Starting over
Writing a reply to a friend's journal a few minutes ago, I began thinking about my own life. In the last month or so, I have finally began to put my life together again. It seems that this process comes in spurts for me. "Things fall apart, the center cannot hold..." was the theme for spring. I never liked spring. Of all the seasons it is my least favorite, despite the beautiful weather... I always feel a strange dissonance, a chaotic blunder of sorts that echoes like a tolling bell of unease inside me. Rationality disappears, giving way to a burst of emotion - barely controlled, raging through me. Most of my losses have been in the spring.
I am learning how to be alone. I've been in a serious relationship for a very long time, and the end of the last was followed by such an emotional roller coaster as I do not want to experience for a long time to come. I did not want to admit to myself that I was afraid of being alone, but I did not expect to hurt as much as I did for being with someone. In the perfect vision of retrospect, I acted exactly as my programming of past years intended - as a person who has been in a committed relationship for so long that anything other than a path to marriage was a mystery. I simply did not know how to deal with it. Something Lee said recently really struck me when I thought of this. "For all intents and purposes, I was married to you." That hit hard - because it was a sudden flash of light that illuminated the sort of trust implicit in the relationship - I came first, I was the center of many aspects of my other's life, I could trust him absolutely, and I never, ever had to worry - about not being good enough on some obscure level, about meeting some undefined guideline, about being me - the good and the bad. I knew, with absolute certainty, that I was valued for who I was and for everything that I wanted to be valued - and that gave the relationship the kind of confidence that made me sleep easy at night, content. But I was not in love, although I loved - and that single fact was enough to make me walk away. To this day I hate that I did not find the strength to do it without rather extreme external influence. I would have proven to be a far better person had I had the courage to do so before things got that far. It is hard, however, once you have had that trust to return to the uncertainty of anything else - to take the risks, to stand on your own two feet, to not expect that level of understanding, support, commitment and care. Not because it shouldn't be in a relationship - but because it grows with time in relationships that are rare and unique. I knew most of this instinctively, some of it rationally. But I did not act on what I knew.
The answer, of course, is one I've given to friends over the years - before you can be happy with someone, you have to be happy and complete in yourself. When I left Lee, I left a huge part of myself behind. It was the right thing to do, and letting go was one of the best decisions I have ever made. But I had used him as a crutch for so long, and have grown so used to his reliable stability to be trusted, to listen, to support me and to tell me when I was being unreasonable (gifts that I will always, always treasure as they have saved my life in so many ways over the years) that my emotional independence began to atrophy. It is a good symbiosis - in a marriage. When you are a twenty year old girl still searching for your way, this self-laxity is damaging.
I had to learn to stand on my own, to re-discover what it was I wanted. I had to deal with my body and the stranger that it has become to me. I learned very quickly my own incapability of non-discrimination. My body revolts at the touch of someone I do not care for. A useful self-defense, I suppose. My soul's revolt is even worse.
I spent a lot of time with my family, the last month and a half. There is something very soothing in being with people who accept you unconditionally, for all of our problems and faults. There's a quiet understanding between us now, a sense of... acceptance, with a touch of sadness that speaks of all the problems that brew within our individual lives. But together, we find a simple form of rest - rest that has allowed me to find peace in myself.
I feel the ability to act re-surfacing again from the depths where overwork and stress has buried it. Things in my life are starting to come together again - a new place to live, stability at work, even my finances.
I have had to make difficult choices. Perhaps the hardest was letting go of some old friends who have done nothing but harm me in the last two years. It very difficult for me to walk away from such a large part of my life, but the constant betrayals, insinuations, insults that have become the degenerative parody of the past no longer hold meaning.
So now what? Rebuild my relationships with friends I still love but have grown distant from. In searching for love and for passion, return to the simple things at its base - understanding, fun, enjoying time together, feeling the buildup of physical tension and reveling in the progression that makes the end result everything it has always supposed to be...Acceptance, peace, passion. And if one search fails, step aside - heal, think, grow, until the time comes to try again, until I wake up one morning to a light kiss and the knowledge that everything is finally right in the world. This is not an abstract discussion - I still care about a very specific person, despite the many early strains (how I hate spring) - but I want to care the right way. Not too much, not too little, not too fast, not too slow - and not until I can be sure, until I can trust, until I can give a little bit of myself again. A month ago I would have been afraid to admit things directly. Now, I have strength again to take that risk, though it is still hard sometimes. But I am doing it - and that is far better than saying I am trying.
On my way back from work, I drive through the city of Baltimore. It is like a cold shower to my tired mind - everything rises in sharp relief, from the gorgeous skyline glowing with all the lights of Edison's genius to the heavy silhouettes of tankers and barges that are more elegant to my eye than the most beautiful ballerina. I look at the lattice of bridges suspended over the glimmering expanse of water, at the factories and the neon signs and the life - the incredible life of the living mind that has willed all of this into existence. When I plunge into the tunnel, I think of the earth and water above me, and I smile to myself. I do not think of boyfriends or friends or other emotional goings on of the world. It is a moment of the deepest meditation, where the glory of existence, the power of the mind, the incredible rush of creation unfolds before me - and I float in the midst of it all with a secret smile that comes from knowing that inside my body I hold that creative power - and that is what makes me whole, happy, and living.
