocent and pure and just like the storybooks say. It ended as teen romances are meant to end... and in some ways, this remains an outstanding tragedy in my life - because this was the only time, in my whole life - where I was in love and loved in equal measure. This is really the only love who loved me back before it was too late.
Then there was Nick. I met him when I was 19 or 20, and hated him - and often think perhaps I should have followed my first instinct and stayed as far away as I could, but there are love stories and there are love stories. I fell in love, hard, on our first date. He was a bad boy - the worst. He was lost beyond redemption. He was sex incarnate, and I imagined him older and wiser and imbued him with qualities he didn't own - but being who he was, he tried to be those things. He left me heartbroken, shattered, destroyed - but I won him back. I knew - I KNEW we were fated to be together. I knew I would marry him, I knew I would have his child. We had Karmic business together, and we played it through. We made a home, we raised other people children, we gathered a family and eventually had a child of our own. At which point he left me - as my dreams always told me he would. Our life together was a mythic journey - I went from Maiden to Wife with him, and the loss of the marriage was a true death for me.
In the midst of this was Curtis. Curtis is a gay man, whom I met in college, and he was the friend of my heart. He was my brother, my soul mate, the one I would turn to for each and every little thing. Obviously, this wasnt a sexual relationship - but my love for him was wild. He was the twin child seperated from me at my birth, and the only person in my life who I have ever truly lost. I still dream of him, of reconcilliation and restoration, but he has spun off into a different galaxy now - but if there is another life, I have confidence he will be my true brother again and we will find each other throughout eternity.
Finally - there is Ale - (or as a friend of mine likes to call him - 'Romeo'). Now, I don't quite know, yet, what this was all about. Ale is something completely different for me. Before him, all the men I loved or were in love with had some things in common; well read, artistic tempraments, outsiders or nerds - all were extremely deep and complicated. Ale was like dating the high school football captain. He is a BOY. Always a little out of reach, but when I was with him, he was so sweet - so affectionate and loving, open like a child. And then, like a young teen running away from mother, he was gone again. It was maddening, painful, like high school. Yet my soul knew him, and loved him, and wanted him desperately. He changed me, bringing out in me a sweetness and childlikeness and innocence that I had renounced long ago. I liked who I was when I was with him (when I say WITH him, I speak of being in the same room - because somehow, when I was out of sight, I was out of mind with him....).
For all the unlikeliness of this relationship, for all that his lack of maturity and depth doomed this from the beginning - my body knew. And I do not disrespect my bodies response to love. His body knew too - but he is too young and too unformed to really understand what that means to the soul - and he is too young and too unformed to actually HAVE much soul yet. He is like Narcissus, or Peter Pan - and no great suffering has yet grasped him deeply enough to propel him into the maturity that is needed for real love.
Something mythical played out in this relationship - Puer / Puella or Puer / Great Mother - or perhaps some of both. I do not think I loved him only because I couldn't have him - though this would be the pop psych version of the story. This love was an initiation of sorts, the last love of my girlhood, the love that has propelled me finally and permanantly into adult hood. My innocence is now truly gone, and it has made me far more worldly. I am no longer naive. His love of me and his rejection of that love has changed me. Not for the better, not for the worse, but into something deeper and far more profound than I was before.
This story is not yet finished. But really, none of these stories is finished. The have, for better or worse, formed me, created me, made me what I am. In the midst of all the anger, pain, sorrow and loss - love remains in all cases, and it is these loves that have formed my soul.
I am trying to learn gratitude for these gifts of love, and sometimes - when I am not feeling overwhelmed, frightened, and alone... I grasp how lucky I am and I count not only these 'great loves' - but all the other loves I have had - and I can remember that I am not, nor have I ever been, alone.
Each of these loves, great and small - have fulfilled a portion of my destiny. Each of them has taken its own mythical position in my lifes journy - these men have been my fathers, my gods, by sons and my brothers. To them I have been wife, daughter, sister, whore, and goddess by turns. Each person we love creates us, develops our soul, our psyche, and creates the mythos that is our life.
Perhaps one day I will find what it is that I most want; a companion for my life, a companion of my soul - someone who will oversee my final death and walk me over the river. Someone who would be willing to go to the underworld with me, or will be there when I arrive. In the meantime, I think I must be content to wander, feeling alone - keeping my heart open in the face of that lonliness and trusting that my myth isnt quite completed.
Not to be unkind, but I didn't think he was really smart enough to understand anything I would have to say on this matter... or perhaps he is deliberately stupid, or maybe he just feels confused, guilty, conflicted --- I have no idea. Nor, honestly, do I really care any more. I did my best. It didn't work out. Life and love are like this.
But - the question is important. Why do we love who we love? Why do I love who I love?
At one time, I would pathologize these questions. "I only love unavailable men because I am too afraid to love someone available" or "I loved him because I was an abused child, and was looking for someone to take care of me" - or any number of other pathological reasons that make my choices wrong.
We assume that if we get hurt it is because we have done something wrong, or because someone else has wronged us. But, as I have said before, to love is always to suffer a broken heart, and always - if you love someone, you WILL get hurt. It is the nature of caring - opening your heart makes you vulnerable to others words and deeds, and we are all imperfect and we do hurt each other all the time.
In my frustration at Ale asking me this question yet again, I started thinking more deeply about this question. What is it that pushes us to make the choices we make - for I contend that love is always a choice, whether we do it consciously or unconsciously.
I have loved a lot of people over my lifetime - I have thought myself "in love" a score of times (many times to have it simply vanish like a ghost) - and I have been really truely profoundly in love 5 times in my life.
First I was 14 or so, and his name was Fred. Fred was 4 years older than me, already showing some signs of what would become schizophrenia - and to my adolescent mind, he was the most exotic thing in the whole wide world. Fred was a lot boy, but I saw him as a man. He initiated me into sex and love and fast cars. He gave me a view of a world beyond - of college, of escape - of a world beyond Kenosha Wisconsin and the violence of the world I was in. He would come, he would run off again; there was never a relationship there - but there was a friendship (as the years would prove.....) he represented my yearning for a world beyond and gave me the confidence that I would have a life beyond what I could see. He was like Hades, dragging me periodically into the underworld, and showing me a river I would someday cross. He was Orpheus to my Eurydice. I owe my life as it is now to him, and will forever be greatful.
Then, there was John. I met him when I was 14 or 15. This was my first 'True Love'. This was the teen romance, the innocent love as it should have been. It was Romeo and Juliet, Tristan and Isolde. It was proms and flowers and making out in the back seat of the car. He loved me with his whole heart, and I loved him with mine. I do not know that I have, to this day, really ever recovered from that break-up. This was what love was supposed to be - innocent and pure and just like the storybooks say. It ended as teen romances are meant to end... and in some ways, this remains an outstanding tragedy in my life - because this was the only time, in my whole life - where I was in love and loved in equal measure. This is really the only love who loved me back before it was too late.
Then there was Nick. I met him when I was 19 or 20, and hated him - and often think perhaps I should have followed my first instinct and stayed as far away as I could, but there are love stories and there are love stories. I fell in love, hard, on our first date. He was a bad boy - the worst. He was lost beyond redemption. He was sex incarnate, and I imagined him older and wiser and imbued him with qualities he didn't own - but being who he was, he tried to be those things. He left me heartbroken, shattered, destroyed - but I won him back. I knew - I KNEW we were fated to be together. I knew I would marry him, I knew I would have his child. We had Karmic business together, and we played it through. We made a home, we raised other people children, we gathered a family and eventually had a child of our own. At which point he left me - as my dreams always told me he would. Our life together was a mythic journey - I went from Maiden to Wife with him, and the loss of the marriage was a true death for me.
In the midst of this was Curtis. Curtis is a gay man, whom I met in college, and he was the friend of my heart. He was my brother, my soul mate, the one I would turn to for each and every little thing. Obviously, this wasnt a sexual relationship - but my love for him was wild. He was the twin child seperated from me at my birth, and the only person in my life who I have ever truly lost. I still dream of him, of reconcilliation and restoration, but he has spun off into a different galaxy now - but if there is another life, I have confidence he will be my true brother again and we will find each other throughout eternity.
Finally - there is Ale - (or as a friend of mine likes to call him - 'Romeo'). Now, I don't quite know, yet, what this was all about. Ale is something completely different for me. Before him, all the men I loved or were in love with had some things in common; well read, artistic tempraments, outsiders or nerds - all were extremely deep and complicated. Ale was like dating the high school football captain. He is a BOY. Always a little out of reach, but when I was with him, he was so sweet - so affectionate and loving, open like a child. And then, like a young teen running away from mother, he was gone again. It was maddening, painful, like high school. Yet my soul knew him, and loved him, and wanted him desperately. He changed me, bringing out in me a sweetness and childlikeness and innocence that I had renounced long ago. I liked who I was when I was with him (when I say WITH him, I speak of being in the same room - because somehow, when I was out of sight, I was out of mind with him....).
For all the unlikeliness of this relationship, for all that his lack of maturity and depth doomed this from the beginning - my body knew. And I do not disrespect my bodies response to love. His body knew too - but he is too young and too unformed to really understand what that means to the soul - and he is too young and too unformed to actually HAVE much soul yet. He is like Narcissus, or Peter Pan - and no great suffering has yet grasped him deeply enough to propel him into the maturity that is needed for real love.
Something mythical played out in this relationship - Puer / Puella or Puer / Great Mother - or perhaps some of both. I do not think I loved him only because I couldn't have him - though this would be the pop psych version of the story. This love was an initiation of sorts, the last love of my girlhood, the love that has propelled me finally and permanantly into adult hood. My innocence is now truly gone, and it has made me far more worldly. I am no longer naive. His love of me and his rejection of that love has changed me. Not for the better, not for the worse, but into something deeper and far more profound than I was before.
This story is not yet finished. But really, none of these stories is finished. The have, for better or worse, formed me, created me, made me what I am. In the midst of all the anger, pain, sorrow and loss - love remains in all cases, and it is these loves that have formed my soul.
I am trying to learn gratitude for these gifts of love, and sometimes - when I am not feeling overwhelmed, frightened, and alone... I grasp how lucky I am and I count not only these 'great loves' - but all the other loves I have had - and I can remember that I am not, nor have I ever been, alone.
Each of these loves, great and small - have fulfilled a portion of my destiny. Each of them has taken its own mythical position in my lifes journy - these men have been my fathers, my gods, by sons and my brothers. To them I have been wife, daughter, sister, whore, and goddess by turns. Each person we love creates us, develops our soul, our psyche, and creates the mythos that is our life.
Perhaps one day I will find what it is that I most want; a companion for my life, a companion of my soul - someone who will oversee my final death and walk me over the river. Someone who would be willing to go to the underworld with me, or will be there when I arrive. In the meantime, I think I must be content to wander, feeling alone - keeping my heart open in the face of that lonliness and trusting that my myth isnt quite completed.
Death Dreams
The other night I had a dream that I am still trying to sit with. Hopefully, in this retelling I won't add or take away much -
In this dream I was dying of 3 types of cancer... all in my torso. I cannot remember which organs were affected -
I kissed Spike and Betta goodbye, and I went off to find someone to help me die. Eventually, I collapsed in pain on the floor of a bar, and someone offered to give me an overdose of painkillers. I motioned to him to give me enough to kill my pain, but not to kill me. He gave me an injection in my right index finger, and went away.
Again I wandered off to find help - but I could not find any. I talked to someone at a boat dock, and he couldnt help me, I wandered off some more, and tried making phone calls, but I could not reach anyone. All I wanted was someone to sit with me and comfort me while I died.
Then, I realized I was already dead. I could smell it, I could taste it... and I began vomiting up my intestines, my insides were melted and coming out of my mouth, and I could feel pieces of stomach as I vomited. I recall that the vomiting was incredibly painful....
When I finished vomiting, I again tried to contact people to come help me. I called my brother, but he wouldnt take my call, and I didnt know who else to call or where to turn.
Then, I was crossing a bridge (or maybe it was a barge?) - and I was looking down at my friend Amy's house - I was elevated, though not so high... and I recalled that I had rehearsal the next day, and that I needed to be there, so I decided that I couldn't be dead, and since no one would help me die I might as well be alive.
My last thought before waking was that no one lives through this kind of cancer... and then I woke up.
I began to cry, because there was no one there to sit with me who would be with me as I die.
In this dream I was dying of 3 types of cancer... all in my torso. I cannot remember which organs were affected -
I kissed Spike and Betta goodbye, and I went off to find someone to help me die. Eventually, I collapsed in pain on the floor of a bar, and someone offered to give me an overdose of painkillers. I motioned to him to give me enough to kill my pain, but not to kill me. He gave me an injection in my right index finger, and went away.
Again I wandered off to find help - but I could not find any. I talked to someone at a boat dock, and he couldnt help me, I wandered off some more, and tried making phone calls, but I could not reach anyone. All I wanted was someone to sit with me and comfort me while I died.
Then, I realized I was already dead. I could smell it, I could taste it... and I began vomiting up my intestines, my insides were melted and coming out of my mouth, and I could feel pieces of stomach as I vomited. I recall that the vomiting was incredibly painful....
When I finished vomiting, I again tried to contact people to come help me. I called my brother, but he wouldnt take my call, and I didnt know who else to call or where to turn.
Then, I was crossing a bridge (or maybe it was a barge?) - and I was looking down at my friend Amy's house - I was elevated, though not so high... and I recalled that I had rehearsal the next day, and that I needed to be there, so I decided that I couldn't be dead, and since no one would help me die I might as well be alive.
My last thought before waking was that no one lives through this kind of cancer... and then I woke up.
