• Friday, July 27, 2007

    Friday Night.

    There is something essentially lonely about being a single mom.

    Duh.

    In the last week, I've gotten acutely tuned in to the solitude of it. It isn't pretty. When I'm Mommy, it's all me, 100%. There's no one to relieve me or talk to deeply and privately about my worries or confusion. Apparently I compensate by talking to myself at 3am. Excellent.

    It's Friday night. Most of my female friends are married. Who can cut loose and invite me out for a drink? Or even, who can I call? Last weekend I arranged a dinner for my married lady friends, but that took two weeks of planning. Of the single moms I know, who has my exact same insanely erratic custody schedule? That is one fucking narrow needle to thread.

    Boo hoo, I know. I'm out of a shitty marriage, have amicable relations with my ex, have plenty of money, a good place to live, a supportive employer, a new guy out there, and an inch of bourbon in the cupboard and Deadwood for the DVD.

    But if I'm feeling overwhelmed, fuck, I can only imagine what it's like for the 99% of other single moms who don't have one-tenth of what I have going for me.

    I'm done complaining. Good luck to you. Hang in there.

    Tuesday, July 24, 2007

    Rant.

    You were my best friend, my ally, my confidante, my number one.

    In the future, we were supposed to share more good times than bad, more happiness than sadness.

    It was supposed to get better.

    Now we can't even talk.

    I miss you. Do you get that? Do you understand? But I won't be made to feel like shit because all of a sudden you want the one thing you can't have.

    I offered you everything. EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!! Everything. And you said no and no and no and no and no and no and no and no and no.

    And I was still your friend. I stood by you always. Always. Despite the hurt. I valued your friendship so deeply, so essentially, that I swore I would honor and preserve it above all else that went on between us.

    But I guess I was the only one.

    Sunday, July 22, 2007

    Nesting

    Mmmmm what a good weekend. It was the first time in a long time that I was on my own. No boys, young or old, to be found. I had dinner with girlfriends. I cleaned out a lot of crap from my small apartment and put it in storage. Friends treated me to a silly raw fish dinner last night. I blared the Dixie Chicks in my car and drove with the windows down. Today was the farmer's market. I got tomatoes and peaches and flowers and goat cheese. (The way I ate one of those peaches was truly obscene.) I found some new clothes. I read 156 pages of Harry Potter 7. Now I'm going to finish my clean-up, make sure I'm ready for work, take some Tylenol PM, and go to bed.

    Tomorrow: The work. The boy.

    Did you enjoy this weekend?

    Friday, July 20, 2007

    Shhhhh.

    At dinner tonight with five girlfriends.

    This and that and this and that.

    Then the topics of blogs. Someone saying 'I don't know who blogs. Who are these people?'

    I had to bite my tongue. I was so tempted:

    "ME! I have a blog! I have a good blog! People like me!"

    But there's something I've learned. If you want to keep a secret, then don't fucking talk about it.

    Oh, but the pride suffers.

    This is where we are and this is what it's like here.

    I thought I was over this a long time ago. I thought I was done mourning it.

    Someone says "This is never going to work. It's never going to work. It's never going to work," in the most kind, loving, patient way they can for such a terrible message. You hear it but don't quite believe it.

    He says it again later. This time it stings a bit, so you shed some tears. For whatever this connection is worth in the present, you keep with it so he has to remind you again. There's no future in this for you. Now you begin to understand and there are more than a few tears, in fact you weep and think Oh God, my heart.

    You don't talk about it anymore when you're together, but during your long sleepless nights alone, tears slink down your cheeks and soak your pillow. Finally your mother's voice tells you to just sleep, to get off the hamster wheel of despair, and to spare yourself.

    You learn, when you think of him, to sigh in resignation instead of crying. You try to shift your standards to that of a more casual friend: no nightly phone calls, never a letter or a visit when you're struggling. You tell yourself this is right and proper: to depend on others and broaden into a new life. But you still sigh with longing for his company.

    Probably you give in and see him again. Parts go well. Other parts don't. You're reminded of the hot furnace he stokes in you, but also the cold isolation of his proclamation. He can't show you he wants you beyond tonight.

    This time you sigh out of nostalgia, out of understanding. You sigh because you see it yourself, "This has no future."

    So you think you're moving on. You think you've worked through it all.

