The last month of 2009 cast a long shadow over 2010. Darker and sharply defined in the early part of the year, it grew fainter as the months went by. And sure, there were times when the sunlight broke through, but too many of the days were spent in cold darkness.
There have been times in 2010 when I have been surprised at the kindness of people who owed me absolutely nothing, and who deserved better from me. I have been ashamed of myself, in love with love, proud of my achievements, delighted by children, made new friends, said goodbye to others, wept with joy and sadness, sometimes at the same time. I have longed to be able to turn the clock back, or spin it forward just to not feel, for a second, the almost unbearable loneliness and sorrow of being human. But I've also experienced moments of unbelievable beauty, I've learned things the hard way, and I've found that no matter how wretched I might feel inside, there are people who love me in spite of my failings, and people who don't care that I fail, only that I try, and that I pick myself up when I don't succeed.
And now, as the clock runs out on 2010, and I'm reminded that God's favorite joke is when we pray and tell Him what we're going to do in the future, I think that 2011 can be full of light, color, warmth...that something extraordinary, something magical, is around the corner.
And maybe next year *will* be better than the last.
To everyone who has allowed me to share in their year, or has shared my 2010, I love you.
Dunc.x.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
I wake up strange.
December 13th 2000 was a rainy morning in Newcastle. I remember it well because I spent a chunk of that time in the airport, waiting for a plane to land. I was waiting to see a woman I had spent four months talking with online, on the phone; had spent hours, both waking and sleeping, thinking about; who I would propose to a year later, then marry, betray, disappoint, and ultimately leave.
But sitting in the cab, on the way home, everything was possible, everything was hopeful.
When Jen left, on the 18th, we had stayed up all night, packing and talking. We went in one of those photo booths at the airport, and we were both horrified at how pale and tired we looked, though why we were suprised by that I don't understand. She flew back to Atlanta through Amsterdam, where some of her luggage went missing and was never found.
During that visit, Jen had a disk of MP3s -- the complete Barenaked Ladies up to that point (including Stunt.) I took my Christmas decorations down when she left -- I'd done my celebrating.
Here's BNL performing "What a Good Boy" a couple of months before Steven Page (singing) left the band.
"I wake up scared, I wake up strange. I wake up wondering if anything in my life is ever gonna change. I wake up scared, I wake up strange, and everything around me stays the same..."
Ten years later, I've been listening to Steven Page's first solo album since he left Barenaked Ladies last year -- it's really pretty good. And today I put up some Christmas lights. There's a feeling that things have come full circle -- that some kind of cycle has been completed. And that actually feels good, and even right.
And here's Steven performing Over Joy:
"Where did we fail? It's not simple, there's no trail. We can't trace our steps and sail back where we started. You're not to blame, and it's nothing you can name -- we'll just hang our heads in shame: broken hearted."
December 18th is also another anniversary. In 2002, I was hired into Starbucks. I wonder what happened today that will turn out to be significant. What patterns or cycles did I begin, or end?
It's 4am on Sunday right now. In six hours Jen's mother and her church choir will perform their annual Christmas program. I haven't missed it since I've been here. I won't be at tomorrow's performance. I've talked about Terry before, last year:
"For Terry's (Jen's mother) birthday we compiled a book of memories of friends and relatives, talking about good memories of the lady and what they like best about her. It was a fun thing to compile. People recall the strangest things. It was a little bitter-sweet for her to read, because things that just were what they were all those years ago, viewed with hindsight take on more meaning. The abused childhood friend who remembers hiding from pretend monsters, the long-time friend who remembers Terry's insistently compassionate response when the friend was suddenly widowed, the niece who is so proud to share her name.
My mother-in-law is an amazing lady, who doesn't just touch people's hearts and lives, she hugs them, holds them close, and does it all without asking for anything in return."
She's still that lady, even through the trials of the last year, and I am honored that she and Ray make time to keep up to date with me. They have been amazing through everything that happened with me and Jen, and I'm hoping that 2011 will be a little less stressful than 2010 has been.
Last year, in the middle of the Christmas program, I went out to the bathroom because I needed to pull myself together. I'm not one for saying with certainty that one god is more valid or more real than another, that one faith is a greater truth than another. But standing in the church, watching a couple of hundred people singing together, feeling a completeness that I had never felt, I suddenly realized that they had something I didn't, and they were happy. And I desperately wanted to be happy, and I didn't know how to do that. I stood in the bathroom and cried for a few minutes. Then I washed my face and went back in and enjoyed the rest of the service, but the feeling of being incomplete never left me -- not until pretty recently.
I'm happy now. There have been times this year when I haven't been. There have been times when I thought my happiness would be guaranteed if this happened, or that happened. But now I know that happiness has to be now, it can't depend on some future condition.
It's a week till Christmas, I am loved, I have a great family, and wonderful friends -- and when I think about 2011, I'm pretty sure that the world will find ways to surprise and delight me.
But sitting in the cab, on the way home, everything was possible, everything was hopeful.
When Jen left, on the 18th, we had stayed up all night, packing and talking. We went in one of those photo booths at the airport, and we were both horrified at how pale and tired we looked, though why we were suprised by that I don't understand. She flew back to Atlanta through Amsterdam, where some of her luggage went missing and was never found.
During that visit, Jen had a disk of MP3s -- the complete Barenaked Ladies up to that point (including Stunt.) I took my Christmas decorations down when she left -- I'd done my celebrating.
Here's BNL performing "What a Good Boy" a couple of months before Steven Page (singing) left the band.
"I wake up scared, I wake up strange. I wake up wondering if anything in my life is ever gonna change. I wake up scared, I wake up strange, and everything around me stays the same..."
Ten years later, I've been listening to Steven Page's first solo album since he left Barenaked Ladies last year -- it's really pretty good. And today I put up some Christmas lights. There's a feeling that things have come full circle -- that some kind of cycle has been completed. And that actually feels good, and even right.
And here's Steven performing Over Joy:
"Where did we fail? It's not simple, there's no trail. We can't trace our steps and sail back where we started. You're not to blame, and it's nothing you can name -- we'll just hang our heads in shame: broken hearted."
December 18th is also another anniversary. In 2002, I was hired into Starbucks. I wonder what happened today that will turn out to be significant. What patterns or cycles did I begin, or end?
It's 4am on Sunday right now. In six hours Jen's mother and her church choir will perform their annual Christmas program. I haven't missed it since I've been here. I won't be at tomorrow's performance. I've talked about Terry before, last year:
"For Terry's (Jen's mother) birthday we compiled a book of memories of friends and relatives, talking about good memories of the lady and what they like best about her. It was a fun thing to compile. People recall the strangest things. It was a little bitter-sweet for her to read, because things that just were what they were all those years ago, viewed with hindsight take on more meaning. The abused childhood friend who remembers hiding from pretend monsters, the long-time friend who remembers Terry's insistently compassionate response when the friend was suddenly widowed, the niece who is so proud to share her name.
My mother-in-law is an amazing lady, who doesn't just touch people's hearts and lives, she hugs them, holds them close, and does it all without asking for anything in return."
She's still that lady, even through the trials of the last year, and I am honored that she and Ray make time to keep up to date with me. They have been amazing through everything that happened with me and Jen, and I'm hoping that 2011 will be a little less stressful than 2010 has been.
Last year, in the middle of the Christmas program, I went out to the bathroom because I needed to pull myself together. I'm not one for saying with certainty that one god is more valid or more real than another, that one faith is a greater truth than another. But standing in the church, watching a couple of hundred people singing together, feeling a completeness that I had never felt, I suddenly realized that they had something I didn't, and they were happy. And I desperately wanted to be happy, and I didn't know how to do that. I stood in the bathroom and cried for a few minutes. Then I washed my face and went back in and enjoyed the rest of the service, but the feeling of being incomplete never left me -- not until pretty recently.
I'm happy now. There have been times this year when I haven't been. There have been times when I thought my happiness would be guaranteed if this happened, or that happened. But now I know that happiness has to be now, it can't depend on some future condition.
It's a week till Christmas, I am loved, I have a great family, and wonderful friends -- and when I think about 2011, I'm pretty sure that the world will find ways to surprise and delight me.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
It's an old wound, but it opened in a new way.
Tonight I experienced a few moments of self-discovery. Not the psycho-therapy breakthrough kind of self-discovery. Not figuring out who I am. No, this is far more painful. It's the kind of self-discovery where you figure out who you were. What your life was like.
Almost seven years ago, in early December 2003, the Sci-Fi network aired a two episode mini-series, an updating of a 1970s science fiction classic, which had ridden the coat tails of Star Wars to the small screen. Battlestar Galactica was well received and, ten months later, the mini-series became an hour-long show on Sci-Fi.
I was working at Starbucks (yeah, I know) at the time, and Jen caught up on the mini-series just as the regular show was beginning. It took a month for her to convince me that it was worth my time (which I recall being a song and dance I put her through several times., and I have no idea why I was such a jerk about new things.) But when she did, it became one of *our* shows. One of the things that we changed schedules for. I recall us sitting on the floor of our bedroom at Centennial Trace with warm crusty bread, about five kinds of gourmet cheeses and salami, some grapes and a bottle of wine...getting ready to watch the premiere of the third season. It was a big deal to us. It was something that we talked endlessly about, what did this mean, or what would happen next, or how will that change this or that relationship.
I left before the last season of BSG aired. I don't think Jen even watched the end of it. I did. I had to. It was just something I had to do...see out the end of the thing that was ours.
But how does that relate to self-discovery?
Most of my memories of the last decade are "me and Jen" memories. Going through some hard-drive maintenance on some old hard-drives this evening, I found some old photos of Jen, me, family gatherings, vacations...nothing spectacular...but memories. Little things. In order to place what was happening in our lives, I read some of our old blog posts, remembered some of the wonderful times we had together. And I realized that those memories, like BSG, are in the past. For me and Jen, it's unlikely that there'll be any new memories like the bread and cheese. I won't have any new memories of me and Jen swimming across the cove at Lake Burton, or making fun of award shows together.
If I'd found the photos three months ago, it would probably have devastated me, tonight it was a sharp ache and an hour or two of sadness.
