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On to the next challenge…..
Get a Life
I never thought I’d be using that phrase on myself but, at the point in time, it applies to me. It’s been an on-going struggle for me since my separation in ‘07.
WHO AM I?
My friend, The Squire, told me at the beginning of the summer that I had an opportunity. Since he’s known me, he believed that I didn’t know who I was. I wasn’t sure of what he meant and that bothered me. I could identify myself as a son, a father, a brother, an ex-husband and ex-boyfriend. I am a December baby, Baby Boomer, potentially somebody’s baby and a child of the Seventies. I am am identified as a lover of music, golf, good barbeque, good sex, long road trips, long beach walks, country fairs and oxen pulls. I am other things, but does that mean I know WHO I am.
When I was married, I found my identity as part of a marriage and the head of a family. When I was seeing My Love, I was her partner. Currently, I am a employee of the Big City Hospital, member of my church and Red Sox Nation.
But is all of that WHO I AM?
Here lies the challenge: find out who I am. It’s a good subject to bring into therapy. I believe it’s the missing piece of the puzzle. By discovering who I am, I can move forward and live my life. I know it’s not an instant fix, that it will take hard work and reflection. It means asking myself alot of questions. Some of them will be difficult and challenging.
All I want is to be happy. Doesn’t everyone want to be happy?
I have been a bad boy.
After posting yesterday, I checked my email and discovered a response from My Love. I got the full lowdown on her reasons behind the breakup. We are both at fault, but she is blaming herself.
Yes, one of the issues was money and we both took ownership of that. But she was frustrated about where I was in my life. She has been concerned that I am wasting my natural talents. She was hoping that I could move myself along and go forward in my life. She was hoping that I could get myself out of the rut I was in, but that wasn’t possible. She decided that we break off our relationship rather than become a nag.
Since my divorce, I have been subconsciously ignoring my adult responsiblities and move forward. I have been afraid to do that because I am afraid of success. I use all sorts of excuses: I don’t know what I want, this doesn’t intrest me, I don’t have the money to go back to school. I can easily retort with reasons why I should make life changes. I never have enough money to do what I want, or to cover emergencies. I constantly worry about if there’s enough or if I have to rob Peter to pay Paul. I just need to take a leap of faith and start exploring possiblities.
But it bothers me that I was so cold towards My Love. I have just as much to do with all this as she does. I need to take responsiblity for my stuff.
We exchanged emails last night and have it sorted out. But it makes me wonder where we would be if it weren’t for money issues or career goals. We agreed that we wanted to exchange emails now and again. She still is an important part of my life.
Let’s see where the future will take us.
Time to grow a pair…man up…let the big dog eat
No more whimpy whinning.
No more driving myself crazy over a decision I didn’t make.
And if I resort to this behavior again, I officially give you permission to kick my butt.
I love her, I want to be with her, I want us to keep moving forward as a couple. But that’s not going to happen. Those are her issues and it’s her life. If she chooses to include me, wonderful.
Otherwise, me and my brass monkeys are heading out. I need to take a few days and just “be”. I’ll see you….whenever.
It has been brought to my attention that I am making slow and steady progress.
Really?
This is a “can’t see the forest for the trees” moment. As much as others believe I’m making progress, I am having a difficult time seeing it. I recognize I am slowly emerging from my “shell”, enjoying lost pleasures now that My Love and I are no longer together. I am enjoying afternoons at the movies, playing rock n roll on the stereo while cleaning my apartment (it’s the music I enjoy, not the cleaning), and other stuff I can’t think of at the moment. But is that progress? Should it take so long to heal? How long will it be before the pain goes away? I am getting to the point where I feel like I’m stuck in a rut, that I’m trying too hard to break free and do something different, but all I do is slip backward.
I am attempting to manage my emotions when I think of My Love. Sometimes successfully, other times not. But she is tough. She has hung on longer than any former girlfriend in my life, in that I cannot shake the thought of her. I don’t want to let go. As much as I want to move forward, I recognize that she has helped me reinvent myself, so to speak. There are unanswered questions. Such as…
WHY? Why couldn’t she talk about her issues with me? We have there for each other all along, why stop there?
WHY? Why could she just walk away? Did she fall out of love with me? Did she not want me in your life?