I began to cry, because there was no one there to sit with me who would be with me as I die.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
I am James Hillmans Love Child
I was reading Hillman's "Blue Fire" today. I really love Hillman.
He compares meditators to terrorists and nihlists. (My apologies to my actual Buddhist friends - I don't think he was aiming this at you. I think this is for all the fake buddhists out there....)
"I saw the present cults of meditation not so gentle, not so hamless as they like to be, but as a viscious bunch of totalitarians. They can't see the individual --- which you see only if you look for soul, look with soul. They cant see an individual person, let alone an individual thing. And the terrorist shooting a man coming out of his front door, shooting him in the knees is not seeing that man at all. He is in his spirtual meditation....."
I laughed out loud. I could never ever explain to anyone before why I dont like this whole "we are all one" conscioussness. Every time I have tried to explain it, some snotty asshole has condescendingly retorted that it is because I am "overly attached to my ego" - with all the insufferable superiority of the newly converted, who really haven't clearly thought through the dogma they have been fed.
The other allegation is that I am afraid of death. In my opinion, that is a sign of sanity and good mental health. Hell yes, I am afraid of death, and anyone who is not afraid of death has already died. Or is lying. Or is simply stupid. Or is in such pain that ANTHING else is preferable.
I am not all that eager to go to the "great oneness" - I like it here, I like being me - and whether there is a 'great beyond', 'the fires of hell', or another 'go around on the wheel of life' - I'm busy having this one right now, thank you. Hell yes,I am attached to my ego. And my soul. And my spirit.
That attachement is what makes us human. So, go into the great oneness if you want. I plan on sticking around here with my imperfect soul, spirit, and ego
He compares meditators to terrorists and nihlists. (My apologies to my actual Buddhist friends - I don't think he was aiming this at you. I think this is for all the fake buddhists out there....)
"I saw the present cults of meditation not so gentle, not so hamless as they like to be, but as a viscious bunch of totalitarians. They can't see the individual --- which you see only if you look for soul, look with soul. They cant see an individual person, let alone an individual thing. And the terrorist shooting a man coming out of his front door, shooting him in the knees is not seeing that man at all. He is in his spirtual meditation....."
I laughed out loud. I could never ever explain to anyone before why I dont like this whole "we are all one" conscioussness. Every time I have tried to explain it, some snotty asshole has condescendingly retorted that it is because I am "overly attached to my ego" - with all the insufferable superiority of the newly converted, who really haven't clearly thought through the dogma they have been fed.
The other allegation is that I am afraid of death. In my opinion, that is a sign of sanity and good mental health. Hell yes, I am afraid of death, and anyone who is not afraid of death has already died. Or is lying. Or is simply stupid. Or is in such pain that ANTHING else is preferable.
I am not all that eager to go to the "great oneness" - I like it here, I like being me - and whether there is a 'great beyond', 'the fires of hell', or another 'go around on the wheel of life' - I'm busy having this one right now, thank you. Hell yes,I am attached to my ego. And my soul. And my spirit.
That attachement is what makes us human. So, go into the great oneness if you want. I plan on sticking around here with my imperfect soul, spirit, and ego
On Discernment, Loss, Love, and Longing
October 25, 2007 - Thursday
Main Entry: dis·cern·ment
Function: noun
Date: 1586
1 : the quality of being able to grasp and comprehend what is obscure : skill in discerning
In the Christian tradition, discernment is the act of attempting to determine what Gods will for you is - your vocation or your calling. It is the spiritual equivalent of deciding what you want to be when you grow up.
As a child and young adult, I always knew where I was going. I knew what my calling was, and I followed it. I have never been as successful as I wished to be, but I have, by most objective standards, succeeded in doing those things I set out to do.
I wanted to escape an unhappy and violent home - in both a physical and social strata sort of way. I did it. I wanted to be a Shakespearean actess. I did it. I wanted to go to college - to get married - to become a theatre director - to have a child. I did all of those things. And now, at this point, I have even travelled the world - or at least a small part of it.
But somehow all of us, at one time or another, fall off the path. We get lost. Our lives fall apart, and we must begin again - and when this happens, we become new people. Because we are new people, all these decisions about who we want to be must be revisited. This time, though - we are older. We have had our successes and failures, we have been beaten and had our hearts broken - we have experience.
You would think that experience makes it easier - quite to the contrary. Its harder. Its much much harder. When you are young, and just beginning, failure isn't even a concept. You dont' really know the pain and humiliation of a bad review, or the soul destroying properties of marriage and divorce. Everything is possible - and you will succed without suffering.
When you are in midlife, you know better. You know what success feels like - but you also know the incredible pain of failure - and you know it well enough to be very afaid.
This makes discernment hard. Of course you know what you really want. But you are afraid to ask. You know the price of not getting what you want. But, you also know the price of "settling" - and, to be honest, many people choose settling.
Joseph Cambell says that your life will turn out OK, if you only follow your bliss. But its hard to find the bliss again when you have fallen off the path - and your choice is to find your way back to the path you were on - or to find a brand new path. So - you stand in the middle, waiting for the voices of angels - because you don't know if you really want to choose at all.
Main Entry: dis·cern·ment
Function: noun
Date: 1586
1 : the quality of being able to grasp and comprehend what is obscure : skill in discerning
In the Christian tradition, discernment is the act of attempting to determine what Gods will for you is - your vocation or your calling. It is the spiritual equivalent of deciding what you want to be when you grow up.
As a child and young adult, I always knew where I was going. I knew what my calling was, and I followed it. I have never been as successful as I wished to be, but I have, by most objective standards, succeeded in doing those things I set out to do.
I wanted to escape an unhappy and violent home - in both a physical and social strata sort of way. I did it. I wanted to be a Shakespearean actess. I did it. I wanted to go to college - to get married - to become a theatre director - to have a child. I did all of those things. And now, at this point, I have even travelled the world - or at least a small part of it.
But somehow all of us, at one time or another, fall off the path. We get lost. Our lives fall apart, and we must begin again - and when this happens, we become new people. Because we are new people, all these decisions about who we want to be must be revisited. This time, though - we are older. We have had our successes and failures, we have been beaten and had our hearts broken - we have experience.
You would think that experience makes it easier - quite to the contrary. Its harder. Its much much harder. When you are young, and just beginning, failure isn't even a concept. You dont' really know the pain and humiliation of a bad review, or the soul destroying properties of marriage and divorce. Everything is possible - and you will succed without suffering.
When you are in midlife, you know better. You know what success feels like - but you also know the incredible pain of failure - and you know it well enough to be very afaid.
This makes discernment hard. Of course you know what you really want. But you are afraid to ask. You know the price of not getting what you want. But, you also know the price of "settling" - and, to be honest, many people choose settling.
Joseph Cambell says that your life will turn out OK, if you only follow your bliss. But its hard to find the bliss again when you have fallen off the path - and your choice is to find your way back to the path you were on - or to find a brand new path. So - you stand in the middle, waiting for the voices of angels - because you don't know if you really want to choose at all.
Living on the Edge
Oct 24, 2007
As I searched the internet for the definition of liminance and liminality, I found that the online dictionaies can't seem to agree on a definition, and those descritpions that exist are - for the most part - incorrect and inaccurate.
Wikipedia does a better job:
The liminal state is characterized by ambiguity, openness, and indeterminacy. One's sense of identity dissolves to some extent, bringing about disorientation. Liminality is a period of transition where normal limits to thought, self-understanding, and behavior are relaxed - a situation which can lead to new perspectives.
I am currently living in a liminal state. I don't like the inbetween. I do not have a sense of being at the threshold of positive expectation. That said, I do not have a sense of being at the threshold of negative expectation either. But I dislike surprises - even the good kind.
The thing is that I feel as if I am in many ways permanantly limerant. I have never felt like a member of a family, or a club, or a community. I have had, since my earliest memories, the sense of being on the outside looking in.
So, what happens when someone who is sort of permanantly limerant falls into an even deeper limerant state? What happens when someone who is already accusustomed to a constant sense of disorientation begins to spin out of control?
My sense of identity has always been mercurial. I am keenly aware of the other personalities embodied in my psyche, and quite conversant with the archetypes that make up my soul - and I know that "Shaun" is not simply a single construct - though, of course - I have a face I show the world.
This 'persona' - the one that makes me seem sane to the outside world is dissolving, receding - and now, not only do I not know precisely WHO I am, I am no longer entirely certain of how to behave. That sleek, intellectual, sophisticated persona (or whichever persona I adapt, depending on the situation) that I wear to make others respond positively seems to be dissolving. What is left makes others uncomfortable. I understand, as it makes me uncomfortable as well.
As I searched the internet for the definition of liminance and liminality, I found that the online dictionaies can't seem to agree on a definition, and those descritpions that exist are - for the most part - incorrect and inaccurate.
Wikipedia does a better job:
The liminal state is characterized by ambiguity, openness, and indeterminacy. One's sense of identity dissolves to some extent, bringing about disorientation. Liminality is a period of transition where normal limits to thought, self-understanding, and behavior are relaxed - a situation which can lead to new perspectives.
I am currently living in a liminal state. I don't like the inbetween. I do not have a sense of being at the threshold of positive expectation. That said, I do not have a sense of being at the threshold of negative expectation either. But I dislike surprises - even the good kind.
The thing is that I feel as if I am in many ways permanantly limerant. I have never felt like a member of a family, or a club, or a community. I have had, since my earliest memories, the sense of being on the outside looking in.
So, what happens when someone who is sort of permanantly limerant falls into an even deeper limerant state? What happens when someone who is already accusustomed to a constant sense of disorientation begins to spin out of control?
My sense of identity has always been mercurial. I am keenly aware of the other personalities embodied in my psyche, and quite conversant with the archetypes that make up my soul - and I know that "Shaun" is not simply a single construct - though, of course - I have a face I show the world.
This 'persona' - the one that makes me seem sane to the outside world is dissolving, receding - and now, not only do I not know precisely WHO I am, I am no longer entirely certain of how to behave. That sleek, intellectual, sophisticated persona (or whichever persona I adapt, depending on the situation) that I wear to make others respond positively seems to be dissolving. What is left makes others uncomfortable. I understand, as it makes me uncomfortable as well.
The law of attraction
Oct 23rd, 2007
Earlier today, I wrote about my Kafkaesque yesterday, where there was this swirl of inexplicable melodrama, apparently not of my own making. The characters involved in this farce were unrelated to me by several degrees - yet, suddenly all this "ick" is invading my life.
* Ick is what we say in parts of the US when something is gross. Ick (or ich) is also this slimy disease that fish get where they ooze puss and drop dead. Either way, the word is appropriate.
Now, I tend to believe in the notion that the things that appear in your life are things that you are somehow attracting.. This is a very white, western, middle class view of the world (being that it is just as likely that life is random and purposeless....) but I am going to proceed on this theory.
Yesterday, random people showed up in my life to mess with my head. The details are not important - but both of these incidents were ridiculously bizarre, bordering on the insane. What they had in common is that both scripts involved people whom I have never met. Both sucked energy and joy out of my day and left me confused and drained.
I went to sleep feeling like the collateral damage of a bad cosmic joke gone wrong.
Had this been an aberrant experience, I would simply shake my head and think that some days are like this, even in Australia. But the truth is, I have felt like I have been in someone else's dream for quite some time.
If I look at my inner life right now, I shouldn't be too surprised. I do not know if this is part and parcel of the dark night experience, or if this is what follows the end of an important love affair, or if these are just things you experience because you are human...
However, my entire being, essense, soul, mind, and body are out of whack at the moment - and I am uncomfortable in my own skin.
I am restless. I have the energy of an adolescent teenage boy - and all of it just as undirected and unfocused and nearly violent. I am anxious and edgy and insatiable - it feels like I have itching powder on my inner being. I cannot sit still, and my mind is never quiet.
I have these huge appetites for food, for sex, for ...life. But all of it is just unsatisfying. I drink, but alcohol doesnt seem to touch me. I smoke, but this altered state - once to relaxing - now simply makes me more nervous. I read, I watch TV, I attempt to distract myself, but I cannot sit still.
My energy - my being, is so intense right now that I put anyone who gets to close to me on edge. I am not, at this point in time, a relaxing person to be around. People generally like me a lot, but right now it seems that only dogs and children can stand me.
So, I do not suppose it is any wonder than I am attracting the insane and bizzarre. The problem is that I simply do not know what to do with it, nor what to do about it.
I assume that my best course of action would be to simply sit with this - to sit quietly with this nervous anxious energy. There is no use in responding to either what I am creating or attracting, because my energy and tension only prolong and magnify the situations I am finding myself in. Unfortunately, I seem to lack the self discipline and impulse control to not do SOMETHING, even if those things I do are directly contrary to my own self interest. .
I have no discernment at the moment as to what is important or not. I cannot force my mind to pay attention long enough to distinguish between those things that require action, and those things best not messed with.
And I wonder, is this experience indicative of a block of flow in my life, or is this energy like the rush of water when a dam is opened?
In any case, I hope this adolescent experience is over soon, because I am tired of spinning in circles, and don't have the space at the moment to be attracting the insane.
Earlier today, I wrote about my Kafkaesque yesterday, where there was this swirl of inexplicable melodrama, apparently not of my own making. The characters involved in this farce were unrelated to me by several degrees - yet, suddenly all this "ick" is invading my life.
* Ick is what we say in parts of the US when something is gross. Ick (or ich) is also this slimy disease that fish get where they ooze puss and drop dead. Either way, the word is appropriate.
Now, I tend to believe in the notion that the things that appear in your life are things that you are somehow attracting.. This is a very white, western, middle class view of the world (being that it is just as likely that life is random and purposeless....) but I am going to proceed on this theory.
