Free

An annoying thing just happened.

The HL's cousin M just called to check in. We shot the breeze about not much at all, including that her aunt, the HL's mother, had a gift for me that the woman brought from a holiday trip. The HL had emailed me that if I'd accept the gift, how could he get it to me? Well, I'd hoped M could take care of it, and I reiterated that hope, which would nullifying the need for me to deal with the HL at all. Well, M said she'd rather not. She doesn't "want to get into the middle of anything."

At first I was annoyed, perhaps selfishly. What's there to get in the middle of? They're her family, after all! But then a lightbulb went off in my head. I need to be out of it with all of them, too, not just with the HL. It's not dumping the boyfriend unless it's also dumping his family, because I can't have one with having something of the other. If I need to get away from him, in other words, I have to get away from them too. So whether they know it or not, they shouldn't be buying me gifts anymore, either. It's OVER. For all of us.

Speaking confidentally, I have some doubts about M's integrity anyway, of late. She's a divorced mom of two older children, and she has an unfortunately unproductive relationship with them. In fact, she confided tonight that her son, who's a 10th grader but who should be in 11th grade, now wants to drop out of school. Her daughter lives by choice with the ex-husband, because "she gets away with more there," according to M. In fact, this little girl actually called CPS on M once in the past; M had an explanation for all that drama, placing blame for erroneous and premature judgement on her daughter's slender shoulders, but M does admit to slapping her. My mom's slapped me; frankly, maybe in that instance it was justified. But the overall pattern is one of complete breakdown. It's as though she stopped being a mom, a real mom, when she stopped being a wife. Now she's a caricature of a mom. That is, she tries, but neither she nor her ex-husband appear to have any authority or influence over the emotional or practical welfare of their children, who've fallen completely between the cracks. M complains about them incessantly and lectures them mightily, and what's more, she seems surprised when they don't shape up their behavior and respect her word. I'm not. At all.

At present, she "doesn't know what to do" about her son wanting to drop out, but she's lectured him about his foolishness. It's not working, surprise surprise. Funny, I can think of several things to do for -- and to -- the boy, but all of them are probably too late, or they're actually too hard for a mother alone with a full time job and only a yes-man dad to back her up.

So... if I never see the HL's mom again anyway, what does it matter what she thinks of me in the end? And if I don't really respect M's behavior or integrity, what does it matter if we're actually friends?

It doesn't. These are his people. And he can have them.

Understanding or Lack Thereof

I had an odd conversation yesterday.

My workout friend O, who's happily married with three half-grown kids, went out to lunch with me and another friend, L, who's a widow with a son in high school. So the three of us represented marriage in all of its manifestations.

O and L know that I'm divorced, though we'd never talked about much of any of our lives at length before (usually, our lunch brigade is much larger than three). I expressed my idea of "detoxing" my psyche like I explained in another post; that is, spending time alone to shore up my relationship with myself, finding happiness by myself, and avoiding finding a new relationship partly out of a lack of faith that it's possible right now, and either way, I don't want a man to be the reason I have bliss in my life. He brings the bliss, and he can take it away if he chooses to go away, too.

She just didn't get it. In fact, she seemed almost bothered by the implication that someone in a relationship is somehow compromising her independence. She got the point that marraige doesn't make people happy, but that they make themselves happy, but she just didn't accept that living without a man can be right or good, temporarily or permanently. She says that women can be independent as well as in a relationship, at the same time, but that having a man in your life brings another whole level of satisfaction and meaning. Well, maybe she's right. And maybe, other women can do that. I can't. Or, more precisely, I don't want to. I can control my life right now, and the idea of sharing that control, or giving over my heart for someone to play with as he likes, makes me want to break out in a rash.

Now L got it. She was widowed when her son was a toddler, and it was many years before she ever even considered finding a ner "friend." Now that recently she has found a new "friend," her son is protective and somewhat wary of this gentleman coming to call on his mom. She's made it clear to this man: "If you want me, the only way is through my son. Period. You work it out with him, first." She told O that for a long time, she thought about the husband she lost and realized just how much she lost for having loved so well. For years, she wasn't interested in looking for something new and having to make the associated adjustments. She then, like me now, didn't think that what she'd find could possibly measure up to her expectations.

O got it with L. Having a husband die was something she could understand meriting grief and an insular lifestyle. But she just didn't get it with me... it was like she thought my marriage was merely a horse I'd fallen off of, and I simply had to get over the fear of falling again by jumping into another saddle. Well, that's just not it. I told her about dating the HL for two years, which surprised her; she hadn't realized it was so long. I explained that that relationship was mostly relationship-lite. That is, after many months together, once a great deal of healing had managed to take place, and by the time I felt enough confidence in myself and readiness for more from a relationship, it ended. Yes, I was prepared, but he wasn't.