WHY? Why does it seem so easy for her to walk away?
These questions may never be answered. They may be answered only when the time is right . Here’s another that I need to consider:
WHY? Why have I hung on so long? Why can’t I forget her? Why won’t I let it go and get on with my life?
It’s not because I enjoy feeling this way. It’s not that I am trying to be a martyr, suffering in my self pity. I am not taking pity upon myself, allowing my emotions to get in the way of living my life. At least not outwardly and not as intensely as three months ago. I recognize that the end of my relationship with My Love didn’t end in a conventional manner. The only issue that was familiar was that she broke it off. I have ended up on the short end of all relationships with women.
I guess I’m just lucky, he says with tongue planted firmly in cheek. This time, it was old boyfriends and ex-husbands that did me in.
This one’s been rolling around in my brain for most of the weekend. It’s one of those philosophical questions that reach out and slap you in the face from time to time. This one comes from a John Grisham novel called “Playing For Pizza”. More on the plot, but here’s the question:
What am I doing here?
The story concerns a washed-up third-string NFL quarterback, who’s only option is to play in the professional league in Italy. His world has been completely turned upside-down. In the process, he begins to learn what life is all about through Italian eyes. He learns how to live well.
I finished the book in a few hours on Monday and walked away finding something I didn’t expect to find. I found myself mirroring the main character, and asking myself the same question:
What am I doing here?
My love had sent me a response to some of the posts I had written in these pages. One of the discoveries she made that we were “very good together but frighteningly stuck”. What does that mean? Did it mean our relationship wasn’t progressing the way she hoped? Did it mean I wasn’t progressing the way she hoped, or was she more concerned about her role? If we were that good together, it would be a step forward to bring this issue to the table and discuss it as a couple.
My guess is that she was waiting for the shoe to drop. She had been married twice. They were short courtships and quick weddings. Without going into details, both of her ex-’s betrayed her trust and hurt her deeply. We had two blips on the radar within the context of our relationship. While most relationships would take the experiences and learn from them, we separated for brief periods. It’s my guess she did that as a way to reassess the relationship. They were tow painful periods in our relationship.
Frighteningly stuck? Can a relationship have those times when it’s necessary to just “be” – taking time and recharging your emotional batteries? Were we “stuck” in the sense that we weren’t progressing and a couple or as individuals? Those are valid questions and could very well be applied to My Love and I.
Can you get unstuck? Is it possible to step back, see the realtiohnshiip for what it is, and make the necessary changes to make the relationshiip vital and interesting?
All questions to be answered at a later time.
I’d like to start off by thanking the folks who pop in on a regular (or semi-regular) basis and read my writing. I am blessed that you enjoy it, or are at least curious if I’ve gone postal or not. I’m just a guy trying to figure it all out.
Today is My Daughter’s 20th birthday. I was there to see and hear her born. She was asleep inside her mother, and the doctor had to wake her up to be delivered. She was sideways and the OB had to reach in and turn her. Otherwise, her mother would have a very uncomfortable delivery. Needless to say, she came out screaming. She’s kept that stubborn nature. Happy Birthday, sweetie. You are my Pride and Joy.
I am someone who believes that events associated with a season should remain so. In other words, if you have your Christmas tree up the day AFTER Halloween, you need to check your calendar. If you want the smell of pine, then burn a scented candle. So, I was surprised with myself that I did what I did last night.
I went Christmas shopping. It was completely out of character for me.
I do know from where it comes. That behavior comes from my mother, the woman who buys Christmas gifts in the height of summer if she thinks she’s getting a bargain. Okay, it’s a smart idea but not for everyone. Last night, with my pockets full of L.L. Bean cash, I set out to attempt to find stocking stuffers for the kids. There was not much to be found. I got as far as a deck of playing cards and a Toblerone. Hey, it’s a start.
I eventually shifted gears and went into grocery mode. I filled the basket with staples like soup, bread, Hot Pockets, and beer.