Yesterday, random people showed up in my life to mess with my head. The details are not important - but both of these incidents were ridiculously bizarre, bordering on the insane. What they had in common is that both scripts involved people whom I have never met. Both sucked energy and joy out of my day and left me confused and drained.
I went to sleep feeling like the collateral damage of a bad cosmic joke gone wrong.
Had this been an aberrant experience, I would simply shake my head and think that some days are like this, even in Australia. But the truth is, I have felt like I have been in someone else's dream for quite some time.
If I look at my inner life right now, I shouldn't be too surprised. I do not know if this is part and parcel of the dark night experience, or if this is what follows the end of an important love affair, or if these are just things you experience because you are human...
However, my entire being, essense, soul, mind, and body are out of whack at the moment - and I am uncomfortable in my own skin.
I am restless. I have the energy of an adolescent teenage boy - and all of it just as undirected and unfocused and nearly violent. I am anxious and edgy and insatiable - it feels like I have itching powder on my inner being. I cannot sit still, and my mind is never quiet.
I have these huge appetites for food, for sex, for ...life. But all of it is just unsatisfying. I drink, but alcohol doesnt seem to touch me. I smoke, but this altered state - once to relaxing - now simply makes me more nervous. I read, I watch TV, I attempt to distract myself, but I cannot sit still.
My energy - my being, is so intense right now that I put anyone who gets to close to me on edge. I am not, at this point in time, a relaxing person to be around. People generally like me a lot, but right now it seems that only dogs and children can stand me.
So, I do not suppose it is any wonder than I am attracting the insane and bizzarre. The problem is that I simply do not know what to do with it, nor what to do about it.
I assume that my best course of action would be to simply sit with this - to sit quietly with this nervous anxious energy. There is no use in responding to either what I am creating or attracting, because my energy and tension only prolong and magnify the situations I am finding myself in. Unfortunately, I seem to lack the self discipline and impulse control to not do SOMETHING, even if those things I do are directly contrary to my own self interest. .
I have no discernment at the moment as to what is important or not. I cannot force my mind to pay attention long enough to distinguish between those things that require action, and those things best not messed with.
And I wonder, is this experience indicative of a block of flow in my life, or is this energy like the rush of water when a dam is opened?
In any case, I hope this adolescent experience is over soon, because I am tired of spinning in circles, and don't have the space at the moment to be attracting the insane.
The Actors Nightmare
Oct 22nd
If you know an actor - any actor - ask them what their worst theatrical nightmare is. They will all tell you the same dream. They are on a stage, in front of an audience, performing a play they don't know and for which they have never rehearsed.
Yesterday, I lived this dream. It lasted from bedtime on Sunday til bedtime last night, when I finally gave up the day and buried myself under the covers. By bedtime, I felt that I had spent the day with Kafka.
My day was spent embroiled in drama's of other peoples making. These people were near strangers to me, yets somehow I got caught up in their lives. My mere existance (not presence - because I had never met these people before!) caused pain, tears, confusion - there were phone calls, text messages, emails expressing deep personal trauma's and fears.
I didn't know my lines. I improvised as best I could, but without an understanding of the themes and story lines, I was trapped in these bad plays that I had never rehearsed. I tried to direct the course of events, but had no notion as to the motivations behind the others actions, and not a clue as to the intended outcomes of the play. Besides, no one was listening to me as I desperately tried to give notes and rewrite what were some very bad scripts.
If I could explain to you how exactly this came to be, I would. But I still can't quite figure out what happened. A friend suggested that all my planets had gone retrograde.
I cannot understand how I got cast as a central figure in these several unrelated dramas. I am not that pretty - not nearly beautiful enough to be a leading lady. I am not young enough to be the ingenue. I am not plain enough to be the beautiful girls' best friend. I am not old enough to play the mother to adults, nor ugly enough to be the character actress. I am not even interesing nor mature enough to be the wise professional who comes in at the end and sets all to rights.
More to the point, I am NOT an actress. I am a DIRECTOR. It's my job to choose the play, audition the players, and to determine the course of events. I have no desire to be onstage in front of an audience. I am no longer nuerotic enough to be any good at it. I have no desire to star in any ones life but my own - and sometimes, not even that.
I left acting because the feeling of being in the actors nightmare was ever present for me, and the anxiety was so great that I would be sick before every performance. Besides, I am much better as a director than an actor. So - if you are seeking someone to star in a drama, please find someone else. If you like, I will even direct the play for you, as long as I don't have to appear on your stage. But - I'm a professional. Next time, you'll need to pay me.
If you know an actor - any actor - ask them what their worst theatrical nightmare is. They will all tell you the same dream. They are on a stage, in front of an audience, performing a play they don't know and for which they have never rehearsed.
Yesterday, I lived this dream. It lasted from bedtime on Sunday til bedtime last night, when I finally gave up the day and buried myself under the covers. By bedtime, I felt that I had spent the day with Kafka.
My day was spent embroiled in drama's of other peoples making. These people were near strangers to me, yets somehow I got caught up in their lives. My mere existance (not presence - because I had never met these people before!) caused pain, tears, confusion - there were phone calls, text messages, emails expressing deep personal trauma's and fears.
I didn't know my lines. I improvised as best I could, but without an understanding of the themes and story lines, I was trapped in these bad plays that I had never rehearsed. I tried to direct the course of events, but had no notion as to the motivations behind the others actions, and not a clue as to the intended outcomes of the play. Besides, no one was listening to me as I desperately tried to give notes and rewrite what were some very bad scripts.
If I could explain to you how exactly this came to be, I would. But I still can't quite figure out what happened. A friend suggested that all my planets had gone retrograde.
I cannot understand how I got cast as a central figure in these several unrelated dramas. I am not that pretty - not nearly beautiful enough to be a leading lady. I am not young enough to be the ingenue. I am not plain enough to be the beautiful girls' best friend. I am not old enough to play the mother to adults, nor ugly enough to be the character actress. I am not even interesing nor mature enough to be the wise professional who comes in at the end and sets all to rights.
More to the point, I am NOT an actress. I am a DIRECTOR. It's my job to choose the play, audition the players, and to determine the course of events. I have no desire to be onstage in front of an audience. I am no longer nuerotic enough to be any good at it. I have no desire to star in any ones life but my own - and sometimes, not even that.
I left acting because the feeling of being in the actors nightmare was ever present for me, and the anxiety was so great that I would be sick before every performance. Besides, I am much better as a director than an actor. So - if you are seeking someone to star in a drama, please find someone else. If you like, I will even direct the play for you, as long as I don't have to appear on your stage. But - I'm a professional. Next time, you'll need to pay me.
Dogs
October 22, 2007 - Monday
It is often said that our dogs reflect our personalities.
Once upon a time, I had a dog named Chewey. Chewbacca was a chow chow... beautiful, stubborn, regal, untamable - and willfully disobedient.
I loved that dog, and he me. He was strong, and fearless. Strangers could approach him, but he would ignore them - looking away. If someone approached quickly or aggressively - they literally risked their lives.
I identified with that dog. He was loyal to the few he loved, took care of us and of the other animals he felt were his responsibility. He was gentle with kids and puppies - but did not suffer fools nor adults gladly.
Chewey died 8 years ago. I still miss him. Now, I have a little lap dog, named elizabetta. Elizabetta is very sweet, though none to bright. She is so eager to please that she wets herself in pleasure if you say "Good Girl".
The least bit of attention, offered by anyone - causes her to have near orgasm. Her need for contact and attention is nearly desperate.... no matter how much she gets, it is never enough.
Some times, some days - I feel like I am becomming Elisabetta. That scares me. I would much rather be Chewbacca, who never let anyone touch him -
Maybe I should get a new dog.
It is often said that our dogs reflect our personalities.
Once upon a time, I had a dog named Chewey. Chewbacca was a chow chow... beautiful, stubborn, regal, untamable - and willfully disobedient.
I loved that dog, and he me. He was strong, and fearless. Strangers could approach him, but he would ignore them - looking away. If someone approached quickly or aggressively - they literally risked their lives.
I identified with that dog. He was loyal to the few he loved, took care of us and of the other animals he felt were his responsibility. He was gentle with kids and puppies - but did not suffer fools nor adults gladly.
Chewey died 8 years ago. I still miss him. Now, I have a little lap dog, named elizabetta. Elizabetta is very sweet, though none to bright. She is so eager to please that she wets herself in pleasure if you say "Good Girl".
The least bit of attention, offered by anyone - causes her to have near orgasm. Her need for contact and attention is nearly desperate.... no matter how much she gets, it is never enough.
Some times, some days - I feel like I am becomming Elisabetta. That scares me. I would much rather be Chewbacca, who never let anyone touch him -
Maybe I should get a new dog.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Persephone's Prayer
Dear God -
I am in the inbetween place now, and I don't like it very much.
I am between endings and new beginnings, between living and dying, between death and resurrection. This is a very uncomfortable place to be.
Other people like to fall asleep, and others to wake up in the morning. I hate and fear both - because each has that inbetween place, that gray area between awareness and unconsciousness. This is the place where my monsters and demons lie wating for me.... always in that place and in that moment. I don't like it here, in the gray, between the light and the dark, with my monsters. Its frightening.
I will awake, resurrect, live or die within your time, and not mine. The sun will rise or set, the moon will follow it's courses - and I am helpless before the powers of God and nature.
I am very brave, and I know I can wait out the monsters by being very still, and very quiet.
But - God - I just want you to know, I don't like it here.
I am in the inbetween place now, and I don't like it very much.
I am between endings and new beginnings, between living and dying, between death and resurrection. This is a very uncomfortable place to be.
Other people like to fall asleep, and others to wake up in the morning. I hate and fear both - because each has that inbetween place, that gray area between awareness and unconsciousness. This is the place where my monsters and demons lie wating for me.... always in that place and in that moment. I don't like it here, in the gray, between the light and the dark, with my monsters. Its frightening.
I will awake, resurrect, live or die within your time, and not mine. The sun will rise or set, the moon will follow it's courses - and I am helpless before the powers of God and nature.
I am very brave, and I know I can wait out the monsters by being very still, and very quiet.
But - God - I just want you to know, I don't like it here.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Dark Night of the Soul
Dark Night of the Soul
There is a liminal experience in most thinking peoples lives called a "Dark Night of the Soul' - a time when the self and soul leaves the path and wanders into a dark and frightening forest.
Who you thought you were, what you thought you were, all those things you believe and hold dear become inconsequential. Your intellect matters for nothing, and all your rationality cannot lead you back to the light. Ad as to your faith - well, you may be able to rigidly hold onto some sort of belief system, but this doesn't protect you either, because all those things you "believe" show themselves to be phantoms.
The dark night can be spawned by anything - and it can last for months, years, lifetimes. Mother Theresa, it is reported, spent her whole holy life in one long dark night of the soul.
We fall into this abyss for any number of reasons - though it seems frustrated love is often a catalyst. In my case, it certainly was. Yes, the dark night stands outside the broken heart, the limerant experience of "falling in love" or "losing love" or "wanting love" - these are human emotions - but the dark night is something far deeper and more profound, beyond simple emotions of love and loss. It is a matter of deep soul work, where the very essense of one's being seeks to make room to grow and become a more dominant force in one's life.
The dark night also differs from depression. Though the experience of sadness, hopelessness, despair is similiar, the dark night has a very different quality to it. You brood, you cry, you lose sleep and seek answers - yet there is a sense that this is happening on a more profound and mystical level. There is - in my case - a sense of 'coming together' in this great 'falling apart'.
Now, the trigger for my dark night is fading into the past. The man I thought I loved is not the man I thought I loved. Certainly my feelings and deep desire are changing into something akin to revulsion - a sad enough occurance by itself. However, this is not freeing me from this dark night, because the dark night is something far more primal.
Those peices of my soul and personality - my past selves who have been so desperately damaged by the withholding of love - piece by piece these 'selves' are being healed. Yet, this isnt quite enough to release me.
I am, however learning to love myself - on a more real and substantial level. I am embracing those things that I thought were ugly, unsophisticated, unlovable - and discovering that I was wrong all along - that I had been taught wrong, from people who sought to escape thier own dark nights by drowning themselves in drama and alchohol.
I would like to emerge from these woods now. I would like to wake up one morning with no more thoughts of my lost love, no more self obsessed brooding, none of this feeling of discomfort and dissatisfaction. I would like to be finished with these feelings of neediness and lonliness amd essential unhappiness.
But - apparently, this 'stuff' is necessary for my soul, and it is my soul, unformed and puer as it is, who is leading the show. My intellect, wisdom, personality cannot control this anymore than I can prevent my son from turning from a child into a boy. The only way to stop this growth is to attempt soul suicide - abd coming from a family of people who murdered thier own souls, I know both the price and the futility of such an attempt.
So - I wait. I listen to the inner workings. I brood and cry and attend to my life the best I can. I wait, trying - as best I can, with patience and love - surrendering to whatever comes up.
The next piece of work is discernement - the soulful and intellectual excersise of determining what is important to me, what my values truly are - what is it that I hold dear and believe deep in my spirit. My life is at its halfway mark, and how deeply and importantly I live is a matter of choice and clarity - my soul must do what my soul will do - but the choices I make now will either help or hinder it on its journey.
Though I am in a deep forest, a wet and subterranian place, I will light a lantern in the darkness, and step forward, step by step - and I will try to keep moving in spite of my fear of the dark, the unknown, or the beasts that lurk in the shadows. The only other choice is to sit in the dark cowering in fear. And of all the things I admire about myself my ability to be very brave is the one quality I am most proud of.
