Finally worried

For almost a full week, I have enjoyed a good run of really good days. So good that I have not felt the need to sit and write. Which is my personal catharsis. I have spent time with cool people, taken part in one of my favorite pastimes, started organizing my garage/workshop, jumped into other unrelated writing projects. It's a very liberating feeling not to be bogged down by depression, or loneliness, or boredom.

However, I've noticed something about myself that has changed specifically due to the situation in which I find my life. I used to be a person who never experienced the emotion of "worry." Certainly, I have been concerned about things, or scared over something, and the like. But I have never had anything keep me up at night, or dominate my mind. This has had others accuse me of simply not caring. I never worried about anything because I have always had the sense that no matter how hard things get, there will be an end to them.

Now however, I worry. A lot. I worry about screwing up my finances, or about feeding myself, or forgetting to take care of something important... a host of things. And currently, given that I have lived through a handful of really good and worry-free days I am now waiting for the other shoe to fall. I'm level-headed enough to realize this is likely just another "symptom" of the emotional journey on which my marital end is taking me. But I still have that nagging at me and it's not a very nice feeling. I'm wondering what awaits.

Yesterday, after leaving my office I noticed that as I drew closer to home, my anxiousness also grew. By the time I pulled up to the house my stomach was churning and I actually didn't want to go inside. Which is a very weird thing considering that I live alone. It's not like I'm going to find some big hairy thing waiting for me. Checking the mail was something I had to force myself to do. While I don't understand where that's coming from, it's a very real feeling and something that I simply couldn't shake. I eventually left the house.

So what's the take-away message? That even when I'm feeling really good, I'm also feeling like crap. And THAT sucks...

The saga continues: Second guessing myself

It's tough enough accepting the failure with my now second marriage. My heart, my ego, my self-worth have all taken a hit such that I have a very hard time accepting a simple compliment as real. I question everything I do and still feel as though I'm living someone else's life. This couldn't possibly be happening to me! Add to this the business end of divorce and the resultant hit I have taken on everything from my heart to my psyche has me spinning! Achieving a simple balance right now is a daunting and seemingly untenable task. Yet here I am, dealing with the part I thought would be easy.

I am torn between being a good person and at the same time taking care of me and protecting myself from loss or financial hardship. At times these are two conflicting concerns. And in those moments I find myself floundering. Emotions get in the way of pragmatism and I'm left with a great deal of indecision. Even when I declare my position clearly and marked as final, I still second guess myself. I still contend however, that one of the most difficult things a person must do is knowingly cause harm to a person they care for. Even if it happens to be in the spirit of protecting myself and my interests.

My wife of course isn't happy with my position. That's to be expected but in her efforts to get me to reconsider, I'm left emotionally drained. This is just the beginning leg of what promisses to be an emotionally debilitating event in my life. Something for which I am terribly unprepared... Sigh.

The business of divorce

It would seem that the newest phase in this ridiculous process called "the end of my marriage" is upon me and even at the beginning stages I am already nervous. In my post, Money Matters  I made the comment that I am just fine with going through the negotiations. Well the honest truth is I'm not really. This is already proving to be an extreme emotional exercise.

Given the tone of our most recent exchange (email) I have the impression that she is being counseled. This is evidenced by her careful use of language in her queries. Now I say again, one can only respect the fact that her efforts are to protect herself and walk away from this unscathed (or as close to that as possible). I'm of the same mind and so should anyone going through this. However, I have never been very adept at being a cut-throat jerk. Though it seems I have to be exactly that else I will walk away from this with my ass missing. And... well... I have grown rather fond of my ass and I'd kind of like to keep it.

I won't go into details of these negotiations. That part isn't important to this post. What strikes me though is that she and I at one point were in love, united, and committed to stepping through life side-by-side as a loyal partnership whose primary cause was to protect each other. Today we are on opposite sides of the arena and while I don't want to cause her harm, it appears I will need to in my effort to protect myself from harm.

