Well, the papers were filed last Friday, on to the fun bits….
Ironically I have been to two weddings this year. I realize that that is not really a high number per-se, but I honestly can’t remember the last one I attended. It is, therefore even more of an odd thing to be here (yes, I am working at a wedding rehearsal the very evening we filed for divorce), watching them prepare, and remembering my own wedding. That this is surreal is an understatement…. More like an out-of-body experience. I can see now how naive I was then… ignorant of what it was we were doing. It makes me curious to know what this couple’s expectations are. On one hand it is very easy to envy their position, young, in love, committing to forever be one. No one knows what will actually come of it, but today is not for thinking about that, today I will enjoy the thought that they will grow old together, watch their children find their way… pathetically romantic I know, but I am at a fucking wedding as a marriage begins, and feeling one end; I can be as delusional as I like.
Marriage is unquestionably the hardest thing I have ever done. As much as there are good times, there is also the constant struggle to find a way to move forward. Granted I am not the most objective voice on the matter; God knows that jaded doesn’t really do my perspective any real justice right now. I wrote in an earlier post about getting off of my “painkillers”, about letting myself feel my way through this.
That seemed like a good idea at the time.
The reality is that this hurts. It hurts like hell. It’s a very bizarre feeling to be in this much pain over the ending of a relationship that has for all intensive purposes been over for a long time, but that spanned more than a third of my life. The finality of it is a carefully drawn two-edged sword; delivering both relief and misery. Having closure to our dissatisfaction is relieving for sure… spending 15 min convincing my son that I am not disappearing in the next five min is another sensation entirely. Having to look at all of my children and know that I in a pretty short amount of time I won’t be coming home to them, I won’t be there to put them back in bed when its stormy -that is misery worthy of Mr. Poe.
Monday, October 27
Tuesday, October 21
Monday, October 20
"You looked like a princess the night we met
With your hair piled up high
I will never forget.
I'm drunk right now baby,
But I've got to be
Or I never could tell you
What you meant to me"
- Randy Neuman, “Marie”
There are times that you need a push.. Something to kick you right to the edge, just so you know how far it is you are about to fall. Whisky works well. For some it is wine… For me it is single malt scotch; preferably with a nicotine chaser. If you play it right you get to that place: drunk enough where honesty cuts through, sober enough to know it isn’t just the alcohol talking.
I spoke to a friend of mine today that I haven’t seen in a long time. It was great to reconnect, and it was in a strange way comforting to hear that the human condition plays no favorites. Pain is pain and we all deal with it in our own way; making, as the poet so eloquently said: “too many compromises to make it through the day”. Life didn’t start out that way for any of us. So full of promise, placing our hope in an ideal, latching onto the fantasy that says life is all love and happiness. Don’t misunderstand; it isn’t wrong to want that, its just not realistic to think that you are walking into a fairytale. I know that sounds incredibly jaded, and more than likely, depressing. That is not the intent… it is just to point out that fantasy gets in the way of reality, not the other way around. There comes a time when we realize that regardless what we thought our lives would be, they are what they are, and no amount of wishing is going to change that. It can change, but positive change is never a passive event. It takes work; apparently that is where character comes from… (Hopefully a cool character, like Mr. Pink, and not some schmuck like Brandon Walsh….) I wrote earlier about painkillers, the analogy holds true here. I have spent the last few weeks wondering why/how I haven’t really felt anything about this divorce and I am finally waking up to the reason – Painkillers. Not pills (although not entirely a bad idea… ) Its easy to let my heart wander, hell, at this point I think it isn’t even have to wander, it remembers where to go. Cutting these off is not something I am anxious for, but I know I’m won’t have any idea what the pain level here in the real world will be until I do… The struggles this life offers up are just footnotes in our story, we choose weather they will help shape us or if they will define us. One is inevitable, the other isn’t. I need tofeel it now before I shove it down low enough that it grows roots.. Time belly up to the bar I suppose.… Well, at least that’s what I am thinking after my third glass of scotch.
Character. Integrity, Honesty. Faith. All three are cornerstones. For some ingenious reason, I seem to have decided to settle at hypocrisy. I probably should have gone the way of stupidity so that I wouldn’t have to have knowledge of that. The bliss of ignorance really sounds like a nice break.
With your hair piled up high
I will never forget.