There is a liminal experience in most thinking peoples lives called a "Dark Night of the Soul' - a time when the self and soul leaves the path and wanders into a dark and frightening forest.
Who you thought you were, what you thought you were, all those things you believe and hold dear become inconsequential. Your intellect matters for nothing, and all your rationality cannot lead you back to the light. Ad as to your faith - well, you may be able to rigidly hold onto some sort of belief system, but this doesn't protect you either, because all those things you "believe" show themselves to be phantoms.
The dark night can be spawned by anything - and it can last for months, years, lifetimes. Mother Theresa, it is reported, spent her whole holy life in one long dark night of the soul.
We fall into this abyss for any number of reasons - though it seems frustrated love is often a catalyst. In my case, it certainly was. Yes, the dark night stands outside the broken heart, the limerant experience of "falling in love" or "losing love" or "wanting love" - these are human emotions - but the dark night is something far deeper and more profound, beyond simple emotions of love and loss. It is a matter of deep soul work, where the very essense of one's being seeks to make room to grow and become a more dominant force in one's life.
The dark night also differs from depression. Though the experience of sadness, hopelessness, despair is similiar, the dark night has a very different quality to it. You brood, you cry, you lose sleep and seek answers - yet there is a sense that this is happening on a more profound and mystical level. There is - in my case - a sense of 'coming together' in this great 'falling apart'.
Now, the trigger for my dark night is fading into the past. The man I thought I loved is not the man I thought I loved. Certainly my feelings and deep desire are changing into something akin to revulsion - a sad enough occurance by itself. However, this is not freeing me from this dark night, because the dark night is something far more primal.
Those peices of my soul and personality - my past selves who have been so desperately damaged by the withholding of love - piece by piece these 'selves' are being healed. Yet, this isnt quite enough to release me.
I am, however learning to love myself - on a more real and substantial level. I am embracing those things that I thought were ugly, unsophisticated, unlovable - and discovering that I was wrong all along - that I had been taught wrong, from people who sought to escape thier own dark nights by drowning themselves in drama and alchohol.
I would like to emerge from these woods now. I would like to wake up one morning with no more thoughts of my lost love, no more self obsessed brooding, none of this feeling of discomfort and dissatisfaction. I would like to be finished with these feelings of neediness and lonliness amd essential unhappiness.
But - apparently, this 'stuff' is necessary for my soul, and it is my soul, unformed and puer as it is, who is leading the show. My intellect, wisdom, personality cannot control this anymore than I can prevent my son from turning from a child into a boy. The only way to stop this growth is to attempt soul suicide - abd coming from a family of people who murdered thier own souls, I know both the price and the futility of such an attempt.
So - I wait. I listen to the inner workings. I brood and cry and attend to my life the best I can. I wait, trying - as best I can, with patience and love - surrendering to whatever comes up.
The next piece of work is discernement - the soulful and intellectual excersise of determining what is important to me, what my values truly are - what is it that I hold dear and believe deep in my spirit. My life is at its halfway mark, and how deeply and importantly I live is a matter of choice and clarity - my soul must do what my soul will do - but the choices I make now will either help or hinder it on its journey.
Though I am in a deep forest, a wet and subterranian place, I will light a lantern in the darkness, and step forward, step by step - and I will try to keep moving in spite of my fear of the dark, the unknown, or the beasts that lurk in the shadows. The only other choice is to sit in the dark cowering in fear. And of all the things I admire about myself my ability to be very brave is the one quality I am most proud of.
not stuck - but still sad
I have been processing Tuesdays conversation with Ale - to the point it feels like my brain will explode.
I wish I were like other people, and not so prone to empathize with the other persons position, because - well - in this case, my position is the only one that counts. I keep arguing with him in my head, in tones of anger, rage, compassion, reasonableness - and I feel like I am going in circles.
Right now, it isnt even quite so much a matter of letting go (ok, maybe it is) - as in trying to make sense of this all. Its not that I want him back - right now I am pretty disgusted by him. His puer charm ain't cutting it with me, and underneath that little boy charm, I saw a fairly unsavory man.
On the top level of this is - I left, because I wasnt getting what I needed. However, its been hard and we miss each other. So - his solution is to give me LESS of what I need, because that would make him happy.
You see, he had a pretty happy year with me - except for my pesky demands to share my bed with someone who loves me. So, if I drop that requirement, he can be even HAPPIER.
Now - I don't know about anyone else - but that is making my brain explode. I mean, if I really believed he was an evil manipulative rat bastard, it could make sense... but I don't think he is... or maybe he is, and I am just a clueless twit.
I'm so sorry for him. I'm so sorry for me. But - I spent my childhood, trying to get my mother to love me. I spent my marriage waiting for nick to wake up and love me. I spent the last year waiting for Ale to love me. Now - tragically - my Mother did love me, Nick did love me - and I am pretty sure ratboy loves me too. But it seems to be my particular karma that this knowledge always comes a little too late.
I think, maybe, that I will just stop waiting for people to love me. I think one thing this dark night is teaching me is that I really do love and cherish myself. I am a really amazing person, good at love, relationships, mothering and freindship. And, I honestly just am out of patience for other people who dont know if they want me or not. It seems to me to be a no brainer - so, if this is their stand on it - well we can assume they simply have no brains.
I wish I were like other people, and not so prone to empathize with the other persons position, because - well - in this case, my position is the only one that counts. I keep arguing with him in my head, in tones of anger, rage, compassion, reasonableness - and I feel like I am going in circles.
Right now, it isnt even quite so much a matter of letting go (ok, maybe it is) - as in trying to make sense of this all. Its not that I want him back - right now I am pretty disgusted by him. His puer charm ain't cutting it with me, and underneath that little boy charm, I saw a fairly unsavory man.
On the top level of this is - I left, because I wasnt getting what I needed. However, its been hard and we miss each other. So - his solution is to give me LESS of what I need, because that would make him happy.
You see, he had a pretty happy year with me - except for my pesky demands to share my bed with someone who loves me. So, if I drop that requirement, he can be even HAPPIER.
Now - I don't know about anyone else - but that is making my brain explode. I mean, if I really believed he was an evil manipulative rat bastard, it could make sense... but I don't think he is... or maybe he is, and I am just a clueless twit.
I'm so sorry for him. I'm so sorry for me. But - I spent my childhood, trying to get my mother to love me. I spent my marriage waiting for nick to wake up and love me. I spent the last year waiting for Ale to love me. Now - tragically - my Mother did love me, Nick did love me - and I am pretty sure ratboy loves me too. But it seems to be my particular karma that this knowledge always comes a little too late.
I think, maybe, that I will just stop waiting for people to love me. I think one thing this dark night is teaching me is that I really do love and cherish myself. I am a really amazing person, good at love, relationships, mothering and freindship. And, I honestly just am out of patience for other people who dont know if they want me or not. It seems to me to be a no brainer - so, if this is their stand on it - well we can assume they simply have no brains.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Reunion
Having given up on getting over Ale "my way" (or "his way" as the case may be...) I decided to face my fears head on, and see if I could go make friends with him.
I really should have stuck to my plan, and not had any relationship conversation with him, as it was a mistake. Those things that caused us to part are the same now as they ever were - and he is more "stuck" than he ever was.
To whit: I bailed on the relationship because I needed more than I was getting - I needed love, consistancy, and freindship.
So, we talked, we had a great time... and then I told him that I needed to open the door for friendship, because I dont love people and then lose them from my life.
He wants to be friends too - but he hasnt an idea of what that means.
However - let me spit out what I can spit out, because my head is all in a complete jumble right now:
He misses me. He wants me back in his life. He wants to be friends. In this, he is telling the truth.
Apparently, however, what this looks like is he calls me up for a beer and we hit the sheets. His words and his story line (and his physical and facial expressions) were all over the board. But - essentially he wants to fuck me and have no relationship with me.Now - of COURSE he would deny this is what he was saying. And honestly, I kind of doubt that is what he really wants....
But - what he is offering - as far as I can tell is this: he wants the milk for free, whenever he is thristy for such milk, and not only that, but he doesnt even want to purchase the hay to feed said cow.
I don't really know where he would get the notion that I am somehow desperate for fuck buddies, or that I don't already have a steady supply of very nice men to choose from, but he is, apparently, delusional.
Everytime I said - no... don't think so, he would try and sweeten the pot. When we had finally gotten to something that maybe I could live with, then he does this "take away" about how he doesnt want to marry me.
This seems to be his ditch to die in.
I tried to explain that this was beside the point, and not my current objective, but that he needs to drop the damn decision. As long as this decision is in play, there is no freedom in which to truely know each other. There is a closedness and a holdout, and that anytime we draw close to each other, that prefabricated decision will come into play, and he will pull back and run away, and then I will be hurt.
Sounds like a heck of a lot of fun to me.
Furthermore, there is a lot of presumption on his part that I consider him good enough or worthy enough to consider this as a possibilty. He isn't, by a long shot. However, I don't close the door that someday he might be the sort of person I would consider as a partner, nor do I reject the possibility that he might get a horrible disease, and I might be the last partner he ever has.
None of this is good enough for me, and right now, I think Ale is kind of a dirtbag. And that really disappoints me. Because I believe he is a better person than this. But, you know, I could be wrong. Maybe he really IS a big dirtbag, really is willing to take advantage of the love I bore him in exchange for a really exciting sex life, and really is willing to break my heart again in order to get what he thinks he wants.
As he put it, he was really happy in his relationship with me, but he wants to sleep around some more. He thought maybe I would be open minded enough to accept such an arrangement. He doesnt seem to understand that this arrangement could only work if I knew I was safe and loved.
The bitch of this all is that I know he cares for me. I guess turning me into an object would be a way to reduce the pain and confusion he feels surrounding his emotional life.
As for me, I am swinging between amusement, dissappointment, anger, outrage, sadness, and a sense of "oh my god, what were you thinking?". And an even larger sense of "Who the FUCK do you think I am, you stupid boy?"
So, we shall see. I am curious to see if he can bring anything better to this table than a bottle of beer and a roll in the sheets. Honestly, there are a few people I much prefer for that sort of activity, and they - unlike Ale - have the good sense to wear condoms and to not catch STD's.
Oh - and by the way, and this makes me really sad.... he doesnt make my knees weak anymore. I still like the way he smells, but he doesnt smell like mine. And the little feral girl inside who is so in love with him? She didn't like what she was hearing either, and did not even bother to come out and play.
Im sad. I love that boy, but right now he is a big stupid asshole, and I am really not so sure that I am even willing to have DINNER with him - much less consider him a candidate for a life long partnership.
Do I want to be his freind? Right now, I am not sure - because I dont really think he knows how to be this. I am willing, but - thier needs to be something in this for me, and I dont think that there is.
For about 3 minutes last night, I thought we were going to be able to get back together. That maybe we would get a do-over, and a chance at something really good and meaningful and loving. But he is offering nothing, and honestly - I have better things to do.
I really should have stuck to my plan, and not had any relationship conversation with him, as it was a mistake. Those things that caused us to part are the same now as they ever were - and he is more "stuck" than he ever was.
To whit: I bailed on the relationship because I needed more than I was getting - I needed love, consistancy, and freindship.
So, we talked, we had a great time... and then I told him that I needed to open the door for friendship, because I dont love people and then lose them from my life.
He wants to be friends too - but he hasnt an idea of what that means.
However - let me spit out what I can spit out, because my head is all in a complete jumble right now:
He misses me. He wants me back in his life. He wants to be friends. In this, he is telling the truth.
Apparently, however, what this looks like is he calls me up for a beer and we hit the sheets. His words and his story line (and his physical and facial expressions) were all over the board. But - essentially he wants to fuck me and have no relationship with me.Now - of COURSE he would deny this is what he was saying. And honestly, I kind of doubt that is what he really wants....
But - what he is offering - as far as I can tell is this: he wants the milk for free, whenever he is thristy for such milk, and not only that, but he doesnt even want to purchase the hay to feed said cow.
I don't really know where he would get the notion that I am somehow desperate for fuck buddies, or that I don't already have a steady supply of very nice men to choose from, but he is, apparently, delusional.
Everytime I said - no... don't think so, he would try and sweeten the pot. When we had finally gotten to something that maybe I could live with, then he does this "take away" about how he doesnt want to marry me.
This seems to be his ditch to die in.
I tried to explain that this was beside the point, and not my current objective, but that he needs to drop the damn decision. As long as this decision is in play, there is no freedom in which to truely know each other. There is a closedness and a holdout, and that anytime we draw close to each other, that prefabricated decision will come into play, and he will pull back and run away, and then I will be hurt.
Sounds like a heck of a lot of fun to me.
Furthermore, there is a lot of presumption on his part that I consider him good enough or worthy enough to consider this as a possibilty. He isn't, by a long shot. However, I don't close the door that someday he might be the sort of person I would consider as a partner, nor do I reject the possibility that he might get a horrible disease, and I might be the last partner he ever has.
None of this is good enough for me, and right now, I think Ale is kind of a dirtbag. And that really disappoints me. Because I believe he is a better person than this. But, you know, I could be wrong. Maybe he really IS a big dirtbag, really is willing to take advantage of the love I bore him in exchange for a really exciting sex life, and really is willing to break my heart again in order to get what he thinks he wants.
As he put it, he was really happy in his relationship with me, but he wants to sleep around some more. He thought maybe I would be open minded enough to accept such an arrangement. He doesnt seem to understand that this arrangement could only work if I knew I was safe and loved.
The bitch of this all is that I know he cares for me. I guess turning me into an object would be a way to reduce the pain and confusion he feels surrounding his emotional life.
