Today was a rough day. Nothing went wrong; I wasn’t as rushed or pulled in a million directions as I am most days. I just felt heavy today. My husband found a place to live yesterday and what-soon-will-be weighs on me. I’m sad for our two young boys who have no way to understand the depth of this change, yet feel all the anxiety that accompanies it. And I’m sad for my husband and myself because we each have much hard work and change ahead too.
My feelings and fears seem non-existent for days on end and then they all stand on the porch ringing the door bell in unison and I can’t sort any of it out. I try to answer my 6 year-old son’s questions about what happens next. I think about my own parents divorce and separate households–the split personality of my childhood. One set of rules and expectations at one house; complete contradictions at the other. I learned to read people and situations quickly. As I answer his questions, I make a mental list of all the things I don’t want he and his brother to learn.
I feel both relieved and guilty that his pain and confusion distracts me from my own. I’m 37 years old. I haven’t worked in 7 years. I have two small boys to raise. I am struggling to maintain my belief in love and partnership. And regardless of whether the belief is maintained or not; I may never find them.
(Please; no responses to the effect of “yes you will!.. blah, blah, blah.” If you know me then you know that will only annoy me.)
This isn’t an ego or self-esteem issue. I have plenty of both. I find my own jokes funnier than just about anyone’s and I’m genuinely impressed with myself when I stand naked in the mirror. This is an odds issue; pure numbers. Not everyone finds the sort of partnership I desire. It isn’t always about being good at it, or deserving it, or whatever; sometimes you just don’t find it. I think I’m pretty good at it and I enjoy blending my life with someone else’s. But I’m not in control of the whole equation and I never have been. I have always believed in true loves, great loves; but I don’t think we are given an endless supply of them. I myself have had three, which seems both a reasonable and generous amount.
I met the first when I was 19. He was a good and beautiful person who deserved every bit of pining I did for him. We became true friends first, perhaps the only time I’ve allowed myself such patience or wisdom. Our time together was brief but sweet. Unfortunately, great loves don’t always return our level of affection or devotion. It took me years to get over him. In fact, it took him rejecting me in the kindest way anyone could: with extreme candor and clarity. Even when he dumped me he did it with integrity. That’s hot.
I met my second 7 years later. (Don’t worry there were plenty of charming distractions in between). Like my first love, I knew the moment I saw him that he would become important in my life. I couldn’t stop from introducing myself to him and, later, throwing myself at him. I continued throwing myself at him, or at least in his direction, until he realized that dating me would be easier than avoiding me. Once we were together our connection was intense. But the intensity sparked conflict; too much conflict. We broke up and got back together so many times it became ridiculous.
Next was my husband. Once again, I knew instantly that we would be in each others lives. In fact, I knew the feeling well enough by then that it scared me. Those moments, when you see right into the crystal ball, are jarring. The difference this time was that he felt the same thing at the same moment. I was lifted onto a conveyor belt that I had neither the ability nor desire to get off of. That is, until now I suppose. I’m still figuring out the how and why of it all…
So on to the what. What now? I know what to do about the business side of things; I’ve always been a practical girl with a knack for independence. And though it’s hard, I know what to do for my kidos too. I even know how to keep my spirits up, being rich in friendships with kick-ass chicks (some of whom have blazed this trail). But I don’t know what to do for the part of me that still wants love and partnership.
For now and for a while, I’m going to take my time and sit with it. Maybe during that time science will make advancements in cloning so that I may double myself and at least get the partnership side of things (never a disagreement about how to spend a Sunday). Or perhaps I’ll experience a monumental hormonal shift, rendering male companionship obsolete in my life. I could always spend the time having plastic surgery, shopping for shiny and revealing outfits and hitting on paper boys and baristas. Oh wait, scratch that last one. I think plastic surgery is kind of expensive. Whatever. By simply exploring my options…I feel better already.
© Jennifer Sparklebritches and Poop In My Hair, 2011. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Poop In My Hair with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.