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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?
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.
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?
I have been thinking about my life and the transitions I have encountered. Sometimes I feel like my life is constantly in transition. Maybe I’m lost in transition. Where’s Scarlett Johannsen when I need her?
Oh, that’s Lost in Translation. Sorry.
I have been told by a close friend that my experiences in the last three months are quite healthy. She tells me that most men go from one relationship to the next without “mourning” the ending of the previous relationship. Despite the pain and anguish, I am in a healthy place. She likes the fact that, as a man, I can honor the emotions, that I can feel.
She makes perfect sense. I strongly dislike living alone. I would rather have the option of having time alone and be able to return to my partner, instead of having the situation forced upon me. It’s all about choice. I would rather have someone in my life, but not have my life defined by being in a relationship. It’s one of those transition things.
I came to the conclusion awhile back that sharing my life with someone is alll that I’ve known for the last 22 years. I was married and shared a home with my ex-, then I shared a relationship that sometimes felt like living with someone. That lasted 20 months and that brings us to the present. All I have known is the feeling of having someone sharing space with me. When that changed, I found it difficult to be home alone. I am better accustomed to the situation now, which is how it should’ve been all along. Ideally, the transition should’ve been adjusting to a single life again, then let the relationship gods do their magic. But need to re-establish my life by continuing to finding new passions, like writing, and rediscover older passions that have been pushed aside. If you want to get somewhere quickly, you must do it slowly.
I still think about My Love. We would’ve been together two years October 14, so that has me thinking. I think of her within the context of being a loving and caring partner who is sharing her life with me, and vice versa. I miss that. But I’d be a fool to deny that I didn’t miss the sex. Oh, boy, do I ever. It still makes me sad when I hear certain songs or hear certain phrases, when I go certain places or do certain things. I am still nervous at the possibilty of encountering her and how I’d handle the situation. But I would imagine she is in the same place. It’s normal. It’s also a matter of how to manage those feelings and thoughts. I don’t let thoughts of her consume me as they did 3 months ago. You might say I’m moving forward.
I have to put in a plug for a great new website: www.wbcn.com. I was a huge fan of WBCN when they were the Rock of Boston, playing the best alternative rock in the late 70s/early 8os. Their format mirrored that of the college station I DJ’ed while at UMaine. It was really good British stuff like Elvis Costello, Echo & The Bunnymen, U2, and The Smiths, mixed in with good mainstream rock, and good local bands. Since undergoing a format change and moving to a different frequency, WBCN is offering a free-form alternative only on the Internet. It is AWESOME! If you love rock, and I know you do, check it out. Long live Dwayne Ingalls Glascock, the Big Mattress and Michegas!!!
Wanderlust is a wonderful thing. It usually creeps up on me every 3-4 weeks, giving me another opportunity to dream. It’s another possibility presented to me by Life. I can tell when wanderlust is coming on. I begin to think about places I’ve been or where I want to go. It used to be I would get it to avoid a painful situation. Now I use it for motivation.
I got the travel bug bad during my senior year in high school. Before then, I had been to Boston and New York City with school or church groups, and it was enough to give me a taste of what was outside my world. I grew up in small towns and cities in New England. There were people areund me who had never been more than 50 miles away from home.
Despite what John Mellencamp says, there is more to offer outside a small town. However, it’s easy to appreciate what a small town offers, but you have to leave it before you understand. If never given an opportunity to see what the world has to offer, one could be satisfied to remain where they are.
During my senior year, I participated in an exchange with an all-girl German gymnasium (high school) for one month. In the span of one month, I was exposed to a new language, customs, attitudes, opinions about my own country, and had an opportunity to visit The Netherlands. Granted, it was from a Northern European perspective but I never would have known it if it wasn’t for that exchange. It gave me the sense that there were more opportunities waiting for me. At one time I had a dream to backpack around Europe. I almost put that into play when I flunked out of college.
The first time.