Sidebar: Have you seen the price of beer lately? Ever since American farmers have put all their resources into corn for ethanol production, nobody grow barley anymore. If they do, the price is outrageous, which then affects the price of beer. The breweries have passed the cost on to the customers, which makes the price go up. A good premium microbrew, such as Shipyard or Geary’s, is 8-dollars and over. It’s highway robbery! Thank God for the Canadians. I have rediscovered Molson Golden, which was a luxury for poor college students in the early 80’s.
After the gathering concluded, I made my way to the checkout and became the final customer for the cashier. I was in the 20 items and under line, holding 23 items. Where were the retail police? Didn’t anyone care I had breached the checkout etiquette? I felt like I was getting away with something. My cashier hailed from a country on the African continent, so it was difficult to understand him. His voice was soft and his accent thick, which is a linguistic double whammy. But God bless this man for giving me an unexpected gift. It was the gift of laughter and it was a well-needed chuckle.
He carded me.
For those of you keeping score at home, I am 48 years old. The number of grey hairs on my head has doubled over the past two years. My goatee is more salt than pepper. I am of legal age to buy alcohol.
He was just doing his job. But in the process he was sending me a message, albeit an unintentional message.
Laugh. Long and loud.
Which is what I did. I looked around and noticed that most people within 50 feet were looking in my direction. When I laugh, I let it all hang out. My laugh is robust and from the gut. People have told me they love it when I laugh. I laugh like I love: unconditionally. Sometimes I get so caught up in my situation that I lose sight of my sense of humor. Usually seeing the innocence of a small child helps me find it again. Then I go back to my old self again.
Which is where I am today, gentle reader. I know that I wear my emotions on my sleeve and that can be a burden sometimes. But they are mine and I feel them. It is becoming easier to pull out of my funks than it used to be. I want to cut my recovery time down, but I know that will take time.
I have a date Tuesday night. I am taking myself to the theater. It’s pay-what-you-can night at Portland Stage, and I’ll be seeing “The Gin Game”. I remember when Jessica Tandy and Hume Cronin had a long run in both Los Angeles and on Broadway back in the late 70s. The theater is around the corner from my apartment. I’m really looking forward to it.
What I’m not looking forward to is the sinkful of dishes I have awaiting me. I do have a slobbish streak that takes incredible will of overcome. I have good intentions, though, but that doesn’t empty the drainer. Don y0n rubber gloves, go forth and wash. It should take no time to do.
I just need a jumpstart.
November 4. Four days after Halloween.
I am assuming that most of you have come out of your sugar coma by now. SInce I never bought Halloween candy in the first place, I’m happy to report that my eyes are clear and bright and I have energy to burn. I was not found sitting on my couch and covered with wrappers.
I have a love/hate relationship with chocolate. My Love turned me on to dark chocolate. Her claim that it was an aphrodisiac was spot on. Well before that, there was Nutella. For the uninitiated, Nutella is a milk chocolate/hazelnut spread with the consistancy of peanut butter. It is smooth, thick, and sinfully good. I discovered Nutella when I was on a high school exchange trip to Germany. My first breakfast with my host family included Nutella. What a great way to start the day! Sometimes I’ll heat it up and pour it over vanilla ice cream, or I’ll make peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches. My mother will buy Nutella in HUGE jars. My Daughter is a Nutella junkie. She’ll hoard a jar in her room so her brother won’t swipe it.
But despite loving the taste of good chocolate, I have a tendancy to overindulge if there is chocolate in the house, and the result is not a pretty sight. I have a history of abusing food. Whenever I’m having a tough time emotionally, I binge eat when I’m alone. I haven’t weighed myself lately but I can tell I’ve packed on a few pounds. That ship has been righted and we’ll be working to slim down. The fact that I recognize this is helpful. I recognize that I should be taking better care of myself. But my emotions are taking over when I should be in control. Lately, I have lost the desire to cook and have turned back to Mickey D’s and take-out Chinese. I need to remind myself that I need to think about what I eat. My weight goes up when I eat like this, and I recognize why I eat that way.
I have discoverd this fact: there is no timetable for mending a broken heart. I know that the majority of the time I do alright. I am in the moment and enjoying life. But there are times, such as when I discovered that My Love was reading my blog for real, when my heart goes into a tailspin, causing it to try to figure out which end is up. I catch myself daydreaming and figuring out what she’s doing, what her impressions of my writing are, and just getting lost in thought. That is the tendency that needs to be changed. It’s as if my heart has left a light on for My Love, waiting for her to come back.