There are a few TV shows that we'd watch start-to-finish in chronological order from time to time -- Buffy, Angel, Coupling, Father Ted, Millenium, Dead Like Me...I've decided to re-watch BSG this winter. Not because I'm pining for some past that's gone, but because remembering the old days doesn't have to bring sadness. Maybe before the fleet gets to Earth I'll find my own way home -- wherever that is -- too.
This is my favorite poem, it's by Christina Rossetti, and it's called "Remember."
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Sure, it's about the wanting your partner to be happy after your death, not the sadness I have felt for the last six months. But tonight it feels okay to remember and be sad.
Almost seven years ago, in early December 2003, the Sci-Fi network aired a two episode mini-series, an updating of a 1970s science fiction classic, which had ridden the coat tails of Star Wars to the small screen. Battlestar Galactica was well received and, ten months later, the mini-series became an hour-long show on Sci-Fi.
I was working at Starbucks (yeah, I know) at the time, and Jen caught up on the mini-series just as the regular show was beginning. It took a month for her to convince me that it was worth my time (which I recall being a song and dance I put her through several times., and I have no idea why I was such a jerk about new things.) But when she did, it became one of *our* shows. One of the things that we changed schedules for. I recall us sitting on the floor of our bedroom at Centennial Trace with warm crusty bread, about five kinds of gourmet cheeses and salami, some grapes and a bottle of wine...getting ready to watch the premiere of the third season. It was a big deal to us. It was something that we talked endlessly about, what did this mean, or what would happen next, or how will that change this or that relationship.
I left before the last season of BSG aired. I don't think Jen even watched the end of it. I did. I had to. It was just something I had to do...see out the end of the thing that was ours.
But how does that relate to self-discovery?
Most of my memories of the last decade are "me and Jen" memories. Going through some hard-drive maintenance on some old hard-drives this evening, I found some old photos of Jen, me, family gatherings, vacations...nothing spectacular...but memories. Little things. In order to place what was happening in our lives, I read some of our old blog posts, remembered some of the wonderful times we had together. And I realized that those memories, like BSG, are in the past. For me and Jen, it's unlikely that there'll be any new memories like the bread and cheese. I won't have any new memories of me and Jen swimming across the cove at Lake Burton, or making fun of award shows together.
If I'd found the photos three months ago, it would probably have devastated me, tonight it was a sharp ache and an hour or two of sadness.
There are a few TV shows that we'd watch start-to-finish in chronological order from time to time -- Buffy, Angel, Coupling, Father Ted, Millenium, Dead Like Me...I've decided to re-watch BSG this winter. Not because I'm pining for some past that's gone, but because remembering the old days doesn't have to bring sadness. Maybe before the fleet gets to Earth I'll find my own way home -- wherever that is -- too.
This is my favorite poem, it's by Christina Rossetti, and it's called "Remember."
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Sure, it's about the wanting your partner to be happy after your death, not the sadness I have felt for the last six months. But tonight it feels okay to remember and be sad.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Celestial Navigation
So the Daily Source job has been put on hold. Work is getting really busy, so I'm pretty sure I won't have time to give 15 hours a week to my volunteer activities.
But when one door closes, another opens, they say. I went to visit Jen's grandmother last Friday. Sue and her husband, Chuck, live on the shore of beautiful Lake Burton in north Georgia. While I was there, Sue had been asked to look over a newsletter produced by Rabun Youth, a local organization supporting after-school care. Since Sue had just had cataract surgery I suggested I might take a look. I also volunteered to look it over on an on-going basis. There may be something more formal coming out of that, so we'll see.
I haven't been much in the mood for writing this last week or so, but hopefully that's something I'll get back to with a little more regularity soon enough.
The Leonid meteor shower takes place tonight and tomorrow night so if you can get outside and look at the sky in the wee small hours, if you get good darkness, uninterrupted by city lights, you should see 40-or-so shooting stars every hour. Jen and I used to try to get out and watch -- this was mostly when we made a point of doing things like that, and before the axis of our world shifted. I remember very distinctly the Leonids of 2003 -- we went out to Lithonia (I think that was where it was, but I'd never been to that part of the city before) and watched them for an hour or two before daybreak.
If you get a chance, make the effort. It's a wonderful thing to do.
Not sure how things are progressing with my list of things I want to do this year, so I'll take a peek at that next week and see how much I still need to do to have an acceptable November. :)
In the meantime...
...thank you, Steven Page, for describing my 2010 so precisely.
As captain of this band of merry sailors I'm a black mark I'm a failure
So before you watch me drown
I'm relinquishing command for something I don't understand,
this man's about to turn his whole life upside down
I set a course for a new shore
It looked the same as the one before
And I forgot what I'd been sailing for
And why I thought this time would be different
I do most of this by feel and let go of the wheel the constellations
Do the navigation on their own.
Whilst yearning for adventure, dreading censure in absentia
I would rather be at sea than be alone
I set a course for a new shore
It looked the same as the one before
And I forgot what I'd been sailing for
And why I thought this time would be different
Off the charts we drew
They said there wasn't anything but fairy tales
I told them it was you, I told them you were everything a fairy tale could be
The boat sails by
Oooo-The shore remains and so do I
I swear this time will be different
I settled here on a new shore
My lips were blue and my legs were sore
And I forget if I was pushed or I jumped overboard
And after all this time, what's the difference?
But when one door closes, another opens, they say. I went to visit Jen's grandmother last Friday. Sue and her husband, Chuck, live on the shore of beautiful Lake Burton in north Georgia. While I was there, Sue had been asked to look over a newsletter produced by Rabun Youth, a local organization supporting after-school care. Since Sue had just had cataract surgery I suggested I might take a look. I also volunteered to look it over on an on-going basis. There may be something more formal coming out of that, so we'll see.
I haven't been much in the mood for writing this last week or so, but hopefully that's something I'll get back to with a little more regularity soon enough.
The Leonid meteor shower takes place tonight and tomorrow night so if you can get outside and look at the sky in the wee small hours, if you get good darkness, uninterrupted by city lights, you should see 40-or-so shooting stars every hour. Jen and I used to try to get out and watch -- this was mostly when we made a point of doing things like that, and before the axis of our world shifted. I remember very distinctly the Leonids of 2003 -- we went out to Lithonia (I think that was where it was, but I'd never been to that part of the city before) and watched them for an hour or two before daybreak.
If you get a chance, make the effort. It's a wonderful thing to do.
Not sure how things are progressing with my list of things I want to do this year, so I'll take a peek at that next week and see how much I still need to do to have an acceptable November. :)
In the meantime...
...thank you, Steven Page, for describing my 2010 so precisely.
As captain of this band of merry sailors I'm a black mark I'm a failure
So before you watch me drown
I'm relinquishing command for something I don't understand,
this man's about to turn his whole life upside down
I set a course for a new shore
It looked the same as the one before
And I forgot what I'd been sailing for
And why I thought this time would be different
I do most of this by feel and let go of the wheel the constellations
Do the navigation on their own.
Whilst yearning for adventure, dreading censure in absentia
I would rather be at sea than be alone
I set a course for a new shore
It looked the same as the one before
And I forgot what I'd been sailing for
And why I thought this time would be different
Off the charts we drew
They said there wasn't anything but fairy tales
I told them it was you, I told them you were everything a fairy tale could be
The boat sails by
Oooo-The shore remains and so do I
I swear this time will be different
I settled here on a new shore
My lips were blue and my legs were sore
And I forget if I was pushed or I jumped overboard
And after all this time, what's the difference?
Monday, November 8, 2010
Time to start saying yes, man.
"I thought that if I said "yes" to things and got involved with people, sooner or later they'd find out I'm not enough. I didn't think I had anything to share -- and now I think that what I have to share is pretty huge." -- Jim Carrey, "Yes Man"
If you're waiting for the next salacious installment of my marriage story...stop. I'm not going to publish it. Jen and I got married, my self-esteem went down the crapper, and I had two affairs. That's not the whole story, but it's enough for right now. I am responsible for choosing to leave rather than stay and fight for our relationship. I blew it up, because I didn't know how to stand up for myself when it mattered, and I didn't know how to stand up for my marriage when it was the only thing that mattered.
I'm not that person now. Maybe we'll talk about that in the future.
But first this:
"I have to speculate that God Himself did make us into corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces..."
Do I think that over the last ten years the trajectory of my life was altered by some things that seemed small, even trivial, at the time? Yes I do.
Do I think that I will ever experience the kind of closeness that I shared with Jen in that time? I'm not so sure.
Does that make me sad? More than I can say.
Am I hopeful for my future, whatever that looks like, without any expectations? Yes. I think so.
Do I think Jen and I have a chance in the future? I do. But...it's one of an infinite number of futures. She has a life, a whole social life that I have nothing to do with, a private life that I have even less knowledge of -- and that's okay. Good, even. I still miss a lot of who we were, but what I've been doing isn't healthy. I've been doing the equivalent of carrying a football with me everywhere I go, just in case I run into Joe Namath (ref for my US readers) or Geoff Hurst (for my UK readers.)
I've discovered a few things about myself this week, and...well...it's time to change. It's time for me to start living for me. Trying to be the person I think Jen might be able to be with if she looks my way in the future isn't sane. Being the person I am, even if that means that any possible future with Jen goes away...that's who I have to be. Because the only person I can guarantee I'll be with in the future is me.
Work looks like it's about to get busy on the kind of scale I haven't seen in...well, over a decade -- since the early days of Business Controls at Northern, when a 30 hour weekend was the norm. I'll write more about this when things are confirmed, but for now...just know that exciting times lie ahead.
I wanted to do some volunteer work, and signed up for an online news organization, staffed by volunteers, called The Daily Source. On Friday I got an email offering me the position of Front Page Editor. So I'm going to be doing that 15 hours a week for the next seven months.
I'm making a list of things that I find genuinely scary so that I can start conquering that stuff. Life is to be lived, after all. I'm not about to jump out of a plane, but I think it's about time I got over my embarrassment and fear of singing in public. Maybe even dancing. And my fear of roller coasters, or going to events where I don't really know anyone.
So, thirty-six. You will be the best year yet. And if you're not, I'll only have myself to blame for it.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
New year resolutions.
So happy birthday to me, as I bid adieu to the complete and utter awfulness that was my thirty-sixth year. It was a bad time, more or less from start to end, and now it's time for something better.
