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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.
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.
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.
I want to take care of some housekeeping today. There’s stuff I want to write about but really don’t want to go into great detail.
Except one.
My Love has been reading my blog.
No, really. This time she has been reading it.
When I opened my mailbox this morning, there was an email from her. That surprise packed a wallop. I sat there and stared at the screen for a while. I wasn’t sure if I should open the email. When you don’t expect it, the emotional impact seems to be much greater.
What I discovered was a gentle note. She has been having difficulty sleeping lately. Last night, it was another tough night for her, so she decided to take the plunge and read my blog. What kept her from reading it before now was fear. My Love was afraid that I would rip her to shreds, that the pain and anguish she caused would be spilled all over the page and she would be to blame.
What she found was reflections tinged with sorrow and sadness. It was a surprise for her, though, to find me treating her with tenderness and respect in these pages. It’s the only way I know. I hope it sent her a clear message that I still love and respect her, no matter what happens between us. She changed my life for the better, and I could never repay that kindness. My Love still wants to communicate, but I believe my heart needs more time to heal. I want her to return and read more of what I’ve written. I want her to understand that I am doing the best I can with what I have. We were given a wonderful gift: a love that most people dream of but never find.
Moving forward……
I have a date tonight.
I am taking My Daughter to a hockey game tonight. Before that, we will carve jack o’ lanterns and make homemade chicken fingers for dinner. My Son has plans with friends, otherwise he’d be joining us. We all love hockey. The kids, their mother and I would go watch our AHL franchise several times a year. One year for Christmas, we gave ourselves a half season ticket package. That season we logged in 25 games. It was great. Tonight, however, it will be a Daddy-Daughter Night.
I started my seasonal job this week. For the past five years, I have worked the phones for L.L. Bean during the Christmas season. I use the money for Christmas presents. I also get DEEP DISCOUNTS at the employee store. It’s a lot of fun. I get to step outside my box a little and talk to people from all over. The folks from the South are very friendly and love to chat. I also get to (internally) chuckle at some of the folks who drop a thousand dollars in an order. They have a certain air about them. It’s part confidence, part insolence, part entitlement. I have no problem with people who’ve been able to make their money work for them. There are some folks who seems to think that their crap doesn’t stink, and those are the folks that need to be taken down a peg. But, as a customer service rep for a company that prides itself on world-class customer service, I have to bite my tongue and smile.
I should be quite busy for the next 8 weeks. They usually dismiss their seasonal employees before Christmas. I’ve wanted to stay as long as possible to make some extra to stash away. This year, however, I think I’ll request to be let go just before Christmas. I’ll have to work my regular job on both Christmas and New Years Day, so I’d like some time to make merry.
Everyone enjoy your weekend. Enjoy the ghosts and goblins on Saturday. Find a costume and let yourself go. Don’t just hide behind a mask. Get out of your skin and try on another.
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?
Talk about a bombshell!
I open my email before work and there’s a forward from my Facebook page. It’s from My Love’s housemate. I had chatted with her on Facebook a couple weeks ago. Not sure what she had to say, I opened it and my jaw hit the floor.
My Love has never read my blog. Those hits from Biddeford were from the housemate.
So many emotions shot through me. First, my whole upper body just crumpled in upon itself, my chest filled with a heavy feeling. Then I felt, all at once, devistated, angry, foolish, confused. A series of questions shot through my brain over the course of the next half-hour.
Why? And why did she wait to tell me now?
What was she looking for? Did she derive some pleasure from reading my blog and seeing me spill my heart and soul and pain all over the page? Or was she spying? (answer: My Love has never seen my blog. Her housemate didn’t think to tell her)
Why would she think to look for it in the first place? How did she know I was writing this?
What are her intentions? What does she have to gain? Is it me she’s after? (Highly unlikely)
Memo to The Housemate: First, I accept your apology. I know you didn’t intend to hurt me, but you probably thought I would assume it would be you. But there are only three people I know in Biddeford. Mark wouldn’t read this. I didn’t think you would read it. I didn’t think you knew about it. Process of elimination would say My Love would read it. But I guess that’s just me, holding out and hoping that she would change her mind. I am such a fool. So, what is it you want? Is it me? Did you want me to ask you out after My Love dumped me? I don’t think you got all the gorrie details about the breakup from her. She does keep it close to the vest, doesn’t she? All I am asking for is some dialogue. Let me know what you want and we’ll see what happens. I am willing to talk and answer your questions, if you have any. By-the-way, feel free to tell her about this blog. Since I found out that you are the reader and not her, it would make sense to me if she wanted nothing to do with me and she’s probably dating someone already. She wouldn’t want me back anyway.
Light breaks on Marble Head.
Or in this case, a Middle-Aged Head.
These a-ha moments come at the most inopportune times. It’s usually when you least expect them, which also makes them more relevant. You can receive the solution more clearly than when fixed on the problem.
The Woman Who Broke My Heart will NOT be coming back.
And HOW LONG did it take to figure that one out?
Sometimes it takes awhile for the inevitable to manifest itself. I remembered what she had written to me concerning my heart. She said that she wanted me to have someone love me the way I had loved her. She couldn’t love me the way she wanted, the way she felt I deserved to be loved. It was true love, but not the “happily ever after” kind of love. She is concerned for my wellbeing and, as painful as it’s been, she needed to let me go so I could find what I deserved.
