FEELING MIGHTY LIKE ONE AGE-OLD SISSY...
Well, last night was a killer. I was terribly down all yesterday. Recently, the feeling of abandonment and solitude, actual or impending, has occasionally washed over me with absolutely terrifying force, continues to wash over me in great waves. I have cried in the car, sobbed in church, and... yesterday I went to a wonderful lecture on Rembrandt late in the afternoon, but it started late, and I found myself sitting in the darkened auditorium for almost half an hour, moaning quietly. I’m not particularly “ready for prime-time” these days in any case, but put me in the dark with my own thoughts, and it can get really ugly. As in 
church, I think that the ambient conversation level was high enough that no one noticed, but who knows? Certainly the three very cheerful gay men immediately to my left might have wondered what the hell
was up, especially after I let my head fall into my hands and let it all wash over me. I had no more strength to resist, at all. In another, parallel universe I would have turned to the guys on my left and spoken lightly, introduced myself. But I have bound myself not to speak to anyone about my story except those who already know it, and I had no way of knowing whether I could stay on the surface when everything about them called out to what was welling up from far below it..
So, dinner went OK, one of our favorite low-effort, low-clean-up, low-cost treats; we had gone shopping the day before, and I lost her in the super-market. My reaction was not a three-year-old’s panic, but a slow, rising certainty that I needed to find her, that I could not bear the thought, say, of this being the last time we would go shopping together, the last time we would find each other after being separated – I suddenly thought that a separation would mean an endless parade of things being done together for the last time, and it seemed like more than I could really bear contemplating.
church, I think that the ambient conversation level was high enough that no one noticed, but who knows? Certainly the three very cheerful gay men immediately to my left might have wondered what the hell
was up, especially after I let my head fall into my hands and let it all wash over me. I had no more strength to resist, at all. In another, parallel universe I would have turned to the guys on my left and spoken lightly, introduced myself. But I have bound myself not to speak to anyone about my story except those who already know it, and I had no way of knowing whether I could stay on the surface when everything about them called out to what was welling up from far below it..
So, dinner went OK, one of our favorite low-effort, low-clean-up, low-cost treats; we had gone shopping the day before, and I lost her in the super-market. My reaction was not a three-year-old’s panic, but a slow, rising certainty that I needed to find her, that I could not bear the thought, say, of this being the last time we would go shopping together, the last time we would find each other after being separated – I suddenly thought that a separation would mean an endless parade of things being done together for the last time, and it seemed like more than I could really bear contemplating.
So what I said at dinner that night was: What do I have to do so that you are willing for us to stay married? Because I feel that I can’t take any steps that jeopardize that in the long run. So that set the tone for the discussion at dinner. Even though we were talking about what might happen in the event that we separated. How could I do this to my mother? My mother will side with you, if there are sides. My whole family will side with you, if there are sides. All families will side with you, if there are sides... But meanwhile, the tension between what I had expressed the day before and what had “risen up to bite me in the ass” that day was rising...
Fast forward to me in bed, having taken the depth charges that are supposed to let me sleep through the night and take care of the scattered nature of my thinking during the day [great combo, huh?], and what welled up from within me was that since coming out to myself, since coming out to her, since beginning to be really honest with both of us, since breaking off the compartmentalization, since deciding that her statement that she had never heard anyone else speak with such self-loathing meant I had to rescue myself, since all those moments “then”, sometimes my longing for a man just wells up from deep inside and obliterates every other emotion in its path. And that while it is certainly sexual, it is by no means primarily or even mostly sexual. What I don’t seem to be able to convey in a convincing way, especially as I am being sucked down into a black whirlpool of sleepy bliss, is that there is no difference in what I said both evenings: they are both true, and they exist side by side all the time, and that is why I feel that I am being torn apart cell by cell, that every piece of me is at war with itself, from heart and soul to liver and lights, right on down to the mitochondria, if I even have any left at this point. And that is what confuses and confounds her.
