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Last night was an evening I really needed.
I had found The Squire online Friday afternoon and I asked his plans for the weekend, thinking we could relax, enjoy some home brew and catch up. He responds with an invitation for dinner Saturday night. I was up for it.
I always like visiting The Squire. He lives in the house he grew up in after moving here from Vermont. His jack-of-all-trades father built it. The property has been in his family for 150 years. You can see the headlight from the back porch and the beach is a short walk away. It’s a very relaxing place to be anytime. It has a serene quality, almost isolated. The sky fills with stars at night.
I pick up some havarti cheese and a rack of Geary’s Hampshire Special and off I go. WHen I arrived, The Squire’s wife and her sister were embattled in a game of Scrabble. Actually, they had just started the game and asked me if I wanted to play.
I love to play Scrabble. Nothing hardcore, mind you. I allow slang, foreign words and abbreviations, which is unheard amongst the serious Scrabble players.
Tough cookies to you.
In this game, I had to play by the rules. Let’s say I was vowel-challenged through the game. But it’s how you play the tiles you have in front of you, and I did alright. But it was so much fun.
Lots of food, lots of good beer and even an electric fire (it was contained, nothing serious)…it was all good.
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.
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?
How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You).
That song has the ability to stop me dead in my tracks and trigger a “highlight reel” of memories, all of which make me smile and causes my stomach to churn. If I could, I wish I could keep it from being played on the radio, in a restaurant, or in a store. I like the song. It’s a great song. But it was “our song” and it makes me think of My Love. It’s hard to get over her when I keep hearing “our song”.
I can come up with some very good reasons why it continues to bring me to a dead stop. We used to dance to this song in my apartment. I used to sing it to her while holding her in my arms. I would it if we heard it on the car radio. We would look knowingly at each other and grin, remembering an intimate moment.
The lyrics say it all:
I needed the shelter of someone arms/There you were/I needed someone to understand my ups and downs/There you were/You were better to me than I was to myself/For me there’s you/And there ain’t nobody else.
Those lyrics encapsulated our relationship and what we needed from each other, which makes it all the more bittersweet. My Love ended our relationship because she felt that I was being shortchanged, that the balance of love was leaning more to her side than mine. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: what she gave me was far superior than anything I’d experienced before.
I will never stop thinking about her or wondering if she’s taking care of herself. There is so much that I possess that brings back memories of My Love. It will be sad, though, when all she is in a faint memory and a smile on my face whenever I hear “our song”. She’ll always be with me whenever I hear James Taylor or Marvin Gaye.
The song remains and the thoughts bittersweet.
It is the end of the workday, but not the end of my week. I would love to be able to sleep in tomorrow, maybe fix a breakfast of pancakes and bacon, and go wherever thewind will take me.
But, sadly, so. I’ll be up way-too-early when the majority of the world is enjoying a relaxing start to the weekend.
This will be one of those posts that has something for everyone. Maybe not everyone. How about 4 out of five dentists? Choosy mothers? The Pepsi generation?
Alright, enough.
Tonight is the last home game for the Red Riots football team. So far, they are 4-2 with tonight’s game vs. Gorham, then The Battle of the Bridge. I found out yesterday that My Son sustained a concussion during practice. He failed the computer tests that are conducted with potential cranial injury but was told he could be back for the last game of the regular season. I understand that football is not a gentile sport, that injuries happen. But how does a kid sustain multiple blows to the head..IN PRACTICE. I understand he’s disappointed he may not be able to play for awhile.
My Daughter and I had a great dinner last night. Since we have a similar sense of humor, we can get silly and that’s how it was last night. The spaghetti stayed on the plates and there are no stains in the rug or on the couch cushions. I cherish times like this when I can be Dad instead of her Father.
A good friend tipped me off to an interesting concept. It’s called Meet Up (www.meetup.com ) and there are all kinds of groups where people can socialize. If you are into cooking, coffee, wine, adventure activities or just want to meet people, there are groups for all that and more. I found a writers group that I wanted to join. But I was detained while picking up My Son from his team dinner last night, so I missed the beginning. Actually, I missed the whole thing. I went to the address provided on the website, but when I rang the doorbell, no one responded. Bummer. I’ll have to arrive earlier next week.
One of the things I will need to change, whenever I start dating again, will be to forget what I knew with My Love. I have to re-learn how to date. Not so much the flowers/dinner or a movie/kiss at the door stuff. Instead I need to change how I think about the structure of the relationship. I will want to date someone who isn’t balancing another relationship against ours, but I want to be able to focus on the present. I want to take it step-by-step, savouring getting to know her. I want to be secure with myself and my life so I’m not so quick for exclusivity. I don’t want to define myself by the relationship. I am a LONG way off from dating again, despite desiring the intimacy of a relationship.
I am loving internet radio. I’ve logged into Free Form BCN several times this week while at work. I love the idea of not know what song you’ll hear next. Having worked in radio, I know what good radio sounds like and I haven’t heard it for awhile. It’s where the DJ’s had personality; they identified with their audience, could program their shows and select the music. It’s easy now to tune up and down the dial and hear the same presentation, just different music. They tell you the same thing no matter the format. Every station is ”playing a better mix of the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s”, “more variety, less talk”…..you get the idea. Now that I’ve discovered internet radio and can pinpoint music that matters to me, the only use for the radio will be news/weather and the ballgame. That’s actually kinda sad.
I will not be dressing up for Halloween. I’ve never been big on the holiday. maybe it was the pressure of finding an original costume. My best costume was a Christoper Columbus outfit, complete with crushed velvet cap and ragmop hair. My mother made it from scratch. You don’t get much of that anymore. As I grew older, it was just a day when you got lots of free candy. A few years I had to “Trick or Treat for UNICEF”. Usually we got the boxes in our Sunday school classes and were expected to return them on the Sunday following Halloween. That activity reminds me of the scene in Woody Allen’s “Radio Days”, an autobiographical film about growing up during World War II. The scene takes place during Hebrew school class. These Jewish boys are sent out by their rabbi, to collect funds to promote a Jewish home in Palestine. Being kids, they end up taking some of the money and spending a portion on candy, ice cream or Secret Avenger Decoder Rings. The young Woody gets hauled up in front of the rabbi by his parents. Do you remember collecting for UNICEF? How many of you skimmed a little off the top? Did some of it end up in the till of the neighborhoodstore? Do I see a few hands rising hesitantly? C’mon, ‘fess up. But don’t worry because it’s ancient history, you won’t be held accountable.
It’s too damn cold for this time of year. Where’s Indian Summer? Where are the temperatures in the mid-50’s?
Enjoy your weekend no matter where you are. Hopefully, there will be lots of color, interesting people, and stuff to make you go “hmmmmm”.
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.
