An Ending

So this is what it feels like to officially end things. J and I got together today so he could get a few things. We went to lunch. We went back to my place. He asked "so where are we?" I've been avoiding it but I finally just told him that we aren't going to work out.

We both knew it; that didn't make it any easier for either one of us.

We cried and talked. We love each other and we want what is best. But we also know it wasn't going to be with one another. How can that be? How can we love each other but not be in a good marriage?

Because we just aren't right.

And I'll never regret it. I've been with him for seven years and some of it was bad and some of it was great. but I'll never look back on any of it with regret. I'm truly a better person because of him.

I told my mother. She asked me if I'd been able to sleep yet. I told her no, and I don't think I will be for some time.

Emo Brother

I have been weirdly emotional for the past few weeks. I feel a tremendous about of guilt for feeling like I'm over J so quickly but yet I am weepy and moved to tears very easily. I feel fine but I'm all fucked up. It doesn't make sense.

Yesterday, I started to really miss my older brother in a major way. Not my brother who moved to the UAE, but my other brother, the one I haven't spoken to in a real way for maybe ten or twelve years, the brother who was never really that much my friend. I don't know why, but I missed the hell out of him so tried to call him. He was working so I spoke with his wife, my ever indomitable sister-in-law, who probably regretted picking up the phone seeing as I dissolved into little pieces and puddles. I just wanted to hear his voice.

And I think I do know why I missed him. S is a person from my past. We grew up together and lived under the same roof for eighteen years. We lost our father, experienced pretty poor times, went on family vacations, bickered, fought, and occasionally laughed together. I haven't seen him since our middle brother got married. We don't keep in touch, at all. But we still exist. S is from my past, which is over and done, which makes it safe. S is my history and the certainty that goes along with knowing what happened and how it turned out.

And I just craved that last night. I received notification from my physician's office that my iron stores are low and so that is why my blood count was screwy. Anemia, take iron, no big deal. I was relieved, obviously, but it still triggered something in me that caused me to flip the fuck out. The future is uncertain and unknown and it terrifies me. I don't know what is going to happen with my disease. I don't know what is going to happen with my marriage. My follow up appointment looms ahead of me and J is constantly on my mind, his absence and my silence gaping like a cavern just in view. I can see it, I know it is there, but I'm trying my hardest to stay still and not take even one step forward because I don't think I can handle the depth of that cavern.

I never appreciated how awesome the past really is, the fact that it is over. It's like finishing a suspenseful novel or movie and feeling a sense of relief when it is done and you know what happened. I think I view S as a reminder that things have been awful before and that we have both gotten through it. Like I said, our father died and we saw tough times. But we got through it and we both saw our own personal shitty times later in life. His wife had part of her leg amputated due to cancer for fuck's sake. And that is still going on. She is doing well but it is never over. This too shall pass and no matter hard it gets and no matter how painful, I'll deal with it. What other choice do I have?

I need to just suck it up now. I need to just remind myself that getting hysterical isn't going to help anything. Yes, talking to my extremely kind neighbor last night, crying and being allowed to just get it out, was nice and helpful, but I need to get my shit together. The diagnosis was made in June - it isn't going to change so I need to just fucking deal with it. The separation... well, that I don't know about. But I need to remember that I do have a life and that I should probably live it, not just cry and hide.

And, most importantly, I need to do these things that I tell myself, not just write them down.

Not a play thing...

I'm usually very open and honest on this little blog of mine (I'm gonna make it shine). That's just how I roll, as the kids say. Do they still say that? I don't know. That's what is so good about swear words, they stay the same and never go out of style.

But lately I've been avoiding writing about one of the most major things in my life because I've been avoiding thinking about it. Today I came face to face with it and so I thought I may as well just get it all out. Oddly, I came to this point for one of the silliest reasons: dreaming about naked people. I've had two dreams in the last few nights that featured naked people. For once, it wasn't a dream with me jogging outdoors suddenly realizing that I am topless, which is usually what happens. This time the nudity involved the following:

1. A room full of naked men laying on a bed and naked women being brought in so that they could have sex for the sole purpose of breeding (this dream regarded a post-apocalyptic world where, for some reason, the human race was dying out and scientist had extracted something from aliens to make women more fertile; don't ask, I don't fucking know); and,
2. A naked, crazy, murderer who materialized when I pulled a sticker off a bar of soap and found I had won a contest (no idea what this was about).

My friend, when I told him about the dreams, said that I was dreaming about naked people because there was some feeling or thought that I didn't want to acknowledge or expose, I didn't want to expose my true feelings. He was joking, I think, but I realized that there is something I haven't been willing to face, and that is how quickly I seem to have gotten over J.