As for me, I am swinging between amusement, dissappointment, anger, outrage, sadness, and a sense of "oh my god, what were you thinking?". And an even larger sense of "Who the FUCK do you think I am, you stupid boy?"
So, we shall see. I am curious to see if he can bring anything better to this table than a bottle of beer and a roll in the sheets. Honestly, there are a few people I much prefer for that sort of activity, and they - unlike Ale - have the good sense to wear condoms and to not catch STD's.
Oh - and by the way, and this makes me really sad.... he doesnt make my knees weak anymore. I still like the way he smells, but he doesnt smell like mine. And the little feral girl inside who is so in love with him? She didn't like what she was hearing either, and did not even bother to come out and play.
Im sad. I love that boy, but right now he is a big stupid asshole, and I am really not so sure that I am even willing to have DINNER with him - much less consider him a candidate for a life long partnership.
Do I want to be his freind? Right now, I am not sure - because I dont really think he knows how to be this. I am willing, but - thier needs to be something in this for me, and I dont think that there is.
For about 3 minutes last night, I thought we were going to be able to get back together. That maybe we would get a do-over, and a chance at something really good and meaningful and loving. But he is offering nothing, and honestly - I have better things to do.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Men and Women - Miscommunication
Men and Women - Miscommunication
By Dave Barry
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTRARY to what many women believe, it's fairly easy to develop a long-term, stable, intimate, and mutually fulfilling relationship with a guy. Of course this guy has to be a Labrador retriever. With human guys, it's extremely difficult. This is because guys don't really grasp what women mean by the term relationship.
Let's say a guy named Roger is attracted to a woman named Elaine. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.
And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to Elaine, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: "Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?"
And then there is silence in the car. To Elaine, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: Geez, I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he's been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of.
And Roger is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
And Elaine is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of relationship, either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily toward . . . I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?
And Roger is thinking: . . . so that means it was . . . let's see . . . February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer's, which means . . . lemme check theodometer . . . Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.
And Elaine is thinking: He's upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I'm reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed -- even before I sensed it -- that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that's it. That's why he's so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He's afraid of being rejected.
And Roger is thinking: And I'm gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don't care what those morons say, it's still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It's 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a goddamn garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.
COMMUNICATIONS GAP
And Elaine is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too. God, I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm just not sure.
And Roger is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty. That's exactly what they're gonna say, the scumballs.
And Elaine is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.
And Roger is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give them a goddamn warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up their . . .
"Roger," Elaine says aloud.
"What?" says Roger, startled.
"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have . . . Oh God, I feel so . . . "
(She breaks down, sobbing.)
"What?" says Roger.
"I'm such a fool," Elaine sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse."
"There's no horse?" says Roger.
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Elaine says.
"No!" says Roger, glad to finally know the correct answer.
"It's just that . . . It's that I . . . I need some time," Elaine says.
(There is a 15-second pause while Roger, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.)
"Yes," he says.
A BEFUDDLED BEAU
(Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.)
"Oh, Roger, do you really feel that way?" she says.
"What way?" says Roger.
"That way about time," says Elaine.
"Oh," says Roger. "Yes."
(Elaine turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)
"Thank you, Roger," she says.
"Thank you," says Roger.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Roger gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a tennis match between two Czechoslovakians he never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it's better if he doesn't think about it. (This is also Roger's policy regarding world hunger.)
IT'S ANALYSIS TIME
The next day Elaine will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification. They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it, either.
Meanwhile, Roger, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Elaine's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say: "Norm, did Elaine ever own a horse?"
We're not talking about different wave lengths here. We're talking about different planets, in completely different solar systems. Elaine cannot communicate meaningfully with Roger about their relationship any more than she can meaningfully play chess with a duck. Because the sum total of Roger's thinking on this particular topic is as follows:
Huh?
But the point I'm trying to make is that, if you're a woman, and you want to have a successful relationship with a guy, the No. 1 tip to remember is:
1. Never assume that the guy understands that you and he have a relationship.
The guy will not realize this on his own. You have to plant the idea in his brain by constantly making subtle references to it in your everyday conversation, such as:
-- "Roger, would you mind passing me a Sweet 'n' Low, inasmuch as we have a relationship?"
-- "Wake up, Roger! There's a prowler in the den and we have a relationship! You and I do, I mean."
-- "Good News, Roger! The gynecologist says we're going to have our fourth child, which will serve as yet another indication that we have a relationship!"
-- "Roger, inasmuch as this plane is crashing and we probably have only about a minute to live, I want you to know that we've had a wonderful 53 years of marriage together, which clearly constitutes a relationship."
Never let up, women. Pound away relentlessly at this concept, and eventually it will start to penetrate the guy's brain. Some day he might even start thinking about it on his own. He'll be talking with some other guys about women, and, out of the blue, he'll say, "Elaine and I, we have, ummm . . . We have, ahhh . . . We . . . We have this thing."
And he will sincerely mean it.
The next relationship-enhancement tip is:
2. Do not expect the guy to make a hasty commitment.
By "hasty," I mean, "within your lifetime." Guys are extremely reluctant to make commitments. This is because they never feel ready.
"I'm sorry," guys are always telling women, "but I'm just not ready to make a commitment." Guys are in a permanent state of nonreadiness. If guys were turkey breasts, you could put them in a 350-degree oven on July Fourth, and they still wouldn't be done in time for Thanksgiving.
By Dave Barry
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTRARY to what many women believe, it's fairly easy to develop a long-term, stable, intimate, and mutually fulfilling relationship with a guy. Of course this guy has to be a Labrador retriever. With human guys, it's extremely difficult. This is because guys don't really grasp what women mean by the term relationship.
Let's say a guy named Roger is attracted to a woman named Elaine. He asks her out to a movie; she accepts; they have a pretty good time. A few nights later he asks her out to dinner, and again they enjoy themselves. They continue to see each other regularly, and after a while neither one of them is seeing anybody else.
And then, one evening when they're driving home, a thought occurs to Elaine, and, without really thinking, she says it aloud: "Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?"
And then there is silence in the car. To Elaine, it seems like a very loud silence. She thinks to herself: Geez, I wonder if it bothers him that I said that. Maybe he's been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of obligation that he doesn't want, or isn't sure of.
And Roger is thinking: Gosh. Six months.
And Elaine is thinking: But, hey, I'm not so sure I want this kind of relationship, either. Sometimes I wish I had a little more space, so I'd have time to think about whether I really want us to keep going the way we are, moving steadily toward . . . I mean, where are we going? Are we just going to keep seeing each other at this level of intimacy? Are we heading toward marriage? Toward children? Toward a lifetime together? Am I ready for that level of commitment? Do I really even know this person?
And Roger is thinking: . . . so that means it was . . . let's see . . . February when we started going out, which was right after I had the car at the dealer's, which means . . . lemme check theodometer . . . Whoa! I am way overdue for an oil change here.
And Elaine is thinking: He's upset. I can see it on his face. Maybe I'm reading this completely wrong. Maybe he wants more from our relationship, more intimacy, more commitment; maybe he has sensed -- even before I sensed it -- that I was feeling some reservations. Yes, I bet that's it. That's why he's so reluctant to say anything about his own feelings. He's afraid of being rejected.
And Roger is thinking: And I'm gonna have them look at the transmission again. I don't care what those morons say, it's still not shifting right. And they better not try to blame it on the cold weather this time. What cold weather? It's 87 degrees out, and this thing is shifting like a goddamn garbage truck, and I paid those incompetent thieves $600.
COMMUNICATIONS GAP
And Elaine is thinking: He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry, too. God, I feel so guilty, putting him through this, but I can't help the way I feel. I'm just not sure.
And Roger is thinking: They'll probably say it's only a 90-day warranty. That's exactly what they're gonna say, the scumballs.
And Elaine is thinking: Maybe I'm just too idealistic, waiting for a knight to come riding up on his white horse, when I'm sitting right next to a perfectly good person, a person I enjoy being with, a person I truly do care about, a person who seems to truly care about me. A person who is in pain because of my self-centered, schoolgirl romantic fantasy.
And Roger is thinking: Warranty? They want a warranty? I'll give them a goddamn warranty. I'll take their warranty and stick it right up their . . .
"Roger," Elaine says aloud.
"What?" says Roger, startled.
"Please don't torture yourself like this," she says, her eyes beginning to brim with tears. "Maybe I should never have . . . Oh God, I feel so . . . "
(She breaks down, sobbing.)
"What?" says Roger.
"I'm such a fool," Elaine sobs. "I mean, I know there's no knight. I really know that. It's silly. There's no knight, and there's no horse."
"There's no horse?" says Roger.
"You think I'm a fool, don't you?" Elaine says.
"No!" says Roger, glad to finally know the correct answer.
"It's just that . . . It's that I . . . I need some time," Elaine says.
(There is a 15-second pause while Roger, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one that he thinks might work.)
"Yes," he says.
A BEFUDDLED BEAU
(Elaine, deeply moved, touches his hand.)
"Oh, Roger, do you really feel that way?" she says.
"What way?" says Roger.
"That way about time," says Elaine.
"Oh," says Roger. "Yes."
(Elaine turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing him to become very nervous about what she might say next, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks.)
"Thank you, Roger," she says.
"Thank you," says Roger.
Then he takes her home, and she lies on her bed, a conflicted, tortured soul, and weeps until dawn, whereas when Roger gets back to his place, he opens a bag of Doritos, turns on the TV, and immediately becomes deeply involved in a rerun of a tennis match between two Czechoslovakians he never heard of. A tiny voice in the far recesses of his mind tells him that something major was going on back there in the car, but he is pretty sure there is no way he would ever understand what, and so he figures it's better if he doesn't think about it. (This is also Roger's policy regarding world hunger.)
IT'S ANALYSIS TIME
The next day Elaine will call her closest friend, or perhaps two of them, and they will talk about this situation for six straight hours. In painstaking detail, they will analyze everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression, and gesture for nuances of meaning, considering every possible ramification. They will continue to discuss this subject, off and on, for weeks, maybe months, never reaching any definite conclusions, but never getting bored with it, either.
Meanwhile, Roger, while playing racquetball one day with a mutual friend of his and Elaine's, will pause just before serving, frown, and say: "Norm, did Elaine ever own a horse?"
We're not talking about different wave lengths here. We're talking about different planets, in completely different solar systems. Elaine cannot communicate meaningfully with Roger about their relationship any more than she can meaningfully play chess with a duck. Because the sum total of Roger's thinking on this particular topic is as follows:
Huh?
But the point I'm trying to make is that, if you're a woman, and you want to have a successful relationship with a guy, the No. 1 tip to remember is:
1. Never assume that the guy understands that you and he have a relationship.
The guy will not realize this on his own. You have to plant the idea in his brain by constantly making subtle references to it in your everyday conversation, such as:
-- "Roger, would you mind passing me a Sweet 'n' Low, inasmuch as we have a relationship?"
-- "Wake up, Roger! There's a prowler in the den and we have a relationship! You and I do, I mean."
-- "Good News, Roger! The gynecologist says we're going to have our fourth child, which will serve as yet another indication that we have a relationship!"
-- "Roger, inasmuch as this plane is crashing and we probably have only about a minute to live, I want you to know that we've had a wonderful 53 years of marriage together, which clearly constitutes a relationship."
Never let up, women. Pound away relentlessly at this concept, and eventually it will start to penetrate the guy's brain. Some day he might even start thinking about it on his own. He'll be talking with some other guys about women, and, out of the blue, he'll say, "Elaine and I, we have, ummm . . . We have, ahhh . . . We . . . We have this thing."
And he will sincerely mean it.
The next relationship-enhancement tip is:
2. Do not expect the guy to make a hasty commitment.
By "hasty," I mean, "within your lifetime." Guys are extremely reluctant to make commitments. This is because they never feel ready.
"I'm sorry," guys are always telling women, "but I'm just not ready to make a commitment." Guys are in a permanent state of nonreadiness. If guys were turkey breasts, you could put them in a 350-degree oven on July Fourth, and they still wouldn't be done in time for Thanksgiving.
Monday, October 15, 2007
A letter from Oonie
Shaun
I think you're going to be okay. And that I think it, I will just say it. You are going to be just fine...more than okay!
I'm very glad we talked and I'm very glad that you're going to be who and how you are, which is totally grand. And you will bring that and yourself to the phone and in person. And that's always a very good thing.
This all sounds very confusing to both of you in a number of different ways.
I'd say to remind yourself of the HUGE things: the mother thing and the planned trip that blew up when it didn't even have to--Your Man in the Duoma sounds as if he went to a whole lot of over the top when nothing of the sort was required. There are many biggies in this story: the stuff that was never said as well as the words actually spoken, some so hastily so as not to bother the other and both of you were doing what you thought the other might want as well as doing what both of you thought you SHOULD. As opposed to sorting it all out. I, too, hear his words but I don't see a consistency with other words and with behaviors.
But sometimes this is life.
It also sounds as if you both wanted to do two things, at the same time: be together and flee. Both of you sound oh, so careful of one another and yet not careful at all. I never said not caring.
I'm glad you're going to go over and introduce yourself tomorrow night. Don't panic and bolt if he has plans or simply can't tomorrow night. I think this is very important to remember. It would be for me. If he has plans or can't, give him every opportunity to return the call and the favor. And act as if you fully expect him to do it. And mean it. For then, he'll be reassured he can say yes and no at the very same time, which sounds as if that is exactly what he has been trying to do all along. Not a bad thing, this both and. Just confusing. To both of you.
Take back the night; take back the streets; take back the Duomo; take back Florence; and give the precious gift of who and how you are, perfect, as the Metaphorical Divine One created you.