Since then, I have visited: Paris, London (twice), rode a National Express coach from London to Dundee, St. Andrews (twice, once to play golf with my friend Adam, the other to attend the 2005 Open Championship), Germany, Las Vegas (I went with My Love to celebrate her 50th birthday), Miami, Aruba, Dallas, Washington DC and Phoenix (jumping off point to the Grand Canyon).
The wanderlust I’m experiencing at the moment has alot to do with wanting to move my life in a different direction. I have been taking small steps towards that and I’m exploring ways to do that. I started with my weekly movie blitzes at the library. I then moved towards taking my relationship with my children to the next level. I am happy to say that I am communicating with them much more openly, and they are doing the same with me. I am volunteering with the football boosters of my son’s team. I have been helping out with bingo.
The next challenge is to continue to do all this and not do things alone. I am resolved that this process is slow moving. I am not actively looking to date anyone. I am not holding out for My Love, though. I know she reads these posts and that’s much safer for us both. It eliminates the emotional piece. She reads about my stuff without having to contact me. I can let her know how my life is progressing. I can also let her know that I miss her without getting verklempt.
I am not so sure I want to date for different reasons. Actually, I am not ready to date. As much as I want the gentle touch of someone’s hand, a passionate kiss and to share my bed with a woman I deeply care for, I don’t want it be be for all the wrong reasons. I am not ready to fall in love again. I want to be with a woman to satisfy my own urges and desires, and that is a temporary experience. I am not ready to open my heart and be vulnerable. The pain in my life is still fresh and to throw romance into the mix would only turn out badly. If I am going to give my heart to someone, I need to prepare myself.
What I want is a f@#k buddy. But I couln’t handle that either because I find it difficult to separate love and sex when I’m not in a caring relationship. I’m just not cut out for sex for sex sake. There has to be an emotional bond.
Here we are, gentle reader. All dressed up and no place to go.
Actually, I have somewhere to go tonight. It’s the home opener for the football team and my son is playing. I am so happy he’s playing football again. He enjoys the game . My son is just dressing for the game. The JV game is on Monday afternoons. It’s a great way to spend a day off. But I’ll go to the game tonight to have something to do.
Maybe I’ll win the 50-50.
If you’ve been keeping up with the comings and goings of this little universe, I had asked what The Woman Who Broke My Heart should be called. I didn’t want to give her name, nor did I want to give her an alias. I also didn’t want to use the initials because they sound impersonal.
I believe names are a sacred thing, just like one’s birthday. Each of us has a name that was chosen for us, and we should be using it when addressing that person.
Except Frank Zappa’s daughter. C’mon, who names their kid Moon Unit unless they have a bazzarre sense of humor. Need I say more?
So, with the aid of some thoughtful input (thanks, Marge!), The Woman Who Broke My Heart will now be called…..
My Love
Because that’s who she is. I was able to do with her what I have never been able to do before: spoon. Our heights and body types were so compatible, I was able to lie on my side and melt into her. It was one of the sexiest things I have ever encountered.
Every night, before drifting off to sleep, I would cuddle up close, put my arm around her and whisper, ” Good night, My Love. Sleep well”. Of course, through the course ofthe night, we would move away from each other. But we would always repeat that little ritual every night we spent together.
I found a quote from Gloria Steinem last night while surfing Facebook. This quote seemed to define my state of mind and being over the last three months. Ms. Steinem was talking about the death of her husband and was asked if she felt depressed. “I don’t feel depressed. I feel sad. Depression is when nothing matters. Sadness is when everything matters.”
That means that what I’ve been feeling these last three months is a deep sadness. It is what it is.
Today was my last day here in the basement of The Big City Hospital. Actually, tomorrow is my last day, but I said my farewells to most of the guys today. I am resolved to the idea of changing job locations. But it will mean thinking and planning ahead, shopping smart, and stop being so impulsive. It means cooking more at home rather than ordering out. It means following a budget alot closer than I had been.
Alot of guys are wondering why this happened. I was asked to not talk about it with co-workers other than to say I leaving. I will miss them. They are a good bunch of guys.