How did this happen? I don't remember crossing the threshold that separates companion from foe. I think one of the most difficult things a human being must do is knowingly cause damage to a person he loves. Again, something in which I lack skill. This is where being the "sensitive guy" that most recognize me as, works against me. I'm not ashamed at all to point out the fact that I am a crier. I cry at sad movies, I cried at my wedding (both of them), I cried when my kids and grandkids were borne, I cried when my daughter left for her European adventure. Get the point? I am certain that at a time where strength and great resolve is required, I will falter, cry, show weakness that I fear will be exploited to her gain. And I can't abide that. My stomach is churning with an over-production of adrenaline and all I really want to do is have this over and done.

Wish me luck, send me good energies, ask the universe to have my back, and pray that I walk away from this with minimal pain and bruising.

Keeping a journal

I've mentioned that one of the primary reasons for my having started this blog is the cathartic value. That value has manifested itself in a number of ways. I find as I write and thereby relive the topic of the day, I can feel the pain and anguish spill out of me. There have been times that while typing, I'd be driven to tears and would stop long enough to collect myself. These tears were the physical part of the release. It's as if committing it to the pages of the blog, our journal, or whatever, lifted it out of me and stored it somewhere else. Somewhere outside of me. And in so doing I was freed from that small bit of yuk.

There have also been times that it inspired others to reach out to me, to ask me questions, to commiserate, to let me know that by reading something of mine, they were moved to tears but more importantly, that they got the sense they weren't alone. This in turn actually does my heart a lot of good. To know that I am able to touch another, no matter how largely or small, is very humbling and I am filled with an enormous gratitude.

In recent days I have gone back and read what I've posted. With each read, I am either moved to tears once again, or inspired. I look at one particular feeling I experienced on one particular day and think about what I'm feeling right now. Is it the same? Have I moved away or beyond it? Have I grown? Depending on what I happen to be reading, my response to it varies. In some cases I am simply reminded that I need to remain focused on my personal healing. In others I see strong evidence that I am not as "healed" as I had thought. Yet there are others where I believe I'm doing pretty dam well. And there are pieces that give strong indication of the mistakes I make while trying to get better.

It's hard for me to admit that I need to "heal." The term conjures visions of something bleeding and gross. I don't like that my heart is roped into that description. I realize that I have a very long way to go before I can honestly and completely say that I'm okay. I'd like to believe that I am moving forward, even with baby-steps. I suspect the day that I am actually and honestly "okay" in its truest sense, will be the day that I stop writing this blog. I don't know that this is exactly what will happen... I don't know that it won't. I just know that writing has helped me in this journey and will do so until I've reached the final destination.

With this in mind, I encourage everyone to journal their experiences in this time of great pain. I started this blog on a suggestion that the journaling would be helpful... I can say with absolute conviction... it has. And why should I be the only one who enjoys such a wonderful benefit?

My life is on hold until further notice

In the wake of my separation, I have adopted a vey singular life. I live alone and am now recognized as a single man. Any significant plans that I am making (or attempting to make) are done so with the understanding that it's just me. I am seeing one very special lady, as would any single man whose found himself drawn to such a special woman. I am, for all intents and purposes a single man.

Yet I'm still married.

I realize that there has been no material movement toward truly becoming a single man. My wife, who initially seemed very anxious to get things moving had made it clear she was moving forward with preparations for an uncontested divorce and that she would advise me as the progress. She conveyed a sense of urgency that caused me to believe I'd have seen something by now. Yet I have heard nothing on the subject. We are instead taking care of the business of disconnecting from each other in the context of the business that is our respective lives. The house is in her name, there are no longer joint checking or savings accounts, there has become a clear separation in things like the credit cards, auto club and insurance, pink slips for the vehicles etc. And we are filing what will be our last joint tax return. Yet no movement on the divorce itself.

