How typical is my latest struggle: I have replaced one mood enhancing behavior for another. I have, once again, anesthetized myself to avoid the pain of loss, to avoid irritability, to avoid lethargy...basically: to avoid. I guess it has worked on a number of levels: had I not used as often as I have used the past couple of years, I would not have made some strides in certain areas: and it seems rather insane to acknowledge things this way but it is what it is.
I have been abusing some kind of pill or another since sometime in 2009 I would say. I don't recall per se how it happened....addiction is incidious that way..it may have been a dental appt that provided a narcotic prescription...and that, combined with the right low-mood moment, prompted me to abuse the prescribed amount and brought me some temporary mood lift and feeling of relief. I was trying any method I could come up with that would bring me some useful way to cope with the stresses of my life. The greatest stress in my day to day existence was brought to me via my romantic relationship. The roller coaster of a life shared by 2 dually diagnosed women with individual personality mood and pathology disorders combined with substance abuse basically meant that each day's mood was up for grabs as to whether it would be a dip down a steep hill of emotion or a serotonin boosted climb up the proverbial track. I coped usually in a few consistent ways: primarily in the form of finger pointing. I spent most of my waking day blaming my partner for all of the ills of the moment.....ruminating and emphasizing to whomever would be willing to listen. This was usually someone who also handled their own interpersonal relational struggles in the same way. I would speak of every complaint I had, every wish I wanted to express....every desire I had....expressed to anyone other than my partner. The reality of this was not without good reason: I knew, from years of experience, that speaking directly to my partner all of these conversations would not result in a more intimate relationship..but only in a whirlwind of individual fears and old hurts rising up to create the next inevitable "breakdown", or "break up" (however temporary they usually were...)..... I did not want these break-ups to occur, hence my sharing with another. What I hoped to occur instead, was that through some kind of divine providence, she and I would magically just change somehow......becoming more compatible and agreeable to the wants and needs of the other. This would solve everything.
Alas.......this was not to be. This she-wolf could only wear the sheep's clothing for so long...and vice versa. It would only be a matter of time before the more desired apparel would be chosen..and the continuing conflicts would ensure. I would "have enough".....and in textbook "fight/flight" mode, I would go running.....back to the safe harbor of my prior home.....where my ex-husband and our 2 children lived. A home I left......focused on some greener pasture ahead....that I had yet to find. Oh there were days of sunshine and soft grass, ocean breezes and quiet evenings......but life was much bigger than that: it also included ex-husbands, additional children, financial struggles, separate friendships, individual childhood baggage. This second home now contained even more than the prior home in terms of obligations, negotiations....ghosts. I would "recuperate" in the safe homestead of origin.......put back on my "cap of denial" and return to the land of blended families and blended wounds of youth...and try again......determined that we both had learned some new wisdom based on this latest "round in the ring"....some discovered knowledge that would now lay to rest all of our insecurities, and we would now be "all better"...
until the next round....
until the "final" round...
and there was one. And it resembled all the others........but the end was the worst. This time when I "flew the coop", it resulted in more than an unanswered phone ringing and ringing......more than some angry texts....this time it was all the hurt multiplied by ten years multiplied by a thousand sent out via emails to children, destruction of property, character assassination............reactive actions that couldn't be undone....hurtful verbage that couldn't be erased.
It was done.
I have continued to run.......oh, yes, I ran to the safe harbor of my former marital home. I focused on my children and recommitted to their father in the way I had been unable to a decade prior....due to the 'fantasy of greener pasteur" that was alive in my head. But I have continued running...away from the one thing I have run from for years: real loss. The real end. The finality of death. Death of father.....death of mother....death of Jennifer. Whatever feelings and hopes and wishes that I projected onto any of them...their demise means the end to all those projections.....at least this is how it feels. I haven't needed to "run" from any house in a long time......because I have been running in a different way since: with pills, shoplifting, overspending, any kind of distraction possible to take my focus off this shattered heart. My heart is shattered over the reality that my fantasy land world does not exist....and never will. I guess I wanted to be so special that someone else would compromise.......actually just concede, any of their conflicting desires, because being with me was more important. I am sure that she can grieve for the same reason: I am sure she wishes she had been enough for me too ya know? This is where the denial has to be broken for me: I have to tell the truth that she wasn't enough for me! SHE wasn't enough for me. I was never fully there in the greener pasture....because there was never such a thing.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Day One
I spend so much time during the workday sitting in my cube on the computer surfing the net (I know, I know...my bad) and reading other people's blogs, editorials, memoir excerpts, etc and I know that somewhere here in my head lies a story that someone else sitting in their cube on the computer at work might find interesting as well.