I was in the storeroom for the day, a respite from my usual work on the floors. I alwys looked forward to being in the storeroom because I liked talking with, and hearing travel stories from the lead handler. There is nothing about him that’s small. Big voice, big body, big head. At one point during the morning, I asked my lead, who is fully aware of my situation, “if she ever asked to get back together, what do you think I should do?” She, of course, is The Woman Who Broke My Heart.
I knew the answer already. There was nothing probable about it.
He had been burned by a divorce. His ex- was cheating on him and it devistated him. So his attitude about marriage, divorce and women was cut and dried. He was not willing to marry again and his ex- is a bitch and he will put the screws to her. His attitude about relationships is jaded, to say the least. But he has been with the same woman for longer than he was married. They live together, but they’re not married.
When the question escaped my lips, I immediately knew what his response would be. “Are you kidding?”, he said, “If a woman broke up with me the way she broke up with you, and then she wanted to get back together, it’s not going to happen.” Then he added something about her catching me on the rebound.
It was a thought that had only breifly crossed my mind. I knew that TWHBMH had been dumped by a previous boyfriend before she met me. She had told me how it was devistating. I hope she could recall those feelings whenever she thought of me
Or should I say IF she thought of me.
It’s been the most consistant thought I have had about her over time. I have become better at being focused and not staying inside my head. I stay in the present and not get hung up on the past. The thought of her doesn’t pre-occupy my thinking. But I do find that when it’s quiet and I’m alone I do think about her. I have saved all the emails we’ve exchanged. I never got around to deleting them from my account. But I’ll go back and read some email, usually one where she is frisky and has been thinking about me. It’s fun to look back, almost like following a timeline. I do wonder if I’m hanging on, hoping things will change. My thought is that it’s part of the healing process. They are pleasant memories that recall a different time in my life. Those were some amazing times with her.
I wonder, though, knowing what she did to me, knowing how it made me feel, and knowing how she felt before and after the fact, do you think if she ever thinks of me? Am I a smile that comes when she recalls a special time? Am I a nervous grumbling that makes her uncomfortable? What does she feel at this point in time? Is she trying to put her life back in order, just as I am? Is she so busy that she doesn’t give me a second thought?
I don’t have an answer. I may never have an answer. Maybe the time isn’t right. But if I had anything to say to her, it probably would go something like this:
Baby, I still love you…truly, madly, deeply. I hope you are happy. Please be gentle with yourself.
I don’t think ill of her. I wish I could think of another name by which TWHBMH could be referred. She deserves better.
How about my friend?
post script Sat 8/29: After I had finished this blog entry, I had surfed over to the American Folk Festival website. This has been a late summer fixture in the central part of the state for awhile. The organizers try to blend as many different styles of music with crafts and local non-profits, to make for a fun time (and FREE) for all. I went there because TWHBMH loves a Celtic band called Cherish The Ladies, which happened to be appearing at this years festival. I swallowed hard and sent along an email. No news or questions, just a forward for the website. Not long after I sent it, I got an away notice from her. I opened it and all it said was, “I am away!!!!”
I’m not sure if it was jitters or anxiety than moved through my body upon ready that simple sentance. But it made me very emotional. Although not directed to me specifically, those were the first written words from her that I’d seen in almost 3 months.
Then my mind took over and I began playing the guessing game. Where was she? Who was she with? Was it another man? Am I jealous? (Of course I was) I drove myself berserk. I can feel the tension building up in my body as I read this. for all the work I had done to set my life right, for all the small steps taken forward in the last three months, it was all laid to waste in a few seconds. Any emotional strength just fell away.
Am I a failure? No
Am I human? Yes
What I proved to myself is that the feelings I have for her are still strong, no matter how hard I try to manage them. It scares me to feel like this. No matter what I’ve been told about “rebound” relationships, there is a small part of me that still clings to the notion that what she and I shared was real.
I lay in bed last night and prayed. I prayed because I was scared. I was scared that I am holding onto something I should be letting go. I asked God to give me strength. I wanted to see the future, these better times that everyone says are coming. I had prayed like this when I was first separated from my ex-, almost out of desperation, to make the pain go away. I was tired of the pain then and I am tired of it now.