SHE”S NOT COMING BACK, FOOL! GET IT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL!! SHE”S GONE AND YOU’RE HISTORY!! GET OVER IT AND GET ON WITH YOUR LIFE!! SHE DOESN”T WANT YOU ANYMORE!
Sounds harsh, doesn’t it. It needed to be said.
I am now waiting for the translation for my heart. I suspect my heart speaks another language.
Here’s where it all goes down hill.
I have a theory about the post-Halloween weather in the Northeast. Here on the coast, once the candy has been gobbled up and the costumes put away, the weather seems to take a turn for the worst.
Rapidly.
My Daughter’s brithday falls in early November. Ever since she was old enough to have birthday parties, we’ve had Indian Summer-like weather around her birthday, so her parties were always held outdoors. I never thought leaf diving was a traditional party game, but we turned it into one.
But after that glorious splash of warmth, the temperature takes a dive and the chill in the air is more than just chilly. It’s cold, and it’s worse if it rains. Autumn rain is the worst because it is so cold. The sole purpose of an autumn rain is to bring down the remaining leaves on the trees.
This has been a good year for wanderlust. I haven’t acted on the urges yet and I know I should. Considering all the emotional maelstrom I’ve put myself through, you think I would get away more often. That would be a correct assumption. Lately, though, I’ve been questioning this wanderlust.
When does wanderlust and the desire for a change of scenery get misinterpreted for avoiding reality?
There have been plenty of times I’ve wanted to get outta Dodge, but I seem to find excuses not to. Is it necessary for my wellbeing to hit the road every so often? Hell, yeah! So…. WHY NOT? Good question, gentle reader. Why do I find reasons NOT to do anything instead of creating solutions to help me achieve my goal?
That’s two questions- both of them valid and complimentary.
I say shit or get off the pot. Just go. Create possibilities instead of building barriers.
Here are some places I’ve thought about:
1. My sister’s in Massachusetts. She and her husband are empty nesters, sort of. My nephew is at the Massachusetts Police Academy. My youngest neice is at school in Fitchburg. Her older sister has two years of college under her belt but, for reasons not yet explained, she opted for coming home and working in her father’s small-town law practice. I haven’t seen for since the end of May, just before My Love and I parted ways.
2. My parent’s house…again. No. Dad and I had an argument about my financial situation. He is afraid I’m going to fall through the cracks. For years he’s been pushing the real estate game on me, put I’m not playing. Things need to cool down before I drop in again.
3. No place in particular. It’s always a good third option. I’ve thought about driving to Boston, Quebec City, and New York City. I’ve thought about pulling out the ol’ Rand McNally, close my eyes and drop the finger at random. Where the finger goes, the rest of me shall follow.
Would somebody give a good shove to get me started?
After yesterday’s reaction to the events of early in the week, I think I’m back on track. The “events” I refer to have to do with My Love. When she responded to a forwarded “cute” email, I misinterpreted her response to be one of reconcilation.
My bad.
After putting myself in a positive direction, I allowed myself to be distracted. A good friend said that I was “lovesick and heartbroken”. No truer words have ever been written. I am the one in control. I was the one who allowed myself to believe she wanted me back. We are both healing. Our wounds are much too fresh and the scabs too easily torn off. As much as I love her, I have to move forward without her.
Yesterday, I had an interesting conversation with My Daughter. I explained what I was going through and was having a tough time with the breakup. I told her I trusted her because she had gone through something similar.
Point of information: her boyfriend of almost 2 years had been caught cheating on My Daughter with a good friend of hers. I assumed she had a solid support group. Dad was so wrong. The LARP group the two of them participate in, believes that David did nothing wrong, which leaves My Daughter completely betrayed and extremely angry.
Well, My Daughter reminded me of that fact and told me we didn’t go through similar circumstances. I told her I was sorry and that it wasn’t my intention to open old wounds. She then reminded me that, like dear ol’ Dad, she didn’t have anyone she could talk with about this ordeal, which obviously was a parallel to my experiences. I felt for her, knowing that she really wanted to unload this burden.