For my thirty-seventh year, I am making some demands of myself. These will require my time. So as far as I'm concerned, my time is up for grabs. I intend to spend it doing the things I find rewarding, and with the people who support me and hold me accountable.
Basically, what I'm saying is that it's my party, my life, my rules. Those are the rules I'll be playing by, and I'm going to be spending my time with people who want to help me achieve my goals - and you may find yourself on the outside looking in if you don't like my rules, or can't get on board and give me your no-BS-support, even when that support is telling me I'm making a huge mistake but it's my mistake to make.
So my resolutions, because January 1st is kind of arbitrary and is much less meaningful to me than my birthday are...
And sure, there are things I'd like to acquire, like a dog and a new place to live, but those things have dependencies I have no control over. So I can't put them on the list.
So this is my check-list. It will be the basis of a lot of my future updates. So...who's with me?
Addenda:
I will learn to shave with the straight razor Lyndsey gave me for my birthday. :)
I will find out what I need to do to qualify to run in the NYC marathon in 2011, since I have been challenged to that, too.
My list of fears so far:
For my thirty-seventh year, I am making some demands of myself. These will require my time. So as far as I'm concerned, my time is up for grabs. I intend to spend it doing the things I find rewarding, and with the people who support me and hold me accountable.
Basically, what I'm saying is that it's my party, my life, my rules. Those are the rules I'll be playing by, and I'm going to be spending my time with people who want to help me achieve my goals - and you may find yourself on the outside looking in if you don't like my rules, or can't get on board and give me your no-BS-support, even when that support is telling me I'm making a huge mistake but it's my mistake to make.
So my resolutions, because January 1st is kind of arbitrary and is much less meaningful to me than my birthday are...
- I will learn Spanish
- I will start or join a band
- I will reclaim my week and not waste time
- I will be awesome in my job
- I will write more
- I will run a half-marathon
- I will participate in the Warrior Dash
- I will start some kind of self-defense classes
- I will see more live performances
- I will stop making abortive half-assed attempts at "moving on"
- I will love fiercely, honestly, and with openness and vulnerability
- I will do one thing I am afraid of every month (sorry Eleanor, that's all I can promise)
- I will join a volunteer program
- I will read one book each month
- I will medicate if I need to
- I will get some kind of education
- I will be the guy you can rely on
- I will cycle to work one day each week (weather permitting, in 2011)
- I will file for divorce
- I will learn enough CSS to get by
And sure, there are things I'd like to acquire, like a dog and a new place to live, but those things have dependencies I have no control over. So I can't put them on the list.
So this is my check-list. It will be the basis of a lot of my future updates. So...who's with me?
Addenda:
I will learn to shave with the straight razor Lyndsey gave me for my birthday. :)
I will find out what I need to do to qualify to run in the NYC marathon in 2011, since I have been challenged to that, too.
My list of fears so far:
- Rollercoasters
- Singing in public
- Dancing in general
- Going to an event where I don't know anyone, and actually enjoying myself
- Heights (like glass elevators in the outside of buildings, or tall buildings in general)
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Bullet with butterfly wings.
A couple of weeks ago I was shopping. I pulled into the parking lot of the store and, while I was crossing the road to the front door, an SUV pulled up with two 20-something women in it. The one on the passenger side jumped out and an empty plastic water bottle spilled out with her.
She turned and looked down at it as she slammed the door, and watched it bounce off her foot and under the car. She walked around the front of the car as I proceeded to walk around the back.
As luck would have it, the water bottle had enough momentum to roll completely under the car as I approached the driver's door, so I picked it up and tapped on the window. The woman rolled her window down and I said "Excuse me, I think your friend dropped this," and handed the bottle to her. She looked confused. I smirked and walked away.
The lesson is that littering is disgusting. The people who casually litter and complain about larger crime problems should look at themselves as the beginning of the issue, not the victim. A lack of civic pride is the flap of the butterfly's wings that, years later, turns a prospering neighborhood into the ghetto, and erodes people's sense of responsibility.
Pick up your litter.
She turned and looked down at it as she slammed the door, and watched it bounce off her foot and under the car. She walked around the front of the car as I proceeded to walk around the back.
As luck would have it, the water bottle had enough momentum to roll completely under the car as I approached the driver's door, so I picked it up and tapped on the window. The woman rolled her window down and I said "Excuse me, I think your friend dropped this," and handed the bottle to her. She looked confused. I smirked and walked away.
The lesson is that littering is disgusting. The people who casually litter and complain about larger crime problems should look at themselves as the beginning of the issue, not the victim. A lack of civic pride is the flap of the butterfly's wings that, years later, turns a prospering neighborhood into the ghetto, and erodes people's sense of responsibility.
Pick up your litter.
Monday, October 25, 2010
My turn to decide.
That voice in our head, we all have it. Some of you out there in the world are good at telling it to shut the hell up. I never was.
Truth is that for most of my life I've allowed that voice to make me doubt, second guess, and undermine myself. It's the voice that would whisper that things weren't good enough, that my best wasn't enough, and that falling short was okay, so long as I had a joke to fall back on. Weird that the voice never showed up to tell me that things were great, only that my failure was not only predictable, but inevitable.
Not anymore.
Don't ask me how, and it's taken a long time, but I've found a way to quiet the voice. I sleep better. I care about things that matter, and much less about what doesn't, and I'm better at making that distinction.
So, this song is for that voice. You might remember Sara Barielles from a couple of years ago, and her song, Love Song. This is one of the more interesting music videos I've seen in a while, and not just because Sara is so striking.
The years of letting a crazy man who looks like me take the controls are over. If I want to take charge of my life again, I have to begin by telling the voice that I'm not even listening anymore. Then I have to remember how to make choices, now that I'm making them for myself for the first time in a long time.
Truth is that for most of my life I've allowed that voice to make me doubt, second guess, and undermine myself. It's the voice that would whisper that things weren't good enough, that my best wasn't enough, and that falling short was okay, so long as I had a joke to fall back on. Weird that the voice never showed up to tell me that things were great, only that my failure was not only predictable, but inevitable.
Not anymore.
Don't ask me how, and it's taken a long time, but I've found a way to quiet the voice. I sleep better. I care about things that matter, and much less about what doesn't, and I'm better at making that distinction.
So, this song is for that voice. You might remember Sara Barielles from a couple of years ago, and her song, Love Song. This is one of the more interesting music videos I've seen in a while, and not just because Sara is so striking.
The years of letting a crazy man who looks like me take the controls are over. If I want to take charge of my life again, I have to begin by telling the voice that I'm not even listening anymore. Then I have to remember how to make choices, now that I'm making them for myself for the first time in a long time.
On the next thrilling episode...
No, I haven't written it yet.
Part of the problem is I started to think about the period from Christmas 2002 to Christmas 2006, and I remembered a lot of things. A lot of things.
Stuff that I had shut away, stuff that I've buried, told lies about, adjusted the facts to fit my intended narrative of my past. And that has to change, and that means putting everything down on here. And that is going to be painful, and has me paralyzed.
What I haven't done, yet, is mention the things that happened in mine and Jen's marriage that fueled the self-destruction. This is going to look like a lot of finger pointing, particularly at Jen, but it's really me attempting to explain some of the things that happened which affected my state of mind, and which fed into my decision making. Which was poor sometime.
For example, the first argument we had after I arrived in the US, Jen picked up the phone to talk to her dad. That looked, to me, like she was calling for support to prove me wrong.
I haven't mentioned that before we got married, Jen went out to lunch with an ex-boyfriend, and he tried to kiss her. She told him that wouldn't be happening, nor would she be leaving me, which is the other thing he suggested.
One of the first arguments we had after we were married was because I had no idea how to use the bank, or medical services, in the US. It's different. It was hard to get a job without a degree (and how I feel about the "need" for a degree in jobs is another post for another time.) And so I was jobless, unable to do much of anything without needing directions, dependent on someone else for my livelihood for the first time since I left home.
I haven't mentioned that in 2001, Jen was working at Horsetown, and we had an argument about something stupid. It was the first real argument we'd had, and we'd been on the phone. Jen wasn't feeling good -- she had a cold, and had been suffering for days. When she hung up she said she was going to work -- I called her work later, when she should have been on break -- to apologize, because I'd been wrong about whatever it was we disagreed on -- but I was told that she'd called out for her shift because she was sick.
She never told me where she'd been, never told me later that she had felt too sick and decided to stay home. I never asked, too scared to lose what we had. But what I do know is that, deep down, this affected me from then on, until I brought it up to Jen in late 2006. By which time, I had damaged our marriage in ways that I am still trying to forgive myself for. I am sure that there was nothing untoward going on, but the nagging feeling that Jen hadn't been straight with me fed into a downward spiral for my self esteem -- and from there, it was easy to make choices that weren't very loving.
So...next time we go back to me talking about the things I did that destroyed the marriage. It's not going to be pretty, it may actually destroy any chance of a continuing friendship I have with Jen, and she may never trust me again. Or maybe, knowing everything, finally, the foundation of a real trust can be put down.
What you should know is that you're going to get an abridged version, not entirely sanitized, but definitely abridged. Jen is going to get the full story, and that's probably okay.
Part of the problem is I started to think about the period from Christmas 2002 to Christmas 2006, and I remembered a lot of things. A lot of things.
Stuff that I had shut away, stuff that I've buried, told lies about, adjusted the facts to fit my intended narrative of my past. And that has to change, and that means putting everything down on here. And that is going to be painful, and has me paralyzed.
What I haven't done, yet, is mention the things that happened in mine and Jen's marriage that fueled the self-destruction. This is going to look like a lot of finger pointing, particularly at Jen, but it's really me attempting to explain some of the things that happened which affected my state of mind, and which fed into my decision making. Which was poor sometime.
For example, the first argument we had after I arrived in the US, Jen picked up the phone to talk to her dad. That looked, to me, like she was calling for support to prove me wrong.
I haven't mentioned that before we got married, Jen went out to lunch with an ex-boyfriend, and he tried to kiss her. She told him that wouldn't be happening, nor would she be leaving me, which is the other thing he suggested.
One of the first arguments we had after we were married was because I had no idea how to use the bank, or medical services, in the US. It's different. It was hard to get a job without a degree (and how I feel about the "need" for a degree in jobs is another post for another time.) And so I was jobless, unable to do much of anything without needing directions, dependent on someone else for my livelihood for the first time since I left home.
