Divorce, Humanity

Letter to that Guy- more online dating fiascos, by me.

Dear Guy,

I have to tell you how sorry I am.  My disappointment is not actually in YOU but in me. Its that classic, its not you but me bit that totally leaves everyone unsatisfied, no matter how true.

All we did was text, WE NEVER EVEN MET… so there are no children to care for, no body parts to have checked, no heart to re-invigorate…. nothing. nothing.  but what i did was something which is both old and well-known to me, and new and sparkling in its dysfunction.

i made you the answer to questions i used to have. desires i used to have.

you said, ‘i like to read’, i heard…

i’m the smart guy you’ve been waiting for… we can talk about books and i can teach you things you didn’t even know you wanted to learn… let’s hold hands!

you said, ‘my children are grown’… i heard…

we can meet anytime, anywhere, he has an EMPTY house… WE ARE FREE…. SEX! ALL THE TIME!!

you said, ‘i’m worried about you’… i heard…

( i heard it right, but my reaction went like this…)  OH MY GOD, this is what it feels like to have somebody care about me? to be watched out for? i’m going to cry.  i should ask him to marry me… i mean, arranged marriages work sometimes, right? why not? he wouldn’t be too freaked out, right? he must feel what i am feeling….

”””””’

sigh.

deciding to straddle the line between wanting a real thing and being ready for a real thing has made an interesting shift occur in me. this kind of mental gymnastics in which i singlehandedly create the makebelieve-come-true is something i did right before my very first date after the marriage ended .

i remember it so clearly. it took me a year and a half to be interested in dating. and my birthday approached and i went ahead and joined the online world and got a date. we texted ahead of time,  and i did the same thing i did this week… i made him into the ‘one’.

really? the first date in a year and a half is THE ONE? hmmm. what could be wrong about that?

i don’t even believe in the ONE.

so, upon seeing him, even in profile, still in car,  i realized what i had done, what i had created.  and never did it again.

and so the fact that i have suddenly succumbed to it, again? so curious.

what is this?

I’m 4 years separated. have had my first date, kiss, sex, whathaveyous… have learned a whole lot, have remembered more.  why, suddenly, am i back to square one ?

forgetting everything that i’ve learned, the power that i’ve reclaimed? would i really want to date and find myself an empty husk again? without the solidity and groundedness that i have now?

i suppose the fact that i’m seeing all this and adding ‘no text’ to my daily list shows a bit of something has dislodged… i don’t want to give into what seems to be a natural skill set for me, the creative imagination overspill.

i don’t know who, or what is coming… but i’m pretty sure that when it does, i’ll meet it face to face and not in my imagination. so i can just ask my monkey brain to step aside for awhile, go eat a banana for chrissakes.

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This picture? Mostly because of the spiral, the loop loop loop of my brain these days… and the variations of grey. 

 

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Divorce, Humanity, Uncategorized

Fog continues. Grief. I know fabrics.

Today i’ve turned off all the kitchen lights, and am typing by computer screen, sparkle lights and a damp grey morning. soft wool. 1120180831a

people are really lovely, they really are. above all.  cashmere.

and still, yesterday i almost crawled back into my bed while the kids were here.  it can be done, but i can only handle it when there is no will left in my body, and vomit is coming forth.

so i must have some will left in my body while the fog is here.  i stay out of bed while kids are here.  old school corduroy, stiff, scratchy.

but man, this grief is hitting hard this year.  and its been five years, so there isn’t a real trigger, except in realizing how much time has passed and how mad i am at my dad for not being here for these five years, and how i would really like to have him around, mad or not.  and how i still look for him everywhere. piles and piles of washed cotton, cold and damp.

its been a big five years.

i think i’d still be unhappily married if it weren’t for what his death showed me.  it uncovered the truth of my unhappiness. the untrustworthy man, the unreliable man, the inexplicable man that i was married to brought Bold in the loss of what in many ways was his opposite.  the things i loved so about my husband were washed out by the things which really make him ‘not the marrying sort’… no matter how many times he tries.

and here i am, swamped into the tub, barely reaching the lip to see out.  turning down work, or asking for delays while i sink.  flannel.

man.

 

its been a big five years. plasticwrap. (not fabric, but still. how it feels.)

Divorce

Sliver of Innocence, you glowing thing, you.