We were together for seven years, married for four, and have been separated for exactly two months. We haven't seen one another or spoken to one another for about a week and a half, not since the movie issue that came up on Labor Day and I pushed him away. And I don't miss him. I think about him frequently, but I don't miss him and I don't feel an absence in my life. When I do think about him, I think about how guilty I feel for what I've done to him, I hope that he is OK, and I hope that he is well. But I also hope that he is over me, that he has moved on. I don't care if he's moved on on his own or if he's met someone. I just want him to be happy, healthy, and doing OK without me.

That is an incredibly selfish desire because it would make me feel less guilty and selfish and awful. I want him to move on and be done with me so that I don't have to feel so awful for being OK without him. He is a great guy. He is brilliant, funny, loving, and sweet. He has so much going for him that he isn't even aware of and I'll never speak badly of him. But my feelings aren't there any more and I don't understand how that can be.

it isn't just that I feel guilty for hurting him, but I am disturbed by the way my feelings seem to have just shut down. Is it because I've been unhappy for the last couple of months? Because I've thought of leaving him since January, not knowing that this would really happen? How can you be with someone and love them intensely and completely for seven years only to have those feelings fade in two short months? Part of me assumes it is a coping mechanism, one that has been with me since I was very little and which allows me to adapt to new situations quickly and recover from grief and pain easily. But that can't be entirely it. Can I be this cold and selfish and terrible? When we first split, I was a mess, calling people and crying and talking at them, regardless of how well I knew them. All I could think about was J not wanting me and moving on whilst I was an emotional wreck. And yet here I am, doing perfectly fine whilst the last time I spoke to J, he was emotional and upset.

I don't have anyone new, that is something that I have mentioned here, that Johan is the only one in my life. I have friends who have been incredibly wonderful to me, but I'm not fucking someone else or cheating on J (and I would consider it cheating if I slept with a guy during my separation; oddly, I would not consider it the same if J did it, probably because I'm the one who asked him to leave). So it isn't that my heart belongs to someone else. I'm getting one of those 'key to my heart' lockets soon and I have every plan on wearing it and if asked, I'll explain that it is the key to my heart and it is around my neck, which means only I hold that key. J is the only one who has ever really had it and I feel so bad for having entrusted him with it only to tear it away from him.

I'm hoping that I'm being melodramatic and he has moved on but I cannot help but feel guilty for what I've done to him, even if he has. Because I have not been an easy person to love, nor to live with. I once read the snippet of a poem as follows (I'm afraid I do not know the author):

A heart is not a play thing,

A heart is not a toy,

But if you want it broken,

Just give it to a boy.

I love that and I think of it often. I just never knew that you could have your heart break for hurting someone else the way I have, when there was no infidelity, no lies, no horrible climactic moment that led to what I think is the demise of a marriage. But all I can think of is 'how could someone ever love me and entrust me with HIS heart?' I'm an awful person and I know all of my awful bits. I'm also really upfront about them, trying to warn others off. But then someone like J loves me anyway and I think it is going to be wonderful. And it is. Until I turn into a dick and I just push, push, push away. 

Part of me hears Kin Twin in my head, telling me that I'll go through a whole gamut of emotions and that this is to be expected. Not only am I separated, he likes to remind me, but I was diagnosed just a couple of weeks before the separation. So I think, maybe the shuttering of my feelings is just a necessary step so that I can reclaim myself and see J, myself, and us with a clear view. Maybe I'm not past it all. But in my heart, I really feel like it is over, and it breaks that heart. 

But I would still never invite my bestie into my apartment because he happens to be male and J doesn't trust him. I wouldn't invite him in for a drink or just to chat until after months had passed upon being officially divorced. Because J would find that disrespectful and, regardless of anything I feel about J, I have the utmost respect for him. I always have and always will. And I would never want him to think that I would do that to him. 

I know I've done nothing wrong. Yes, I have a lot of the blame for what happened regarding the bad bits of my marriage, but nothing unforgivable like cheating or even almost cheating. Never. But I have a tremendous amount of guilt as though I had done. I don't just feel bad for asking him to leave; I feel bad for inviting him into my life in the first place. Because if I hadn't done that, I wouldn't have hurt him as I have.

