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“Doctor Stretch. Doctor James Stretch. You are wanted in the delivery room.”
It was a snowy mid-December afternoon when the young woman, barely out of her teens, went into labor. The forecast for the Conneecticut River Valley was for light snow most of the afternoon and evening, which made everything look postcard-perfect. She had been admitted the day before, but she secretly had hoped for a Christmas baby.
The baby had other ideas.
No one had told her the pain would be this bad and it frightened her. As she was prepped for delivery, the young mother causiously looked around. Her husband? Where was the father. The father was nowhere to be found. That was normal because in 1960, fathers were never allowed in the delivery room. But the father was there, waiting, in the father’s waiting area of Hartford Hospital. It wasn’t a prolonged wait. After just a few hours, the young mother gave birth to a baby boy.
4:30pm on December 19th.
So, here I am. Happy birthday to me.
In this episode, gentle reader, we introduce a new character to the always-growing list of folk running in, out, around and through my life.
Meet The Shrink.
A few posts ago, I mentioned I was going back into therapy. This week, I went back. All things considered, I should’ve gone back in June and gotten everything off my chest, instead of letting it fester over the summer.
I am a big advocate of therapy. Everyone should go in for a tune-up. I believe more people should do it, that way our society wouldn’t be so stressed out. Some issues are best worked out with an outside agent. Personally, I couldn’t work out my issues alone. How some folks think they can solve their complex problems alone doesn’t make sense. It takes longer if you go it alone.
I like The Shrink. The guy plays golf and he’s been to Scotland. Talk about copassetic. We easily spend the first ten minutes of the session talking about our golf games. He strongly suggests that golf is good therapy for me. Too bad he couldn’t prescribe a membership at a local course, but the insurance nazis would deny me. This guy is geeky cool. Most LSWs and therapists are geeky in some way. I had one therapist who was into fishing and he kept rods and reels in his office. He also had some putters and balls, which was cool because I could always stop our conversation and putt to relax. I get the same benefit from The Shrink. I feel comfortable talking with The Shrink. I feel I can trust him. He’s also turned me on to some cool Buddhist thought that has helped me in the past. I’ve started a form of Buddhist meditation as a way to relax and clear my brain. I’ve attempted something similar but didn’t stick with it.
It was good to unload all the crap from the last 5 months. He was an advocate of my relationship with My Love when we first started, and was disappointed when I told him she had broken off the relationship. Then I told him about my feelings of alienation, isolation, and identity issues. All of these issues have been touched upon in assorted posts over the past few months, so there’s nothing new.
I will not talk about everything that’s discussed with The Shrink. Some things need to be kept private. But I will tell you that I have “homework” before the next session. It’s just some reading. I also need to begin to make small changes in my lifestyle. Only one for now and it can be a small one, like cut back on the junk food or get out and excercise. It’s about small steps towards success.
I won’t say that I see instant results, but I am more motivated and recognize that I need to put things in order. I don’t want the crappy life I resigned myself to this past summer. I don’t like feeling crappy about myself. I am so glad I made the decision to give romance a break. I am not in a place where I can be in a relationship. It will be a long time before I will go there. I’ve got “stuff” I need to deal with and fix.
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 identify myself as a lover of music, golf, good beer and 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.
I’m back. This time, I am walking a bit humbler, but a little bit jaded and stunned. I made a promise to My Love that I would not write about her, and I will keep it.
But I return with a boatload of questions about myself. Some are ones that I cannot answer. That’s why I am going into therapy. The appointment has been made – November 30. As much as this forum has allowed me to do similar work as therapy, I need the feedback and support that you cannot give me.
I will continue to write, but nothing similar to my posts on My Love. At the moment, I wonder how my life will play out over the next year. People keep telling me that it will get better. I heard the same things after my divorce, but I had My Love as a sounding board. That’s why I need therapy; I need the feedback.
SO……..
I’ll be back from time to time. Nothing of the regularity for the last four months, but you never know. I might get on a streak and then you’ll get sick of me.
If you are new to this blog, I invite you to view the archive for past posts. It’s been a wild summer and fall, a regular rollercoaster ride.
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.
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.
Look up.
I constantly remind myself to stop and look up. We all miss a lot of good stuff by staying at ground level. All the interesting stuff is up there above the ground. We can see things that are long missing from modern buildings.
Yesterday was a gorgeous day for a walk. It was cool, but not cold, and the sun was out a good portion of the day. It was a perfect day to leave the house and explore, a perfect day to breathe deeply and look around.
My town is a great town to walk. It’s an old seaport that still functions (barely) as a working waterfront, but has become more trendy. Like most seaports, there are a lot of interesting buildings. Lots of brick, but some with stone facades. There are modern skyscrapers built within the last twenty years. Can refer to a building as a skyscraper if it’s twenty floors orless? The best walking is in a section of town called the Old Port. There are cobblestone streets and brick sidewalks. The buildings in the Old Port once housed merchants’ shops and warehouses. Now, it is the biggest tourist attraction in town. There are plenty of places to shop or get a coffee. There are harbor tours and ferries to the outer islands in the bay. If you’re hungry, there are restaurants serving everything from pizza to seafood. Our cruise boat season came to a close yesterday, and it was estimated that each passenger contributed between $50 – $100 to our economy. Lots of people like to spend time in the Old Port.
I was walking downtown about 4-5 months ago and I happened to look up to study a building on Congress St. There are some interesting buildings there, but I know nothing about architecture. I only know what is pleasing to my eye. My friend The Squire is a huge fan of Portland architecture. He would make a great tourguide.
I’m standing across the street from this particular buiding, and I notice that it has an art deco facade. I didn’t think there were any examples of art deco in my town, which is why I had never noticed this building before. I remember The Squire mentioning it at some point during a visit.
I stood there, contemplating this building, and noticed that the facade had wonderful, organic lines just below the peak of the roof. These lines resembled a vine wandering aimlessly across the building. My curiosity peaked, I looked on either side to find more fascinating architectural characteristics on neighboring buildings. I wondered why I had never noticed these building before. What was preventing me from noticing these very cool things?
I never took the time to look up. My gaze was never lifted above the second floor. But how tragic would it have been if, after living here for over twenty years, I had never stopped to take the time and study these buildings. Ever since that day, if I happen to be walking downtown, I will take time to stop and look up. It makes me smile when I notice something new and unique that makes that structure worth studying.
We should all be looking skyward. We should all be looking for inspiration above the second floor. Our sights need to be raised above what we know, to give us a different perspective.
Look up. The stuff on the ground – we’ve all seen it before. The stuff up high – it’s all new.
