I think that I'm over this, that the worst of the devastating pain is past. And then things hit me, sharp and intense, and it's all fresh again, fresh as that night.
I was going through papers. I thought that I'd been through all the visa papers, but of course not. There was a whole additional folder, Michael's birth certificate... all the things we so carefully organized... everything from those days. The transfer of deed to this house to both of our names. All of the things that were bright and shiny and hopeful six years ago.
And I just want to say...
I forget sometimes how much I loved you, and how angry I am at you, and how sad. I think that I can do things that keep the core of that connection between us, like wearing your ring. And it feels right for a while, but then it's this again, the pain and the horror and the anger. I loved you. I didn't do everything right those last months, but I never stopped loving you, not really. I was just so desperate, and I couldn't breathe, and I didn't want to drown. I would give anything to make you understand these things... not to bring you back, not to go back to an impossible past, but to make you understand, to wrap you in that love, to say goodbye properly. Except that's the problem. I couldn't say goodbye to you; I couldn't stay so close and still let you go.
These games I play with other people are just that. They're the diversion from the real thing, and the real thing is this endless pain. The real thing has always been you.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Adderal Day One
I just want to note this here, so I have a reminder.
And ugh, I feel like shit, although I don't think it's the drug per se; I think that it's pushing myself and doing things that I don't want to do, and the awfulness that results from anything that still has Michael's name on it, and trying to talk to people about it. I fall apart every fucking time. EVERY time.
I think that I'm over this stuff, that it's "better" now. And in a way, it is... I am feeling myself come back, if that makes sense. But with that, so much sense of loss, of me, of the time, of the good parts of Michael. All of it is heartbreaking, in the most literal sense.
I would not be who I am today without this, and except for the deep, bitter scars, who I am is not so bad. Pretty damn good. But it's a hell of a price to pay.
I want to be diverted, to do something that makes me feel crazy happy. But I don't feel like I can just call Tim, and he's my crazy happy thing. All the rest of it is just crazy.
And ugh, I feel like shit, although I don't think it's the drug per se; I think that it's pushing myself and doing things that I don't want to do, and the awfulness that results from anything that still has Michael's name on it, and trying to talk to people about it. I fall apart every fucking time. EVERY time.
I think that I'm over this stuff, that it's "better" now. And in a way, it is... I am feeling myself come back, if that makes sense. But with that, so much sense of loss, of me, of the time, of the good parts of Michael. All of it is heartbreaking, in the most literal sense.
I would not be who I am today without this, and except for the deep, bitter scars, who I am is not so bad. Pretty damn good. But it's a hell of a price to pay.
I want to be diverted, to do something that makes me feel crazy happy. But I don't feel like I can just call Tim, and he's my crazy happy thing. All the rest of it is just crazy.
Closer to free
There's this person who I am in my heart, and she is amazing and free and beautiful and confident and so many other things, And sometimes I can almost touch her. I could yesterday at the gym, when I was on the elliptical, and the music was cranked,, and I was unstoppable.
But then there are the moments when I know I'm nowhere near her. Like now, when I'm checking and rechecking email because I haven't heard from someone who really shouldn't be emailing me anyway. I am being squirrely about a friendship that I don't even care about. If it vanished tomorrow, I'd be probably a little put out, but mostly relieved. It's diversion, diversion from my head, diversion from attaching myself to Tim (or anyone else). But yet I see myself in the mire of wanting and waiting and all the things that keep me from free, keep me from being that person I can see in my head.
It's time to get the hell off the computer and go to the gym.
But then there are the moments when I know I'm nowhere near her. Like now, when I'm checking and rechecking email because I haven't heard from someone who really shouldn't be emailing me anyway. I am being squirrely about a friendship that I don't even care about. If it vanished tomorrow, I'd be probably a little put out, but mostly relieved. It's diversion, diversion from my head, diversion from attaching myself to Tim (or anyone else). But yet I see myself in the mire of wanting and waiting and all the things that keep me from free, keep me from being that person I can see in my head.
