learning the lessons of Snape and Jareth

I'm not feeling so good right now.

Maybe it's post inauguration dread (though seeing the people march the next day was inspiring) mixing with the overwhelming heartache of this unfathomable situation. I've really struggled not to pick up my phone over the past few months to call and beg/demand/plead/ask/insist/ for a chance/answers/truth etc. You haven't had any second thoughts, you don't have anything you want to say, you don't ever want to see me- you're just going to go?

Maybe it's because I'm starting to pack, preparing for my 18th move, the move I didn't want to make until I died. And maybe it's because as I'm packing I'm finding anniversary cards, pictures, presents.... all professing love, all expressing happiness and contentment. What a nice life we have together.

Had.

Maybe it's because I find these things and my heart breaks all over and the questions come rushing in... and he's not there for me to ask. And even when he is, he won't answer. But how do I walk away without asking these questions, without the answers- good or bad? How will I ever get a full night sleep not knowing?

I've been told that this is more about him than it is about me- but WHAT ABOUT HIM? I don't get the answer to even the most basic questions- Who have you become? What changed so drastically that there was no room in your mind to even consider trying to fix it? When did this happen? Where did we go wrong? How can you do this?
Not EASY questions- but basic. Questions anyone in my situation would have, I think. But I don't get to ask. So I sit in this house that we bought together and look at the pictures and sort through the shit on my own.

And yes, I should turn my thoughts inward. Focus on myself. Work through my own issues. And I am.

Mostly.

But how on earth am I supposed to do this and not wonder?
How do I heal from this without closure?

3 years ago our dog died in an emergency room in the wee hours of the morning and we weren't there with him. He was so sweet, but so naughty and having him wasn't always easy but he was ours and we loved him. But the relationship wasn't perfect. He frustrated me and made me angry, I felt guilty for my role in his behavior issues. I felt guilty for thinking that he was a burden. I felt tired of all the extra work. But I loved him anyway. And when he died and I couldn't be there it just made all the emotions around that imperfect relationship worse. If only I hadn't done this, if only I had worked with a trainer, if I'd taken better care of him maybe he wouldn't have needed the operation... did he know I loved him? Did he think I had dumped him at that hospital and was never coming back? All the horrible questions in my head- that will NEVER be answered- just made his death that much harder to deal with.
There are so many parallels with this situation it is making me sick. November spawned a monster, indeed.

I find myself saying that things aren't fair (a lot) lately. It's funny because two of my favorites (who both died last year within a week of each other- FUCK YOU, 2016!) have lines about this very subject:





So fine. Life isn't fair. But does that mean I shouldn't ask? That I can't try?

It reminds me of everyone saying Trump won and we should just get over it. Why? Why should I just accept that this orange monster is president because of the wonkiness that is the electoral college... and AAAALSO Russian intervention? And also racism, and bigotry, and homophobia and the support of white. goddamn. supremacists. For fuck's sake. No, this is not like that one (ok 2) time(s) when Obama got elected and "We just dealt with it, so you need to deal with Trump."....  FIRST OF ALL- no you didn't. You called him a Muslim and said he wasn't born here and likened him to Hitler and blocked his attempts at legislation and questioned his legitimacy at every turn. And SECOND- even though you maybe didn't agree with his policies, and maybe you thought he was born in Kenya and maybe you think you're a little better than him because you're white (but you don't say that out loud so it doesn't count), you weren't afraid of him starting a nuclear war over a goddamn tweet. And THIRD- if you were just dealing with Obama against your better judgment? If he stood for all the things you're against and pulled your moral compass away from true north and you just quietly allowed that to happen without speaking your mind?
Shame. On. You.
I will not do that.
Do not go gentle into that good night, mother fuckers. I'm paraphrasing a bit here.

I'm also off topic.

My point is this- just because life isn't fair (I dare you not to say that like Snape), just because I'm not going to get what I want... that doesn't mean I have to sit back and just let it happen. I can ask for truth and transparency even if I might not get it. I can ask for equality even if the answer is no. And at the end of this marriage- I can ask why, how, when, where, who- even if I am met with silence. And though it is cold, cold comfort- in the end when all is said and done, at least I will walk away knowing I tried. Really tried.

And I will be ok. But what good is ok when the person you love doesn't want to be there with you?

cracks, hermit crabs, bricks, holes.... it's a weird one is what i'm saying.

Today I bought a DVD player and a desk.