I'm drunk right now baby,
But I've got to be
Or I never could tell you
What you meant to me"
- Randy Neuman, “Marie”
There are times that you need a push.. Something to kick you right to the edge, just so you know how far it is you are about to fall. Whisky works well. For some it is wine… For me it is single malt scotch; preferably with a nicotine chaser. If you play it right you get to that place: drunk enough where honesty cuts through, sober enough to know it isn’t just the alcohol talking.
I spoke to a friend of mine today that I haven’t seen in a long time. It was great to reconnect, and it was in a strange way comforting to hear that the human condition plays no favorites. Pain is pain and we all deal with it in our own way; making, as the poet so eloquently said: “too many compromises to make it through the day”. Life didn’t start out that way for any of us. So full of promise, placing our hope in an ideal, latching onto the fantasy that says life is all love and happiness. Don’t misunderstand; it isn’t wrong to want that, its just not realistic to think that you are walking into a fairytale. I know that sounds incredibly jaded, and more than likely, depressing. That is not the intent… it is just to point out that fantasy gets in the way of reality, not the other way around. There comes a time when we realize that regardless what we thought our lives would be, they are what they are, and no amount of wishing is going to change that. It can change, but positive change is never a passive event. It takes work; apparently that is where character comes from… (Hopefully a cool character, like Mr. Pink, and not some schmuck like Brandon Walsh….) I wrote earlier about painkillers, the analogy holds true here. I have spent the last few weeks wondering why/how I haven’t really felt anything about this divorce and I am finally waking up to the reason – Painkillers. Not pills (although not entirely a bad idea… ) Its easy to let my heart wander, hell, at this point I think it isn’t even have to wander, it remembers where to go. Cutting these off is not something I am anxious for, but I know I’m won’t have any idea what the pain level here in the real world will be until I do… The struggles this life offers up are just footnotes in our story, we choose weather they will help shape us or if they will define us. One is inevitable, the other isn’t. I need tofeel it now before I shove it down low enough that it grows roots.. Time belly up to the bar I suppose.… Well, at least that’s what I am thinking after my third glass of scotch.
Character. Integrity, Honesty. Faith. All three are cornerstones. For some ingenious reason, I seem to have decided to settle at hypocrisy. I probably should have gone the way of stupidity so that I wouldn’t have to have knowledge of that. The bliss of ignorance really sounds like a nice break.
Friday, October 17
The water is boiling, and I can’t feel a sound.
We have all heard the story about what happens when you place a frog in a pot of warm water and slowly rise the temperature… they are unable to detect the gradual change in temperature, and eventually they die a Clive Barker quality death in a boiling vat of water.
Well, truth be told, this is nothing more than an urban myth. The little buggers always jump out.
Why can’t we?
Well, truth be told, this is nothing more than an urban myth. The little buggers always jump out.
Why can’t we?
Thursday, October 16
Feelings…. What a pain in the ass.
I had a bit of an epiphany a few days ago. I have decided to become one of those “sensitive men of the nineties”. You know the sort, all touchy-feely with their Sarah McLachlan cds and black loafers; spreading sunshine and bad philosophy wherever they may roam. What the hell, I may even get a beret. A big flaming red one.
Well, maybe not the beret.
I am however, doing what I can to stop bottling things up. I have worked hard these last few years convincing myself that bad was good that it honestly takes a good deal of effort now to experience reality… how fucked up is that? After all, that is the basis of our humanity, isn’t it? When you stop being honest with yourself, it’s like dying from a thousand little cuts. On their own they don’t amount to much, by the time you see what is happening, it is too late to stop the bleeding. Ten plus years of a failed marriage served well to teach me that. After all that you would think I would at least know what I am about… The reality however is that I do a hell of a lot better with other peoples issues than my own, I always have. Maybe that's because my own are a bit of a mystery to me. Plus, all of the time spent solving everyone else’s problems gives me a multitude of good excuses to not deal with my own. Messiah complex, anyone?
This is actually significantly harder than I envisioned it would be when I hatched this little plan. It’s like I have some sort of emotional atrophy… everything is intact; I just have to learn what they do all over again. And the more they flare up, the less in control I am… my nerve endings exposed, raw… the slightest sensation exaggerated, amplified.
According to my doctor, I have Bi-polar disorder. He may well be correct, the hedonist in me doesn’t like this pain and wants to quit; but the self-loathing I have perfected over the last thirty-odd years won’t let me avoid it. In my world, that’s about as polarized as it gets.
Well, maybe not the beret.