Love
oonie and Kenny
I think you're going to be okay. And that I think it, I will just say it. You are going to be just fine...more than okay!
I'm very glad we talked and I'm very glad that you're going to be who and how you are, which is totally grand. And you will bring that and yourself to the phone and in person. And that's always a very good thing.
This all sounds very confusing to both of you in a number of different ways.
I'd say to remind yourself of the HUGE things: the mother thing and the planned trip that blew up when it didn't even have to--Your Man in the Duoma sounds as if he went to a whole lot of over the top when nothing of the sort was required. There are many biggies in this story: the stuff that was never said as well as the words actually spoken, some so hastily so as not to bother the other and both of you were doing what you thought the other might want as well as doing what both of you thought you SHOULD. As opposed to sorting it all out. I, too, hear his words but I don't see a consistency with other words and with behaviors.
But sometimes this is life.
It also sounds as if you both wanted to do two things, at the same time: be together and flee. Both of you sound oh, so careful of one another and yet not careful at all. I never said not caring.
I'm glad you're going to go over and introduce yourself tomorrow night. Don't panic and bolt if he has plans or simply can't tomorrow night. I think this is very important to remember. It would be for me. If he has plans or can't, give him every opportunity to return the call and the favor. And act as if you fully expect him to do it. And mean it. For then, he'll be reassured he can say yes and no at the very same time, which sounds as if that is exactly what he has been trying to do all along. Not a bad thing, this both and. Just confusing. To both of you.
Take back the night; take back the streets; take back the Duomo; take back Florence; and give the precious gift of who and how you are, perfect, as the Metaphorical Divine One created you.
Love
oonie and Kenny
Sunday, October 14, 2007
First Rehearsal
Yesterday was my first rehearsal for Peter and the Wolf. It was an unqualified success. It was not as if I had forgotten anything, and it is stunning that it has been more than 8 years since I have been in a rehearsal hall.
I felt home. I felt as if an very important part of my identity had been returned to me, that the one part of me that is totally grown up - totally knows what she is doing, and why - was finally present again.
And then, I finished all my meetings, came home, and cried. Because there was no one there who knew how important this is, how significant it is... and how very much of a victory it is. There is no witness who really cares... and - I cried. I want someone who shares my life with me, and there is no one.
Now - before I hear a rousing chorus of "But you have Spike" - of course, I appreciate that, and I am more than grateful for that... but it is different. My baby is a baby, and children are like dogs. They love you no matter what, and having that sort of divine love is wonderful, but... it is not the same.
I did not know that broken hearts and disappointments in love could go on for quite so long. I never thought that I would mourn Ale, I really didn't. He is still heavy on my mind - and I am really not entirely sure why.
I had a dream that maybe we would come to share a life and a future. I dont know why I dreamed that. I don't know what prevented it. I don't know what I did wrong, and I do not know why he didnt believe he loved me.
I mean, I know several areas where I blew it... where I simply failed to assert myself, or be myself, and its no wonder he got bored...
But, I dont know why I dreamed a future. I just kind of saw it in my head, somewhere in the distance. I never ever know when this kind of stuff is clairvoyance, or where it is wishful thinking. If its clairvoyance, then I should try and change this. If it is wishful thinking, I am simply a fool.
But, I want someone who is crazy for me... and sometimes, he adored me. But, he wasnt sure, so he would pull away... and it mixed me up so bad. To have someone obviously adoring me, and then running away.
My friend Kenny says I should go change this if I can. I rehearse the scenario in my head, and I know I can probably bring him closer... but I don't know to what end. He was happy with me, and would leave and be scared of it all, doubtful of me, doubtful of a future, not ready to share his life in the way I see a marriage to be.
There has got to be someone out there for me who will love me like I will love them, who can see a shared future, a shared vision.
Its one thing I miss about my marriage... Nick "got" me, in a fundamental way. He encouraged and pushed me - and we looked out together. But he didnt love me either.
It is not, as some people seem to think, that I feel like I do not "deserve" love. It is not even, as I often tell myself, that "no one loves me" - because there are several people who do, and a few of them who would probably marry me tomorrow.
Its just that none of them are right, and the ones I love never seem to love me back, and the lonliness I have - particularly in the face of my successes, is overwhelming to me.
I wish that I could have went out with Ale - and told him how wonderful it was, and how I felt, and how successful this was, and how happy I was. But, he wasnt there, and I couldnt tell him. I think he actually would have understood....
But - I think maybe it was also this percieved successfullness (his perception of my competence) - that made him decide against me. "You dont want me, you want someone taller, more successful, more dominant, more adult than I am"
No - I wanted him. And I lost. And I still dont really understand why.
I felt home. I felt as if an very important part of my identity had been returned to me, that the one part of me that is totally grown up - totally knows what she is doing, and why - was finally present again.
And then, I finished all my meetings, came home, and cried. Because there was no one there who knew how important this is, how significant it is... and how very much of a victory it is. There is no witness who really cares... and - I cried. I want someone who shares my life with me, and there is no one.
Now - before I hear a rousing chorus of "But you have Spike" - of course, I appreciate that, and I am more than grateful for that... but it is different. My baby is a baby, and children are like dogs. They love you no matter what, and having that sort of divine love is wonderful, but... it is not the same.
I did not know that broken hearts and disappointments in love could go on for quite so long. I never thought that I would mourn Ale, I really didn't. He is still heavy on my mind - and I am really not entirely sure why.
I had a dream that maybe we would come to share a life and a future. I dont know why I dreamed that. I don't know what prevented it. I don't know what I did wrong, and I do not know why he didnt believe he loved me.
I mean, I know several areas where I blew it... where I simply failed to assert myself, or be myself, and its no wonder he got bored...
But, I dont know why I dreamed a future. I just kind of saw it in my head, somewhere in the distance. I never ever know when this kind of stuff is clairvoyance, or where it is wishful thinking. If its clairvoyance, then I should try and change this. If it is wishful thinking, I am simply a fool.
But, I want someone who is crazy for me... and sometimes, he adored me. But, he wasnt sure, so he would pull away... and it mixed me up so bad. To have someone obviously adoring me, and then running away.
My friend Kenny says I should go change this if I can. I rehearse the scenario in my head, and I know I can probably bring him closer... but I don't know to what end. He was happy with me, and would leave and be scared of it all, doubtful of me, doubtful of a future, not ready to share his life in the way I see a marriage to be.
There has got to be someone out there for me who will love me like I will love them, who can see a shared future, a shared vision.
Its one thing I miss about my marriage... Nick "got" me, in a fundamental way. He encouraged and pushed me - and we looked out together. But he didnt love me either.
It is not, as some people seem to think, that I feel like I do not "deserve" love. It is not even, as I often tell myself, that "no one loves me" - because there are several people who do, and a few of them who would probably marry me tomorrow.
Its just that none of them are right, and the ones I love never seem to love me back, and the lonliness I have - particularly in the face of my successes, is overwhelming to me.
I wish that I could have went out with Ale - and told him how wonderful it was, and how I felt, and how successful this was, and how happy I was. But, he wasnt there, and I couldnt tell him. I think he actually would have understood....
But - I think maybe it was also this percieved successfullness (his perception of my competence) - that made him decide against me. "You dont want me, you want someone taller, more successful, more dominant, more adult than I am"
No - I wanted him. And I lost. And I still dont really understand why.
Monday, October 08, 2007
wounds that won't hea
I feel as if I have been sliced open, and the wound I have is simply not healing. It has become infected, hot, poisonous - despite the best medical care I can give myself.
I want to go home. But I dont have one.
I was only dating Ale, and only for a year. I wasnt happy most of that year, knowing that it was going to end this way. So why did it send me to this place? This much grief is inappropriate. It is no proof of love to wish to stop living now. My world wasnt so much better with him in it that I would prefer to not wake up in the morning than to live without him.... its simply absurd.
So, what is going on here. Whose voice is this in my ear claiming I want to be dead now? Who is this person who wakes, and begins to cry each day?
How on earth did my soul become so sick? For that is what this is... I am not simply heartbroken, I am soul sick.... and I am so ashamed and embarrassed. My stomach clenches in terror the moment before I open my eyes each morning, because it is one more joyless day in a lifetime of joyless days - days where I will do my duty, love as well as I can, do the things I must do to nurture my son and be a perfect mother....
And another day where I am all alone in a very hostile world where I dont belong and no longer want to be.
I want to go home. But I dont have one.
I was only dating Ale, and only for a year. I wasnt happy most of that year, knowing that it was going to end this way. So why did it send me to this place? This much grief is inappropriate. It is no proof of love to wish to stop living now. My world wasnt so much better with him in it that I would prefer to not wake up in the morning than to live without him.... its simply absurd.
So, what is going on here. Whose voice is this in my ear claiming I want to be dead now? Who is this person who wakes, and begins to cry each day?
How on earth did my soul become so sick? For that is what this is... I am not simply heartbroken, I am soul sick.... and I am so ashamed and embarrassed. My stomach clenches in terror the moment before I open my eyes each morning, because it is one more joyless day in a lifetime of joyless days - days where I will do my duty, love as well as I can, do the things I must do to nurture my son and be a perfect mother....
And another day where I am all alone in a very hostile world where I dont belong and no longer want to be.
I am so done
Today began with a fight with Spike. Then I rememembered that I forgot Lisandro's birthday. Rhoberta is sick and undergoing chemo. My dishes need washing. I didn't sleep last night. I may or may not have an appointment this morning, but I cant remember. I need to see my commercialista, I havent paid any bills this month, and I don't know how to pay my taxes. I have a hundred phone calls to make, but I have become afraid of the phone.
And, Im done. I'm tired. I am not particularly happy to be alive, and I really want to get off now. The only thing keeping me from spinning into self destruction is my overwhelming sense of responsibility, and the love I have for my son. He is my life preserver right now, because as I see it, he is the only reason for me to be alive.
I am egocentric and narcissistic. I am self obsessed and self absorbed, and I live in this world of fantasy that doesnt exist. I pretend to be smart and together, and I think that if anyone really saw how broken I am the shame itself would allow me to vanish.
Last nights dreams were full of masochistic fantasy, where I did what I was told and in return I remained a child. Being a child would be nice, I think. I can't say, as I don't recall ever being in a state of innocence - only in a state of make believe.
So, today, again.... another day of putting one foot in front of the other. Meeting my obligations to the best of my ability. Pretending to be productive. Living a life that holds nothing for me except one person whose love I am certain of.
It is not that I wish I were dead, per se. It is that I wish I were living someone else's life, because I am not very happy with my own, and I do not see my own changing. My life is a combination of my choices, my background, and fate - and nothing I do or dont do will make much difference either way.
It is just that I need to adjust - this is it. This is all there is, there aint no more - I give up. I just give up.
And, Im done. I'm tired. I am not particularly happy to be alive, and I really want to get off now. The only thing keeping me from spinning into self destruction is my overwhelming sense of responsibility, and the love I have for my son. He is my life preserver right now, because as I see it, he is the only reason for me to be alive.
I am egocentric and narcissistic. I am self obsessed and self absorbed, and I live in this world of fantasy that doesnt exist. I pretend to be smart and together, and I think that if anyone really saw how broken I am the shame itself would allow me to vanish.
Last nights dreams were full of masochistic fantasy, where I did what I was told and in return I remained a child. Being a child would be nice, I think. I can't say, as I don't recall ever being in a state of innocence - only in a state of make believe.
So, today, again.... another day of putting one foot in front of the other. Meeting my obligations to the best of my ability. Pretending to be productive. Living a life that holds nothing for me except one person whose love I am certain of.
It is not that I wish I were dead, per se. It is that I wish I were living someone else's life, because I am not very happy with my own, and I do not see my own changing. My life is a combination of my choices, my background, and fate - and nothing I do or dont do will make much difference either way.
It is just that I need to adjust - this is it. This is all there is, there aint no more - I give up. I just give up.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
the letter I'm not sending
I've been thinking of you all day, but... well, the truth is that I have nothing to say to you. I am still so confused whenever I think about you - when ever I think of this entire past year with you. My mind just "jumbles up" and I get all tangled.
I love you... or I think I did. I saw in you an essential sweetness and kindness, an innocence that touched me so deeply. And your soulfullness... Ale your soul was so lovely, and - you didnt even believe you had one.
Some part of me trusted you with all of her heart. Now, the rest of me, I suppose, knew better. But, I tried my best to win you over. And you just wouldnt come.
Now, the confusing part of this is that, well - some part of you DID love me. I sounds stupid to say it - and arrogant - and maybe even its totally delusional. But I felt it in the way you touched me, how easily your body came to mine in a single rythm. The way, a while ago, your face would light up when you saw me.
Yeah... I saw the other signals you were giving me... but I also saw how relaxed you could become just being in my presence. All those times when your guard was down, and you werent thinking about our future... and you were just with me.
I feel I lost a brother, I lost a twin star, and there is nothing that is going to change that. Its over, its too late, what has been done cannot be undone. But fuck, it hurts.
I have, of course, been moving on. I am seeing a couple of people, both VERY nice... both love kids, and dogs. They are very nice, very good men. Maybe something will work out with one of them, maybe it won't - but it would be so much easier if you weren't always on my mind. I cry after making love. I cry when another man makes me come, becaue I dont WANT to have to be moving on. And I hate that I can come with someone else. And I hate that I am doing it from across the room - no longer able to remain in my own body.
I miss you. I wish, so much, that this had all come out different. I wish, so much, that I had played all the silly girl games to make you crazy, to make you chase me... I wish I had pretended to barely acknowledge your exhistance - the things that would have made you believe you were in love. But -- I think I wanted to be loved for me, with my baggage, on my own terms.
