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.
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.
Labels: beliefs, future, heartsick, relationships
posted by bluedana @ 12:49 PM
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