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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.
I realize that I mentioned in the previous post I wouldn’t write about My Love. But I have to share this.
The reason she broke off our relationship was money.
Apparently, I wasn’t the knight in shining armor she hoped I would be. Since my divorce, money has always been an issue for me. Mostly the lack of it. My Love was always wanting to go to concerts, out to dinner because she didn’t want to cook, or go places to do things. She told me that she was easy to please and happy to stay home, snuggle on the couch with a good movie, or play games. She would tell me it was about sharing resources, each of us contributing to the relationship in our own way.
The reality was she wanted a man to take care of her. SHe wanted that fairy tale where her true love would sweep her away and he would provide for her. She wanted to be able to pick up and take off for the weekend. She wanted spontaneity.
I feel foolish. I feel humiliated. I feel like I was deceived. It seems that after those feelings of infatuation wore off, reality set in. It makes me bitter to think about it.
I will take responsiblity for my part. It takes a bit of cash to maintain a relationship and it was rare to have extra cash. But I held a steady job and was reliable, unlike one of her ex-husbands. My battle was against all the men in her life who screwed her over. If we had a conflict, we’d address it but there was always that spectre hovering overhead. I will give her this much: she never nagged me about making more money.
At the moment I feel empty. There’s a part of me that wants to explode in rage, but knows that wouldn’t accomplish anything. The other part of me wants to run away from the pain. It doesn’t matter where, anywhere to get away from it. I feel three inches tall.
That’s it. It’s possible that My Love will read this again to see how I am doing. Go ahead and read, sweetie. She won’t give a rats ass about me anyway.
MEMO TO MY LOVE: When you said you wanted to protect me, I didn’t think you had emasculation in mind. With what you did, you make what my ex- did look like childs play. Any shred of self-confidence has been torn away. I hope you are satisfied. I won’t be bothering you from here on.
I pity the man that follows me. He doesn’t have a chance.
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.
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.
Find your bliss.
Sounds like something I’d read on the inside of a Dove chocolate wrapper.
But if I don’t know what it is, how do I find it and would I know it when it pops up.
According to Dictionary.com, bliss is defined as “supreme happiness; utter joy and contentment”.
Hmmm.
I’ve heard of A Love Supreme (thank you, John Coltrane) and Diana Ross and The Supremes. But supreme happiness? Is there such a thing, ans what do you need to accomplish to achieve it? Can mere mortals hope to find supreme happiness or is it like nirvana, only met when certain conditions are overcome? ANd should we have to work that hard to achieve it?
Find your bliss? How? When?
These are questions I’ve pondered while making my way through the haze and hubris of my life. If we can identify those special moments, unique places, and interesting people in our lives as blissful, then I can understand the concept. I can recall the amazing places and people I’ve encountered. Whether or not they are blissful is up for debate.
I can recall a handfull of blissful moments:
1. the births of my children. No further explanation.
2. Both of my visits to Scotland. It’s proof that there are places in the world where one feels completely at home. I sensed that this was a place where I felt truly intigrated with my surroundings. What’s wonderful is that I’ve only scratched the surface of what I could’ve experienced.
3. Standing atop Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park. I’ve done it so many times and, yet, every time I do it’s like the first time.
4. Flying down the Hudson River, on approach to LaGuardia airport in New York City. I was flying down to take a physical when I was hired at American. We were in a Saab 340B turbo prop, and the tower had given the captain permission to take the “river approach”. One moment I’m looking out back towards Connecticut, then next we’re banking hard left and I’m staring at the Statue of Liberty from above. We flew just off the tip of Manhattan. I could see the World Trade Center. I could look over Manhattan and see the Empire State Building, Chrysler Building and other New York landmark buildings. I’ve flown in and out of LaGuardia many times since and have never taken that route since. It cetainly can’t be done now.
5. Any day at the beach. I prefer early morning or late afternoon. Being near the water is the best feeling. It must be something primative. I can sit and listen to the sound of the waves, and feeling the calm move through me. It’s always a toss-up whenever I ponder the eternal Powerball question: “beach house or lake house?”
There are more. I can’t recall them at the moment. Some I won’t reveal. They were shared moments between myself and someone special.
‘Nuff said.