Right now, the idea of a relationship is just too much of a pain in the ass... who wants to ask to go through all that emotional bullshit with someone I probably won't even really like anyway and to take the time and effort relationships require from my nice, calm, peaceful, controllable existence? Why invite possibly troubled waters? My boat is serene. That's a good thing! And if a man shows up who can add value to my life, then great. But I'm not going to look for him. I'm not going to persuade him to come aboard. And I don't want to send another man off the plank!

So, I felt a bit minimized at that lunch. And frustrated. People yearn to be understood, and perhaps the biggest favor we can pay one another, to strive to understand. O didn't understand me, and instead, she almost, but not quite, rejected my perspective. Instead of letting her bother me, I should appreciate L, whose wisdom, values, and character all point toward her being a great friend, should we ever develop a real friendship.

Reasons

Top Seven Things that Bugged Me about TCMT

7. Generally, he didn't have friends. Well, he had one friend, but that's all, and he was pretty clear about how hard it is for men to find men-friends to be close without it being weird, which was a factor in him wanting a relationship. This raised a red flag to me... my ex husband didn't have friends, either. Psychologically sound people can find, make, and sustain friends. People without friends are peculiar.

6. He whined. He seemed to need a lot of attention, and if he didn't get it like he expected, he'd whine like a little kid. Sometimes, I wanted to smack him, as I'd want to smack a little kid.

5. Insecurity. His selfless good deeds toward me were really thinly-veiled attempts to gain repeated affirmation from me. Maybe this isn't so unusual for a man to try and do something nice for a woman he likes, but it's definitely unusual for the woman to hate it as much as I did. Like, he'd bring me something I didn't even necessarily want, and he expected me to go on about how great it was, or he'd be hurt and morose. I found it hard to be grateful for even the gesture when I felt browbeated to provide positive reinforcement. Now, when I mean to do something nice for someone, I do it because the action itself brings pleasure to me, and a "thanks" is all I'd expect in return. He'd actually follow up... "Did you like the ______? You haven't tried them yet? But WHYYYY?"

4. His dog. A ninety pound dog. Dog hair. Dog neediness. TCMT's hangdog expression when I said I didn't want the dog in my house. "You don't LIKE him?" whine whine

3. He tended to make excuses and blame others for stuff at work that happened. Not heavy on the personal responsibility, even if the excuses WERE legitimate.

2. Questionable ethics. I think (and I can't remember if he actually did this around me, if he told me about it later, or if I drew my own conclusions based on his behavior) he'd not return extra change or go back to a store to correct a mistake in his favor. I do that. The man in my life whom I respect or admire would do this. Someone who takes advantage of a business might not stop at businesses. Cheap. Coming up with great ideas to help me out -- then expecting me to pitch in... if it's HIS idea, ought not HE take care of it?

1. Lack of care... like giving himself a terrible haircut... eating spoiled food... waiting to take care of dental problems... not making himself important and taking care that he's well groomed and finished around the edges. A man who can't take care of himself can't take care of anybody else.

Truth

My epiphany this week was that I'm not solely responsible for the end of my marriage. This is an epiphany because I realized that I've been blaming myself on subconscious level for it. But it wasn't all my fault. Now I did choose a broken person to marry and entered into a marriage with some unresolved issues of my own. However, those choices didn't doom my marriage. Other broken people marry and stay together, they work it out; to do so is certainly possible.

I figured this out when my ex's karate teacher called me, looking for my ex, and he wondered "what he'd done to piss him off" that he (the teacher) hasn't heard from him (my ex) in several years. I joked, "I wonder that, too," and then hypothesized that after my father in law died, my ex took whatever issues were on his mind that he didn't want to share with me, combined them with his grief, and just ran away, not wanting to deal with any of it. His karate teacher said thoughtfully, "Yeah, that sounds about right."

That is the only answer I've ever had about my marriage's end that came from my ex, or at least from his camp. It may be heresay, and not much of an answer, but it's enough.

In the end, quite simply, it's over because he ended it. He said he didn't love me anymore. That line still bugs the hell out of me. Love is a feeling, and feelings are fleeting... short of outright acrimony taking its place, not feeling love doesn't doom a marriage, not if there's trust, friendship, and a desire to be open and accepting about working it out. He wasn't open, and he didn't believe I'd be open to accepting "the real him," whatever that meant. He decided it was over, and so it was. So as it all happened, there is one reason I'm not married any longer, and it's because he cut and ran. Period.