I wish you had been him. I wished you had been "the one". I'm tired of looking.... but I am glad I didnt 'settle' for you, because the longer I've been apart from you - the more I realize what I had to give up to be with you.
I shouldnt have done that. I should have stayed true to myself. I loved you boy, but looking back... Im not sure you were worth it at all.
Go with God
I love you... or I think I did. I saw in you an essential sweetness and kindness, an innocence that touched me so deeply. And your soulfullness... Ale your soul was so lovely, and - you didnt even believe you had one.
Some part of me trusted you with all of her heart. Now, the rest of me, I suppose, knew better. But, I tried my best to win you over. And you just wouldnt come.
Now, the confusing part of this is that, well - some part of you DID love me. I sounds stupid to say it - and arrogant - and maybe even its totally delusional. But I felt it in the way you touched me, how easily your body came to mine in a single rythm. The way, a while ago, your face would light up when you saw me.
Yeah... I saw the other signals you were giving me... but I also saw how relaxed you could become just being in my presence. All those times when your guard was down, and you werent thinking about our future... and you were just with me.
I feel I lost a brother, I lost a twin star, and there is nothing that is going to change that. Its over, its too late, what has been done cannot be undone. But fuck, it hurts.
I have, of course, been moving on. I am seeing a couple of people, both VERY nice... both love kids, and dogs. They are very nice, very good men. Maybe something will work out with one of them, maybe it won't - but it would be so much easier if you weren't always on my mind. I cry after making love. I cry when another man makes me come, becaue I dont WANT to have to be moving on. And I hate that I can come with someone else. And I hate that I am doing it from across the room - no longer able to remain in my own body.
I miss you. I wish, so much, that this had all come out different. I wish, so much, that I had played all the silly girl games to make you crazy, to make you chase me... I wish I had pretended to barely acknowledge your exhistance - the things that would have made you believe you were in love. But -- I think I wanted to be loved for me, with my baggage, on my own terms.
I wish you had been him. I wished you had been "the one". I'm tired of looking.... but I am glad I didnt 'settle' for you, because the longer I've been apart from you - the more I realize what I had to give up to be with you.
I shouldnt have done that. I should have stayed true to myself. I loved you boy, but looking back... Im not sure you were worth it at all.
Go with God
sex as a drug
Last night, I spent the evening with Sean. He is lovely, and handsome and gentile.
We ended up in bed fooling around. And it was nice, and I came.
But - there is no love there. There is no love in any of these encounters.
I am using sex like a drug... as a way to escape my pain and fear and longing and insecurity.
Sex for me is sacramental, and I feel as if I have taken the wine from the altar, and am desecrating it.
I need to think about this.
We ended up in bed fooling around. And it was nice, and I came.
But - there is no love there. There is no love in any of these encounters.
I am using sex like a drug... as a way to escape my pain and fear and longing and insecurity.
Sex for me is sacramental, and I feel as if I have taken the wine from the altar, and am desecrating it.
I need to think about this.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Angels and Others
I am still sad, heartbroken, scared that I will always be alone - and more tired than I could ever express to anyone. I am still not in a big hopeful place, where the future looks all bright and shiney.... and I really miss how Ale made me feel, and I mourn the loss of someone who I really think was a brother / twin star.
But - God is good, and throws angels in our paths.
I met a boy named Massi a week or two ago. Now, as to partner material? No. Not even on the table. I don't have anything against crazy artists, mind you - but they can't really afford me. He is, by his own admission, another Peter Pan (at least THIS Peter Pan has a reason; artistic genius.) Over the long term, I need a partner, not a child. But - I have a feeling that he and I are really meant to be friends.
In any case, he is in the same stuck place I am - left by a girl he loved - and still in love with her ghost. Whats GREAT about this is that we are in something together, and neither of us is in a mind to lie about it, and we are reacting to things around each other in a similiar fashion.
For example, we had this really fun time together. The next days, we were both upset and depressed about it... for me it felt like faithlessness (if I had really loved him - how could we have had so much fun together....)
So - I have a new friend, and a new lover, and I think he will be my friend for a while... and honestly, I do not need nor want a new "big love" right now. But I do need a friend, and I do need a lover who isnt going to get hurt.
One of the things that I have been learning already through this encounter is how much of myself I sold off to be with Ale. Those of you who know me well know that I am a big FREAK. I mean this in the best possible sense, but it is something that shocks the conventional.
Now, whatever it was that created the sex monster I am - it is a primary part of me. I love sex, I love it dirty, I love nasty fantasies and I lack any inhibition around it - and I've been this way for as long as I can remember. It was one of the things Nick treasured about me. Now, with this new boy - well, he thinks its really COOL that I am so "strange". Its fun for him, and we construct these long fantasies together, and who I am sexually is not only OK with him, but something he thinks is wonderful!
With Ale I hid a lot. There is no way I ever would have risked revealing the girl behind the mask - the crazy little gay boy whore who takes up residence in my psyche. With Ale, I was so busy being the perfect girl, that I left the really really bad girl behind. I edited myself, removing what I thought would be unacceptable. Now - frankly, this really BAD girl is something that someone who loves me should rejoice in! She's FUN. She is part of my essence, way down at the soul level.
And you know - its the same with the fact I'm a Mom. Being a mother is something that has given me so many gifts... patience, and a sense of responsibility... and kids are - well - the best things since sliced bread. Massi and Spike have a lot in common - they are totally into Gormiti and Pokemon, and have these long conversations about it.....
My BOY is the most incredible person. Some kids are just no fun... but mine is, and it an exquisite human, and Ale shut him out. I let that go on, and honestly - shame on me. Love me, love my boy. Don't love my boy? Well you are an idiot, and really need to fuck off.
So - I think God sent me an angel, because the more I spend time with this new friend, the more Ale is becomming de-mythologized. I still believe that he loved me, or at least his soul did. I believe his soul will suffer the loss of me. But - I am finally coming to the very deep belief that Ale really wasn't good enough for me (and not the other way around....)
Thank you Massi! I am so glad you are my friend!
But - God is good, and throws angels in our paths.
I met a boy named Massi a week or two ago. Now, as to partner material? No. Not even on the table. I don't have anything against crazy artists, mind you - but they can't really afford me. He is, by his own admission, another Peter Pan (at least THIS Peter Pan has a reason; artistic genius.) Over the long term, I need a partner, not a child. But - I have a feeling that he and I are really meant to be friends.
In any case, he is in the same stuck place I am - left by a girl he loved - and still in love with her ghost. Whats GREAT about this is that we are in something together, and neither of us is in a mind to lie about it, and we are reacting to things around each other in a similiar fashion.
For example, we had this really fun time together. The next days, we were both upset and depressed about it... for me it felt like faithlessness (if I had really loved him - how could we have had so much fun together....)
So - I have a new friend, and a new lover, and I think he will be my friend for a while... and honestly, I do not need nor want a new "big love" right now. But I do need a friend, and I do need a lover who isnt going to get hurt.
One of the things that I have been learning already through this encounter is how much of myself I sold off to be with Ale. Those of you who know me well know that I am a big FREAK. I mean this in the best possible sense, but it is something that shocks the conventional.
Now, whatever it was that created the sex monster I am - it is a primary part of me. I love sex, I love it dirty, I love nasty fantasies and I lack any inhibition around it - and I've been this way for as long as I can remember. It was one of the things Nick treasured about me. Now, with this new boy - well, he thinks its really COOL that I am so "strange". Its fun for him, and we construct these long fantasies together, and who I am sexually is not only OK with him, but something he thinks is wonderful!
With Ale I hid a lot. There is no way I ever would have risked revealing the girl behind the mask - the crazy little gay boy whore who takes up residence in my psyche. With Ale, I was so busy being the perfect girl, that I left the really really bad girl behind. I edited myself, removing what I thought would be unacceptable. Now - frankly, this really BAD girl is something that someone who loves me should rejoice in! She's FUN. She is part of my essence, way down at the soul level.
And you know - its the same with the fact I'm a Mom. Being a mother is something that has given me so many gifts... patience, and a sense of responsibility... and kids are - well - the best things since sliced bread. Massi and Spike have a lot in common - they are totally into Gormiti and Pokemon, and have these long conversations about it.....
My BOY is the most incredible person. Some kids are just no fun... but mine is, and it an exquisite human, and Ale shut him out. I let that go on, and honestly - shame on me. Love me, love my boy. Don't love my boy? Well you are an idiot, and really need to fuck off.
So - I think God sent me an angel, because the more I spend time with this new friend, the more Ale is becomming de-mythologized. I still believe that he loved me, or at least his soul did. I believe his soul will suffer the loss of me. But - I am finally coming to the very deep belief that Ale really wasn't good enough for me (and not the other way around....)
Thank you Massi! I am so glad you are my friend!
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Anniversary 2
Oh god. I am so lost. I loved that boy with al my heart and all my soul, and he is gone, and there is nothing I can do about it.
I couldnt move it, I couldnt change it -
And I wonder what must be wrong with me... with my bad choices, fucked up decidisons, fate, the universe, everything.
Why did I stay? What was I doing? I thought he loved me, I saw it in his eyes, but he left, and I think that this is just how life is always going to be for me.
I have no more insight. I am out of wisdom. There is nothing left to grow with here. I cannot make any more sense out of this than I already have.
I couldnt move it, I couldnt change it -
And I wonder what must be wrong with me... with my bad choices, fucked up decidisons, fate, the universe, everything.
Why did I stay? What was I doing? I thought he loved me, I saw it in his eyes, but he left, and I think that this is just how life is always going to be for me.
I have no more insight. I am out of wisdom. There is nothing left to grow with here. I cannot make any more sense out of this than I already have.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Beneath Despair
"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our despair, against our own will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God."
Aeschylus
These day, some days are hard. Some a little bit harder. My experience right now is like looking out into a vast void, of being on a starship, staring into a space that I cannot comprhend. Being agoraphobic by nature, the seemin vastness or this emptiness is terrifying.
I feel that somewhere along the way, a faustian bargain was made by me or on my behalf; you will have many loves. You will knows scores of men, all decent and kind - you will love and be loved in return.... BUT
You will always be alone. In exchange for these riches, you will never have the experience of a truely deep lasting love - you will meet your soulmates, but they will fly away. You will meet freinds along the path, but they will not stay. There will be men who want to keep you - but they will not be the right ones. Those you want will not want you. There will be an abundance of sweets, but nothing of substance, nothing that will sustain you. In this you will be always on your own.
I am still desperately trying to sort out what happened with Ale. My head is still reeling - I am not a stupid woman, yet I stayed. He voiced all his fears, (even though his actions often countered them) - I KNEW he wouldn't stay. So why did I try and change it, why did I waste my time?
Well.... because he touched my soul. I KNEW him. My spirit knew his spirit and rejoiced in his presence, while the rest of me writhed in agony, knowing all along what the future held. I remain convinced that his spirit knew me as well, but he gives no credence to things such as spirit and soul.... the world of imagination and what it actually means is lost to him in his adolescent struggle.
But, now, I am so sad. I am back at the beginning again.... I am seeing some very nice men, all lovely. And not one of them, I think, is "the one" - unless I were to just give up and settle for someone lovely who will love me and be my friend....
But I don't want that. I want someone who touches my soul, who brings out the best part of me. Ale did that.... even though most of the time he was hurting me. He was a brother to me.... a twin star, an anima gemelli. And though there were moments where this occured to him, for him it was of no significance. Or of not enough significance that he connected the dots.
It could be that he is so rejecting of the child inside of him that the thing I loved the most in him is the thing he is most rejecting of in his own life. And because this was the level we connected on, it was simply no good.
Or maybe he just didnt think of it at all, and stayed with me because he liked me well enough and the sex was nice. Lord knows, for all his talk, he never tried. Maybe I am just not all that lovable.
I finally had sex, with a really really nice man - another Peter Pan - who, after about 5 minutes I had already sized up as FWB material. Someone who I wouldn't hurt, and who wouldn't hurt me. The sex was nice, it was hot, it was the way I wanted it.... and my body so desperately needed it.
But, it didn't touch my soul. I didn't stay in my body. I left while my physical needs were attended to, and my soul sat in the corner, watching on and wanting someone else. I was left physically satisfied, and emotionally bereft. I want to reclaim my body as my own again, but my spirit seems to have other ideas.
My body needs sex like it needs food and water.... it is not and never has been a moral issue with me before. Yes, I would rather be in love, but celibacy is simply bad for me... but right now, sex seems bad for me as well. It could be that I simply need physical affection, but I don't know how to accept it outside of a sexual context. I see nothing wrong with having fuck buddies, but perhaps I am simply too fragile to do this right now. Maybe I am trying to use sex as a drug, and now I am hungover. Maybe I am trying to use my body to simply forget, but its not working.
I am just so lost right now, and so on the knife edge. I am sad. I am grieving. I am underneath despair, and I think I shall always be alone.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Moving on
"Inch by inch, row by row, gonna make this garden grow
All it takes is a rake and a hoe and a piece of fertile ground
Inch by inch, row by row someone bless these seeds I sow
Someone warm them from below
Til the rain comes tumbling down"
If I close my eyes I see myself with a rucksack over my shoulder... dejectedly walking down a new dirt road alone... leaving behind a shack that could never be my home. It looked like a palace while I lived there... but now, it is decrepit, and all fallen down.
I'm sad. Not heartbroken, not obsessed, no longer addicted. Just sad. Such a waste. Happiness wasted, and naught I can do.