I haven't mentioned that in 2001, Jen was working at Horsetown, and we had an argument about something stupid. It was the first real argument we'd had, and we'd been on the phone. Jen wasn't feeling good -- she had a cold, and had been suffering for days. When she hung up she said she was going to work -- I called her work later, when she should have been on break -- to apologize, because I'd been wrong about whatever it was we disagreed on -- but I was told that she'd called out for her shift because she was sick.
She never told me where she'd been, never told me later that she had felt too sick and decided to stay home. I never asked, too scared to lose what we had. But what I do know is that, deep down, this affected me from then on, until I brought it up to Jen in late 2006. By which time, I had damaged our marriage in ways that I am still trying to forgive myself for. I am sure that there was nothing untoward going on, but the nagging feeling that Jen hadn't been straight with me fed into a downward spiral for my self esteem -- and from there, it was easy to make choices that weren't very loving.
So...next time we go back to me talking about the things I did that destroyed the marriage. It's not going to be pretty, it may actually destroy any chance of a continuing friendship I have with Jen, and she may never trust me again. Or maybe, knowing everything, finally, the foundation of a real trust can be put down.
What you should know is that you're going to get an abridged version, not entirely sanitized, but definitely abridged. Jen is going to get the full story, and that's probably okay.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Ten years to no time at all.
This shouldn't be easy -- if it were, how would I know whether or not to take it seriously? Some days this is one of the hardest things I've ever done. I may not show it that often, but I can't stand not being with you. How would I know how important that is to me if I didn't have to keep making the choice between either feeling like this and not having you with me, or not feeling like this and not having it matter so much that you're not here? I *want* it to matter, love. And it does, it matters very much. If that means I have to deal with these feelings and a few thousand miles of geography, so be it. Bring it on--I'm not scared. If these thoughts, these emotions, are what they seem to be, it won't make any difference. No, that's not true, it does make a difference, but in a good way.
Jen wrote this to me on November 23rd, 2000.
The distance is a different kind now. The subject is different, but the words are appropriate for how I feel -- I couldn't write about how I feel now with any more clarity and earnestness.
Jen wrote this to me on November 23rd, 2000.
The distance is a different kind now. The subject is different, but the words are appropriate for how I feel -- I couldn't write about how I feel now with any more clarity and earnestness.
To leave nothing unsaid... Part I
So I've been looking through my blog, after a friend pointed something out, and I see that they're right: I don't talk about why Jen and I broke up. I'm going to explain it, as fully as I can in this space, and I may get some things at the wrong time -- my memory isn't so good anymore. It may take several days, but it's not like you're not curious...and to make it easier for you, let's add a soundtrack.
To begin at the beginning...
Summer 2000.
After Caroline and I broke up and she had moved out, I went minimalist. Stopped sleeping in bed, slept on a bed roll on the floor. I canceled my cable subscription and spent my evenings reading instead. Or online. I got to wondering who I wanted to talk to, and Jen was one of the names that came up. I searched ICQ to see if I could find her, and on August 14th, she got back in touch with me. And so began the love of my life.
Christmas 2000.
Jen visited me a week or so before Christmas. I took my decorations down when she went home. I have too many amazing memories of that time to write here, and it crushes me every time I think of that first week together.
I wish there were words I could use that would explain how unexpectedly, wonderfully, completely in love with Jen I was. And before any of you jump on that past tense usage, I'm referring to a period in the past, so it's staying past tense.
May 2001.
Jen visited again -- we went to visit the town where I went to high school, took a tour of Warkworth Castle, and we caught the last bus to Newcastle -- except the last bus didn't go all the way to Newcastle and we ended up having to get a cab. We laughed while we waited for the cab - hugging each other in the cold northern England air.
Fall 2001.
From her visit in August until my trip to Atlanta for Christmas (when I proposed), Jen and I had a relationship that consisted of phone calls around 6am, noon, 5pm, 10pm, and midnight-ish. We talked online and emailed, too. And I failed. I missed having someone in my life all the time, and I found someone. And it shouldn't have happened -- and honestly, nothing more intimate than a couple of dates and some kissing actually did happen. But that was enough, that's when I began my first double life.
Spring 2002.
While visiting me, Jen found out about the other woman. I knew I had let her down, and I hated myself for it. And after a long conversation, Jen said that she'd stay. I don't think I ever accepted that she actually forgave me for this, that she trusted me.
On May 30th we finally filed our immigration papers, with a wedding planned for October 5th. We worried that we might not get me there in time, but I assured Jen I'd be there on her birthday. My interview was August 7th, and I landed in Atlanta in the early afternoon of August 9th, Jen's birthday. And I felt that finally my body was where my heart had been for a long time.
Fall 2002.
They wouldn't give me a work permit when I arrived, so I had to send more paperwork to get one. That delayed me getting a job. We lived in a 650 sq. ft duplex apartment three miles from where I sit right now. It was a hard adjustment to make, fitting both of us into that space. But we did it. Jen was working two jobs -- one retail job at Horsetown, and one that was a weekend nightshift tech support job, but she was soon quit Horsetown for OuterBounds (OBT) when she was offered a job in her technology field. She worked the nightshift job and at OBT for probably a month before it became too stressful -- for both of us. And then we got married at Jen's grandmother's house at Lake Burton. I have never been so scared, or felt so loved in my whole life. I was marrying the woman I loved more than anything, and we were going to have a great and exciting life.
Winter 2002.
I got a work permit on November 23rd, and job at Starbucks a week before Christmas, just as a barista, and just until I could find a job doing something more meaningful. I'd end up getting promoted by spring 2003, and put into management training by by the time we'd been married for a year. But we'll talk about that next time.
We'll leave it here, my first Christmas living in America. I was part of a wonderful family who loved me. I had a wife who I adored, and who was so proud of me for getting a job. I have some ideas how things went wrong, and I'm to blame for a lot of them.
I may add pictures if I find some, so you may want to check back later. :)
Part II, which will cover things up to Christmas 2006 is unlikely to be out before the weekend, but should be up soon.
To begin at the beginning...
Summer 2000.
After Caroline and I broke up and she had moved out, I went minimalist. Stopped sleeping in bed, slept on a bed roll on the floor. I canceled my cable subscription and spent my evenings reading instead. Or online. I got to wondering who I wanted to talk to, and Jen was one of the names that came up. I searched ICQ to see if I could find her, and on August 14th, she got back in touch with me. And so began the love of my life.
Christmas 2000.
Jen visited me a week or so before Christmas. I took my decorations down when she went home. I have too many amazing memories of that time to write here, and it crushes me every time I think of that first week together.
I wish there were words I could use that would explain how unexpectedly, wonderfully, completely in love with Jen I was. And before any of you jump on that past tense usage, I'm referring to a period in the past, so it's staying past tense.
May 2001.
Jen visited again -- we went to visit the town where I went to high school, took a tour of Warkworth Castle, and we caught the last bus to Newcastle -- except the last bus didn't go all the way to Newcastle and we ended up having to get a cab. We laughed while we waited for the cab - hugging each other in the cold northern England air.
Fall 2001.
From her visit in August until my trip to Atlanta for Christmas (when I proposed), Jen and I had a relationship that consisted of phone calls around 6am, noon, 5pm, 10pm, and midnight-ish. We talked online and emailed, too. And I failed. I missed having someone in my life all the time, and I found someone. And it shouldn't have happened -- and honestly, nothing more intimate than a couple of dates and some kissing actually did happen. But that was enough, that's when I began my first double life.
Spring 2002.
While visiting me, Jen found out about the other woman. I knew I had let her down, and I hated myself for it. And after a long conversation, Jen said that she'd stay. I don't think I ever accepted that she actually forgave me for this, that she trusted me.
On May 30th we finally filed our immigration papers, with a wedding planned for October 5th. We worried that we might not get me there in time, but I assured Jen I'd be there on her birthday. My interview was August 7th, and I landed in Atlanta in the early afternoon of August 9th, Jen's birthday. And I felt that finally my body was where my heart had been for a long time.
Fall 2002.
They wouldn't give me a work permit when I arrived, so I had to send more paperwork to get one. That delayed me getting a job. We lived in a 650 sq. ft duplex apartment three miles from where I sit right now. It was a hard adjustment to make, fitting both of us into that space. But we did it. Jen was working two jobs -- one retail job at Horsetown, and one that was a weekend nightshift tech support job, but she was soon quit Horsetown for OuterBounds (OBT) when she was offered a job in her technology field. She worked the nightshift job and at OBT for probably a month before it became too stressful -- for both of us. And then we got married at Jen's grandmother's house at Lake Burton. I have never been so scared, or felt so loved in my whole life. I was marrying the woman I loved more than anything, and we were going to have a great and exciting life.
Winter 2002.
I got a work permit on November 23rd, and job at Starbucks a week before Christmas, just as a barista, and just until I could find a job doing something more meaningful. I'd end up getting promoted by spring 2003, and put into management training by by the time we'd been married for a year. But we'll talk about that next time.
We'll leave it here, my first Christmas living in America. I was part of a wonderful family who loved me. I had a wife who I adored, and who was so proud of me for getting a job. I have some ideas how things went wrong, and I'm to blame for a lot of them.
I may add pictures if I find some, so you may want to check back later. :)
Part II, which will cover things up to Christmas 2006 is unlikely to be out before the weekend, but should be up soon.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Clarifications and commitments
It's possible that readers of yesterday's post would get the idea that I felt somehow entitled to something at Bradley's party:
"In any case, I didn't feel very welcome at the birthday party of a child I'd spent days and weeks babysitting as an infant, and for whose fourth birthday I had made time to help with projects at Jen's house so that he could have a great birthday party."
I really didn't mean it to sound like I have a ledger that I use to measure whether I'm deserving of things. Honestly, I only wanted to demonstrate how involved in Bradley's life I had been and that my presence at his party was for him and his mom. I love the little guy and I have a lot of great memories of hanging out with him.
On reflection, I think that the thing that hurt me most about the party was the looks, almost confused, but also awkward and uncomprehending. Looks that asked "what are you doing here, you're not married to her anymore."
But I wasn't there because of Jen. I was there because of Bradley.