I realized that when the condo is sold and I am on my own I would have a computer with no desk, and DVDs with nothing to play them with. There are lots of things like that- a left hand with no wedding rings, a you without a me.... it's a lot to deal with. So many things to think about, some of them so massive they will take WHO KNOWS HOW LONG to answer or reconcile. So today I've opted for a few of the easier things to solve. A desk for my computer where I will write and edit pictures. A DVD player to watch my favorite movies that I hope are still allowed to be my favorite movies. Which brings me to one of those big things.

Who am I? And of the things that make me who I am... if some of those things are things we did/loved together... am I still allowed them? Can I still love Disney? Can I still quote Labyrinth and go to Morrissey concerts? Or do I have to stop doing those things and liking those things? Because I don't want to stop. I feel they're still part of me. They're still things I love and pretending or denying that feels like giving up. Or that I'm pushing things away that might be too hard to deal with. We are separating. We're separating from each other, we're separating our belongings... why can't I also separate our mutual love of some things? Because I loved them before, and even if they were introduced during the relationship- I didn't just love them because of him.

What about friends? Will they pick sides? Do I have to? If one of us "likes" something first, is the other one not allowed to? He doesn't want to see my family... but will I never get a hilarious text from his dad again? And how do I help my family, who feels as abandoned as I do in some ways? It's hard not to make this all about me. I feel like I'm in panic mode, grasping for help and struggling to take care of my shattered pieces lest something get swept away in this god awful shit storm. But there are other people, other sets of emotions, other hearts involved in this mess. It's so sad.

Dr. Who says "When something goes missing, you can always recreate it by the hole it left." It's true in life and in social media. Blank spots on walls where new pictures will have to be hung, conversations on Facebook where 1/2 of the conversation is now missing because I've been blocked. The years of my life that were part of who I am that are turning into part of who I was. But if I delete those parts, I will have holes.... and holes aren't good. Holes are spaces for your soul and your happiness to leak out of. Cracks though... the little spots that stay open where holes have been patched up, those are ok. "There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in." I MEAN, WHO AM I TO QUESTION LEONARD COHEN?

I am moving forward, but I am taking with me the people and places and things that I love. You can start anew without starting over. You can build a new house with a few old, reliable bricks in the mix. You can paint with new colors and some old favorites. I'm like a hermit crab... and not just because I like to stay in and am a cancer... but because they sort of prove my point. When their shell gets too small, they find a bigger one... but they don't stop being a hermit crab. They still eat... whatever hermit crabs eat and go.... wherever the hell hermit crabs go... and like whatever it is they liked before they got their fancy new shell and.... you know what? I'm going to stop this analogy because I really don't need to be comparing myself to weird little sea creatures. But I stand by the sentiment.

EVEN HERMIT CRABS WITH ALGAE GROWING ON THEM WHO HIDE IN THEIR SHELLS WHEN THEY ARE SCARED AND ALSO SOMETIMES PINCH PEOPLE WHEN THEY ARE ANGRY MOVE FORWARD. And so will I.

preserving the truth with jealous anxiety

Ok so GW and Obama were talking about the nation and shit... but I'm thinking a lot about truth right now.

Telling the truth, asking for the truth, the difference in what the truth is for different people. Living your truth... or not. Living your truth (to keep on theme of mentioning political peeps and quote VP Joe Biden) is "a big fucking deal".

Being honest with yourself and others is paramount. And you should protect and preserve yours with "jealous anxiety" (Thanks, George Washington!). Because if you aren't honest with yourself, it's gonna fuck some shit up. It's not good for you, it's not good for the people around you, and eventually the walls you've built on the foundation of this un-truth are going to come tumbling down. Because that foundation is going to crack. And people will get hurt. Things will be lost, lives will be upended, relationships will fail, friendships will die. It's not pretty.

I've been with someone who recently admitted that he hasn't been living his truth. It is heartbreaking. It's heartbreaking for me because I've been holding the hand of someone who wasn't really who I thought he was. He was going through life with me, supporting me, answering my questions, assuaging my fears, putting the face forward he thought he needed to. But underneath... it wasn't the truth. It wasn't his truth, it wasn't who he truly was/is. That rock I've been holding to just got swept away with the waves, the best friend I thought I had doesn't exist.

It's also heartbreaking because I know that couldn't have been easy. We all have to fake it a little in our every day life- smile at a customer who's being demanding, bite your tongue when your gram calls someone "oriental".... omg. But for your most intimate relationship to be a place where you feel you can't be yourself, your honest self-- that's horrible. The sting of abandonment, rejection and harsh words still pulses like the open wound that it is... but in a way it helps to understand the relief and the rush he has felt. It all still feels impossible, and like a death, but it's something new to chew on.
The other sad thing about it is that the courage to be honest could have prevented this. We could have changed together. Now that option isn't there, the path is covered over with trees and roots and grass and the only option is forward without each other.