It's time to get the hell off the computer and go to the gym.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Breathing
I wake up with a guy in my bed... I talk to Impossible Guy who I like on the phone... and I think, for a moment, maybe I would like to have a relationship again. A real relationship, not one with someone who is impossible for one reason or another. Someone to wake up with and go to bed with, someone to plan with, someone to share with.
And then something happens, and I remember things like panicking because I left my phone at home, and I couldn't be contacted. Rushing home from the little fair that my niece and I went to last summer because Michael was freaking out about something. Always worrying that something was in the way, on the floor, somewhere he might step and trip. Being worried all the time about his displeasure.
Until I stopped worrying about it. And he thought I'd changed, and maybe I had, but really, I'd just reached the end of my rope. The fine thing strands of fiber, and I couldn't do it any more, simply couldn't. I'd give so much to be able to wrap my arms around him again and really explain it, instead of the stupid shouting. But he couldn't understand, wouldn't understand, whatever. I wish that he had not been so sad. I wish that he could have understood. I wish that he could know how much I loved him, still love him, will always love him.
But I think about it, and I can't breathe. I think about anyone living with me, and I can't breathe. I think about having to be accountable to anyone, and I can't breathe.
I might want someone else, might want that desperately, might hate the idea of alone forever. But it would take a hell of a lot to be able to make any different choice. I think I've only hit the tip of the iceberg of how much damage there is.
On a tangent note... tonight I kissed someone who was Not Tim. It was ok. It had potential. But it made me realize that the attraction to Tim isn't just OMG sex. There's a real chemistry there that's amazing and powerful. Which is a little scary, really, because I still say all the same things. This is not a long-term guy. But... well, he sure as hell is something else. For the moment.
And then something happens, and I remember things like panicking because I left my phone at home, and I couldn't be contacted. Rushing home from the little fair that my niece and I went to last summer because Michael was freaking out about something. Always worrying that something was in the way, on the floor, somewhere he might step and trip. Being worried all the time about his displeasure.
Until I stopped worrying about it. And he thought I'd changed, and maybe I had, but really, I'd just reached the end of my rope. The fine thing strands of fiber, and I couldn't do it any more, simply couldn't. I'd give so much to be able to wrap my arms around him again and really explain it, instead of the stupid shouting. But he couldn't understand, wouldn't understand, whatever. I wish that he had not been so sad. I wish that he could have understood. I wish that he could know how much I loved him, still love him, will always love him.
But I think about it, and I can't breathe. I think about anyone living with me, and I can't breathe. I think about having to be accountable to anyone, and I can't breathe.
I might want someone else, might want that desperately, might hate the idea of alone forever. But it would take a hell of a lot to be able to make any different choice. I think I've only hit the tip of the iceberg of how much damage there is.
On a tangent note... tonight I kissed someone who was Not Tim. It was ok. It had potential. But it made me realize that the attraction to Tim isn't just OMG sex. There's a real chemistry there that's amazing and powerful. Which is a little scary, really, because I still say all the same things. This is not a long-term guy. But... well, he sure as hell is something else. For the moment.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Thinking
Tim was here last night. Very much wine, and very little sleep. Also a lot of sitting outside and talking while he smoked. The smoking thing is annoying. The trouble is, I like this guy so much, but what I like is more about me than him. I like having the company. I like the way he feels next to me. I like the obvious attraction between us. But I do not like a lot of the intrinsic stuff about who he is. His life is about smoke and drink and getting up and going to work the next day. And there's nothing wrong with that in general, but there's a lot wrong for someone who I want to care about.
Not that I want to care. More that I want to be cared about, and I'm not sure that he's great at that, either. Part of my wants to be loved so badly, needed, cared about. And I'm being offered that elsewhere, probably, but that this is conditional, on the side, on limited terms. Which might be exactly what I want for now. But as the basis for what the rest of my life looks like? I don't know.