I had a tough time today, too. I know that Jen has friends -- who used to be our friends -- who are angry at me, and rightly so. I hope that one day they give me a chance to apologize, and to explain my mental state, and how I perceived the emotional health of my marriage when I walked out on Jen, and turned my back on them. I'm pretty sure that many of them think it was an easy decision for me to leave Jen. It wasn't, it was the hardest thing I've ever done, and it hurts all the more because I know it was the wrong thing to do.
It's hard now because, looking back, most of the times Jen and I spent together -- we had magic. I miss that magic. And I'm scared. Scared I'll never have that magic with anyone else. Scared I'll find it with someone who's not Jen. I'm scared that by the time I'm the kind of person Jen can trust, she'll be too invested in another relationship to consider one with me. And that paralyzes me and panics me into a sense of urgency at the same time, and I want to make sure she knows how I feel, which I imagine is very tiring for her.
So I am making some commitments to myself -- and to you if you're reading this.
I have committed to being the kind of guy I can trust.
I have committed to being the kind of guy anyone can trust.
I recognize that there's a difference between being a nice guy and being a good guy.
I have committed to myself to show you that person and to not hide my feelings.
I'm committing to being honest and vulnerable, and that means not walking out when my assumptions get challenged and my own poor judgement is called out.
I am committing to make fewer poor decisions, which includes making time for myself.
"In any case, I didn't feel very welcome at the birthday party of a child I'd spent days and weeks babysitting as an infant, and for whose fourth birthday I had made time to help with projects at Jen's house so that he could have a great birthday party."
I really didn't mean it to sound like I have a ledger that I use to measure whether I'm deserving of things. Honestly, I only wanted to demonstrate how involved in Bradley's life I had been and that my presence at his party was for him and his mom. I love the little guy and I have a lot of great memories of hanging out with him.
On reflection, I think that the thing that hurt me most about the party was the looks, almost confused, but also awkward and uncomprehending. Looks that asked "what are you doing here, you're not married to her anymore."
But I wasn't there because of Jen. I was there because of Bradley.
I had a tough time today, too. I know that Jen has friends -- who used to be our friends -- who are angry at me, and rightly so. I hope that one day they give me a chance to apologize, and to explain my mental state, and how I perceived the emotional health of my marriage when I walked out on Jen, and turned my back on them. I'm pretty sure that many of them think it was an easy decision for me to leave Jen. It wasn't, it was the hardest thing I've ever done, and it hurts all the more because I know it was the wrong thing to do.
It's hard now because, looking back, most of the times Jen and I spent together -- we had magic. I miss that magic. And I'm scared. Scared I'll never have that magic with anyone else. Scared I'll find it with someone who's not Jen. I'm scared that by the time I'm the kind of person Jen can trust, she'll be too invested in another relationship to consider one with me. And that paralyzes me and panics me into a sense of urgency at the same time, and I want to make sure she knows how I feel, which I imagine is very tiring for her.
So I am making some commitments to myself -- and to you if you're reading this.
I have committed to being the kind of guy I can trust.
I have committed to being the kind of guy anyone can trust.
I recognize that there's a difference between being a nice guy and being a good guy.
I have committed to myself to show you that person and to not hide my feelings.
I'm committing to being honest and vulnerable, and that means not walking out when my assumptions get challenged and my own poor judgement is called out.
I am committing to make fewer poor decisions, which includes making time for myself.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Pancakes or waffles?
I love pancakes. I love waffles, too, but I really love pancakes. The ingredients are basically the same, but waffles are more complicated to make. Why do I mention this? Well, because I used to be a waffle. I had a ton of little compartments just ready to hide things. I want to be a pancake - simple, honest, uncomplicated.
Today I was invited to my nephew, Bradley's, birthday party. He's just turned four.
When I got to Jen's house, which is where the party was being held, Jen, her sister Kate, their parents, Jen's boyfriend, Brett, and Jen's friend, Meg, were already there.
So I helped out with preparations as best I could, and asked for direction so that the things I was doing were the things that the hosts felt were the most important.
But something felt...off. Have you ever walked into a room and felt like everybody was moving the furniture to get around you? Keeping a distance that was no so much "healthy" as it was "the maximum that the room allowed?" That's how I felt. Like I'd walked into a room where the conversation prior to my entrance had been a critique of who I am, or something I did, and now everyone was behaving awkwardly. Or maybe it was me.
In any case, I didn't feel very welcome at the birthday party of a child I'd spent days and weeks babysitting as an infant, and for whose fourth birthday I had made time to help with projects at Jen's house so that he could have a great birthday party. I felt alien. Out of place. So I went to do an errand.
Don't misunderstand me, I'm sure it's not easy for anyone to figure out how to treat the guy who walked out on his life, those very same family members that were gathered at the celebration; nor can it be easy to figure out how to treat the guy who abandoned your best friend, or the guy who insists he is in love with your girlfriend.
In fact, when it comes down to it, why would you invite someone to such an intimate family event when you've really only known this guy, the one worth knowing, for four months?
When I got back from my errand, things were easier. I talked to someone about the situation and got some perspective -- some of it is in the text above.
I understand all of that.
But.
It still hurts. To feel like an outsider in your own family -- and I do still consider all of Jen's family to be my family. Honestly, that separation is probably not a new feeling. Old Duncan felt that way a few times, usually when I was hiding something and felt completely undeserving of the love that these amazing people were showing me. Wow, apparently I have some guilt to work through around this.
But they did love me -- I think that they still do, but I think that it's hard for them to know how to behave around me.
I did bad things. A lot of them. It's been hard, trying to find a way to forgive myself for them, but I'm working on it. And that job is much harder every time I'm reminded that I'm a stranger to them. A different Duncan to the one they knew. And that's good, but I'm impatient because I want them to know the new Duncan.
So I think that I should start there, just being patient, just being the Duncan that is. Finding a way to be a pancake.
Today I was invited to my nephew, Bradley's, birthday party. He's just turned four.
When I got to Jen's house, which is where the party was being held, Jen, her sister Kate, their parents, Jen's boyfriend, Brett, and Jen's friend, Meg, were already there.
So I helped out with preparations as best I could, and asked for direction so that the things I was doing were the things that the hosts felt were the most important.
But something felt...off. Have you ever walked into a room and felt like everybody was moving the furniture to get around you? Keeping a distance that was no so much "healthy" as it was "the maximum that the room allowed?" That's how I felt. Like I'd walked into a room where the conversation prior to my entrance had been a critique of who I am, or something I did, and now everyone was behaving awkwardly. Or maybe it was me.
In any case, I didn't feel very welcome at the birthday party of a child I'd spent days and weeks babysitting as an infant, and for whose fourth birthday I had made time to help with projects at Jen's house so that he could have a great birthday party. I felt alien. Out of place. So I went to do an errand.
Don't misunderstand me, I'm sure it's not easy for anyone to figure out how to treat the guy who walked out on his life, those very same family members that were gathered at the celebration; nor can it be easy to figure out how to treat the guy who abandoned your best friend, or the guy who insists he is in love with your girlfriend.
In fact, when it comes down to it, why would you invite someone to such an intimate family event when you've really only known this guy, the one worth knowing, for four months?
When I got back from my errand, things were easier. I talked to someone about the situation and got some perspective -- some of it is in the text above.
I understand all of that.
But.
It still hurts. To feel like an outsider in your own family -- and I do still consider all of Jen's family to be my family. Honestly, that separation is probably not a new feeling. Old Duncan felt that way a few times, usually when I was hiding something and felt completely undeserving of the love that these amazing people were showing me. Wow, apparently I have some guilt to work through around this.
But they did love me -- I think that they still do, but I think that it's hard for them to know how to behave around me.
I did bad things. A lot of them. It's been hard, trying to find a way to forgive myself for them, but I'm working on it. And that job is much harder every time I'm reminded that I'm a stranger to them. A different Duncan to the one they knew. And that's good, but I'm impatient because I want them to know the new Duncan.
So I think that I should start there, just being patient, just being the Duncan that is. Finding a way to be a pancake.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Giving things Creedence.
It's strange how a gentle push here, a small tweak there...even something as small as a conversation...can have a significant change on your life.
In the last week I have managed, with the help of medication, to correct my insomnia. I have managed, with the help of counseling, to find things in my life to smile about. With the help of vitamins and supplements, I have found energy levels that I haven't had in a long time. With the help of my blog I have found a way to quiet the chatter.
In a week, several parts of my life have taken a turn for the better. I can't explain how it happened, or what it's going to mean in the next few weeks, or even months or longer.
But I like it. I feel...like the darkness that's been hanging over me for a few months now is beginning to lift. And whatever that means, I'm pretty sure it can only be a good thing.
In the last week I have managed, with the help of medication, to correct my insomnia. I have managed, with the help of counseling, to find things in my life to smile about. With the help of vitamins and supplements, I have found energy levels that I haven't had in a long time. With the help of my blog I have found a way to quiet the chatter.
In a week, several parts of my life have taken a turn for the better. I can't explain how it happened, or what it's going to mean in the next few weeks, or even months or longer.
But I like it. I feel...like the darkness that's been hanging over me for a few months now is beginning to lift. And whatever that means, I'm pretty sure it can only be a good thing.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Vorpal Blade? Check.
Song one on my anniversary CD was Breathe (2am) by Anna Nalick. In it she sings "these words are my diary screaming out loud, and I know that you'll use them however you want to." When I restarted this blog back in June, I committed to brutal honesty in my feelings. I committed to laying bare the things that are on my mind so that I can poke at them, so that my readers can help me figure things out, and so that I can work on getting my head right. I have no control over how my readers think of my words, or what they might mean to my readers, just as you, dear reader, have no control over what I write. You may ponder whether the words all come in a rush, or if I labor over each syllable, choosing each word specifically for its weight, or its meaning. But one thing is sure - what I write and what you read may well be the same words, but they may carry a completely different meaning for each of us.
They say that you can't put toothpaste back in a tube, or un-ring a bell. Which is why I'm unapologetic about speaking without any kind of filter on the things going on in my life. I try to make sure that when I write it's about me, not anyone else, though I'm a social creature and my life is touched by many others -- and so those interactions will always inform my opinions and experience, and the things I want to talk about. Some people might think I over-share. And I probably do, but I like to believe that when I over-share it's about me.