Viva la vita.
I am learning how to be alone. I've been in a serious relationship for a very long time, and the end of the last was followed by such an emotional roller coaster as I do not want to experience for a long time to come. I did not want to admit to myself that I was afraid of being alone, but I did not expect to hurt as much as I did for being with someone. In the perfect vision of retrospect, I acted exactly as my programming of past years intended - as a person who has been in a committed relationship for so long that anything other than a path to marriage was a mystery. I simply did not know how to deal with it. Something Lee said recently really struck me when I thought of this. "For all intents and purposes, I was married to you." That hit hard - because it was a sudden flash of light that illuminated the sort of trust implicit in the relationship - I came first, I was the center of many aspects of my other's life, I could trust him absolutely, and I never, ever had to worry - about not being good enough on some obscure level, about meeting some undefined guideline, about being me - the good and the bad. I knew, with absolute certainty, that I was valued for who I was and for everything that I wanted to be valued - and that gave the relationship the kind of confidence that made me sleep easy at night, content. But I was not in love, although I loved - and that single fact was enough to make me walk away. To this day I hate that I did not find the strength to do it without rather extreme external influence. I would have proven to be a far better person had I had the courage to do so before things got that far. It is hard, however, once you have had that trust to return to the uncertainty of anything else - to take the risks, to stand on your own two feet, to not expect that level of understanding, support, commitment and care. Not because it shouldn't be in a relationship - but because it grows with time in relationships that are rare and unique. I knew most of this instinctively, some of it rationally. But I did not act on what I knew.
The answer, of course, is one I've given to friends over the years - before you can be happy with someone, you have to be happy and complete in yourself. When I left Lee, I left a huge part of myself behind. It was the right thing to do, and letting go was one of the best decisions I have ever made. But I had used him as a crutch for so long, and have grown so used to his reliable stability to be trusted, to listen, to support me and to tell me when I was being unreasonable (gifts that I will always, always treasure as they have saved my life in so many ways over the years) that my emotional independence began to atrophy. It is a good symbiosis - in a marriage. When you are a twenty year old girl still searching for your way, this self-laxity is damaging.
I had to learn to stand on my own, to re-discover what it was I wanted. I had to deal with my body and the stranger that it has become to me. I learned very quickly my own incapability of non-discrimination. My body revolts at the touch of someone I do not care for. A useful self-defense, I suppose. My soul's revolt is even worse.
I spent a lot of time with my family, the last month and a half. There is something very soothing in being with people who accept you unconditionally, for all of our problems and faults. There's a quiet understanding between us now, a sense of... acceptance, with a touch of sadness that speaks of all the problems that brew within our individual lives. But together, we find a simple form of rest - rest that has allowed me to find peace in myself.
I feel the ability to act re-surfacing again from the depths where overwork and stress has buried it. Things in my life are starting to come together again - a new place to live, stability at work, even my finances.
I have had to make difficult choices. Perhaps the hardest was letting go of some old friends who have done nothing but harm me in the last two years. It very difficult for me to walk away from such a large part of my life, but the constant betrayals, insinuations, insults that have become the degenerative parody of the past no longer hold meaning.
So now what? Rebuild my relationships with friends I still love but have grown distant from. In searching for love and for passion, return to the simple things at its base - understanding, fun, enjoying time together, feeling the buildup of physical tension and reveling in the progression that makes the end result everything it has always supposed to be...Acceptance, peace, passion. And if one search fails, step aside - heal, think, grow, until the time comes to try again, until I wake up one morning to a light kiss and the knowledge that everything is finally right in the world. This is not an abstract discussion - I still care about a very specific person, despite the many early strains (how I hate spring) - but I want to care the right way. Not too much, not too little, not too fast, not too slow - and not until I can be sure, until I can trust, until I can give a little bit of myself again. A month ago I would have been afraid to admit things directly. Now, I have strength again to take that risk, though it is still hard sometimes. But I am doing it - and that is far better than saying I am trying.
On my way back from work, I drive through the city of Baltimore. It is like a cold shower to my tired mind - everything rises in sharp relief, from the gorgeous skyline glowing with all the lights of Edison's genius to the heavy silhouettes of tankers and barges that are more elegant to my eye than the most beautiful ballerina. I look at the lattice of bridges suspended over the glimmering expanse of water, at the factories and the neon signs and the life - the incredible life of the living mind that has willed all of this into existence. When I plunge into the tunnel, I think of the earth and water above me, and I smile to myself. I do not think of boyfriends or friends or other emotional goings on of the world. It is a moment of the deepest meditation, where the glory of existence, the power of the mind, the incredible rush of creation unfolds before me - and I float in the midst of it all with a secret smile that comes from knowing that inside my body I hold that creative power - and that is what makes me whole, happy, and living.
Viva la vita.