And forward is good, and if the truth is we have to be apart, that's good too. It doesn't FEEL good, that's for gd sure. But truth, like life, isn't always easy. It isn't always what we want. Not what we want to do or say or hear. But it is. And it makes a better foundation to start slowly rebuilding on. One brick at a time. Doing my best to keep the anxiety on the outside. Working hard to make sure I'm leaving space for windows and doors and not walling myself off because I'm afraid to trust ever again. Asking for help with the tall bits, the heavy parts and... let's be honest... the math.

It is terrifying and sad to imagine building and moving on without Robert. But as much as he has been a part of me and a part of my life and a part of my family- I am still me. I am a whole person. I am broken, but all my pieces are there and just like my new house, I will put myself back together piece by piece. Taking the opportunity to inspect each bit, shine some of them up, replace parts that might not suit me anymore, but coming out whole on the other side. First I have to cross this flaming bridge of absolute horse shit. But, you know, that doesn't sound as pretty.

Moving forward, preserving and uncovering my truth with jealous mother effing anxiety. And also just some regular anxiety, because... hello... it's me we're talking about.

does this tinfoil hat make my butt look big?

It's hard for me not to assume the worst, even in the best of times.

Now? Is not the best of times.

So it's especially challenging not to read negativity in all the tea leaves of life right now. If someone doesn't like my picture or comment on something I post, it's hard not to read into it. Sure, it could just be that they weren't on social media when I posted it and it got buried in their feed. But it could also be a silent indication of their feelings toward me. Maybe they're angry, maybe they don't like me anymore, maybe I've done something to offend them.... who knows. It just feels impossible not to assume the worst of every perceived action/inaction at the moment.

This isn't necessarily a new thing for me, but again, I'm hyper aware right now. I've got an extra tall tinfoil hat and I'm picking up signals loud and clear. The problem is I can't tell where the signal is coming from... the call could be, as they say, COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE!!

And part of it is I'm amped up and anxious about other things, as you might imagine. So rather than focus on what's really got me in knots, I think my brain is opting for less important (but still stressful) things to fret about in a piss poor attempt at self preservation. Hey brain... LESS IS MORE.

Though, I can't really blame my brain too much. I think anyone would feel at least a little out of sorts going through this kind of crisis. And it's just made more difficult by the fact that I feel like everything I do is wrong. When someone you love basically tells you that you're unbearable you begin to question your entire life. You feel like the things you like are wrong, your feelings are wrong, your opinions are wrong... that the things you believed are lies, that your fears are real and even admitting that feels wrong! Maybe I shouldn't be talking about it. Maybe talking about it makes me awful, proves their point, maybe my anxiety validates their narrative.

Then again? Nobody's perfect. And the thing about narratives is just like signals, they can get a little warped. There's all kinds of shit out there gumming up the system, twisting the truth, erasing the parts of the story to make it easier to swallow. And I don't want to play the victim or the villain. I'm not perfect, I'm so sorry, and I am a work in progress. But that doesn't make me a bad person. If someone isn't honest, how do you learn from your mistakes? If you don't share how you're feeling, how will people know what you need? I'm not a mind reader, and I can't expect others to be mind readers either.

Hindsight is always 20/20. I'm trying to remind myself of that to keep me from beating myself up too much about things from the past. Things I've done, things I didn't pick up on, things that are only starting to make sense. But also as a reminder than someday in the future (when all's well), I will look back on this time and understand more why it happened.

For now I will try to tune out the negative channels the radio in my head loves to play. It isn't easy to get the positive stations to come in clearly, and even when I hear them it's not always easy to believe... but I'm trying. On this dark and stormy night, hunkered down with my old pooch and the whirring of snow blowers, I will listen for the faint little whispers of positivity. And when I hear it, I will do my best to chase away the negative voice that tries to drowned it out. I will also knit and eat toast. And that's okay too.
Tomorrow Everest.... or... at least a holiday party.

moving

I hate moving.

I don't mean moving my body (although... exercise hasn't exactly been my thing as of late either), I mean the act of moving from one home to the next. Packing, sorting, carrying, cleaning, unpacking, reorganizing.... the whole experience is one I find miserable.

In a way, it should feel good. I inevitably toss a lot when I move. I find myself distinctly unsentimental when faced with the prospect of having to carry a box of stuff that sure, might be nice to hang on to.... if only I didn't have to lug it around. But tossing stuff and lightening the load is therapeutic-almost zen- in away, even if you're mostly doing it for non-zen reasons. NAMASTE, BITCHES.