Yes, it’s still scary because I do miss her and care for her. But it was also the fear that something great was slipping away. It was great for it’s time. But now is the time to move forward.
I still fear the idea of being alone, but that won’t be forever. There is someone out there for me.
Now begins the journey to find her.
p.s. To the Woman Who Broke My Heart: you are my friend. I have been truely blessed having shared my life with you. I hope you are happy and are finding the balance you deserve. I still love you with all my heart, but know that you want something better for me. Thank you.
I would strongly encourage you to glace to the righthand margin of this blog, and click on the link for “caraccidentsandcowboys”, then go the post, The Fertile Void. I read this and felt that I was given a wonderful gift today, and I want to share it with you.
The story of the film so far: I am recovering from a divorce and a break-up of a 20-month relationship. If you want the particulars, dive into the archive. I am struggling with redefining myself as I make my way through this world as a single man. I am re-learning my life; what I want, don’t want, like, dislike, love or despise. I am rediscovering what brings me joy, things that I gave up for a number of reasons.
The link to the right is from a blogger from Los Angeles (I dislike using L.A.-as a Boston sports fan, it doesn’t roll off my tongue very well). She is going through a similar circumstance. She just writes about it with a greater sense of style than I do. In her latest post, she refers back to a book that aided her in grieving and recovering from her divorce.
The ideas brought forth in this book struck me as enpowering and enlightening. The idea that you are “still with grief” – still, as in not moving, but a starting point to move forward. Yes, at times you are vulnerable, but you are still open to the exciting and varried possibilities awaiting you.
I found this encouraging because often I find myself bogged down in the past, rather than looking to the future. It’s difficult for me to avoid this. I get hung up on triggers; those little memories that pop up out of nowhere. The key for me is to manage those triggers effectively. I try to identify the trigger, what caused the reaction, and allow myself to feel.
Another piece of insight came in the notion that it’s alright to be me. I can feel crappy, I can miss The Woman Who Broke My Heart, to feel the pain, to write about it to get it out of my system. I don’t want to be fixed. I just need and want someone to listen to what I have to say.
I get lonely sometimes. There are times I don’t like living by myself. I miss having someone to talk with and share life. Sometimes, I just want someone to hold me.
But, at the same time, I recognize I have an opportunity. Some days it’s hard to recognize it. I need to keep reminding myself that I now have the whole world waiting for me. I can travel, improve my writing, experience a wide spectrum of pleasures, discover new ideas and activities than can make me a more complete person, and learn to do and be anything I want. Because these ideas are so new to me, I know I’ll need reminding so I can create habits from these new behaviors.
I moving forward. I am enthused, but not supercharged. I’m not much for rah-rah. I will take baby steps and go where I want to.
I had this feeling of liberation come over me yesterday.
In my work, I have a lot of time to be alone, which means my mind wanders. It used to be I would dwell on the little stuff, stuff that was out of my control. That would drive me crazy. But I knew that, eventually, I would reach a point where it would all came together. The cosmic tumblers would all fall into place and everything would “click”. Yesterday, it happened
While hiding (errrrrr…working) in an air-conditoned supply room, I had a “a-ha” moment.
I love these moments. It’s like a cosmic dope slap, jarring your brain and revealing some bit of knowledge that helps you put all the pieces together.
Without the whiplash.
For the last couple of months, I have been “grieving” the end of my last relationship. I’ve reflected on the woman, and pieces of the relationship that were good and not-so-good. What I discovered was that, despite being a “rebound”, she was also the bearer of knowledge, the stuff that would help me get over the divorce and move forward in my life. What she also provided were the tools to guide me if our relationship ended.
I knew she couldn’t see me in her future, that she ended the relationship so that I could find someone who could love me the way I deserved to be loved. But I heard the words, but didn’t fully understand the meaning.
I finally got it while holding onto a handful of catheters.
Light on…Oh, yeah…now I get it!!
She has moved into the realm of pleasant memory. Don’t worry about the past, it’s already happened. Just think about today and live in the present.
Everything else takes care of itself.
I will rarely use this forum for ranting on my ex-wife. For the most part, we have agreed to be pleasant to each other. I don’t expect her to come chatting to me about her social life, but I would like to be able to get beyond small talk.
When I was visiting with the kids on Sunday, I had to return to my apartment to pick up (unexpectantly) some ingredients for dinner. When I returned, the ex- was sitting on the porch with my son. I was taken aback to see her because, usually, she takes off before I get there. But there she was. Surprised, I said hello with a tone that said, “I didn’t expect to see you today”. That’s when she started with the 3-word sentences. It’s a guarantee that she’s angry with me.
Quick, to the point, “you did something to piss me off, but I’m gonna let you guess what it is.” I hate that passive-agressive crap! It’s the reason why I spend all the time in therapy that I did. I wanted to move forward and become a more effective communicator.
She, on the other hand, is still in therapy and still treats me the same as she did when she asked for the divorce. And if I confront her about this behavior, she turns it all on me, as if I’m the bad guy.
Hey, she asked for the divorce.
But sometimes I get the feeling that she’s having regrets about her decision. Too bad, honey. I couldn’t be the man I am right now if it wasn’t for the divorce. Yes, it’s been painful, but it’s been liberating.