These are moments in my life where I have been touched so deeply. I have been blessed and these connections have helped shape me. Where will I find my bliss? I guess it’s something you cannot create out of nothing. Like love, it comes to you at the appropriate moment in time. It finds you.
Here I am, come get me.
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.
It’s time for a little soul searching.
I’m not one for regrets. I would regret my actions if I hurt someone. But I have come to learn this much: that the path we choose is the one we are meant to walk. We make our choices for a reason. Some selfish, others noble. But we make choices and learn to live with the consequences.
Take education. When I made my choice to study broadcasting in college, I did it not only because I found it fascinating, but because I found it easy. I discovered that I had a talent. I was personable, not afraid to stand up in front of a large audience, had a sense of humor, and was willing to put myself out there and be someone other than the person I really was. I was fascinated by the voices I heard and wondered what it would be like if it were me behind the microphone.
My choices in education were based on what I could get away with rather than challenge myself. I made a career choice of radio rather than apply myself to study business, law, or a number of professions that would’ve netted me a good paycheck at the end of the day. None of those areas really stirred a passion in me to apply myself and study. Although I had an inquisitive mind, I lacked the discipline.
And so, gentle reader, you may be wondering what compelled me to write on this subject. Like many other episodes of self-questioning, it was generated by my father.
My father has discovered late in life that there is alot of money to be made in real estate. He started with a couple of apartment buildings, which he parlayed into larger investments. He now has holdings in Texas, North Carolina and Lousiana. He ain’t rich but he sure is comfortable. He is the source of funding for my car repairs. There’s nothing more embarassing than for a grown man to ask his parent for money. It is not the first time I have walked this path. I have asked them for money with the intent to pay them back, but they inevitably retract the offer, turn the loan into a gift and move on. They don’t do this on purpose. My father is one of those people who believes that it’s not automatic to offer money to family members in need. There’s no unsolicitated phone call offering money in a pinch. He’s a “teach a man to fish” kind of guy. There are always conditions attached. How many people do you know who ask a family member for a signed promisary note when accepting a loan?
Long story short, my parents are worried about how I will be able to support myself. Thus, the suggestion that a possible change in career with better cash flow may be in order. Herein lies the question: what’s a guy, on the brink of middle age, do when nothing really interests him? Or, more accurately, what if he doesn’t want to do something different? I understand the concern of my parents. They don’t want me to be homeless, they want me to be happy and able to do things that intrest me and not worry about the cost, and they want me to think about the future. But that idea never appealed to me. Not because I’m concerned about the future, but because I’m a rotten planner. I’m not very good with money, am impulsive, and don’t look too far ahead. At times, I’m an adult with a child inside, screaming to get out and play.
Peter Pan has always fascinated me. I can sense the amateur psychologists gearing up for an analysis of my comments. I’ve always loved the story and it makes me cry to think that Tinker Bell will die unless we believe and clap our hands. I cannot see the movie “Hook” without welling up, and the Broadway production with Mary Martin (who else?) sends me over the edge. It’s a beautiful story and it’s always made me curious why I react the way I do. I suppose there is a child inside me, one who refuses to give in to adult convention and remain carefree, without restrictions or rules or the self-imposed boundaries we put up to satisfy Society.
Whoa, this is getting very deep.
I walk the path of the mainstream but want to leave the path and explore Life on my own terms. But I often feel burdened by adult obligations. The concept of finding a good job and make lots of money was never something I strived for. I live (or try to) within my means but I also don’t want to deny myself. I realise that I am all over the map and am contradicting myself. That’s me. I want to have both feet in each world. My stream-of-consciousness writing is just this: I’m trying to get this stuff out, not trying to answer any profound questions about how I should live my life. Where should I go, what should I do? Is the path I’ve chosen able to withstand outside pressures?
Should I be re-examining the direction of my life?
Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care?
Possibilities
Yesterday, I attended a 4-hour workshop on “Bringing The Best Out of People”. I was one of two employees that didn’t have managerial experience. But what I came away with was some extraordinary insight. The highlight of the workshop was a short video featuring Ben Zander, a conductor, educator and composer. He also is the co-author of “The Art of Possibility”, which I am eager to find a copy.