    You begin to connect with someone else. You don't know if you're ready for it, and fight the idea of something new that will be complicated from the start. But there's something worth exploring, so you decide Yes.

    Then this other one is back, hard. And now he's saying Yes. Please. Here's everything I never offered you.

    And it's you now who has to say No. No I don't want to try. No. I had time. I understood your No and came up with my own. Try not to be bitter. Try to feel clear.

    At this point in your life, you believe in what you feel and how you think. You trust your instincts. Your thinking is straight. When you say No, you know it and feel it.

    But it's by no means easy. It gives little satisfaction and no joy to say it. This time you're ending it.

    And weep again for all you've lost.

    And for all you never had.

    This is where we are an this is what it's like here.

    Tuesday, July 17, 2007

    A Break.

    So I haven't been posting the sex stuff lately.

    There is an easy explanation.
    Well, two.

    OK, three.

    The first is that there is someone out there who may be reading this, and he already tortures himself thinking on this topic. There isn't much else I can offer him except the small kindness of not writing about it here.

    The second is that there's nothing weird or difficult about my new situation. If I want to tell someone about the new person, I can. This blog is not my only venue anymore.

    And the third is that I don't want to invade this new person's privacy, that is, to write explicitly about him without him knowing it.

    So that's the deal for now, at least.

    Monday, July 16, 2007

    FSM

    I found about this last night. Of course, you can check Wikipedia too.

    WWFSMD?

    Thursday, July 12, 2007

    Something I Like.

    AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS

    by Portia Nelson

    I

    I walk down the street.
    There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
    I fall in.
    I am lost ... I am helpless.
    It isn't my fault.
    It takes me forever to find a way out.

    II

    I walk down the same street.
    There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
    I pretend I don't see it.
    I fall in again.
    I can't believe I am in the same place
    but, it isn't my fault.
    It still takes a long time to get out.

    III

    I walk down the same street.
    There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
    I see it is there.
    I still fall in ... it's a habit.
    my eyes are open
    I know where I am.
    It is my fault.
    I get out immediately.

    IV

    I walk down the same street.
    There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
    I walk around it.

    V

    I walk down another street.

    Tuesday, July 10, 2007

    Fidelity

    I wonder if I can be faithful. I certainly have a shitty track record.

    I hope that my infidelity is a measure of how unhappy my relationships have been, and how unsuitable they have been. Understanding my pathologies about men has been a major task for the past year, so I feel as though I have a grip on how everything up until now has been a variation on a theme.

    It started with my dad: inappropriate sense of boundaries; expected everyone else to take care of him, dismayed when he was not the priority; low level of life functionality (managing finances, especially).

    I functioned as a caretaker. He depended on me for his emotional well-being. How I felt didn't matter if it competed with his needs. I was taught to value responsibility to others as the highest virtue.

    And I've paid the cost with a succession of shitty relationships, a failed marriage, and feeling like an orphan.

    Thankfully, I know I've changed a lot in the past year. Hugely.

    I'm out of a bad marriage. I've reversed a lot of my backwards thinking, and put responsibility to myself as my first priority. I know and honor myself. I tell the truth, even when someone doesn't want to hear it or may not respond in the way I hope.

    I hope it's enough. I really don't want to be unfaithful ever again.

    Do you think it's contextual to the situation you find yourself in? Or is it an inherent, immutable character flaw that can't be escaped?

    Monday, July 09, 2007

    SUP BITCHES!

    I'm not even going to think about whether to write or what this blog means or whatever blah blah blah.

    I'm still here, alive, doing pretty well.

    I live in a group house. I am back at my job after a three-week vacation. My ex-husband and I are both dating other people. I am dating one of my best friends, someone I've mentioned before. It is both great and a completely complicated car crash. Most people know that I was unfaithful to my ex, including the new guy/old friend. He likes me anyway. I don't know if it was smart to get involved so soon after my marriage. And doing so with this person has really had an effect on another relationship that I really value. Perhaps past the point of recovery. He's really mad. He's really hurt.

    This is my life even though it doesn't seem coherent when I write it down. And I'm scared of the blog-obligation. Sometimes I think that it's better not to write to the virtual world, but rather to just live my life in actual time. I don't want to write here if it substitutes for intimacy or taking risks with real-time humans. No offense, guys.

    I do miss all of you, though.

    xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

    More soon.