For what it’s worth, I feel compelled to assure you that I am, in fact, ≥95% fully-functional. I am not paralyzed by grief, I have not become a misogynist, and when I get depressed it’s usually mild and fleeting. In other words: life goes on. Appointments are made and kept, El Casa Móvil De Pennington gets cleaned, meals are cooked and consumed on something resembling a fixed schedule, and my relationships are in good order (mostly). What I was on about in that post was those times in the early morning when the sadness surfaces, and it’s a solitary thing these days. One thing I’ve learned is that there is a limit to tolerance in others towards your personal misfortune. Immediate family has the most, close friends are next, and strangers don’t give a damn. But even family expects you to “get on with it,” at some point in time. And so you do. Or pretend to, if you can’t.
Gerard wrote:
After some years had passed it surprised me to realize that I had not really thought of her for months. It was surprising to notice that my once nightly mantra of secret thoughts centered on all the wrongs done, and all the years of my child's life stolen from me, had retreated to a much more infrequent pattern. I was relieved that the thoughts that always spiraled down into the dark (where I would imagine the worst sort of things happening to the woman I once loved above all others) had faded to a sometime thing.
I’m not quite there yet, as in not thinking of her for months. The best I can claim is days. She is still my frame of reference. How could she not be? I spent over half my adult life with the woman, if one defines “adulthood” as beginning at 18, that much more than half if adulthood begins at 21, and if you want to double-down on adjectives, three-quarters of my “responsible” adult life. Her presence is felt every morning when I sugar my coffee from the dispenser she nicked from the Notre Dame dining hall as an undergrad. She picked out the wine glasses in my cupboard, handled every piece of silverware in the drawer, cut the top off the gallon Italian olive oil can that serves as the repository for my ladles, tongs, spatulas, and whisks. My butter dish was a wedding gift…and on, and on, and on. And that’s just the frickin’ kitchen! I won’t begin to go into music, because that’s the worst.
I think it takes a long time to obliterate the memories that come with 23 years of a bonded life, if it’s even possible. Gerard is correct: it’s a relief when your visits to the well become a sometime, rather than a constant, thing. When I think back to the first year or two after the breakup, the time when I went to that well and never left, I marvel at the fact I was able to hold on to my job. I did the therapy thing for a while, but quit when the best thing my therapist could offer was “sometimes bad things happen to good people.” The woman was good at what she did and we got along quite well. We reached a point, however, when we both acknowledged it was all up to me, she’d done all she could do.
I also spent some time on anti-depressants, an experience I wouldn’t recommend to anyone except those with serious depression, e.g., suicidal types of disorders. Anti-depressant drugs simply make you numb and the sexual side effects are intolerable. Any street pharmacologist has better and more fun drugs that accomplish much the same thing, without the nasty side effects (unless you get busted). In the end, it’s time and time alone that heals. Or perhaps it’s memory loss. Hell, I don’t know!
But really: I’m OK. It’s just that Gerard hit a nerve, and that nerve still happens to be close to the surface.
You’ve really been through a rough time, Buck. I’ve always thought that going through a breakup like one you’ve experienced is as bad, if not worse, than a death. It’s grief mixed up with a ton of unresolved feelings such as guilt, betrayal, anger, bewilderment – you name it. It’s hard to let go because such a large part of yourself has been ripped apart. And like you say, the memories are everywhere.
ReplyDeleteI meant to comment on your last post but our virus scan started up just when it was my turn on the family computer. Darn. You’ve been on my mind, though, Buck. First - that link of Gerard’s was beautifully written. When Gerard started out, I thought the topic was directed at me because of my recent change in the “Politics of my life!” I quickly realized that it was about your own more painful change in the “Poetics” of your life. The thoughts you shared were honest and heartfelt. You expressed them well and in a way I could understand totally. You’ve made me curious about the circumstances, but I don’t want to pry.