I am however, doing what I can to stop bottling things up. I have worked hard these last few years convincing myself that bad was good that it honestly takes a good deal of effort now to experience reality… how fucked up is that? After all, that is the basis of our humanity, isn’t it? When you stop being honest with yourself, it’s like dying from a thousand little cuts. On their own they don’t amount to much, by the time you see what is happening, it is too late to stop the bleeding. Ten plus years of a failed marriage served well to teach me that. After all that you would think I would at least know what I am about… The reality however is that I do a hell of a lot better with other peoples issues than my own, I always have. Maybe that's because my own are a bit of a mystery to me. Plus, all of the time spent solving everyone else’s problems gives me a multitude of good excuses to not deal with my own. Messiah complex, anyone?
This is actually significantly harder than I envisioned it would be when I hatched this little plan. It’s like I have some sort of emotional atrophy… everything is intact; I just have to learn what they do all over again. And the more they flare up, the less in control I am… my nerve endings exposed, raw… the slightest sensation exaggerated, amplified.
According to my doctor, I have Bi-polar disorder. He may well be correct, the hedonist in me doesn’t like this pain and wants to quit; but the self-loathing I have perfected over the last thirty-odd years won’t let me avoid it. In my world, that’s about as polarized as it gets.
Thursday, October 9
Scar Tissue
I have been torn the last few days, torn between what I think and what I feel. I am not sure how to even express in words what the sensation of that is like; I fell anxious, nervous, ... pensive. Granted, this had been somewhat normal these last weeks, but there is an intensity that is unique, like there are choices to be made, and I am unprepared to make them. I understand more than I have in a long time what I want; I am starting to see the pieces that are missing.
It is a hard thing to actually feel again… for so long I left things bottled up… there was just so much that I didn’t want to deal with, too many things that I didn’t have the strength to face. It just seemed easier to shut down and tell myself I would deal with it all later… then days turned to weeks, and then months... and here I am; fighting to get my life back.
I really don’t know what this all means exactly. I wish I had an answer, that I could make sense of things better. Maybe none of that matters… perhaps I am just being me and over thinking things… I do know that in many ways she amazes me. The way my heart stops beating when I see her, the way my breath catches in my throat at the sound of her voice; nothing has made me feel like that in a long time. Too long. I want to forget about everything and give this a real shot; to find out what if there is anything here, but I am in no shape for that. I need time ... there is too much to be put into order and away from the chaos. I need to remind my self to remember what love is before I try again to love anyone, even myself. Not trying to understand it… that would be futile, but to know its voice, and remember how its hand felt in mine.
Faith and hope are moments away, but the greatest of three eludes me.
”Love will you sail across the water,
and lay your wisdom down?
and love will you sail across the water,
and tell us what you found?
and love will you sail across the water,
and hold us when we drown?”
-Jane Sibbery
Sunday, October 5
the Lust, the Flesh, the Eyes, and the Pride of Life
“Well, I feel
Like I have to feel
Something good all of the time
With most of life I cannot deal
But a good feeling I can feel
Even though it may not be real
And if a person, place or thing can deliver
I will quiver with delight
But will it last me for all my life
Or just one more lonely night
The lust, the flesh
The eyes
And the pride of life
Drain the life
Right out of me”
-Michael Roe
Alright, I have pushed this off for far too long. Life came calling in a big way these last couple weeks and frankly, I use this place mostly as a way to vent my thoughts, and there are a lot of things that I would rather not think about…
All of the upheaval in my life right now is certainly serving to bring up some questions. It has forced me to look at things that I had long since buried and left for dead; it was surprising indeed to find some of them alive and festering. Now, know this about me, I am by no means a subscriber or believer of pop-psychology. There are few things more difficult to me than hearing someone talk about ‘finding themselves” and such. It’s hard for me to come to grips with the fact that I have let too much of what I was cease being what I am; leaving me with a person I basely recognize staring at me when I shave. Regression displacing Evolution. I do not look at this as an excuse for anything; I am no victim in all this. Eventually we all answer for the compromises we make to get through the day… they can’t stay in the box forever. This is where I live. I am trying like all hell right now to find a piece of me that feels… well, that feels real... that feels honest. The thing about that sort of search is that you can’t just go rooting around in your psyche and grab only the thing you want to find… there is no Dewey decimal system no map; not for me anyway. It’s a freaking mess in there… you just have to reach you arm in blind and pull out whatever you contact first, hoping not to get bit in the process.
Good Times.