Coffee

I had coffee with my male kin twin yesterday. I initiated it because it bothered me that the bulk of our friendship has been email based and I started to feel like a 14 year old boy who whose good friends were all made through online gaming. We don't chat much in the office because he is super busy and I have my cubicle set up in such a way to not invite intimate tete a tetes. I may be talkative and social, but I need my space. Plus, we talk about some personal stuff that isn't appropriate for eaves dropping and if I routinely went into his office and closed the door, like I do my old boss, people would start to talk (that's fine for me but I'm not about to let a friend become gossip fodder.)

So we met up at Starbucks (the first time he has ever been in one; seriously, kid is older than me by quite a few years and needed me to hold his hand and suggest a drink and explain that medium is grande in Starbucks language. Not his fault... I'm pretty sure it has been a week since he left Amish Country). We ended up staying for four hours, swapping office bullshit, telling stories, and talking a bit about my situation with J. Kin Twin has laid very good odds on the outcome and has wagered $100 that we'll get back together in less than six months.

It was very nice and didn't feel at all like four hours, but I knew I'd have to tell J. I didn't that night, waiting instead to tell him today at lunch. I knew he'd be upset but I need him to get his head around the idea that I can have male friends, just as he has female friends. I told him that I was really grateful that he had N, his close female friend, and that the reason I bring her up isn't because I'm jealous but because I'm trying to make him understand that his jealousy and anger regarding KT is unfair, as well as irrational. And I let him know that the reason I was telling him was because it would have caused more problems if I'd held my tongue. He admitted that if he'd some how found out in another way, he'd have just speculated and thought the worst.

This all happened at an odd time. Last week, SB (former boss), asked me for my address so that she can send an invitation for her daughter's wedding reception. Knowing my current situation, she tactfully told me that it would be an invitation for plus 1. I emailed J and let him know and told him I was extending a courtesy invite. Even if we were together and things were fine, he wouldn't want to go. There will be a handful of work people there so I'll have people to talk to but the rest will be strangers. J would be there and bored out of his mind. But it would have been wrong to not invite him. He responded that he appreciated it but it wasn't his thing... unless I was going to go with KT instead or KT was going to be there, in which he would totally be there. I sent him a nasty email telling him that he was disinvited and that he had lost the right to know who I would be going with. I also asked him how N's pussy was and asked if it was difficult having her live so far away. After all, according to J, the only reason to have good friendships with girls if you are a guy is because you want to fuck her. I told him that just because he knows his jealousy is irrational, it doesn't mean I have to put up with it.

It wasn't the best way to deal with the situation, I admit that. But it has been seven years and if he thinks I'm the type to cheat, that is an insult. And if he thinks I'm so naive and stupid to accidentally suck someone's dick, well, that is an insult as well. And he an N are pretty tight and talk about relationship stuff. How is it anything but hypocritical to think I can't have a male friend?!?!

But my hanging out with KT on Saturday did, certainly, occur at a weird time. I'm just glad that J seemed to understand me when I explained it. He was very obviously upset, but he didn't say anything. Oh shit. J tried to fuck me and I turned him down because sex with him right now is uncomfortable to me. But I probably should have done it anyway, just so he wouldn't wonder.

Oy. Looks like I have an email to send.

Honesty

I've grown very comfortable with my current situation. I love living by myself and always missed it, as I only experienced for a year before J and I moved in together. It feels like a leaden straight jacket has been removed from my body and I am light and free again.

Having someone constantly around to know what I am doing and when, has always bothered me.When I finally learned how to drive and got a car at the age of 22, I was ecstatic. It isn't that I had some exciting or debauched plans lined up; it was that I could go to a store and buy a pack of gum without it relying on or being the business of anybody but me. I didn't have to wait for my mother to get home from work or to be ready to go out. I didn't have to worry about the trip taking longer because she might want to make other stops or do a full on grocery shop. And I was able to escape and be totally alone with regards to people I knew. I could even take aimless drives around town, feeling the joy of driving and taking in the scenery, without having to answer to anybody or entertain them. I still do that from time to time, just get into my car and just drive, although these days when I buckle up I do have a momentary feeling of guilt and wastefulness due to the price of gas.

When I lived at home with my family, I spent an inordinate amount of time in my bedroom. My mother and brothers would ask me what I was doing in there all the time and I'd just reply "nothing" because I truly wasn't doing anything remarkable. I was reading, writing in my journal, watching television (someone gave me one for a holiday or my birthday), listening to music, moving furniture around, and playing endless games of solitaire or attempting to build playing card houses. I really wasn't up to anything. I just preferred to be by myself and I really, really, really like my privacy. My mother would make me come downstairs and spend time with the family on occasion, probably because she worried for my mental health. But sitting in the living room for two hours to watch a movie was horrific for me. I felt trapped and stuck and bound by the minutes that ticked slowly past. I just wanted to be alone.