Seriously, it takes quite an ego to write about yourself almost every day.
In therapy this week, I talked about a lot of things. Mostly it was getting my therapist caught up on what's been happening with/to me for the last six months, since I last spoke with her. A good chunk of that activity is all over this blog. She asked me, ten minutes from the end of the session, "So what do you want? Why are you here?"
My answer was "If I get what I want, people are going to get hurt. If I don't, it will hurt me. A lot of that hinges on what Jen wants, and I just want her not to hurt. I want her to be happy, and I want her to not hurt, no matter what decisions she makes over the next however-many weeks and months."
My therapist is smart, and if you ask me I'll give you her contact details. :) She looked up from her notebook and said "You want Jen to be happy...that's noble. But is it more important than what you want for yourself? Don't you want to be happy?"
I was confused. I was not ready for that question. "What do you want for yourself?" She asked.
I took a deep breath, looked at the clock - three minutes - I can do this...
A lot of people have told me that I'm a good guy, that I do nice things for people, that I think of others, that I'm compassionate, considerate, loving, and generous with the things I can be generous with. In a word, I'm an amazing human being. Or so I'm told.
But what do I want?
I want to be able to see the guy that other people see. I want to believe in him the way other people do.
I don't know how to do that. Yet. But I will, and the more I share here, the more of that guy I'll reveal to myself. So if I over-share, it's because I'm looking for something that other people tell me exists, that I haven't seen, but I want to believe in.
They say that you can't put toothpaste back in a tube, or un-ring a bell. Which is why I'm unapologetic about speaking without any kind of filter on the things going on in my life. I try to make sure that when I write it's about me, not anyone else, though I'm a social creature and my life is touched by many others -- and so those interactions will always inform my opinions and experience, and the things I want to talk about. Some people might think I over-share. And I probably do, but I like to believe that when I over-share it's about me.
Seriously, it takes quite an ego to write about yourself almost every day.
In therapy this week, I talked about a lot of things. Mostly it was getting my therapist caught up on what's been happening with/to me for the last six months, since I last spoke with her. A good chunk of that activity is all over this blog. She asked me, ten minutes from the end of the session, "So what do you want? Why are you here?"
My answer was "If I get what I want, people are going to get hurt. If I don't, it will hurt me. A lot of that hinges on what Jen wants, and I just want her not to hurt. I want her to be happy, and I want her to not hurt, no matter what decisions she makes over the next however-many weeks and months."
My therapist is smart, and if you ask me I'll give you her contact details. :) She looked up from her notebook and said "You want Jen to be happy...that's noble. But is it more important than what you want for yourself? Don't you want to be happy?"
I was confused. I was not ready for that question. "What do you want for yourself?" She asked.
I took a deep breath, looked at the clock - three minutes - I can do this...
A lot of people have told me that I'm a good guy, that I do nice things for people, that I think of others, that I'm compassionate, considerate, loving, and generous with the things I can be generous with. In a word, I'm an amazing human being. Or so I'm told.
But what do I want?
I want to be able to see the guy that other people see. I want to believe in him the way other people do.
I don't know how to do that. Yet. But I will, and the more I share here, the more of that guy I'll reveal to myself. So if I over-share, it's because I'm looking for something that other people tell me exists, that I haven't seen, but I want to believe in.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Not just a writer.
Company.com will have a booth at Venture Atlanta for the next couple of days. I will be tweeting about it at @company.com and #ventureatlanta as well as posting pictures, if I can get any, on our Facebook Company.com Fan Page.
I made this promotional video, best played back in as high-def as your computer will allow.
I made this promotional video, best played back in as high-def as your computer will allow.
Nothing is decided. Ever.
Tacos
Pickled ginger
Beer
Toast
HBO & Showtime
Balsamic vinegar
Doomcat
These are some things that, while I really like them, could live without if I had to. Don't get me wrong, I'd really rather not live without them, but if I had to, I could.
I bring it up because I went to therapy for the first time in several months today. I'm not going to go into the details here, though I will, in time. But what I will share right now is that I figured out that there are some things that are hard to live without, but somethings that are almost as hard to live with.
Hope. Hope is one of those things. Living with hope is a hard, stony battle. Living with hope is living with the possibility that today might be the last day you feel this uncertain. It might be the day that everything is decided. No matter what that looks like.
But however hard it is to live with hope, I decide every day to do that. Because living without it is much much harder.
Today, a lot of things changed in my life. Some things which I hope, every day, to change, did not. Not today. But I will sleep, and wake up, and before I find my way to the fridge to get breakfast, I'll feel hopeful again.
Pickled ginger
Beer
Toast
HBO & Showtime
Balsamic vinegar
Doomcat
These are some things that, while I really like them, could live without if I had to. Don't get me wrong, I'd really rather not live without them, but if I had to, I could.
I bring it up because I went to therapy for the first time in several months today. I'm not going to go into the details here, though I will, in time. But what I will share right now is that I figured out that there are some things that are hard to live without, but somethings that are almost as hard to live with.
Hope. Hope is one of those things. Living with hope is a hard, stony battle. Living with hope is living with the possibility that today might be the last day you feel this uncertain. It might be the day that everything is decided. No matter what that looks like.
But however hard it is to live with hope, I decide every day to do that. Because living without it is much much harder.
Today, a lot of things changed in my life. Some things which I hope, every day, to change, did not. Not today. But I will sleep, and wake up, and before I find my way to the fridge to get breakfast, I'll feel hopeful again.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Where are all the good men dead?
Driving is a great way to clear your head. Or fill it up with other stuff that's going to send you all kinds of different kinds of crazy.
Here's today's three kinds of crazy.
The Purpose of the Passenger Seat
Doing some errands this afternoon I had the weirdest feeling. I was tempted, as John Mayer would say, to keep the car in drive and leave it all behind.
I just felt like hitting the highway, pushing the car up past 80, which is where the dial was as I headed north on I-85, up to just as fast as I could take it -- swerving in and out of traffic...leaving the city an ever reducing spot in my rear-view, heading into the mountains and watching the sunlight turn from golden to amber and red, the sky turning from blue to pink to purple and finally to black...until the tank runs dry and I have to walk.
Of course, I didn't do that. But for a minute, it was what I wanted to do. As though I could just go, and keep going, until the things in my head couldn't keep up...
And no matter how inviting a prospect that appears to me, sometimes it's good that the things I'd so like to escape sit right there in the passenger seat next to me, a reminder that the things I'd like to leave behind can't get out of a speeding car, so maybe I ought to just slow it down for a minute.
Blame
When Jen and I...when I left...it was especially hard for Jen, and she asked some of friends who were ours (though only mine through marriage) to remove me from their Facebook friends list. This wasn't a petty act. It was the act of a woman who didn't want to see what the man who'd promised to love her forever was doing, now that he'd taken that promise back.
Those friends stopped getting my updates, and I've only recently reached out to them -- not to try to recover the friendship that I believe we once shared, but to let them know that I still care about Jen, and that I'm trying to find a way for Jen to trust me again.
It's like trying to move a giant rock in a muddy field using only a pole. The bigger the pole, or the more people you have exerting effort, the more easily the rock will move. I have obstacles, as far as I can tell, to me forgiving myself -- one of them is that...well...sometimes in the past, Jen behaved in a way that made me feel belittled, unimportant, incapable, wrong all of the time, and a whole bunch of other destructive and negative things. None of that excuses my behavior. Let me make that clear. But...today, for whatever reason, I needed Jen to acknowledge her part in the difficulties of our relationship in a way that would help me move the stone. And in a brief conversation this evening, she did. It was all I needed to know. That the things that led to our breakup weren't exclusively things I did.
Blame is a terrible thing, especially when you turn it on yourself. It makes forgiveness so much harder. I was way more at fault than Jen in this thing going wrong, but I wasn't the only one who screwed up. Sharing the responsibility for what happened, unloading even a little of the burden I've been carrying by insisting it was all me, was never going to allow me to forgive myself. Because until I put that burden on Jen, I couldn't forgive her, and if I couldn't forgive her, how could I forgive myself.
Odd, I know. Like writing a list of things you've done so you can cross them off and feel good about having done things. But sometimes the brain and heart don't work ignore logic.
Losing Faith
On television, and in the movies, when you have a priest lose their faith, they typically show the poor Father hitting the bottle, being miserable, or angry.
But here's the thing: What I'm experiencing lately, I think, is much closer to what losing faith really feels like. Forsaken. To lose something you thought was unshakable, and to ask where it went, when it's coming back, and what you can do to help that along...and to hear nothing. It's confusing, distressing. It induces panic. It's like the first time you put your head underwater when you're learning to swim.
It's like all these things, and at the same time, there is nothing like it.
In the end, the only way to recover your faith is to keep believing, keep whispering in the dark until you can hear the answers to your prayers. Because it's the receiving equipment, not the transmitting equipment that's faulty, and until we learn to tune to the right frequency, we'll just be listening to static.
Here's today's three kinds of crazy.
The Purpose of the Passenger Seat
Doing some errands this afternoon I had the weirdest feeling. I was tempted, as John Mayer would say, to keep the car in drive and leave it all behind.
I just felt like hitting the highway, pushing the car up past 80, which is where the dial was as I headed north on I-85, up to just as fast as I could take it -- swerving in and out of traffic...leaving the city an ever reducing spot in my rear-view, heading into the mountains and watching the sunlight turn from golden to amber and red, the sky turning from blue to pink to purple and finally to black...until the tank runs dry and I have to walk.
Of course, I didn't do that. But for a minute, it was what I wanted to do. As though I could just go, and keep going, until the things in my head couldn't keep up...
And no matter how inviting a prospect that appears to me, sometimes it's good that the things I'd so like to escape sit right there in the passenger seat next to me, a reminder that the things I'd like to leave behind can't get out of a speeding car, so maybe I ought to just slow it down for a minute.
Blame
When Jen and I...when I left...it was especially hard for Jen, and she asked some of friends who were ours (though only mine through marriage) to remove me from their Facebook friends list. This wasn't a petty act. It was the act of a woman who didn't want to see what the man who'd promised to love her forever was doing, now that he'd taken that promise back.
Those friends stopped getting my updates, and I've only recently reached out to them -- not to try to recover the friendship that I believe we once shared, but to let them know that I still care about Jen, and that I'm trying to find a way for Jen to trust me again.
