Upon Further Reflection

I confess, I don’t always read the comments when I read other people’s blogs. It really just depends on how much time I have at any given moment. Anyway, I clarified a few things in a reply to a comment on my previous post and since I assume that at least a few people share my shameful burden of not always reading the comments, I’m going to repost it here. Because I can and why not. I want all this crap out and over with, you know? I was replying to a person who thought I was sad over him specifically and/or thinking of him.

Oh, I am not particularly interested in how he is. I hope his wife and child are well, and I hope in a vague sort of way that he isn’t crushed by heavy machinery or kidnapped by pirates, or anything ridiculous like that, but in general I don’t spend any significant amount of time actually mooning over (the current reality of) him.

I kind of miss the fake him, or at least the idea of the fake him. Call me stupid and sentimental. Fake him meshed with real me quite nicely. But once I realized, truly internalized, what he did, the cheating on his PREGNANT wife part and the callous disregard for my emotional and mental health part, I realized that the real him is quite simply not a man I want to know. And if real him happened to get a little karmic payback at some point in his future, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. But I’m not wishing for it, either.

My bursts of sadness have more to do with me. I WANT what I thought we had, with someone who is actually deserving of my love and passion. I want that, so much.

I think that last paragraph is the most important point here. And I’ll be the first to admit that it took me a while to figure that out. It’s really only been in the last few days, as I’ve been wondering why on earth I am still experiencing sadness over this, that it finally clicked. It’s about me and what I want from life, from love, from the relationships that I have now, that I may have in the future. Hell, probably ones from the past, too.

I need to figure out what I want out of life. Sounds easy enough, right?!

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I Know, I Know . . . I Said I Was Done

WHY, for crying out loud, am I still occasionally experiencing waves of sadness over the loss of a man who, when you get right down to it, proved himself emphatically to NOT be the type of man I would actually want to be with?! My brain is a fully functioning one, and intellectually I am over it, over him. But my emotional side has other ideas, and is apparently having a grand old time gracing me with bouts of weepiness and making me generally achy in the heart region. It is really quite annoying. I mean, if I had to make a list of things that would keep me from getting involved with someone, “cheats on pregnant wife” would be be WAY up there! Really high, and right next to “depraved indifference to the feelings of clueless ‘mistress’ and previously mentioned, cheated-upon, pregnant wife”.

So again, I’m asking . . . what the fuck is wrong with me that I still get sad about this!?!?! I do NOT want this man, or anyone of his ilk. I’m going to plead hormones. Does that make any sense? Or maybe it’s intermittent  bursts of insanity. I don’t know. My cousin’s theory is that he represents something that I wish I had. As in, it’s not him, it’s the idea of him. Which makes as much sense as anything, I suppose. It’s definitely not him specifically, I do know that. At least not anymore. And since he was clearly actively lying to me the entire time we were together, he was also likely lying in regards to his perceived “perfect-for-me” quality. So maybe it’s just as simple as I viewed him as perfect for me, due in whatever parts to both his skills in lying and my need to believe in the existence of a mythical “perfect” man.

Ok, that kind of makes sense. I’m really just still sad over the loss of said mythical, “perfect” man. Ha. Gosh, I feel so much better now!

*sigh*

Broken Hearts and Rainy Days

My heart hurts. I’m not thinking about it, though. Which is a lie. But I’m trying. I was doing really well, but I seem to have regressed a bit. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t such an emotional person. Maybe. I don’t know. I suppose you have to have the lows if you’re going to have the highs. I do love the highs.

I wish that I could turn my brain off sometimes, just to get a moment or two of peace. Beautiful silence. The voices in my head need to shut the fuck up for a bit, they really do. It’s pouring rain, or I’d go sit on top of my mountain. I might do it anyway, and just stay in the car. The view isn’t as spectacular, but it’s still there.

My heart hurts.

New Year’s Eve

One constant with being a parent, a sick child trumps everything. And so I find myself curled up in bed with my laptop, while my son tosses and turns restlessly beside me. Poor little man. I hate it when he’s sick, but at least I can bring him into my room and hold his hand while he sleeps. I still have this almost compulsive need to make certain he’s breathing. I don’t imagine that ever really goes away, more that you just learn to keep the urge under control.