And I think that's truly what I'm looking for, some idea of the shape of forever. I don't think that I can have that, truly. Impermanence. I don't think that there's a cookie-cutter than I can fit myself into that is going to show me... whatever. The future shape of Nina. How these things will fit in. Tim. Tim and time, something like that. Tim and time, and my other friend who is more and less of what I want, all at the same time. And the part of me that wants desperately to be in a committed relationship, because there is that part, however much I'd like to pretend otherwise. And the part of me that would run a million miles from the possibility.
I just want something so much today. Some of it is to show off, I think, to say, look at me, I can drink and smoke and fuck like a teenager. Still. There's a part of me that recognizes the Nina of many years ago, and wants to be that person, but happier and freer. There's a part of me who is not that person at all any more. Someone bruised and damaged who needs love and caring in a sad and desperate way. And I'm not sure how to get either of us, an of us, what we want.
I am not sure who I am, without Michael. It's not that I need him to be me, but for so long, he was the center of my life, my best friend, my husband, the gravitational pull that kept me in orbit. An unstable orbit, as it turns out, but still, an orbit. I miss him, in a way. And not, in other ways. But on a day like this... and on a night like yesterday... I feel his absence acutely.
Not that I want to care. More that I want to be cared about, and I'm not sure that he's great at that, either. Part of my wants to be loved so badly, needed, cared about. And I'm being offered that elsewhere, probably, but that this is conditional, on the side, on limited terms. Which might be exactly what I want for now. But as the basis for what the rest of my life looks like? I don't know.
And I think that's truly what I'm looking for, some idea of the shape of forever. I don't think that I can have that, truly. Impermanence. I don't think that there's a cookie-cutter than I can fit myself into that is going to show me... whatever. The future shape of Nina. How these things will fit in. Tim. Tim and time, something like that. Tim and time, and my other friend who is more and less of what I want, all at the same time. And the part of me that wants desperately to be in a committed relationship, because there is that part, however much I'd like to pretend otherwise. And the part of me that would run a million miles from the possibility.
I just want something so much today. Some of it is to show off, I think, to say, look at me, I can drink and smoke and fuck like a teenager. Still. There's a part of me that recognizes the Nina of many years ago, and wants to be that person, but happier and freer. There's a part of me who is not that person at all any more. Someone bruised and damaged who needs love and caring in a sad and desperate way. And I'm not sure how to get either of us, an of us, what we want.
I am not sure who I am, without Michael. It's not that I need him to be me, but for so long, he was the center of my life, my best friend, my husband, the gravitational pull that kept me in orbit. An unstable orbit, as it turns out, but still, an orbit. I miss him, in a way. And not, in other ways. But on a day like this... and on a night like yesterday... I feel his absence acutely.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Things I am saying here so I don't say them elsewhere
"I'm happy that you're coming."
"I think about you a lot, in a happy kind of way."
"This texting thing is making me anxious and teenager-like."
"I don't want to be involved with you, but I'd like to figure out the boundaries of friends. I'd like to have our lives a little more comfy and connected so I know where I stand, even though in some sense, it doesn't matter all that much to me."
"Because it does a little."
"Although honestly, it's mostly that you're great in bed, and there was a point where I never thought I'd have a sex life again."
"I think about you a lot, in a happy kind of way."
"This texting thing is making me anxious and teenager-like."
"I don't want to be involved with you, but I'd like to figure out the boundaries of friends. I'd like to have our lives a little more comfy and connected so I know where I stand, even though in some sense, it doesn't matter all that much to me."
"Because it does a little."
"Although honestly, it's mostly that you're great in bed, and there was a point where I never thought I'd have a sex life again."
The Feeling
I'm sitting here this morning listening to music, unusual enough. And listening to The Feeling, the band I discovered in a taxi the last time I came home from England alone. March of 2006, I think. This album hadn't even been released yet, just the EP. And I listened hard, and wrote the name down, and found it. I love this album so much.