If he'd hung around and tried to work on matters with me, maybe it still would've ended, but then it would've been over for different reasons. He didn't do that, so it's over mostly because that's what he chose.

Part of me wonders if I'd glared at him and said, "You're right that we do have issues, and perhaps it's time we work on ourselves, and eventually to work on stuff together, but I am not agreeing to a divorce unless you first get all your baggage on the table and talk to me. For now, this is still a marriage, and it's not all about you, and I deserve that much. That's what it's going to take for me to go quietly, if that's what we find we must do," if things would have been different. I have no way of knowing... but that's what the me who I am now would say. That's what I did say the times the HL and I considered breaking up the first three times... minus the insistence. With him, it was more of a wishful thought, "How about we try to be authentic?"

Anyway, my aunt is encouraging me to be proactive about what I want in life, but I'm not prepared to ask for a relationship right now. I really don't want to bother yet... find the idea of having to give of myself more of a burden than a boon. I saw Brothers and Sisters last night, and Sally Field said to Calista Flockhart something about how people fast from food to purge their bodies of toxins. Then she hypothesized that going without a relationship for a while allows the same thing to happen psychologically. That's just what I'm doing, I realized. I'm detoxing my psychic self... and maybe eventually, I'll be ready to find someone worthy of me.

Fear

I've been rereading my way through Patricia Cornwell's Scarpetta novels, and I can't get over how much some of them speak to me about my own fears and insecurities as she pulls the curtains back to reveal the fears and insecurities of her characters. People who never reread books make a grave mistake; while the story doesn't change, we change over time. Stories evolve, too, as a result.

I feel sick. Heartsick. As I sit here, my heart is queasy and small swells of something less than panic -- though no less potent -- fill me with manic energy. This feeling has appeared and reappeared since the demise of my marriage, though I don't understand it completely or recognize what it's made of. It's like there's a war between the things for which I aspire and what I might have to settle for having, between my hopes for my future and the realities of my life as I sit here, between my fundamental beliefs and the indisputable lessons of my recent past. Sometimes, none of it makes sense, none of it can coexist. I get so sick and tired of trying to reconcile it all the time.

For what do I aspire? I want a real relationship. Sooner or later, I want a relationship that is worthy, one worth something, both to me and the man with whom I share it. I want a man who genuinely deserves my respect and admiration, who sees the value in me that I see in myself. I won't settle for less as a real relationship, even if I might someday explore a casual relationship or even a fling. However, I can't make such a thing happen. I can't engineer the perfect man for me coming into my life when I'm ready for him. This dream is something to leave to destiny while I control what does fall within my power... living the kind of life I myself can respect, so that a man with similar values recognizes me when he sees me. So we recognize each other. It's scary. But I think trusting destiny is the way to go.

What do I hope for my future? I can't escape the value I place on children, however much I feel conflicted about having them. Though I tell myself that people can live important and fulfilled lives without children, my inner self screams that children are the only thing that really matter. Fortunately, I don't place a huge premium on birthing my own versus adopting some or even raising stepchildren; my biological clock isn't an issue. But can I face an entirely family-free home life, when I can't accept the idea of making children without giving them a father? Choosing to have a child without a dad is wrong. Or, more precisely, having a child by myself to satisfy my own needs to be a mom, rather than having a child out of a house of love and strength where the child's needs come first, is wrong. Unconscionable. So I can't have a kid without finding the right relationship. That's scary!

What do I believe? I believe that real love, forever and ever, can happen. But, in a way, I've stopped believing it can happen for me, forever and ever. Love might happen -- for a little while. Or he might feel it when I don't, or vice versa. I'm too old to be a blushing virginal bride, and I'm too young to be a "second chance at love." Where do I even fit in? Oh, maybe I place too much mental faith in labels or roles... somehow, I thought they lent structure and created order, but now I've seen that letting go of expectations (like I did over the holidays) means I can find the joy in a given moment, instead of bewailing how things ought to be. But I've been divorced. No, it wasn't my desire or choice, but I have been, so I've failed at being married, and that's the bottom line. I chose a mate poorly, and I entered into a marriage where I shied away from confrontations for fear he would "go away." Well, he went away anyway.

The party line in society right now is learning to be happy alone, or else you won't find happiness in togetherness with somebody else. I'm increasingly happy alone. I am wondering if I'll ever want to bother with someone else. TCMT was so ready for togetherness, it drove me away from him screaming. So willing to accomodate me and my proclivities, just for the utter pleasure of being in my company, he was the very last thing I wanted, the thing I outright avoided.