The main griefs I'm having...
1. That there's no partner to share all this with.
It's that there's so much to do and I'm afraid that I will not be able to do it alone... and coming to the realization that I can't is hard for me... but not only that I can't, but that I have to admit it to LOTS of people and ask for their help... it hurts my pride.
With one partner, with a friend, in the dyad, there would only be one person to whom I would have to admit weakness.
We could lean on eachother when things got tough, and make it work.
But that's not my life.
2. My pride is hurt.
I mean, yes, broken love, that hurts too. Admitting that the man I put on a pedestal is just a guy like alot of other guys, is hard. It's like when you realize Santa Claus isn't real, and all these impersonators of him are just for show. It deflates something beautiful you had, turns it inside out, and packs it away so it can never be used again. So, with my pride taking a serious beating, I have to admit to being wrong about him and let him go. He is great, we all are, he's just not great in the ways that I'd thought I guess... or maybe just not great for me specifically, but perfect for someone else. I don't know. All I know is that I have to convince myself to stop believing in the potential, and just accept that what you see is what you get, or I'll tear myself to pieces.
Anyway, it's probably not him. It's probably me. I'm probably all wrong for him too, and that's okay.
The cool guy is cool.
I'm not cool anymore if ever I was cool. Or maybe I'm just cool in a totally different sort of way. Ehhhh, that's all beside the point. I have just barely six weeks to get ready for the biggest and scariest change in my life. I don't have time for fantasies or day dreams or to muse about whether I am or was cool or not.
I have a list with 20+ things on it that I need to take care of. Lots of phone calls to be made, emails to be sent. Lots of people to see, packing, and other preparation to be done.
3. There was no chance to say goodbye to everything I'm giving up.
I didn't get to have my rite of passage festival. There was no bachelorette-style party. There was no dedicated binge of drinking and playing and doing whatever before making the choice to step up. There was just suddenly no ground beneath my feet and a ladder in front of me.
I'm having a birthday party. I need to work more on planning it. It's the big THREE-OH... but because of my gravid status, it's going to mainly be for everyone else. I want to see them all happy and free and however they are. A moment in time I will never have again. I want to appreciate them for who and how they are. I want to be able to say goodnight and goodbye and let it go. The non-alcoholic (for me) wake for my lost youth.
I know I'm not in highschool or whatever. I wasn't really a kid before this happened... but I wanted to live that extended childhood for just a little while longer... I spent my whole REAL childhood being so serious and so good... I finally learned to play, and could play, and I finally WAS playing... and then this happened. This tiny little huge thing... and it was all over. With a snap of the fingers it all blew away like dust, and all there is and was left, is a vast expanse of needs to be met.
I think maybe that's what he did for me... the father of my child... he gave me the keys to the playland, and permission to play, and we played. Until we did this. And maybe he's just meant to be part of playtime, and now that I won't and can't play like that anymore, maybe he's meant to stay behind in that area of my life while I move on and find a new way to be.
Perhaps a better way to put it is that he is and was a catalyst for me. A catalyst facilitates a process but is not changed by it. I can, painfully now, but hopefully less so later, be grateful for that, and appreciate him in that role.
It's that there's so much to do and I'm afraid that I will not be able to do it alone... and coming to the realization that I can't is hard for me... but not only that I can't, but that I have to admit it to LOTS of people and ask for their help... it hurts my pride.
With one partner, with a friend, in the dyad, there would only be one person to whom I would have to admit weakness.
We could lean on eachother when things got tough, and make it work.
But that's not my life.
2. My pride is hurt.
I mean, yes, broken love, that hurts too. Admitting that the man I put on a pedestal is just a guy like alot of other guys, is hard. It's like when you realize Santa Claus isn't real, and all these impersonators of him are just for show. It deflates something beautiful you had, turns it inside out, and packs it away so it can never be used again. So, with my pride taking a serious beating, I have to admit to being wrong about him and let him go. He is great, we all are, he's just not great in the ways that I'd thought I guess... or maybe just not great for me specifically, but perfect for someone else. I don't know. All I know is that I have to convince myself to stop believing in the potential, and just accept that what you see is what you get, or I'll tear myself to pieces.
Anyway, it's probably not him. It's probably me. I'm probably all wrong for him too, and that's okay.
The cool guy is cool.
I'm not cool anymore if ever I was cool. Or maybe I'm just cool in a totally different sort of way. Ehhhh, that's all beside the point. I have just barely six weeks to get ready for the biggest and scariest change in my life. I don't have time for fantasies or day dreams or to muse about whether I am or was cool or not.
I have a list with 20+ things on it that I need to take care of. Lots of phone calls to be made, emails to be sent. Lots of people to see, packing, and other preparation to be done.
3. There was no chance to say goodbye to everything I'm giving up.
I didn't get to have my rite of passage festival. There was no bachelorette-style party. There was no dedicated binge of drinking and playing and doing whatever before making the choice to step up. There was just suddenly no ground beneath my feet and a ladder in front of me.
I'm having a birthday party. I need to work more on planning it. It's the big THREE-OH... but because of my gravid status, it's going to mainly be for everyone else. I want to see them all happy and free and however they are. A moment in time I will never have again. I want to appreciate them for who and how they are. I want to be able to say goodnight and goodbye and let it go. The non-alcoholic (for me) wake for my lost youth.
I know I'm not in highschool or whatever. I wasn't really a kid before this happened... but I wanted to live that extended childhood for just a little while longer... I spent my whole REAL childhood being so serious and so good... I finally learned to play, and could play, and I finally WAS playing... and then this happened. This tiny little huge thing... and it was all over. With a snap of the fingers it all blew away like dust, and all there is and was left, is a vast expanse of needs to be met.
I think maybe that's what he did for me... the father of my child... he gave me the keys to the playland, and permission to play, and we played. Until we did this. And maybe he's just meant to be part of playtime, and now that I won't and can't play like that anymore, maybe he's meant to stay behind in that area of my life while I move on and find a new way to be.
Perhaps a better way to put it is that he is and was a catalyst for me. A catalyst facilitates a process but is not changed by it. I can, painfully now, but hopefully less so later, be grateful for that, and appreciate him in that role.