So, yesterday I had therapy.  Well, technically, I missed therapy.  My appointment reminder happened five minutes before i was meant to walk in, and its 20 minutes from here.  My frantic call, my hatred of self for having to pay for something I didn’t even benefit from… blagh.

BUT, as the universe unfolds and unfolds and unfolds again, it worked perfectly. she had a space later in the day and another patient mistook her appt and showed up just in time to take my missed space.

get the convolution that unfolded for all of us there?

Believe it or not the point of this post has nothing to do with any of that. Actually, i think that is fairly par for the course for my meandering style.

One of the things that has been bugging me lately is my own idealism.  Its causing me grief as I try to date or not date. I try so hard to accept people as they are, and I think 98% of me does this…  but there are slivers and shards of me that are looking for the big love, the knight in shining armor, the completely unreal.

And I’m trying to deal with these slivers in therapy. and its messing with me on the daily.  Those slivers still can’t believe that the big love I had wasn’t enough. That the big love I had didn’t meet its match in reciprocity. Those slivers kept me in a marriage about three years too long. They are little fiberglass splinters… can’t see em but they hurt and hurt and hurt.

I KNOW that this is my naivete. My little glowing shard that Superman opens up the vault with… I KNOW THIS.  But I am so mad at that little glowing thing.  I am not sure how to wrap my hands around it without choking it to death.  I’m afraid of what such violence would do to me.  What if its my golden center?

AAAAARGGGH. I don’t have the answers. but it has been suggested to me that i invite the glowing shard in, ask her to sit down at the campfire with my cynicism and my creativity and my color obsessions and make some new stories.  some grown up ones, where golden can stay, and change, and glow.

so i have work to do. a whole shebangs of shebangs the drum.

 

 

Divorce

The EYE. Halloween. Happy Divorce.

I’m sitting by the fire. Its quiet. There aren’t any kids within 150 feet of me. I’m enjoying the hell out of the eye of this storm.

I got them all ready. I fed them. I visited the two neighbors that we are wanting to visit. Then their dad arrived. and they all left.  I got one family of trick or treaters. so far. but its 7:30 on a school night so its very possible that Halloween is over. for me.

They will return, and I will shower them, and calm their rattled sugar-infested brains. They will brush their teeth. Someone will yell and it will be me. Then the lights will be off.

Out of all the days, all the holidays, this tradition of my ex doing the Trick or Treating is my most favorite. ever. MOST.FAVORITE.

IT MIGHT LITERALLY BE THE BEST THING ABOUT BEING DIVORCED. Happy Divorce dance. right here. right now.

i confess to missing tons and tons of kids at the door. but. not right now, while I’m in the eye.

I whispered this whole post. Because I’m in it. THE EYE.

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Divorce, Humanity

grounding, grounding…

so. i make a big statement in the previous post, like, ‘tell the universe’… and its sort of woo-woo, and some people (my internal world) think froofroo = avoidance of  GOD words.  but i don’t avoid GOD words, just so you know.

when my dad died, just about 5 years ago now, I lost my faith. utterly.  it wasn’t right, it didn’t make sense, it did NOT fit the faith system and security that i had thought was there.  call me a priviledged whitie, its allright. i was. and probably am, in more ways than i’m even aware of .  (and i am aware.)

so boom. lost my dad and lost my faith blanket all at once.  it left me reeling, both were things i took great comfort in, since and after i was old enough to talk… i’ll tell you that.  i think the support of them both, and the loss of them both made it all the more clear to me how desparately sad and unsupportive my marriage had become and made me rise up and bring about its end.  bwahahaha haaaaa.

AND SO.  while there are millions of pages to be written about the above paragraphs, still, today is not that day.

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i find myself growing a new faith. now, five years on… little sprouts of faith in myself.  (without losing humility, at. all.)  faith in the world, faith in humanity, faith in goodness… its a rebirth of that supportive net that i had all my life, but with new shapes and colors… but the same feelings…

its a whole new relationship with the concept behind the words i used to use.

and its ironic, as the whole world seems headed for hell in a handbasket of intolerance.

but i’ve been thinking a lot about how i can gather more moments of stillness, more moments when i feel my feet planted… when i feel like my intuition and guidance systems have a chance to be heard…..

and i think im going to think some more about it… I’ll get back here in a bit… 🙂

lurve…