It’s unusual to get a man’s perspective on this kind of hurt. Women are more vocal, usually – although it doesn’t always help them. I’ve noticed that the anger felt by men is more often directed outward, more inwardly directed in women. Gerard’s inner musings of taking revenge is something that is generally alien to women. Women usually blame themselves first and then direct the anger outward at others around them, later. (They become bitchy, if you know what I mean)
My youngest son went through heartbreak that, at his young age, some might not have taken so seriously. I could see how deep the hurt was, though, because we talked about it – a lot. There was a lot of anger and blame, even though he could describe intellectually all he might have done to contribute to it. It took him about three years to regain his equilibrium. I can only imagine how much a broken bond could hurt after 23 years. And reading Gerard and your own musings have helped me understand my son, Buck. At the time, his anger worried me, even though I knew he’d never act on it. Scary, nonetheless, for a woman to read the depth of anger in a man that results from abandonment and betrayal like this. So many stories of murdered girlfriends and wives, you know. I have a better understanding now how this kind of hurt triggers a sort of (usually) suppressed kind of aggression in men. Very natural, I’d say. (You can understand how honor killings come so naturally to some cultures, perhaps.)
As far as women go, this story is all too typical. Just last month, I ran into a casual acquaintance at a retirement party (we’d had kids in the same school). I asked her how her kids were and got an equivocal answer that made me wonder. After the party was breaking up and we were alone, I asked her again. She seemed relieved that I had asked and then launched into a story of everything that had happened to her in the last 10 years. She thought she had had the idyllically happy family life. On her birthday, the family was returning home from a restaurant, her 16 year old daughter was driving and her son was in the backseat with her husband. Feeling full of love and contentment, she cheerfully thanked her husband for the joyful birthday dinner and sweet card. You know what her husband replied? “Well, I guess that this is as good a time to tell you as any, but I’ve never really loved you and I want a divorce.”
Needless to say, this woman practically went off the rails mentally. She’s still a bit “off.” Her daughter has become a lesbian and her brilliant son is a bartender in Colorado. Turns out her husband was a dry drunk, a chameleon. He later told her he had just wanted to have a nice family and he had pretended to be a Christian, etc, etc.
I can’t tell you how many “angry” women I’ve known who have been betrayed during a vulnerable time in their lives (with young children or when making that difficult transition through menopause). They never really get over it. Their personalities change completely. They never trust again.
And I think it’s trust that is the key. That feeling that someone cares about you above all others and will always be there for you. Your whole sense of yourself and how you look at the world becomes intertwined with that other person. You can try to look at a breakup dispassionately and explain it, but the hurt and the nagging inner questions will not go away.
My parents have been married for 55 years and are one of those completely devoted couples you so rarely see. You can’t imagine one without the other. As they say, they’re “joined at the hip.” A couple of years ago, my mom developed some serious health problems. My dad was scared to death although he tried not to show it. He told me that whenever my mom went, he was going to “swim to Catalina and try really hard to get there.” That’s how he saw himself dealing with the pain. Fortunately, she is doing better now although he still worries.
I’m so glad you are doing okay, Buck. I thank you so much for sharing your inner life. We’re all human and it helps to know what others experience. You sound like you’ve come a long way. You deserve the best.
Wow, Bec. So many good points and so much insight. The more you reveal yourself, the more I admire and respect you! And thanks for your empathy. I appreciate it very much.
ReplyDeleteGerard does write well on this subject, doesn't he? Another of his essays on this subject, Love Gone Missing, also made a big impression on me. I linked this essay back in February, but you may have missed it. So there it is again!
You say: You’ve made me curious about the circumstances, but I don’t want to pry.
First off, I don't view curiosity as prying. I've offered up a story, it's only natural to want to know more. But. Given the public nature of the blog, I don't want to go into specifics about the demise of the relationship, out of respect for TSMP. No sense in airing dirty laundry that's been moldering these eight years, and all that. That said, we each have our respective Truth concerning the Hows and Whys. Those respective truths are as different as two stories could possibly be. However, the basic story is well known to everyone who witnessed the breakup. It was a triangle. Aggravating circumstance: the other man was a friend. I spoke the truth when I said I had no thoughts of revenge towards her, but I had many, many violent thoughts towards that SOB. Some still linger, even today. It's strange how that particular thought process (set of rationalizations?) works: I wanted to do violence against HIM, when it was HER that initiated and pursued the relationship. Go figure...
