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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.
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.
I realize this is out of sequence. I realize I am blowing this all out of proportion. I also realize I have a snowball chance in Hell. It’s about My Love and about re-establishing the lines of communication.
I have to keep reminding myself this doesn’t mean anything, that I need to stay on course, to move forward as if My Love and I had never contacted each other.
I have to keep reminding myself that nothing is certain. Just because she contacted you doesn’t mean she wants you back.
So why do I think about her all the time, just as I did when we first me? And why am I bothering, when the chances of having my heart broken again are good?
Because I AM hopeful.
I guess it’s just faith, hope and love, all wrapped up in one.
I have no idea what she’s been thinking. She’s a self-help kind of gal. She keeps things close to the vest and only confides in a select few. So I don’t know if she’s been taking walks on the beach and rolling stuff over in her head, or if she’s found a book to help her deal with this. I know she doesn’t talk with The Roommate about this stuff. She’s been under alot of stress at work for awhile now and she hasn’t slept well. When we were together, I took care of her. I did things like letting her catnap before dinner, messaging her back, rubbing her feet, and running my fingers through her hair. I did it all out of love and caring for her. It was all unconditional. I hope she is gentle with herself and is taking care. She needs to heal herself before she can worry about romance. The last thing I want is to add more problems to her life and mine.
Hey, that sounds familiar. Where have I heard that before?
She IS out there.
My Love is out there.
I had forwarded a cute email to her, thinking she might get a kick out of it, and got an email in return. She said that she had thought about me and was fighting the urge to contact me. She has been working on healing herself, coming to grips with her own demons. I was glad for her, and I was glad to hear from her.
I also felt familiar stirrings deep inside that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Not just nerves, but butterflies. It was the gentle lapping of the waves of longing. I, too, have fought similar urges to contact her. I have thought to pick up the phone and call, but have hesitated. I have been inspired to write to her, but had changed my mind from uncertainty. I have often wondered if I occupy her thoughts and compelled her to write or call in the same way.
I understand that I have stated my intention to move forward after the breakup, with no illusion of reconcilation. It was also suggested to me that she should make the first move. It has been difficult to suppress these urges.
So, when she contacted me, I invited her to read my writing. The Roommate had cautioned her that it might be better to avoid reading this blog. I can understand this. But The Roommate read things that were common knowledge between My Love and myself. I suggested that she only read the current posts in September and October. There is nothing there, or in the rest of the posts, that is offending or negative. She was hesitant, but said that she owed me that much.
Now the question is whether or not she’ll read what I’ve written. What will she take from these posts? Am I pathetic or sincere? Am I perceived as weak, or am I a man in touch with his feelings ? Will she reconsider our relationship or will she also move on and continue the healing process? Does she ache and yearn? Or want?
This is out of my hands. I have reminded myself constantly that I need to prepare myself for a life without her. I have no idea where this will go from here.
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.
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.