I have held up a pretty good front through all this (well, in my own head anyway, those who know me would most likely say otherwise), but that is starting to fail. I catch myself thinking too much, un-bottling things that need to stay put for a while longer; I just can’t get into the emotions of all this while I am trying to figure out the logistics. I just can’t let those things out of the box... not if I can help it. The simple fact is that this is leaving a tear in my heart that you could drive a Mack truck through… Not so much the failure of our relationship; that has been coming for a long time (I would venture to say it was here long before I realized it.). Just the finality of it all… it is no small thing to see 11 years of your life get flushed, all the time knowing that simply pressing “reset” isn’t an option; I need to find a way to live life, separate from the one I thought I was growing old with, and maintain a career and a relationship with my children…. The thought of all of that is why the lyric above fits so well for me, things have been fucked up for so long that there are times I just want to be at peace. Like a junkie I yearn for it, and like a junkie I will do whatever it takes to get it….. (If you read my post “Vicodin and Crutches” you will understand what I mean by all that.).
I am not sure (as per usual) what all this leads to. I am walking a bit blind to be honest, just trying to hold the pace and keep as straight a line as I can in the dark. I know the complete son-of-a-bitch I am at a base level, but I have also known grace, and seen the two co-exist. I remember what it was to have a conscience clear ... to not have to think about the wolf at the door, or the painkilers in the drawer… back when my skin was comfortable and I slept without medication. I know there is life there. And I know that I left at least a piece of it in the tangled mess that is my mind…. somewhere…..
it's probably next to my dammed car keys.
Like I have to feel
Something good all of the time
With most of life I cannot deal
But a good feeling I can feel
Even though it may not be real
And if a person, place or thing can deliver
I will quiver with delight
But will it last me for all my life
Or just one more lonely night
The lust, the flesh
The eyes
And the pride of life
Drain the life
Right out of me”
-Michael Roe
Alright, I have pushed this off for far too long. Life came calling in a big way these last couple weeks and frankly, I use this place mostly as a way to vent my thoughts, and there are a lot of things that I would rather not think about…
All of the upheaval in my life right now is certainly serving to bring up some questions. It has forced me to look at things that I had long since buried and left for dead; it was surprising indeed to find some of them alive and festering. Now, know this about me, I am by no means a subscriber or believer of pop-psychology. There are few things more difficult to me than hearing someone talk about ‘finding themselves” and such. It’s hard for me to come to grips with the fact that I have let too much of what I was cease being what I am; leaving me with a person I basely recognize staring at me when I shave. Regression displacing Evolution. I do not look at this as an excuse for anything; I am no victim in all this. Eventually we all answer for the compromises we make to get through the day… they can’t stay in the box forever. This is where I live. I am trying like all hell right now to find a piece of me that feels… well, that feels real... that feels honest. The thing about that sort of search is that you can’t just go rooting around in your psyche and grab only the thing you want to find… there is no Dewey decimal system no map; not for me anyway. It’s a freaking mess in there… you just have to reach you arm in blind and pull out whatever you contact first, hoping not to get bit in the process.
Good Times.
I have held up a pretty good front through all this (well, in my own head anyway, those who know me would most likely say otherwise), but that is starting to fail. I catch myself thinking too much, un-bottling things that need to stay put for a while longer; I just can’t get into the emotions of all this while I am trying to figure out the logistics. I just can’t let those things out of the box... not if I can help it. The simple fact is that this is leaving a tear in my heart that you could drive a Mack truck through… Not so much the failure of our relationship; that has been coming for a long time (I would venture to say it was here long before I realized it.). Just the finality of it all… it is no small thing to see 11 years of your life get flushed, all the time knowing that simply pressing “reset” isn’t an option; I need to find a way to live life, separate from the one I thought I was growing old with, and maintain a career and a relationship with my children…. The thought of all of that is why the lyric above fits so well for me, things have been fucked up for so long that there are times I just want to be at peace. Like a junkie I yearn for it, and like a junkie I will do whatever it takes to get it….. (If you read my post “Vicodin and Crutches” you will understand what I mean by all that.).
I am not sure (as per usual) what all this leads to. I am walking a bit blind to be honest, just trying to hold the pace and keep as straight a line as I can in the dark. I know the complete son-of-a-bitch I am at a base level, but I have also known grace, and seen the two co-exist. I remember what it was to have a conscience clear ... to not have to think about the wolf at the door, or the painkilers in the drawer… back when my skin was comfortable and I slept without medication. I know there is life there. And I know that I left at least a piece of it in the tangled mess that is my mind…. somewhere…..
it's probably next to my dammed car keys.
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