It's like trying to move a giant rock in a muddy field using only a pole. The bigger the pole, or the more people you have exerting effort, the more easily the rock will move. I have obstacles, as far as I can tell, to me forgiving myself -- one of them is that...well...sometimes in the past, Jen behaved in a way that made me feel belittled, unimportant, incapable, wrong all of the time, and a whole bunch of other destructive and negative things. None of that excuses my behavior. Let me make that clear. But...today, for whatever reason, I needed Jen to acknowledge her part in the difficulties of our relationship in a way that would help me move the stone. And in a brief conversation this evening, she did. It was all I needed to know. That the things that led to our breakup weren't exclusively things I did.
Blame is a terrible thing, especially when you turn it on yourself. It makes forgiveness so much harder. I was way more at fault than Jen in this thing going wrong, but I wasn't the only one who screwed up. Sharing the responsibility for what happened, unloading even a little of the burden I've been carrying by insisting it was all me, was never going to allow me to forgive myself. Because until I put that burden on Jen, I couldn't forgive her, and if I couldn't forgive her, how could I forgive myself.
Odd, I know. Like writing a list of things you've done so you can cross them off and feel good about having done things. But sometimes the brain and heart don't work ignore logic.
Losing Faith
On television, and in the movies, when you have a priest lose their faith, they typically show the poor Father hitting the bottle, being miserable, or angry.
But here's the thing: What I'm experiencing lately, I think, is much closer to what losing faith really feels like. Forsaken. To lose something you thought was unshakable, and to ask where it went, when it's coming back, and what you can do to help that along...and to hear nothing. It's confusing, distressing. It induces panic. It's like the first time you put your head underwater when you're learning to swim.
It's like all these things, and at the same time, there is nothing like it.
In the end, the only way to recover your faith is to keep believing, keep whispering in the dark until you can hear the answers to your prayers. Because it's the receiving equipment, not the transmitting equipment that's faulty, and until we learn to tune to the right frequency, we'll just be listening to static.
Friday, October 8, 2010
...well, drugs and rock n roll, at least.
Did I mention that my chest hurts? Yeah, once or twice maybe.
Well, I relented and went to see the doctor the other day. I do not have broken ribs. I do not have cracked ribs. Big phweew to both of those. What I have is:
Strained intercostal muscles and probably a minor detachment of the lining of my left lung.
So. I'm not sure how you feel about this, but the words "detachment of the lining" of any lung doesn't sound minor to me. Not a bit. So the doc prescribed me some meds, but -- well, they cost $200 and it'd be more painful for me to spend that than live with the irritation in my chest.
While I was there I asked about my insomnia, and if anything could be done.
Medication. Hurrah. No, not ambien, I mentioned that I was slightly depressed lately (you haven't read my blog?) so the good doctor wasted no time in prescribing me trazodone.
Trazodone is a mild sedative and anti-depressant. I'm currently taking 1/4 of my dose, and it's working well for the sleep. Let's see how it works over the next few days. I don't know that I really want it for depression/anxiety, but anything that cuts the unending chatter in my head is welcome. It's not that I don't want to feel what I'm feeling, I just don't want what I'm feeling to be debilitating, and it has been, especially this week.
In other news, I've been playing with iMovie, making user guides for company.com.
Next week we'll be at a trade show, and I made a 2-minute video for that -- I'll post a link to it after the trade show ends, but it's pretty cool. And yes, that's me saying so myself.
So. Google analytics. I haz them.
I know that more people read this blog than are bona-fide followers. So please go ahead and follow my blog with your gmail account, or follow me on Facebook - just include a note that says you read this.
Go on. Do it. I have a feeling that it's about to get interesting...
Well, I relented and went to see the doctor the other day. I do not have broken ribs. I do not have cracked ribs. Big phweew to both of those. What I have is:
Strained intercostal muscles and probably a minor detachment of the lining of my left lung.
So. I'm not sure how you feel about this, but the words "detachment of the lining" of any lung doesn't sound minor to me. Not a bit. So the doc prescribed me some meds, but -- well, they cost $200 and it'd be more painful for me to spend that than live with the irritation in my chest.
While I was there I asked about my insomnia, and if anything could be done.
Medication. Hurrah. No, not ambien, I mentioned that I was slightly depressed lately (you haven't read my blog?) so the good doctor wasted no time in prescribing me trazodone.
Trazodone is a mild sedative and anti-depressant. I'm currently taking 1/4 of my dose, and it's working well for the sleep. Let's see how it works over the next few days. I don't know that I really want it for depression/anxiety, but anything that cuts the unending chatter in my head is welcome. It's not that I don't want to feel what I'm feeling, I just don't want what I'm feeling to be debilitating, and it has been, especially this week.
In other news, I've been playing with iMovie, making user guides for company.com.
Next week we'll be at a trade show, and I made a 2-minute video for that -- I'll post a link to it after the trade show ends, but it's pretty cool. And yes, that's me saying so myself.
So. Google analytics. I haz them.
I know that more people read this blog than are bona-fide followers. So please go ahead and follow my blog with your gmail account, or follow me on Facebook - just include a note that says you read this.
Go on. Do it. I have a feeling that it's about to get interesting...
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Some days are harder than others.
Today was one of the harder days. I knew it would be.
It didn't help that in the middle of the afternoon, around the time that Jen and I were married, my boss' Pandora feed started into "At Last" by Etta James - the song that Jen came down the aisle to eight years ago.
The best way I could think of to deal with the emotional chatter in my head was to drive to Jen's house - the one that was supposed to be ours - and do some of the things that I'd promised I would do when we were together. Things in the house that I'd not done, gotten sidetracked by small stuff, that kind of thing.
So I mowed the yard, because I said I'd do it while she and Brett are at the beach this week. I installed the last of the thresholds in the hallway that I'd been meaning to get to since July 4th weekend, and I removed some stray caulk and repainted behind the kitchen sink.
And in the middle of all these things, I found a little oasis of peace - somehow, making good on these promises...these small things...makes me think that if I have a chance to have bigger promises to live up to, I'll be able to handle that responsibility.
As for where I am, in my head, about Jen...if there is a way for us in the future, however twisty, however thorny, however hard to find...I will find it. Because I know...I know that the relationship is worth the effort, worth the risk.
I told someone recently, "When you push all your chips into the middle, you're betting everything, and you can't risk more than that. It doesn't matter how many chips you have if it's everything you have."
And for the first time, maybe ever, I'm prepared to do that in a relationship.
It didn't help that in the middle of the afternoon, around the time that Jen and I were married, my boss' Pandora feed started into "At Last" by Etta James - the song that Jen came down the aisle to eight years ago.
The best way I could think of to deal with the emotional chatter in my head was to drive to Jen's house - the one that was supposed to be ours - and do some of the things that I'd promised I would do when we were together. Things in the house that I'd not done, gotten sidetracked by small stuff, that kind of thing.
So I mowed the yard, because I said I'd do it while she and Brett are at the beach this week. I installed the last of the thresholds in the hallway that I'd been meaning to get to since July 4th weekend, and I removed some stray caulk and repainted behind the kitchen sink.
And in the middle of all these things, I found a little oasis of peace - somehow, making good on these promises...these small things...makes me think that if I have a chance to have bigger promises to live up to, I'll be able to handle that responsibility.
As for where I am, in my head, about Jen...if there is a way for us in the future, however twisty, however thorny, however hard to find...I will find it. Because I know...I know that the relationship is worth the effort, worth the risk.
I told someone recently, "When you push all your chips into the middle, you're betting everything, and you can't risk more than that. It doesn't matter how many chips you have if it's everything you have."
And for the first time, maybe ever, I'm prepared to do that in a relationship.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Anniversary CD - 2010
It's hard to understand, sometimes, what happened since last year.
I have no idea why, but I really felt compelled to make a CD for this year - maybe it's because I have hope for us for the future, maybe it's the way my brain can help me let go of the past, or maybe it's just a tool to help me think about where I am right now.
Anyway, a mix tape, apparently, is a very delicate thing - expressing your own feelings with someone else's poetry. At least that's what Nick Hornby says, so there's a good chance it's probably right.
Some of these songs got stuck in my head and helped me to break down walls that were holding in feelings and thoughts that hadn't seen the light of day in decades. Some of them remind me of the things I have given up and lost in the last year, and some of them give me a thought to focus on for the next year, a thought that helps me find calm in my head when my emotions refuse to be wrangled.
It may be useful to you if I point out the things that put each song on the CD. The track order is more or less chronological, and more or less broken into three phases, which I kind of characterized as: Ending, Discovery, and Renewal.
Ending
As 2009 drew to a close, more and more I felt like there was only one solution to the feeling I had - that the relationship we had was not a partnership, that there was inequlity, that I had suffered, and that it was time to end that suffering and find a relationship which offered something that would make me feel nourished.
Breathe (2am) - Anna Nalick
"Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table.
No one can find the rewind button, boys,
So cradle your head in your hands,
And breathe... just breathe."
Our Thanksgiving trip to New York should have been magical. And while it had moments, I look back on it with regret, and overwhelming sadness. It was our argument about something so small as which shoes I ought to wear that set my mind, made me sure that you saw us as so unequal, that you trusted my judgement so little, that our time had run out. A few weeks later, back in Atlanta, when you were awarded Employee of the Year for your efforts, I was both immensely proud of you, and heartbroken. The efforts that you had put into being the obvious choice for your award felt like the efforts that you had denied our relationship, and that being exceptional at your job had precluded being present in our marriage.
I And Love And you - Avett Brothers
"One foot in and one foot back
But it don't pay, to live like that
So I cut the ties and I jumped the tracks
For never to return
Three words that became hard to say
I and love and you
What you were then, I am today
Look at the things I do."
I can't pretend that you were to blame for what happened with us. I was absent in our relationship for long periods of time, and I knew it. My infidelity, emotional and intellectual before it was ever physical, was the culprit. I don't know what it was that made me so uncertain, unable to quiet the yammering in my head that told me I was unworthy of your affection, that led me to seek other relationships - the knowledge that I was betraying you couldn't stop me. And the knowledge that I couldn't stop made me despise who I was, and that was a spiral I couldn't get out of, and for all of this, I am more sorry that anyone can ever know.