So, I've packed my bags, and I am travelling into the future - and though I know this future has more people to love, and maybe a new home for me - and many many good things, I will miss the shack I have left behind.
I miss all the meals we won't cook together, all the cuddling on the sofa we never got to do - all the soccer balls we didn't kick around in the park. I miss seeing Paris with him, and I miss dropping mushrooms in Amsterdam, and going camping with Spike, and all the fights we never had, and all the make up sex we never had.
The why's dont matter too much anymore... he was stupid and wasteful, and didn't know what he had is sufficient.
So - I begin again. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time. I reassemble my life from the rubble and reassemble my soul - and allow light to show through the cracks.
I have so many options now, and all are good. Thing is, I was tired of all the options - even when they are good ones... and the vision of what could have been was just about everything I ever wanted. I am lazy, and I don't like starting over.
I liked being with just one guy who I adored. It was nice. It was easy. But - I was not the star in his sky...
So - I move along, and I date for a while - and I meet some new and fantastic people. I currently have some very good options, and we will see what happens. I start my theatre company, I start my counseling classes, I clean my house, I build my websites, I shine my sink, I love my son, walk my dog... and go to the gym.
Winter is here now, and there will be a whole new life come the spring.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
alchemy
Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.
Carl Jung
al·che·my (ăl'kə-mē)
n.
A medieval chemical philosophy having as its asserted aims the transmutation of base metals into gold, the discovery of the panacea, and the preparation of the elixir of longevity.
Something changed inside, but I am not so sure what. After seeing Ale last Monday (could it have only been a week ago?), I broke. I suffered one last intense burst of grief so horrifying that I was afraid for myself. I couldn't stop crying, and the tears came from the depth of a shattered heart.
And then, like a monsoon, it was over. The sun came up again.... and yes, there is still some debris to clear, but.... I'm fine. I'm tired, to be sure, I have taken on a nasty cold (uncried tears, unspoken words, too much going on at once...)
But, I have stopped asking "Whats wrong with me?", and - when I think about Ale (no longer every moment, or even every hour....) I think "Oh, poor baby.... what the hell is wrong with YOU? How could you have let someone like me walk out of your life. How tragic."
Would I still like a "do over" - sometimes I dream of it, because I dont like getting things wrong. But would I? I don't think so, no.
He was fun. He was loving. I miss him in my bed. But, I deserve someone who loves me best of all, someone who is profound and smart, and deep. As much fun as Ale is... its like the bible says....
When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
Well, not completely.... but Ale has been relegated to "once upon a time", and I am looking for "happily ever after".
So, have I changed? I don't know. I hope so. I feel the same, like all this pain did nothing, but honestly, I doubt it. Love changes everything, and we will just have to see what it has changed in me.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Tears in the early morning darkness
Someday, maybe, when I grow up, I will learn to control my thoughts without simply shutting down my feelings.
This morning before daybreak, I woke. Dog, cat, whatever. I looked up, and it was dark. And then the dark thoughts came, the recording of the last conversation...
And as I listened to Ale again, I began to feel stupid. I mean, really stupid. "I only saw you twice a week... I held you away... you should have known".... and I began to cry. I felt ashamed, and stupid, and ridiculous. How COULD I have let this happen... how could I have allowed myself to be treated in such a way.
I mean, Ale... were you really using me? How is it that I was apparently so mistaken? Your face would light up when you saw me, once upon a time. You would come up behind me, and embrace me.... and tell me how "comfortable" it was.... and I would see you rejoice in it....
And now, you justify the whole affair, by telling me that I should have known better.
And now, I think of you, and I cry. I cry a lot.
You mother fucker.... I asked your permission each step of the way. I told you I was falling in love. I TOLD you I was getting attached. I told you I was scared. You told me it would be okay, that I was safe... and now, you have left a 7 year old child to pick up the pieces, to be there in the early morning light, to wrap his arms around me and say "Shhh.... Mama, I'm here, its ok, I love you... shhh"
I hate you. My love is turning to hate, because it is the only thing I can think of to do.... and while I am good at love, I am really really bad at hate. All I want to do now is erase you, turn back the tape, and wish you out of existance.
This morning before daybreak, I woke. Dog, cat, whatever. I looked up, and it was dark. And then the dark thoughts came, the recording of the last conversation...
And as I listened to Ale again, I began to feel stupid. I mean, really stupid. "I only saw you twice a week... I held you away... you should have known".... and I began to cry. I felt ashamed, and stupid, and ridiculous. How COULD I have let this happen... how could I have allowed myself to be treated in such a way.
I mean, Ale... were you really using me? How is it that I was apparently so mistaken? Your face would light up when you saw me, once upon a time. You would come up behind me, and embrace me.... and tell me how "comfortable" it was.... and I would see you rejoice in it....
And now, you justify the whole affair, by telling me that I should have known better.
And now, I think of you, and I cry. I cry a lot.
You mother fucker.... I asked your permission each step of the way. I told you I was falling in love. I TOLD you I was getting attached. I told you I was scared. You told me it would be okay, that I was safe... and now, you have left a 7 year old child to pick up the pieces, to be there in the early morning light, to wrap his arms around me and say "Shhh.... Mama, I'm here, its ok, I love you... shhh"
I hate you. My love is turning to hate, because it is the only thing I can think of to do.... and while I am good at love, I am really really bad at hate. All I want to do now is erase you, turn back the tape, and wish you out of existance.
A Vocation of Transcendence
My mind in like living in a maelstrom right now. It is stormy and gray and tempestuous, it is no wonder I feel exhausted.
Generally, when children grow, it is sequential, an inch a season, a first word followed by more, followed by sentences.... milestones reached in a certain predictable order.
Even my physical growth never followed such a pattern. I was the size of a 3 year old in first grade, the size of an 8 year old in 7th.... and in one year, I grew 12 inches and gained 25 pounds.
I had no words, other than baby talk... and then at 4 I began to speak as an adult, and soon after to read college books.
My physical and intellectual growth never went sequentially - so I suppose I have no reason to believe my spiritual growth should be any less violent and disorienting.
I am spinning around, reading Chodron, and Hillman and Moore. I am reading mythology, and popular self help books on broken hearts. If feels like the top of my head has been cut off, and things are pouring in... or that someone has shoved a funnel in my mouth, and water is spilling through with no chance to catch my breath.
My days are filled with lofty thoughts of transcendence, and meaning, and God, and archetype.... followed by teen aged love lamentation and the broken dream of a relationship that never was. I dialogue with the many Daimons in my own soul, each clammoring and speaking - so much that I have ceased to address myself as "I" and am now using the non-imperial "we". "We are proud of ourselves, we did good, we just need to calm down a bit, and we will be fine".
So much seems to be happening on so many levels... all underpinned by a deep seated fear that I am only the hairless ape of outdated anthropology... we are nothing but biological creatures, we are born, we die... nothing more. All the rest are dreams and bones, and thoughts nothing but synapses firing in an inexplicable void. Rationalism is as much a myth as imagination, as all is constructed for no other purpose than the propagation of a species that is destined to destroy itself.
The thing that seems to differentiate the dark night experience from simple depression and stress is just that.... it is accompanied by a crisis in faith. You do what you must, and you work towards transcendence, completely without any confidence that it counts, is meaningful, or that there will be any light at the end of the tunnel.
In the midst of all this turmoil, I am missing a love that existed only in my imagining of the future, I am in production for a play that may make all my former dreams come true, I have taken on two more clients, I am beginning to take the courses that will allow me to perform psychotherapy on others (in a language I do not understand), and I have a day job that is being woefully underserved. And a string of house guests are coming... the house is a mess, the dog needs to be walked... and most importantly, I am someones mamma.
And I am doing it alone. And I can barely get out of bed in the morning for the apprehension that has settled in my stomach.
Being a rather dissociative person, I can watch my life and myself from the outside, and I can see that this is all good. (Even maybe the broken heart thing... the catalyst for all that follows.) - but from the inside, this doesn't feel so great. It scary and confusing, and I wish I could be comforted.
I prayed to God the other morning at church, and I begged him to take this cup away... but not is such earnestness as to be very convincing I think. And then, I simply cried. Because God is not the cavalry, and in his eyes, perhaps there is no good nor bad, there simply "is", much like the "I am" - and ultimately, surrender is the only choice we really have.
Generally, when children grow, it is sequential, an inch a season, a first word followed by more, followed by sentences.... milestones reached in a certain predictable order.
Even my physical growth never followed such a pattern. I was the size of a 3 year old in first grade, the size of an 8 year old in 7th.... and in one year, I grew 12 inches and gained 25 pounds.
I had no words, other than baby talk... and then at 4 I began to speak as an adult, and soon after to read college books.
My physical and intellectual growth never went sequentially - so I suppose I have no reason to believe my spiritual growth should be any less violent and disorienting.
I am spinning around, reading Chodron, and Hillman and Moore. I am reading mythology, and popular self help books on broken hearts. If feels like the top of my head has been cut off, and things are pouring in... or that someone has shoved a funnel in my mouth, and water is spilling through with no chance to catch my breath.
My days are filled with lofty thoughts of transcendence, and meaning, and God, and archetype.... followed by teen aged love lamentation and the broken dream of a relationship that never was. I dialogue with the many Daimons in my own soul, each clammoring and speaking - so much that I have ceased to address myself as "I" and am now using the non-imperial "we". "We are proud of ourselves, we did good, we just need to calm down a bit, and we will be fine".
So much seems to be happening on so many levels... all underpinned by a deep seated fear that I am only the hairless ape of outdated anthropology... we are nothing but biological creatures, we are born, we die... nothing more. All the rest are dreams and bones, and thoughts nothing but synapses firing in an inexplicable void. Rationalism is as much a myth as imagination, as all is constructed for no other purpose than the propagation of a species that is destined to destroy itself.
The thing that seems to differentiate the dark night experience from simple depression and stress is just that.... it is accompanied by a crisis in faith. You do what you must, and you work towards transcendence, completely without any confidence that it counts, is meaningful, or that there will be any light at the end of the tunnel.
In the midst of all this turmoil, I am missing a love that existed only in my imagining of the future, I am in production for a play that may make all my former dreams come true, I have taken on two more clients, I am beginning to take the courses that will allow me to perform psychotherapy on others (in a language I do not understand), and I have a day job that is being woefully underserved. And a string of house guests are coming... the house is a mess, the dog needs to be walked... and most importantly, I am someones mamma.
And I am doing it alone. And I can barely get out of bed in the morning for the apprehension that has settled in my stomach.
Being a rather dissociative person, I can watch my life and myself from the outside, and I can see that this is all good. (Even maybe the broken heart thing... the catalyst for all that follows.) - but from the inside, this doesn't feel so great. It scary and confusing, and I wish I could be comforted.
I prayed to God the other morning at church, and I begged him to take this cup away... but not is such earnestness as to be very convincing I think. And then, I simply cried. Because God is not the cavalry, and in his eyes, perhaps there is no good nor bad, there simply "is", much like the "I am" - and ultimately, surrender is the only choice we really have.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
I felt a bit better yesterday, after having gotten some concrete if confusing conversation with Ale (is it like an addict getting a hit of a drug?) - and I was fine in therapy today...
But as the day wore on, and the absolute hopelessness and confusion of this conversation began to sink in... I began to feel worse and worse, and more and more tired. And I've spent another day crying...
About this dead relationship, about the confusion, and about the "almost" nature of it all. I want a do over. I want my last year back. I want better choices, different choices. I want a home and a family and a happily ever after....
This hurts. It hurts so much.
I'm lazy... I'm tired of growing. I'm glad I have the capacity to grow, to find treasure in the pain and shit of everyday existance... but, you know? I'm tired now. It feels like just too much. I don't need so much treasure.
I know I am just feeling sorry for myself, and that being a warrior depends on keeping a straight back and not complaining. I know that railing about the unfairness of life is pointless.
But I cant help it sometimes. Other people got normal childhoods, and married someone they loved, and had a few kids... and simply get to live thier lives. Sure there is always pain, and there is always suffering, and everyone is stressed. And I know I am lucky and that I have been blessed in other ways... but sometimes, a normal everything... it looks like paradise to me.
I'm drying my tears. I am squaring my shoulders. I am trying to look into the future. I am trying to learn as much as I can about this incident, from this love, from this relationship as I can.
But - it hurts, I hurt, and I am really tired of hurting. My eyes burn always from crying. And honestly, sometimes, I just want to stay in bed.
But as the day wore on, and the absolute hopelessness and confusion of this conversation began to sink in... I began to feel worse and worse, and more and more tired. And I've spent another day crying...
About this dead relationship, about the confusion, and about the "almost" nature of it all. I want a do over. I want my last year back. I want better choices, different choices. I want a home and a family and a happily ever after....
This hurts. It hurts so much.
I'm lazy... I'm tired of growing. I'm glad I have the capacity to grow, to find treasure in the pain and shit of everyday existance... but, you know? I'm tired now. It feels like just too much. I don't need so much treasure.
I know I am just feeling sorry for myself, and that being a warrior depends on keeping a straight back and not complaining. I know that railing about the unfairness of life is pointless.
But I cant help it sometimes. Other people got normal childhoods, and married someone they loved, and had a few kids... and simply get to live thier lives. Sure there is always pain, and there is always suffering, and everyone is stressed. And I know I am lucky and that I have been blessed in other ways... but sometimes, a normal everything... it looks like paradise to me.
I'm drying my tears. I am squaring my shoulders. I am trying to look into the future. I am trying to learn as much as I can about this incident, from this love, from this relationship as I can.
But - it hurts, I hurt, and I am really tired of hurting. My eyes burn always from crying. And honestly, sometimes, I just want to stay in bed.