And it wasn't that I didn't like them. My family and I have always been off and on but the on times are filled with fun, laughter, wit, and incredible enjoyment. Things were rough growing up but my brother M and I did have our moments. It hasn't changed now either. I enjoy spending some time with my family but for most of the year, I don't keep in touch with them at all and they don't reach out to me. And I think that is fine. I used to make some efforts but they weren't returned and I got really upset. But now I'm fine with it because that is who we have always been. Maybe I'll see my family once a year, maybe once every other year. This is an odd time because my mother will be here at the end of August so I will see her twice in two months. But that is an anomaly and anything but the norm.

So having my apartment all to myself every morning and every evening is like being home alone for a weekend when I can stay shut up in my tiny bedroom for as long as I like. Nobody to worry that I'm doing something weird or dangerous, nobody to be nosy about what exactly it is that I'm doing, and, most importantly, nobody to judge me.

I am also OK with the separation. I'm not sad about it anymore, or embarrassed. It had to happen or else J and I were going to either totally implode or lead highly unsatisfactory lives. We both need to figure out if we want to be with one another but only after we figure out who we are. I think J is having an incredibly rough time and I think he is scared of losing me.. I'm having a less drastic version of self discovery. Where J is feeling a heavy weight of sadness due to his isolated lifestyle, I am feeling a certain joy in remembering who I am and what I like to do, even if that just means I'm rearranging furniture (seriously, I did that a lot as a kid). And while he is worried about losing me, I'm not. It isn't that I'm so confident in myself that I know he wouldn't leave me, but that if we don't work out I think I will be OK. Not at first, of course, but eventually. It would be incredibly sad and I might just be high on this solitude thing, but I feel I would be much more OK with our not working out than our trying to be together when we aren't happy. Not happy with ourselves and not happy with each other. And right now, I'm not happy with the man I married because he isn't the same person. The J today is one who has been gutted by an academic program that looks much like indentured servitude. I don't feel strength or confidence from him, just fear and sadness and a lethargy that keeps him from trying to improve his life and his situation. This is a stark contrast to the J I met in 2003, the one who was putting himself out there for fear of becoming a hermit, who was asking out any and every girl he felt like regardless of the chance of being rejected. He might have been faking his confidence then but I'd take that over the total lack of confidence today.

And as I told my friend recently, if you aren't at least as strong as I, it means I will have to carry you as well. And I can't do that anymore. I have too much to deal with on my own to have to carry your weight as well. I have this disease. I have begun to despise my job. I have realized that I've let too many years go by wasted. I cannot enable you or make your decisions. We all have to go after what we want ourselves. For the first time in my life, I am finally living for myself and not others. I'm putting myself first and letting me matter. I'm not being selfish, indulgent, or irresponsible, but looking after myself and worrying about my own happiness and well being. I feel like no one has ever done that before but I don't blame them because I always made it so easy. My mother would ask if I was OK or needed anything and I'd lie and say I was fine so as not to be a burden. She isn't a mind reader so what was I to expect? This isn't about blaming others but accepting my responsibility and moving on.

If I move on with J by my side, fantastic. If I move on by myself, so be it. But I am no longer content simply standing still.

Baseline

Things have leveled out. I have my appointment with the clinic (September 2 at 8:30 a.m.) I have gotten used to not having J here with me. So things have leveled out and life is carrying on as usual. I complain about my boss and I bitch when my phone rings.

Yet it feels like it isn't my life. Ever since I was a little kid I've done this stupid thing where I would sit and tell myself "you aren't real, this isn't your life. You are just in a different person's body looking out of her eyes." I would disassociate from my body and freak myself out. That is kind of what it feels like. I'm going through motions and living life but it feels wrong and unreal. A disease and a marriage on the rocks. How did this happen?

I'm 30 years old and I was very excited to turn this age. But I should have known better. I know that even years are bad ones. Magical thinking, you know? And yet I still have this positive attitude and this forced optimism. Because I don't have any other way to cope. I can't give up and be angry and depressed because I learned early on that life can hurt you very much. I've been fortunate that most of my pain has been strictly emotional. I'm not going through starvation or devastation as so many others are. I'm good about reminding myself that I truly have little to complain about.

But it still hurts and I am more confused than ever. But I've achieved that patience that I need. I finally feel like I can cope with waiting for J to be ready to talk to me. It might take days, it might take months. But I feel like I can wait and not freak out. And if things don't work out? I don't know. Practically, I assume I'll sign the papers and change my last name back to my maiden name. I'll continue to work. I'll keep busy. Would I date? I don't know. I can't imagine risking this again, this pain and this sense of failure and total heartache.