So why am I pissing on our last days together? Not because I want to, but because some things are just so overpowering that they force utterance, for better or worse [worse, usually, in my case]. I will pull in my horns, and after “Roz” leaves Friday afternoon, I will concentrate on just being there for her and not stirring anything up until noon on Monday. I think I can do that much for three days. The smile may get a little locked-up, but I think I can find a way. I have to start letting her know it’s really OK to leave for two months at some point, and she is long past listening to anything I say about it at the moment. She has eyes, and I had better be prepared to prepare for them... 
So wish me luck. Stick with me.
And if you do that prayer thing,
remember me.
Troll,
ReplyDeleteYou're such a tortured soul, I wish there were some way to help and bring you comfort if only temporary. I also feel in some ways you've made a big wall around yourself. A wall that protects what you have, but, also blocks out the thing that brings you happiness. You should be weary of making these walls that you know will make you unhappy and miserable in the future. (I think this promise of not talking is one of them.) You didn't know, but now you do.
There is something very tragic about your (and the others) situation that I'm still thinking about but am trying to find the words...as an outside observer, it might not make sense to you on the inside, I've hit a wall on what to say although there's a really good anonymous blog to Drew recently that captures it partially?
I guess, in general, like I've said in other post is this. You need to learn to accept this feeling of being alone. In many ways you ARE alone, EVEN when your wife is right next to you. You are suffering alone and are alone with your feelings. Don't be afraid of those feelings, embrace them because that is the real you there.
The fear won't necessarily go away, but you have to learn how to cope with it and find whatever happiness is there, because there is happiness in you and around you. It's a feeling of being in prison, but this is a prison many others share (although the reasons are not all the same.) You will often find happiness by bringing happiness to those around you. I've learned that trick in my dark days, when I felt depressed, I searched for someone to make happy, perhaps a stranger who just needed help or a kind word. Let it bring you comfort when it's darkest for you. If you can't feel happy, there's no reason you can't add to the happiness that is lacking in the world.
You are smart, creative and fully capable of bringing happiness and love to the others lost in the world. We are all struggling in this world together. Make this work be your prayer that will bring you some comfort (at least for now.) Something to try and see if it works -you can work through this somehow I think. JB
JB:
ReplyDeleteto be honest, you are the last person I expected to hear THAT from... Well, well, well.
I won't attempt to argue away the truth you tell; I know it only too well. What you are missing, and what I am apparently mourning in advance, is what grows from communal life. We are NOT alone once we enter relationship; twenty years of shared life creates a spirit of its own, a sometimes palpable thing within a household. And it is NOT a prison.
Shattering that is one thing I cannot but hesitate to do, as is depriving my children of ONE home.
That is not to say that I won't do it, we both seem to accept at this point that for good or ill, there is no other way "out", but it does mean that the price is exorbitant. If the price of maintaining the peace within the wall is maintaining the wall for a few months, I am willing to take it on for the sake of peace.
God knows I have done little enough in recent memory to make peace rather than disturb it.
But thank you for your kind words.
I am, "out" or not,
probably destined to be a
Tortured Troll
Bear has some good points which I can expand upon. Erik Erickson, a psychologist, broke down our lives into stages of Psychosocial Development. Stage 7 is Generativity vs. Stagnation for ages 24-64. This stage focuses on concern for future generations vs self-concern and self-centered introspection.
ReplyDeleteSo here is some "psycho-babble" for today: get involved and mentor someone younger. Volunteer to help someone else. Isn't that what we are doing via the blogs anyway...online support?
I am not a doctor, but you may be depressed too. Maybe? Only you can know for certain....Most doctors will prescribe antidepressants but at a low therapeutic level. I would suggest seeing a psychiatrist if you feel that medications would help.
BTW - Gock toned down the background on my blog as per your request. I'm glad he did it as I was clueless.
Investing in others lives is what I find personally rewarding. You may also but at a different level. We are social creatures by habit. We tend to need others. The need of Belonging is listed third in Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs behind physiological and safety needs. We have an innate need to be loved and cared for....even for a Troll!
Have a great weekend!