Sometimes it’s hard to see how the people you are the closest to, are so much like you in subtle ways.
I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.
When is this roller coaster ride going to end? Because I’m in the last car and about to lose my lunch.
My heart has been battered, bruised and stomped, and it’s all been self-inflicted. I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with Tyson. It’s all because I can’t get over losing the woman I love. I can’t just let things go because I let Hope stick its nose in my business. Hope is preventing me looking at things realistically. Right now, Hope sucks big time. I get a whiff of possibility and I throw any rational thought out the window.
Why can’t I just move forward? It’s been two steps forward, one step back for what seems like an eternity. I feel like a rabbit with Turret’s: I have no idea which direction I’m going , I have no control and I couldn’t stop if I wanted to.
It would be so much easier if I could come to terms with the idea that I have been given an opportunity. There is a woman out there just waiting for me. Now is not the time or place for me to find her. I have more work to do. My heart needs healing.
I noticed something interesting whilst looking at my post stats. Whenever I write on the everyday stuff in my life, the numbers are down. But when I write about my struggles recovering from the breakup with My Love, the numbers go through the roof. I guess it proves that folks like a good train wreck. It’s compelling stuff. Reading about someone else’s love life gone askew somehow makes one’s life much better. It’s like “The Truman Show”-my life is live and in living color. Good thing there isn’t a camera following me 24/7. Here I am, warts and all. I bleed, cry, laugh, sing, wonder, ponder, anger, and everything in between. Some folks offer their support. They coach me from the sidelines and give me encouragement. Most of them silently look on.
But, seriously, why are most of you here? I am here to put my thoughts down so they keep my brain from clogging. Does what I say have meaning to you? Is there genuine concern for my wellbeing, or do you just look in from time to time? Do you read my posts with empathy, seeing yourself as I chronical my life? Are you cynical and waiting for the train to derail…again? Or are you a voyeur, lurking out there in the shadows, anonymously finding pleasure in the ups and downs of a fellow human being.
As I scan down the list of destinations in my blogroll, I see folks from all over the world dropping in to see what conditon my condition is in. I want to be able to reach out to you. Maybe talk to you individually. ”How are you? Where are you from? Why do you return repeatedly to my blog? Tell me something about yourself. How’s life in your corner of the world.” I sometimes wish there was a chat function. Not some silly space full of misspelled words and cryptic abreviations, but a place where kindred souls and reach out to each other. How are we all alike? Are we both looking for the same thing? Is there something missing, and what do we want to fill the empty spaces with? One of the reason why I am here is so I can have someone to talk to, albeit a silent and unresponsive listener. I got tired of talking to myself. I couldn’t seem to find the answers to the questions I was asking myself.
Most writers write anonymously. They don’t give anything away except for some choice bits. Maybe the names are changed, but the facts are real. Sometimes it’s all fiction. For your information, everything in this space is real. I do give my subjects pseudonyms.
Now, the crux of this post. I’ll be honest with you and tell you why I am writing. It’s the same reason I wanted to be a radio DJ: I wanted the attention. How many people have this opportunity? We all feel we have something important to say, but is anyone really listening? Do they care about what we’re saying, or do they just nod their head and smile? Do our opinions matter to them are are we being given lip service?
I realize that, like the televison, if you don’t like what you’re hearing you can change the channel. If what I’m saying here doesn’t appeal to you then you move on. If you’re curious enough to keep reading, maybe you read another post or click the “About” tab and find out some more.
Do you care? Maybe. Maybe not.
Why am I saying all this? Because, up until the point, I have been afraid to say the things I want. Now I will.
I am hurting. I hurt because the life I didn’t want was ended, because I was too afraid to do the dirty work myself. I am hurting because I thought that the one true love that came into my life is no longer there. I don’t know why she’s not there anymore, but I am having difficulty adjusting to life without her. And I hurt because I feel like I am going through this difficult time by myself. I have found my identity through others and am finding it difficult to recognize who I really am.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
If anyone wants to step up and make this a two-way exchange, come on down. We all could use a few good friends, and misery loves company.
I just want somebody to talk with, and who will listen to me.
p.s. Memo to The Rommate: I see you’re back. If all this is more than you wanted to know, why do you come back?