This particular move, though, is especially tough for a number a reasons.

I said when we moved here that I wanted to come out of this house for the last time in a coffin. I didn't ever want to have to pack, sort, carry, clean, unpack etc etc ever again. I wanted to die of old age in this place and be done with the moving process.

I love it here. Over the past 17 months this has become my safe space. The spot where I hide when things are too much. The comfortable place where I can be myself and leave my socks on the floor near the couch. Where I have my own bathroom where I can tink and then not flush the toilet if I don't feel like it.

It was a mile stone. After years of being together and renting or living with family, we finally got a place. We did it all ourselves. After struggling and saving and searching and almost and maybe and then finally. The perfect little place. Craft room. Record room. Dog pictures everywhere. Video game systems galore and plants to tend to. All our things under our own roof. But in this divorce, in this resolution of marriage, even my safe space is going away.

Honestly it's felt less safe with him gone. Empty and quiet and like I'm somehow an intruder. Like I'm just house sitting until the owners get back. Except the people coming here aren't coming back, they're coming for the first time. This might be their first home, or a downsize, or an upgrade- who knows. The point is, it already doesn't feel like mine.

But as hard as packing, sorting blah blah blah is- it also means a new beginning. This wasn't a beginning I was planning, it's not even a beginning I want (because the end it comes after is my worst nightmare), and beginnings are scary. The first steps into the unknown. Still... newness and beginnings as hard as they are can also be the start of wonderful things. Friendships or opportunities or adventure. And sure, my idea of adventure may not be as exciting as someone else's, and maybe I need to insulate my adventure with a night of watching Doctor Who or knitting... just something familiar and quiet and routine.... but adventure nonetheless.

I will be brave this year, and hopefully the next and the next and the next. I will bravely face my fears and demons, bravely own my faults and shortcomings, bravely strive for greatness, admit weakness and ask for help. Somewhere out there, there is peace and happiness for me. I will need to be brave to find it.

To quote from Doctor Who: "Let me be brave."


Even little Dash is ready to face the big, big world.

Forward.

2017- the year of bravery and therapy and drugs, oh my!

So, I think we can agree- 2016 was a dumpster fire, inside a coal factory fire inside a nuclear reactor.... that was also on fire.

Some of my very favorite people on earth left- David Bowie, Alan Rickman, Prince, Gene Wilder, Carrie Fisher.... just to name a few. Even worse- my husband also left, which of course is the hardest loss of all. He left without warning, without even the consideration of therapy and things have gone from bad to worse. Every time I think this is the bottom... the bottom falls out again and there I am, further down the rabbit hole.

I'm not saying I've been perfect. Far from it. And I'm not going to get into all the specifics because they don't matter. Not for someone reading this, and not even, really, for me. I haven't been given much information or much of an explanation and I desperately want it. But in the end, this is happening regardless. So I will continue to advocate for myself and ask the questions I want to ask and insist upon fairness, regardless of the brick wall I may meet. And I will treat this as I have treated the other losses of the year. As a sad, untimely death. The death of a relationship that wasn't perfect but was really, really good in so many ways. The death of a friendship, the death of my favorite person... a person I am now not sure exists.

I have spent the end of 2016 not sleeping, not eating and being consumed by fear, guilt, feelings of failure and inadequacy and horrible grief. I started out from a rough spot- deeply depressed, lacking even a hint of self confidence and feeling like a fat, old boring waste of space. So my jumping off point for this devastating life change was, not to put to fine a point on it, FUCKING TERRIBLE.

Despite this, I plan to endure.
I will go to work. I will go to therapy and take my medicine. I will spend time with people who care about me (and try not to worry that maybe they don't actually like me but they're just saying they do). I will spoil my dog rotten. I will try to remember that even though I am a work in progress I am lovable as is RIGHT NOW. All my imperfections and eccentricities do not exclude me from being loved. And when I am able to improve upon myself it will just make me more lovable. I will strive to leave the past in the past and not fear the unknown future. I will go explore new beaches. I will take a long overdue trip to Salem. I will find a dog friendly hotel somewhere up north and spend a weekend ordering room service, reading, writing, snuggling my dog and finding a little place to hike and explore. I will find a way to somehow thank the people who have helped me in this daunting, seemingly unsurvivable process. I will be ok. Broken, picking up pieces, nursing wounds, really, really sad and really, really scared..... but I will be ok. And I won't hope for 2017 to be better, but I will actively seek to make it so! (Yes, that is a star trek reference. WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE ME?)

This little guy needs me. I won't let him down.

Forward. Bravely.

jess