If I were to list my favorite films ever, I would always rank at the top "Terms of Endearment". I saw it in the early 80's when it came out and I bawled then and I still bawl now. I would also add other gems like "The Shawshank Redemption" and "Catch Me if You Can"......but another movie is now added to this list and for purely personal reasons: "The Bridges of Madison County". I don't think this is a film that warrants any Top Ten list and not because it is a bad movie; far from it. Directed by Clint Eastwood, who also stars alongside Meryl Streep; the book is based on the best selling novel of the same name by Robert James Waller. I had never read the book......I don't like any of those romance type novels that are written by the likes of Nicholas Sparks and James Patterson.....but the movie devastates me.
Anyone who has seen the movie will recall one of the final scenes: on a dark and rainy afternoon, Francesca (Streep) and her unknowing husband are sitting in the front seat of his truck at an intersection, waiting for the light to turn green. Francesca looks out the truck window to see Robert (Eastwood), the man she has just spent the past 4 days with....and it is the moment of truth: does she get out of the truck? run to him completely shell shocking her unsuspecting husband? She has already contemplated this decision and what it would mean...to her...to her family....to the kind of future she and Robert would realistically have. But in that moment.....all she sees is him...and all the feelings that have come alive within her are there in front of her.
She is gripping tightly to the car door handle...Robert is standing in the pouring rain staring at her...pleading with his eyes......the camera then focuses on the traffic light above...the light turns from red to green......Francesca releases her hand from the handle..and her husband continues driving. She is trying to contain her grief.....she turns her head to look at Robert one final time. Her husband senses something is bothering her and asks her if she is o.k.....and she pulls herself together...taking a deep breath and returning to her reality, telling him she is fine.
I wasn't as mature as Francesca- I "got out of the truck". While I worried and stressed over the same things Francesca contemplated, I took the risk. My "Robert Kincaid" came in the form of a young and cute brunette female who represented all the happiness I was craving. Who single handedly held what I thought was my future contentment. She had fulfilled me in a way I hadn't been in so long...and thought never had been before and will never be again. I tried many times to let her go...to refrain from all contact....to focus again on my marriage and try to improve it. But my husband could not compete with this "fantasy" I had in my mind........but was it a fantasy? I would like to think not.....fantasies fade......whatever this tug was for me.....it tugged the hell out of me for a ten year period. I am hoping this blog will help me make some sense of it all. I want to believe that this was not just two sick individuals coming together to cause misery to each other and everyone else....there had to have been something there of genuine feeling. As much as I can recall the painful stuff in moments of solitude, I can also recall my good intentions, hopes and thoughts. I wanted her to be happy. I couldn't accept that I wasn't enough. Hell, she wasn't enough for me either. Not by herself.....I wanted her in my life terribly, but I also wanted my full life: the one that included my children, my friends including my ex-husband, my desire for independence and "me" time. When the end came...and all that it included was her and I in a lonely, quiet house.....I felt empty. No longer fulfilled. Battered.
Was it all in vain? I want to reaffirm to myself what I do believe to be the truth: knowing myself as well as I do......I would have had a far greater regret had I not gone to be with her. I would never have known what I know now. I would have always wondered. She would be sitting on top of some high mountain of glory representing everything I wanted and had forfeited.
I need to believe it was all for a reason. I think I know the reason....it's just hard on those days...like the days of this past week...when I forget what that reason is.
If I were to list my favorite films ever, I would always rank at the top "Terms of Endearment". I saw it in the early 80's when it came out and I bawled then and I still bawl now. I would also add other gems like "The Shawshank Redemption" and "Catch Me if You Can"......but another movie is now added to this list and for purely personal reasons: "The Bridges of Madison County". I don't think this is a film that warrants any Top Ten list and not because it is a bad movie; far from it. Directed by Clint Eastwood, who also stars alongside Meryl Streep; the book is based on the best selling novel of the same name by Robert James Waller. I had never read the book......I don't like any of those romance type novels that are written by the likes of Nicholas Sparks and James Patterson.....but the movie devastates me.
Anyone who has seen the movie will recall one of the final scenes: on a dark and rainy afternoon, Francesca (Streep) and her unknowing husband are sitting in the front seat of his truck at an intersection, waiting for the light to turn green. Francesca looks out the truck window to see Robert (Eastwood), the man she has just spent the past 4 days with....and it is the moment of truth: does she get out of the truck? run to him completely shell shocking her unsuspecting husband? She has already contemplated this decision and what it would mean...to her...to her family....to the kind of future she and Robert would realistically have. But in that moment.....all she sees is him...and all the feelings that have come alive within her are there in front of her.