What I took from that video was the most amazing sense of possibility, that life is about experiencing everything with passion. We should all be curious about what is out there, to grab onto it and look at the world with a child’s eye, full of wonder. When I was with My Love, she introduced me to similar ideas. But what go in the way, at the time, was a lack of money to do things. I now realize that it isn’t about money, it’s about taking what you have and savour it.
I did two things yesterday that proved to be worthwhile experiences.
The first happened at McDonald’s. A young woman entered the restaurant at the same time as I did. Approaching the counter, I gestured that she should go first. After she ordered, she moved to the side and waited for her order to come up, while I placed my order. As we both waited, I was struck by the stockings she was wearing. They were wonderfully colorful, an abstract pattern with pale blues and lime green. They definitely were eye-catching.
I am always aware of my surroundings. Too much interesting stuff is going on all at once. This time, I noticed the stockings, but I took it one step further. I struck up a conversation with this woman. Nothing deep, just a comment on her stockings. She smiled and we talked briefly.
So what does a pair of unusual stockings have to do with possibilities?
I wanted to go outside my box. Normally I wouldn’t say anything. Maybe a glance and nothing said. But this time, I wanted something different. No, I didn’t want to pick her up. I just wanted to flirt. Part of me wanted to see if I could do it.
I was a self-conscious 19-year old- didn’t have the tools or the experience.
I was an uncertain 22 year old – afraid of rejection or saying something stupid.
But, at 48, still redefining my life, yes I want to flirt. I want to feel vital. I knew nothing was going to come from this encounter, but I was willing to take a chance. Take a risk, knowing there was nothing to lose.
The second event was I shut off my computer. I have developed a habit of coming home, retreating into the Man Cave, and playing mindless card games, just staring at the screen. It made my eyes hurt after awhile.
But yesterday, I shut it down. I put on some music in the living room – Jennifer Warnes’ “Famous Blue Raincoat- The Songs of Leonard Cohen”, and I sat down and began to write on a legal pad. Just notes, off-the-cuff, in a wonderful stream of consciousness. Every so often, I’d close my eyes and breathe deeply, enjoying the moment.
It was a small moment that felt big.
Here I was, at home, in sweats, no particular place to go, and loving every minute.
This post is a direct result of my experiences last night. I want to write. I want to tell my story, but I don’t want to be restricted by this blog. Why should I wait for time at the library to write? Who says I should type in my thoughts? Put them down on paper. Broaden the horizon a bit. Get outside the box.
Discover the possibilities.
I know I am coming out of my latest funk when I want to start cooking.
Last night, while coming home from the library, I had a Cosmic Dope Slap moment. I got the idea that since it was my day off, I should make myself blueberry pancakes. It was a good thing becaue I had berries in my freezer that needed to be eaten. So after the meeting with my son’s teachers, I came home and put a batter together. I like to use a splash, OK maybe a large splash, of vanilla in the batter. Because I was cooking for just one, I had to cut the recipe in half. Otherwise I’d be eating pancakes for the next three mornings. There was some leftover maple syrup (the real stuff)in the fridge, and it was just enough for what I wanted.
YUMMMMM
When my relationship with My Love ended, I lost the desire to cook. I was sustained by pizza and takeout. One would think that having food as a comfort, but I didn’t have the desire to put dished together. Now I’ll cook when my kids come over, and for myself when I want a good meal. What I have discovered is it’s good therapy for me. I enjoy putting simple ingredients together to make something satisfying.
I watched LA Confidential last night. It seems that the majority of the movies I’m screening lately are films that I’ve always wanted to see, but they didn’t appeal to The Ex-. Last week it was “Like Water For Chocolate” – a very powerful, sensual film with alot of symbolism. Also “Waiting For Guffman” and ”Boogie Nights”.
I did have a Pina Colada moment with The Ex- during last week’s conversation. A Pina Colada moment refers to the song by Rupert Homes, where the couple discovers things about the other they didn’t know. I didn’t know she liked Hitchcock movies and some film noir.
The things one discovers AFTER a divorce.
Things with my Jetta aren’t all beer and skittles. Last week was the good news when I found out that the loan was paid off. Now I need to have rear brakes replaced. It’s always somethingIt only has 125,ooo miles on it, so it’s barely broken in. I am hoping to finish the repairs before my vacation next week. I don’t like the idea of hanging around my apartment all week.
