Rehashing the past

I sent a message to M this week. I wanted to give him the news that I had been offered the job I told him about. After being told that saying "I miss you" was too painful for him, I pulled way back. Stopped making the first move in conversations. I only asked about weather, kids, work.

His answer was arrogant. He's really good, actually. He's "seeing someone, which is strange to say" to me and "kinda sad, but time." His life is so full at the moment, yadda yadda. It went through me like a bullet, tears started streaming out of my eyes before I could even process the words. I can't feel jealousy, we've been apart for 9 months, a few quick and dirty meetups in that time. It was just the way he said it, so much like when I would hear him telling Buddy to shut up or quit sniffing trees. For someone who is such a do gooder, that was a hurtful way of saying something that didn't even need to be said. If he thinks it's strange and sad to tell me about it, then it's even stranger and sadder for me to be sitting here hurting over it. He treated me badly. He guilted me into everything. Made sure I knew every time I overstepped or understepped. He tried to instruct me about being Jewish, how to eat and socialize, who to be friends with, who to work for and why.

I often wonder why I was attracted to a man like him. Or if I truly was attracted, or just infatuated with the notion that an older, smarter man wanted to sleep with a divorced mom in her 40's. I let him treat me like garbage. He left me alone to pay the bill at breakfast more than once. He hated my driving and even took the wheel of my car because he didn't want to be a passenger. He constantly worried about his bowels. He had narcissistic bowels. His bowels were the third wheel in our relationship. Our "relationship" was nothing but a band-aid. I'm plagiarizing Orange is the New Black here. He was nothing but a band-aid, during a time when I was hurt, bleeding to death from my shame and misery. And now that I'm getting better, I've ripped off the band-aid, and all I see is a scar. I'm ready to heal, and looking at the scar is a painful reminder of how hurt I was in the first place.

I don't need him, he gives me nothing but superficial reassurances, followed by shallow-grave references to how I took something away from him. I'm doing us both a huge favor by never speaking to him again. New season, new home, new job, new friends, new authentic self.

What's not to love

This anxious feeling is nothing new. I used to dread Saturdays because this awful terror would arise like clockwork by noon. When I was married I would have spent the early hours of the day drinking coffee and doing projects quietly so my husband could sleep till 10 or 11. I'd get so impatient to be out in the world that I'd scribble a note and go, often returning moments later because I forgot my wallet or phone, only to find him awake on the couch enjoying my absence, usually watching the dvr'ed game or race from the day before. What a shitty realization that my partner was scheduling his waking hours around when I'd be least available. Now I live with his daughter. Our daughter. She is even more agoraphobic than her dad. It makes her happy to sit indoors with windows sealed and blinds shut. All of her favorite activities take place indoors. She shuts down on the weekends when nothing is required of her. I'm the exact opposite. I bought her a phone plan so I'd have more freedom to come and go, leaving her safe at home with neighbors nearby in case of emergencies. It hasn't planned out that way. Today I spent a 77 degree day--with 99% sunshine--indoors, waiting on her. Just now she changed her mind and decided in fact she does want dinner. Ten minutes ago the answer was "no, leave me alone!"

Fuck. My. Life.

Lost: confidence

http://glynissherwood.com/how-to-survive-sudden-loss-of-confidence-syndrome/

http://glynissherwood.com/self-acceptance-the-key-to-self-worth/

Some days I take the intellectual approach to analyzing my state. On those days I feel present, accepting of all that got me here, aware that none of these emotions I'm feeling are permanent. I'm able to complete tasks, even take on new creative projects. I've done some writing, painting, photography, spontaneous cooking. All these things are therapeutic and pass the time effortlessly.

But the majority of days are like this. I wake with teeth clenched and head fogged. I wander over to the kitchen and start pushing dishes and trash out of the way to make coffee, one of my only reliable comforts, like a daily prayer. The passing of time feels agonizing, as if each moment takes another piece of my youth with it, never to be recovered.

The trauma of selling a home, quitting a job, saying goodbye to friends, moving across country, and breaking my leg have taken a toll. My hair is thinning, and my skin is ashy and riddled with new bumps and wrinkles. I don't recognize the person I see in the mirror. I can't remember who I was when I boldly left everything behind and took my little family on this journey. It's confusing. I feel cheated.

These articles tell me that I need to be an agent of change, rather than a reactor to what is happening in my life. Could be small changes. A therapist I used to know, the sister of a boyfriend, once wrote an article suggesting that self care could come in the form of rubbing lotion on your tired feet. I could start using a loofah in the shower. Get that haircut I've been waiting for. Switch from torturous uphill hiking to gentle yoga stretches. Eating more nourishing foods and drink.

I imagined a different scenario for my 40's. Honestly, this isn't a decade I ever clearly envisioned for myself. I remember when my grandmother was in her 40's, working full time to save for retirement. My mom was an aide at a preschool in her 40's, returning home every afternoon to fix dinner and offer an ear or a shoulder to cry on during my teenage years. My aunt had her second child in her 40's, relocated, and changed careers, with the help of a dedicated partner.

Me...I'm a divorced mother of a precocious and independent 10 year old. I left a 14 year career as an art restorer due to the psychological pressures of working for a family whose priorities I couldn't understand, under conditions that threatened my personal growth. I regret that I learned too late in life about boundaries. I let too many people tell me who and what to be for too long, for fear of forging my own path all alone. I started my 43rd year with the intention of figuring out how to be my best self, a slave to no one. I tossed away a lifetime of rules and expectations. I stopped apologizing.

I am flawed: overweight, lazy, lacking impulse control, afraid to express myself. I daydream instead of doing.

I am also: sensitive to others' emotions, intuitive, insightful, able to remember odd details about nature and music.

I can be: an agent of change.