I hear you about women being the ones who most frequently experience this sort of abandonment, and especially during the later stages of life. Our culture has made a stereotype out of the cad who abandons the loyal wife after she put him through med/law school or supported him for 30 years while he built his career, etc., etc. All stereotypes contain at least a germ of truth, and I've known my fair share of women done wrong. As a matter of fact, four such women took me into their small informal "support group" (I use quotes because we were drinking buddies) during the early days of my break-up. It was funny when one or the other of these women would launch a "they're all such BASTARDS!" rant, as they inevitably did, and then stop abruptly and look at me rather sheepishly. I always said, "Hey...go ahead! I just want equal time..." and we'd laugh and go on. Those ladies helped me through a lot.
I'm glad your Mom is doing better and I'll keep your parents in my thoughts. And thanks again for your comments.
Well, I have lots of thoughts on this, but mostly stuff I wouldn't go into here. I started replying to the first post last night, but then decided I was too tired to say what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it, so I didn't continue it. Suffice it to say, I don't think anybody has a corner on the market in having been hurt. I also believe that you have to make a conscious decision to "get over it". Time won't heal anything if you continue to "pick at it" mentally. I sleep peacefully now.
ReplyDeleteBuck! Thanks for the compliments! I knew I liked you the first time you played "Young Turks" with me over at Maha's place. I couldn't believe it when she threatened to kick you out - you seemed like such a nice guy. You were also the catalyst for the beginning of a much needed journey in my life. I really like Gerard's phrasing about that topic of the change of Politics. Do you know, I've actually drafted an apology letter to President Bush? No, I'm not kidding!
ReplyDeleteLaurie,
You certainly have a point. I can understand how the subject could make one tired - exhausted, even. You've found a marvelous cause for which to use your energy, too.
However, sometimes there is just something that nags at you because you really want to understand it. It's really an effort to understand oneself, I think.
Sort of related to this is that I like to write fiction and this endless "poking" I do into my interior life helps me understand the human condition in all its complexity. If you read the great authors in literature, that's what they do. I'm not saying I'm any great writer, but I think this is one of the hazards of the profession for this kind of writing. I suspect that Buck is a writer, too. (I know you write darn good essays, anyway, Buck!) My youngest son is a writer. My husband and other son are both artists and they rarely muse or brood to the extent that my youngest and I do. Writers tend to be a bit obssessive. (I should speak for myself. Sorry, Buck!)
Anyway, I'm really glad you're at peace with everything, Laurie. It's miserable to live with pain like that.
Buck, thanks for keeping my mom in your thoughts. She and my dad had never been sick before. It's kind of a scary novelty to them. (And to me.)
How did that happen? I know I put my name in there. Ohhh, that blogger!
ReplyDeleteOh, believe me, I've been there too. The "if I could just understand", "why", "what else could I have done", "what if" and all those other questions. Sometimes there just are no answers, and you'll drive yourself insane. It wasn't my volunteer work that brought me around and brought me peace, it was a new belief and faith in God. The volunteer work I do is just an extension of that, and I didn't get involved in my current projects until after all that healing had taken place.
ReplyDeleteBec says: Do you know, I've actually drafted an apology letter to President Bush? No, I'm not kidding!
ReplyDeleteMakes me wonder: How many of these does he get? If I had to guess, I'd say "not many." But that's just a guess. I do think it's a wonderful gesture, tho, Bec. Good on ya!
Further, on writing. There was a point in time where I carried an official job title of "Senior Technical Writer," which is code for translator, as in Geek-to-English. That little gig was short-lived, however...about a year. I enjoy my writing (such as it is) but have never ventured into the creative side.
Laurie: You're absolutely correct that sometimes there are no answers. This is hard to put into words, but I think the key is reaching internal agreement with yourself. I tried to make the point that there's a dichotomy between what we know, intellectually, and what we "know" from an emotional perspective. Rationalizing those two perspectives results in that internal harmony we're all looking for. My $0.02, anyway.
Loss of a loved one, no matter if the loss was through death or divorce, is loss, and it is painful - a wrenching and tearing of the soul which takes time to heal. I know you are okay, Buck, because you are a smart, sensible man. And you are a very interesting man to share such thoughts with us - much tougher than me. You are an amazing man.
ReplyDeleteLike Laurie, it is a faith and belief in God that sustains me. He heals my soul, brings peace, and stops my thoughts of vengeance. He is my "inward harmony."