She is gripping tightly to the car door handle...Robert is standing in the pouring rain staring at her...pleading with his eyes......the camera then focuses on the traffic light above...the light turns from red to green......Francesca releases her hand from the handle..and her husband continues driving. She is trying to contain her grief.....she turns her head to look at Robert one final time. Her husband senses something is bothering her and asks her if she is o.k.....and she pulls herself together...taking a deep breath and returning to her reality, telling him she is fine.
I wasn't as mature as Francesca- I "got out of the truck". While I worried and stressed over the same things Francesca contemplated, I took the risk. My "Robert Kincaid" came in the form of a young and cute brunette female who represented all the happiness I was craving. Who single handedly held what I thought was my future contentment. She had fulfilled me in a way I hadn't been in so long...and thought never had been before and will never be again. I tried many times to let her go...to refrain from all contact....to focus again on my marriage and try to improve it. But my husband could not compete with this "fantasy" I had in my mind........but was it a fantasy? I would like to think not.....fantasies fade......whatever this tug was for me.....it tugged the hell out of me for a ten year period. I am hoping this blog will help me make some sense of it all. I want to believe that this was not just two sick individuals coming together to cause misery to each other and everyone else....there had to have been something there of genuine feeling. As much as I can recall the painful stuff in moments of solitude, I can also recall my good intentions, hopes and thoughts. I wanted her to be happy. I couldn't accept that I wasn't enough. Hell, she wasn't enough for me either. Not by herself.....I wanted her in my life terribly, but I also wanted my full life: the one that included my children, my friends including my ex-husband, my desire for independence and "me" time. When the end came...and all that it included was her and I in a lonely, quiet house.....I felt empty. No longer fulfilled. Battered.
Was it all in vain? I want to reaffirm to myself what I do believe to be the truth: knowing myself as well as I do......I would have had a far greater regret had I not gone to be with her. I would never have known what I know now. I would have always wondered. She would be sitting on top of some high mountain of glory representing everything I wanted and had forfeited.
I need to believe it was all for a reason. I think I know the reason....it's just hard on those days...like the days of this past week...when I forget what that reason is.
second entry
How many days since my last post? hmmmm
It seems pointless always to write as a daily journal...my thoughts are always filled with the same questions/worries/hopes etc......I want to have a story in my head that brings me some comfort. If I have my own perspective..if it doesn't matter what someone else's is because it's bound to be different anyway..why not create the one I want?
I want to have a story..that is told with hindsight....from my perspective today. I realize that things may change based on what happens in the future- but it would help me to chronicle my life as I see it today.
Hindsight is supposed to bring wisdom. I don't know about that...I feel like I am filled with regrets...until I am reminded of the saying "remember that the regrets you have today are about things that were exactly as you wanted then..."
I think I forget the "exactly as you wanted" part. For that memory to hold in the same state as that time, I would need to feel the same emotions.....emotions that I no longer feel. So, I forget. It is only when I am quiet and think, can I bring to mind the emotions that drove my decisions.
How come when I think about my parents I don't feel the pain I get when I think about Jen? What feelings did she provide me that they didn't? Simply ones of pleasure due to boosts to my ego? The last days I was with her, I stood in rooms with her knowing that I needed to let her go. I was in her presence and no longer felt the strong desire to spend time with her. The things she talked about, the people she chose to spend time with, etc....I felt no similarities. She was who she was...had her interests....I had spent ten years with her watching her figure out what those interests were. I know she had watched me for ten years...had learned a tremendous amount from me...and I guess the truth is that I could no longer teach her anything. At least nothing positive. Only more pain.
I looked at her and only felt the loss of my children and the pain I had caused their dad. I thought of this wonderful man who has only loved and cared for me for over 2 decades. The criticism I used to feel from him was nothing compared to what I had been living with....I was seeing better that the criticism I felt from R all those years ago was really me criticizing myself. R didn't call me names...R didn't throw me under busses.....R didn't take my most sensitive weaknesses and throw them in my face. R wanted only for me to be happy. Even if it meant losing me.
I realized that I was never going to make Jen happy. If I ever did again, they would only be fleeting moments. The logical part of my brain saw things clearly: recognized both mine and Jen's limitations and capabilities. I was never going to be able to give her what she wants. She would never give me what I wanted. I saw all of our struggles from the past now reappearing and having to be dealt with all over again....and with no trust between us. I used to spend all my energy fighting her distrust of me......why hadn't I recognized that I had no trust for her? I had no trust for the person I was sharing a life with, I knew that she would hurt me any time she felt hurt...regardless of my non-intent. Sometimes Jen would have such clarity about herself...she would recognize her weaknesses..identify them and apologize. But only to repeat the behaviors over and over. And add layer upon layer to our combined misery.