And I love sitting here by myself and drinking my tea, and it's quiet and semi-clean. I'm getting things done, and I'm thinking some happy thoughts about Tim and the weekend, and things seem, if not ok, just for this moment manageable.
But listening to this music... I want so badly to be able to take everything that's happened and put it in place, sort it neatly into a file. I was so happy sitting in that taxi. We'd gone to London to the US Embassy to deal with the paperwork and visa interview, and although hideously hard for Michael, we did it, and everything was clear to go. I'd come back in a month to fly back with him, and then we'd be married.
I wish I could freeze time right there.
We were happy and eager and everything was falling into place. It was all going to work, everything we'd seen through to that point, the visa and the packing and sale of the house, and just getting Michael to move on... all of it. He was going to come here, and he was going to love Jonathan, and we were going to live happily ever after. And get well.
It seemed like everything went wrong from the first night in America. That's a little bit of an exaggeration; there were some damn good times. But that night, when everything went wrong at the airport, and then I spent 7 hours driving a sullen, miserable person up here... it was like the emblem for everything that would come after; him not being able to control his temper/whatever, and me trying to appease him and coax him out of the sullens. I wish I'd never done that, not even once. I wish that when we had that huge fight about whatever it was, and he locked himself in the bedroom and said he was going back... I wish that I'd just let that play out. I have this idea that it would have changed the dynamics of everything, for better or for worse.
Oh, Michael. We could have been so happy... maybe. I don't absolve myself of blame, but you know, I'm not hard. You just throw a little love at me and keep things peaceful, and I'm pretty ok. I loved you, maybe not in all the ways that we needed, but I loved you for so long and so hard. And I miss you, although I can't allow myself to think of missing you, of the ways that things were once. The only shred of that which I'm allowed to remember is lying in bed at night holding your hand. Just that.
But anyway. But anyway, I want to put it all in a file box and sort it out and label it all so I know what it means. And then I want to listen to this music and dance alone and not cry.
And I love sitting here by myself and drinking my tea, and it's quiet and semi-clean. I'm getting things done, and I'm thinking some happy thoughts about Tim and the weekend, and things seem, if not ok, just for this moment manageable.
But listening to this music... I want so badly to be able to take everything that's happened and put it in place, sort it neatly into a file. I was so happy sitting in that taxi. We'd gone to London to the US Embassy to deal with the paperwork and visa interview, and although hideously hard for Michael, we did it, and everything was clear to go. I'd come back in a month to fly back with him, and then we'd be married.
I wish I could freeze time right there.
We were happy and eager and everything was falling into place. It was all going to work, everything we'd seen through to that point, the visa and the packing and sale of the house, and just getting Michael to move on... all of it. He was going to come here, and he was going to love Jonathan, and we were going to live happily ever after. And get well.
It seemed like everything went wrong from the first night in America. That's a little bit of an exaggeration; there were some damn good times. But that night, when everything went wrong at the airport, and then I spent 7 hours driving a sullen, miserable person up here... it was like the emblem for everything that would come after; him not being able to control his temper/whatever, and me trying to appease him and coax him out of the sullens. I wish I'd never done that, not even once. I wish that when we had that huge fight about whatever it was, and he locked himself in the bedroom and said he was going back... I wish that I'd just let that play out. I have this idea that it would have changed the dynamics of everything, for better or for worse.
Oh, Michael. We could have been so happy... maybe. I don't absolve myself of blame, but you know, I'm not hard. You just throw a little love at me and keep things peaceful, and I'm pretty ok. I loved you, maybe not in all the ways that we needed, but I loved you for so long and so hard. And I miss you, although I can't allow myself to think of missing you, of the ways that things were once. The only shred of that which I'm allowed to remember is lying in bed at night holding your hand. Just that.
But anyway. But anyway, I want to put it all in a file box and sort it out and label it all so I know what it means. And then I want to listen to this music and dance alone and not cry.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)