Today has been a very emotional day for me. I’ve had the urge to have a good cry for most of the day. I think it has a lot to do with the time of year and the whole cycle of endings and beginnings, contrived though it may be. The last several years have been simultaneously some of the best and worst of my life. Most of the best has to do with my son, and the rest is pretty much just time I’m glad is in the past.

I’ve never been one for resolutions. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve ever made an official New Year’s resolution. I do have some thoughts for this coming year. None I’m ready to share, as I haven’t actually gotten them worked out, but there are definitely some ideas swirling around.

I am profoundly thankful that my mom is now a five-year survivor of breast cancer. She’s off her medicines and has been basically released by her oncologist, other than a yearly check-up. I can’t adequately express how relieved I am to still have her in my life. Her diagnosis was without a doubt one of the scariest things I’ve even experienced, that we as a family have ever experienced.

As for my stated desire to not think about him anymore, it’s going reasonably well. It still crops up now and then, but in a way that is less specific to him and more in a “circumstances of my life” sort of way. There are definitely still some things to explore, but more in terms of finally figuring out what I’d like out of my life and taking the necessary steps to achieve it. Which plays a bit into the idea of resolutions and so on. Anyway, I guess I’ve just finally come to the conclusion that he’s kind of a shit. And that’s ok, some people are. Thankfully, he and his issues are no longer my problem. I have quite enough of my own issues to keep me busy, thank you very much!

My son is stirring, so it won’t be long until he wakes up needing comfort and medicine. In the meantime, I and Neil Gaiman will leave you with best wishes for a happy 2012.

 

My Reason For Everything

Holidays stress me in general, and it’s been a rough few days with more on the way. I’ll write about it eventually, I’m sure. Possibly even later tonight, after I get my son to bed. In the meantime, a reminder to me why I work as hard as I do, my reason for everything, my heart, my son.

Endings And Beginnings

I suppose a small (huge?) confession is in order. I have been in regular contact with his wife. You might remember that she’d written me in early November, after she found this blog and became concerned about my emotional state. And, for whatever reasons, we’ve been writing each other ever since. Up until today, actually. The ending was my doing. I am ready to not think about him anymore, a hard enough thing to do on my own. And I can’t not think about him while being friendly with his wife. Which is unfortunate because we seem to actually like each other, but ultimately it is realistic. We said our goodbyes and we wished each other well. It’s all good.

She talked to me because, as she put it, she gained comfort from doing so since I was the only person who knew what had happened, and because she felt lonely with her pain. I can understand that. I don’t exactly know why I talked to her for so long. I’ve given it some thought, as part of coming to my decision to stop. I like her, as I said, and there’s even a possibility that, had we met under different circumstances, we could have become friends. But that is just an interesting side note, not something that explains why I chose to talk to her.

I don’t know if it matters why, truly. I did want to know if they were able to work things out, and they are currently managing to do so. All the good and decent parts of me are very relieved and happy to know that. I do sometimes wonder if the not-so-nice devil on my shoulder wanted to know that they were back together in order to have extra ammunition to use against me in my ongoing battle with depression and self-esteem. The nasty voices in my head really do enjoy having their way with that sort of thing, pointing out couples who seem to have love and delighting in reminding me that I do not currently have the type of love that I would like to have.

My general tendency is to put other people’s needs ahead of my own, and I felt quite a bit of angst and concern at telling her I needed to move on. I normally just write emails and send them, but I must have rewritten that one five times before I felt it was acceptable to send to her. Now that I have done so, and we have said our goodbyes, I feel a rather strange combination of sad and relieved. I am ready to start trying to move forward, I think. My first appointment with my new therapist is coming up this week, and obviously this whole fiasco will play a large role in what we talk about, at least for a while. But I want to look forward, and I want to think about him less and less every day, until he is a distant memory.

I’ve had quite a time keeping my thoughts focused lately, and I have pretty much lost the thread of where I was going with all this. So I’ll stop writing for now. I don’t like this, not at all. I don’t know what it is indicative of, something worth exploring or maybe just a cumulative lack of sleep? Ugh. I hate not being in control of my own mind.

I Miss Love

I miss being in love. Not with him, not specifically. Just being in love. I miss having someone to talk to, someone to fill my heart and mind. I miss waking up in the morning with a smile on my face simply because that person exists in my world. I miss believing that someone loves me, too.

I miss feeling like someone has my back. It’s you and me against the world, baby!

Nope. It’s just me, and I feel very alone today.