Sick of Myself - Death Cab for Cutie (Matthew Sweet Cover)
"Something in your eyes
that is keeping my hope alive.
But I'm sick of myself when I look at you
something is beautiful and true.
World that's ugly and a lie
it's hard to even want to try.
I'm beginning to think
maybe you don't know.
I'm beginning to think
maybe you don't know."
This video is Matthew Sweet performing it for Paste Magazine - the CD is Death Cab for Cutie.
Discovery
After I left I thought that I had found things that would make me happy. I was certainly learning things about myself, and the more I learned, the more I became sure that I had been...wrong...misguided...
Over the course of several days in May, I came to the realization that I had been unkind, hasty, cruel, even. And I wrote a letter to apologize for those things. In my life I've written a lot of words. Those fifteen apoogies are among the most important words I've ever put to paper.
Good Intentions - Toad The Wet Sprocket
"I'm not afraid things won't get better
but it feels like this has gone on forever.
You have to cry with your own blue tears,
have to laugh with your own good cheer.
It's hard to rely on my good intentions
when my head's full of things that I can't mention.
Seems I usually get things right
but I can't understand what I did last night"
Faith isn't something that has ever sat easily with me. I find organized religion confusing and constraining, but I admire and respect anyone who lives and loves in accordance with their faith. And yet... And yet, I do believe in something. Not that I can put a name or face to it, but there is something, I'm sure. And whatever it is out there, lighting the dark corners of the darkest time of my life, I learned to talk to it. To ask questions, for help, strength, understanding, wisdom...and hope.
Fallen - Sarah McLachlan
"Heaven bend to take my hand
And lead me through the fire,
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight.
Truth be told I've tried my best
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer,
And the cost was so much more than I could bear."
For most of my life I thought I couldn't feel some things. Deep sadness, the kind that sends you wailing to the floor, gasping, retching, mourning, grieving so hard for something that you're sure that not feeling anything would be better. But it's not. I didn't think I could feel that. Not until after we talked at the beginning of June, and I learned that you had moved on. Oh irony. You'd moved on while I'd discovered that what I wanted more than anything was to have what I'd squandered for years. We agreed to meet a few days later, and while I was preparing my thoughts the full weight of my grief hit me. If falling in love is like cupid shooting you with an arrow, then realizing you screwed it up is like having a giant kick you to the floor, put his giant shoe on your stomach and pull the arrow out of your chest with his giant hands. Anyway, I wrote my thoughts down and put them in a letter so that if I chickened out of telling you something, you had all my thoughts. It helped. Knowing you'd read everything later anyway, I managed to tell you everything I was feeling. I don't think anything has changed since then.
Say - John Mayer
"Have no fear for giving in,
Have no fear for giving over,
You'd better know that in the end
Its better to say too much
Then never say what you need to say again.
Even if your hands are shaking
And your faith is broken,
Even as the eyes are closing
Do it with a heart wide open."
Knowing you were with Brett was killing me. Knowing that you had chosen to give this new relationship a chance rather than risk trying again with me hurt in ways that I think ought to be reserved for sinners who...well...for people like the guy I had been. Regret is cheap, it turns out. Anyone can regret. Anyone can live with regret. Anyone can be crippled by it. The harder thing is to stand up and find a way to cut it loose, to forgive yourself. I was desperately sad that I'd lost you, but happy that you'd found someone who was supportive and who cared for you. If I couldn't be with you, at least you should be loved.
Where I Stood - Missy Higgins
"I dont know what I've done
Or if I like what I've begun
But something told me to run
And honey you know me it's all or none
There were sounds in my head
Little voices whispering
That I should go and this should end
Oh and I found myself listening"
Since we got back in touch, and even as I was leaving, you have been very generous with making sure that my choices didn't make my life intolerable. For a long time - until a few days ago, in fact, I wondered if you felt a sense of duty to help me. Now I know and understand that it is a choice you have made, but these lyrics from A Fine Frenzy seem appropriate.
Think of You - A Fine Frenzy
"Just to put your mind at ease
You don't owe me anything
You paid me well in memories."
In all of these revelations about myself, I found that it was easy to think of the person I had been as a completely separate person from myself. That was another self-deception - in time I reconciled myself with the fact that it was me, and had always been me, not some other person.
Who I Am Hates Who I've Been - Relient K
"I'm sorry for the person I became.
I'm sorry that it took so long for me to change.
I'm ready to be sure I never become that way again
'cause who I am hates who I've been.
Who I am hates who I've been."
By the end of June I had become disenchanted with the group of friends and advisors which I'd been listening to. It was, in the end, the best choice for me, and I released myself from expectations about who I should or could be - expectations that weren't mine, and I began to learn more about who I am.
Have You Seen Me Lately? - Counting Crows
"Get away from me, get away from me
This isn't gonna be easy
But I don't need you
Believe me
You got a piece of me
But it's just a little piece of me
And I don't need anyone
And these days I feel like I'm fading away."
In our marriage there were so many times that I didn't say things, didn't know how, feared the consequences. So I stayed quiet. If I learned anything from that it's that not saying something is usually, in the long run, more damaging than saying everything. And saying the things to yourself, which you most fear might be true, is the surest way to start examining whether those things have any truth in them.
Just Breathe - Pearl Jam
"Did I say that I need you?
Did I say that I want you?
Oh, if I didn't I'm a fool you see
No one knows this more than me
As I come clean."
On the way home from work I would hear Breakeven, and it took a few listens for it to not make me cry. Some of the best parts of me are part of me because you helped to create them. I'm far more patient, far more curious, I live outside mys own head more. I have found empathy, compassion, ways of showing that I love that never existed in me before there was a Jen.
Breakeven - The Script
"Her best days will be some of my worst,
She finally met a man that's gonna put her first,
While I'm wide awake, she's no trouble sleeping.
'Cos when a heart breaks
no it don't break even, even no.
What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you
What am I supposed to say when I'm all choked up and you're ok
I'm falling to pieces."
John Mayer is frustrating. He has songs that make me want to kill him by beating him with a garden hose, but as a kid he wrote this song of loss and still being in love. I miss waking up early on Saturday and making coffee and bacon so we can watch soccer. I miss making a fire on winter evening and pouring us a glass of scotch to share. I will miss, as I missed last year, shopping for Christmas in Decatur. I missed planting the garden this spring, and so many family celebrations at the Lake. This week should have been another. Fall and winter will find new ways to break my heart every day as I remember this or that. But that's not important. What matters is that you're going to feel some of those pains, and it's because of things I have done.
Comfortable - John Mayer
"Our love was, comfortable and
so broken in"
Even though you have a relationship with someone new, I believe, in my heart, that you and I are connected, that part of us will always love the other in a way that nobody else can, not even with all of their heart. There is something of each of us that will always live only in the other. If that has to be enough for me, to know that I love you, I'll find a way to move on, if not away from those feelings.
Windmills - Toad the Wet Sprocket
"There’s something that you won’t show
Waiting where the light goes
And anyway the wind blows
It’s all worth waiting for."
While you were in surgery I had the opportunity and the pleasure of talking with your family - about what this year had been like, about what was happening with you and I, and what my hopes might be. Your mother offered me some advice: to forgive myself. To find a way to put down the burden, so that you may put down yours, and maybe we can both feel a little lighter. Easier said than done, but I'm asking for wisdom in my head and strength in my heart to figure out how to do it.
All We Are - Matt Nathanson
"I wasted, wasted love for you
Traded out for something new
Well, it's hard to change the way you lose
If you think you never won."
Renewal
The last concert we went to together was half of Travis. It was wonderful, and I know we both had a great time. It was probably the last time we had that kind of closeness. A month later we were in New York, and I was pulling away.
Love Will Come Through - Travis
"If I told you a secret
You won't tell a soul
Will you hold it and
Keep it alive
Cause it's burning a hole
And I can't get to sleep
And I can't live alone
In this life."
In my last blog I wrote that I understand now that forgiveness is nothing to do with being deserving - I think I finally "get" what grace is. And second chances, though they are a rare gift, are sometimes put in front of us.
Whatever It Takes - Lifehouse
"I'll do whatever it takes
To turn this around
I know what's at stake
I know that I've let you down
And if you give me a chance
And give me a break
I'll keep us together, I know you deserve much better."
I tried to move on, to date someone new, to push myself to love someone else. Songs about acknowledging being the architect of your own sadness are rare, but Missy Higgins seems able to produce them almost on a whim. I tried to move on. I failed.
Special Two - Missy Higgins
"And we will only need each other, we'll bleed together,
Our hands will not be taught to hold another's,
'cause we're the special two!
And we could only see each other, we'll breathe together,
These arms will not be taught to need another's,
'cause we're the special two."
Uncle Paul once asked me where home was for me, was it Atlanta or England. My answer at the time was "Wherever Jen is." With the benefit of knowledge of everything that's happened over the years, I'm sure it would look like a lie. But nowhere feels like home to me anymore if you're not there.
If My Heart Was a House - Owl City
"Circle me and the needle moves gracefully
Back and forth
If my heart was a compass you'd be north
Risk it all cause I'll catch you if you fall
Wherever you go, if my heart was a house you'd be home."
A theme in my head for a while now has been that I shouldn't pretend to be okay if I'm not feeling that way. When I heard this song by Snow Patrol, I couldn't help but feel the hope in the sadness, and see it as a reflection of my own feelings.
Just Say Yes - Snow Patrol
"I'm running out of ways to make you see
I want you to stay here beside me
I won't be ok and I won't pretend I am
So just tell me today and take my hand
Please take my hand.
Just say yes, just say there's nothing holding you back
It's not a test, nor a trick of the mind
Only love."
It's only at the end of a long year, after your surgery, after spending time with you as you recovered, that a quiet peace is falling on me. Maybe it will end this insomnia, or maybe it will be the beginning of other things. Maybe you'll be able to find a way to trust me, maybe I'll be able to show you that I am much more the man you married than the man who deserted you.
What I know is that for the first time in many many years, I am myself. I'm not perfect, and I will fail many more times than I succeed, but I will always stand up one more time than I fall down.
I don't know if I can ever again be the man you want to share your life with. But there is no task, no question, no doubt that I cannot answer and overcome to show you that I am ready to share my life with you.
Love always,
Duncan