I loved so much those moments of shared vulnerabilities that they drove my thinking regarding anything else. In fact now I wonder if she really understood me at all.....or only mirrored me. Or maybe I simply projected onto her? I refused to believe we had different brains. I refused to believe the differences that were always in front of me. I thought I knew best for her......maybe I didn't at all. Maybe even if I did know what was best.....if she didn't agree...what good was it?
I want to write my story to make it worthwhile. I want this last chapter of my life to MEAN something. I can't let it be a waste. Have I learned anything from those years? If I have...and I do believe I have....why do I keep forgetting the lessons? Why do I need to constantly reread the text?
It's as if I can't retain any of it. Or I only remember it when I am in good mood, good space...as soon as my mood gets low, I think and recall incorrectly and it must be due to a need for improved feeling...a boost...the kind of mood booster the relationship periodically gave me.......giving it the addictive quality. I hate to make it sound so crass...but the relationship became a kind of drug for me....and it was the occassional "high" that kept me in something that had been quite negative for some time.
What was that boost? Can it be recreated for me in some other way today?
It seems pointless always to write as a daily journal...my thoughts are always filled with the same questions/worries/hopes etc......I want to have a story in my head that brings me some comfort. If I have my own perspective..if it doesn't matter what someone else's is because it's bound to be different anyway..why not create the one I want?
I want to have a story..that is told with hindsight....from my perspective today. I realize that things may change based on what happens in the future- but it would help me to chronicle my life as I see it today.
Hindsight is supposed to bring wisdom. I don't know about that...I feel like I am filled with regrets...until I am reminded of the saying "remember that the regrets you have today are about things that were exactly as you wanted then..."
I think I forget the "exactly as you wanted" part. For that memory to hold in the same state as that time, I would need to feel the same emotions.....emotions that I no longer feel. So, I forget. It is only when I am quiet and think, can I bring to mind the emotions that drove my decisions.
How come when I think about my parents I don't feel the pain I get when I think about Jen? What feelings did she provide me that they didn't? Simply ones of pleasure due to boosts to my ego? The last days I was with her, I stood in rooms with her knowing that I needed to let her go. I was in her presence and no longer felt the strong desire to spend time with her. The things she talked about, the people she chose to spend time with, etc....I felt no similarities. She was who she was...had her interests....I had spent ten years with her watching her figure out what those interests were. I know she had watched me for ten years...had learned a tremendous amount from me...and I guess the truth is that I could no longer teach her anything. At least nothing positive. Only more pain.
I looked at her and only felt the loss of my children and the pain I had caused their dad. I thought of this wonderful man who has only loved and cared for me for over 2 decades. The criticism I used to feel from him was nothing compared to what I had been living with....I was seeing better that the criticism I felt from R all those years ago was really me criticizing myself. R didn't call me names...R didn't throw me under busses.....R didn't take my most sensitive weaknesses and throw them in my face. R wanted only for me to be happy. Even if it meant losing me.
I realized that I was never going to make Jen happy. If I ever did again, they would only be fleeting moments. The logical part of my brain saw things clearly: recognized both mine and Jen's limitations and capabilities. I was never going to be able to give her what she wants. She would never give me what I wanted. I saw all of our struggles from the past now reappearing and having to be dealt with all over again....and with no trust between us. I used to spend all my energy fighting her distrust of me......why hadn't I recognized that I had no trust for her? I had no trust for the person I was sharing a life with, I knew that she would hurt me any time she felt hurt...regardless of my non-intent. Sometimes Jen would have such clarity about herself...she would recognize her weaknesses..identify them and apologize. But only to repeat the behaviors over and over. And add layer upon layer to our combined misery.
I loved so much those moments of shared vulnerabilities that they drove my thinking regarding anything else. In fact now I wonder if she really understood me at all.....or only mirrored me. Or maybe I simply projected onto her? I refused to believe we had different brains. I refused to believe the differences that were always in front of me. I thought I knew best for her......maybe I didn't at all. Maybe even if I did know what was best.....if she didn't agree...what good was it?
I want to write my story to make it worthwhile. I want this last chapter of my life to MEAN something. I can't let it be a waste. Have I learned anything from those years? If I have...and I do believe I have....why do I keep forgetting the lessons? Why do I need to constantly reread the text?
It's as if I can't retain any of it. Or I only remember it when I am in good mood, good space...as soon as my mood gets low, I think and recall incorrectly and it must be due to a need for improved feeling...a boost...the kind of mood booster the relationship periodically gave me.......giving it the addictive quality. I hate to make it sound so crass...but the relationship became a kind of drug for me....and it was the occassional "high" that kept me in something that had been quite negative for some time.
What was that boost? Can it be recreated for me in some other way today?
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