Where the fuck is the natural selection benefit here? Shouldn't I be able to move on quickly and just start fucking people? That would be the best way to propagate the species but that idea sickens me. Of course, I don't want children so I guess it might work differently for me since sex is just a fun and pleasant activity for me rather than a mean to an end. But still, you'd think humans would be past heart break.

Chalk it up to my shitty genome with its autoimmune disorders and mental problems.

What do I want? No idea at this point. I'm afraid to even ask for my life to feel real again because feeling like I'm outside looking in is comforting because my pain is less. It feels weird, but at least I'm not crying all the time.

So that is where I am. I feel like shit but it's like having the very last bits of a hangover where you know you feel like shit but you can't sleep it off or even pinpoint what hurts.

I'll take that for now.

Where is the smart phone application for this?

I went to J's place last night to talk about some of the things I mentioned in my last post, about his not talking to me about things. It wasn't the best of discussions. We aren't screaming at one another but we also can't seem to understand one another, though we are trying. I finally did explain that I wasn't asking him to do anything and I wasn't painting him out to be a villain, I just needed him to understand and appreciate the fact that I've been emotionally distressed for a long time now. I just needed him to understand how lonely, and upset, and fucked up I've felt. I don't need him to fix it or do anything, I just need him to see me. I understand the compulsion and desire to fix things though. It's a lot like the night before my MS diagnosis. No one wanted to let me just be scared. It is upsetting when someone you care about is scared or sad or upset in any way and it is only natural to want to step in and fix things so that they feel better. But if you don't let your emotions play out and take their natural course, and if those you need to won't acknowledge and understand what you are feeling, it just makes it worse.

We are told from childhood not to bottle our emotions, but you reach a point in your life where suddenly people expect you to move quickly and get over things rather than work through them. Again, it isn't because people are bad or mean or uncaring, it is that they can't handle it if someone they love is upset and so want to alleviate the pain as quickly as possible. But that just doesn't work.

I think he understood but I always think he's finally understood and it blows up in my face so I can't know for sure. What I do know is that he's been seriously fucked up these last twelve days and I need to leave him alone. I forgot that he doesn't adapt as quickly as I do and that he can't compartmentalize the same way. So he's been trying to get used to being alone and I keep contacting him. It has been a roller coaster of ups and downs and it is seriously affecting his health, both mentally and physically. I had no idea and I just felt horrible for having contacted him yesterday. In the end I told him we could just wait until he felt settled and he could contact me when he is ready. He pointed out that I'd previously said I couldn't just sit and wait indefinitely because it would drive me crazy but I told him, in all honesty, that I could more easily wait for him than continue to cause him such horrific anxiety. I had no idea what was going on with him with regards to that and now that I know, I'm willing to do what it takes and be patient for his sake.

And maybe we really do just need to let things go for awhile. It is so difficult because I kicked him out, wish I hadn't, know it is for the best, don't know what I'm doing. I can't imagine what it is like for him. He might not have had a plan of action for talking with me but it wasn't his decision to move out. He didn't fight me when I told him to leave but he didn't initiate it.

So I'm in limbo and I need to be OK with that. I need to be patient and let go, things that are somewhat difficult for me. All I can do is hope to exhaust myself every day so that my mind won't be able to keep me up at night. Just like you can't force someone to feel better when they are afraid or upset, I can't force this relationship to work out or to progress at any particular pace. So I need to just sit back and let things happen without trying to control them (gah!)

Where is the handbook for this type of situation, god damn it?

Not Carrying On With It

My apartment is a disaster. There is not a single room that I could call tidy or not be ashamed of. There is simply a lot of disorder and, in some cases, a LOT of dust.

I should be setting things right. I should be taking a methodical approach, going room by room, sorting things out. Picking up the pieces of my life and organizing them into a new shape to mask the giant hole that is left.

I should at least gather up all of the trash and recycling to take to the bins. I could go through each room and gather up all of the waste paper and bits and pieces.

Or I might put in minimal effort and just place items back on the alcove shelf. I put them in the bathroom yesterday so the mattress people could move in my new bed.

But so far, the only thing I've done is unclog my bathtub drain, using baking soda and vinegar. But I did this only because there was standing water in the tub and I needed to shower. So necessity forced my hand.

Instead of doing all these things I should be doing, I think I'll just crawl into my lovely new bed and hide from my life just a little bit longer. If only I were able to sleep. Sleep comes so hard these days.