I've come to the realization that I am stuck in between married and single... limbo. And as such I am unable to execute anything materially in the spirit of moving my life in any particular direction. There is a very real physical manifestation of the resulting stand-still. My stomach is in knots and churns uncomfortably. For days I have held on the brink of a migraine. My lower back, where I tent to carry my stress has been intruded upon with a persistent dull ache. I've become terribly restless. I try to ignore these physical responses in the hope that they will simply go away. They have not.

Now, I suppose I could start the proceedings since she isn't. But for some unidentifiable reason I feel as though that would be rocking the boat. Something I don't feel terribly compelled to do. I should not worry about how this would affect her. I should simply be worried about how I am going to take care of me and what the best method for that would be. Yet I am very nearly paralyzed into inaction. And the paralysis in and of itself is cause for even greater stress.

I am grateful for an upcoming event with the support group. Right now I really need to surround myself with others who get it and can offer some advice, guidance, or what appears to be a much needed kick in the pants. But the truth is I have no idea where to begin.

What her name does to me

There was a time, in recent past that if I saw an incoming email from her I'd actually become excited and drop everything I was doing to click on it. It was a source of great joy and executing that little action was always one of the more pleasing events of my day. However now, when I see her name pop up on my incoming email list I am filled with angst. The adrenaline starts coursing, my stomach becomes knotted and slightly queasy, I falter as I reach for the mouse.

Such was the case this morning. I stopped at my favorite coffee shop on my way to work. Since the line was rather long I took that opportunity to check email on my iPhone. And in amongst the list of incoming messages I saw her name. It used to be that her messages would be the ones I viewed first, without fail. This time however I avoided it and instead looked at all the others. Including the ones known to be spam. When at last the only one left was hers it was my turn at the register. Whew!

I didn't look at her email until I actually got into my office. The bummer is that the drive in was wrecked because all I could think about was that I had her email waiting for me. Angst, nervous anticipation (not the good kind), a feeling of dread, avoidance. How is it that her very name has such power over me? When I finally opened it and read her message I was both relieved and upset. Her tone was dry, the subject matter was limited to taking care of business. There was neither anger nor sadness nor inquiry as to my state of being. Just business. As I said, this was both a relief and a bit of a sting.

I reluctantly replied. Addressing only the business about which she wrote. But my closing was "I hope you're doing okay." Why? Well... because I hope she's doing okay. In spite of the heart ache and the difficulties and the acceptance of my time to move on, I still care for her and likely will continue for some indefinite period of time. Outwardly I pretend to be indifferent to her and what she may be up to. The truth however is that I am incapable of indifference. No matter what the conditions surrounding our split, no matter the hurt that has come from it or its finality, she and I shared a relationship that is set apart from any other relationship. History. At some level a sustained connection.

This is going to be very weird for me to say... I hope she and I can be friends (I'll save this issue for another post).

Normalcy

For the entire length of today I have been in very good spirits. I woke up in a great mood, I've been fairly productive at work, I've enjoyed some rather nice weather. I am in actual fact, absent any emotionally charged, sad experiences. No heartbreaking discoveries, no weird revelations that immobilize me, no tears, no sadness about my crappy little life. I have only a single observation.

Not at all surprising is the fact that my life these days is in a constant state of reinvention. Each day brings with it new experiences and new opportunities to learn something about myself, or to take part in something I would not have otherwise. The world is currently at my feet just waiting for me to pick something up and play with it. I am free to be anyone I want and free to do anything that captures my interest. Pretty cool in my humble opinion.

But as with all things, this cuts two ways. My day-to-day is unpredictable. My daily life is absent any sense of routine or dare I say it, normalcy. I live alone. Which translates to no one depends on me to feed them, monitor their work, make sure they are performing their chores, need to roust out of bed to get their day going. I don't make plans on what to fix for dinner and my days are not filled with errands like grocery shopping, the cleaners, laundry. The only thing in my life that has any sense of routine is that I work Monday through Friday during normal business hours. Beyond that everything is in a constant state of "new".

For the most part my days are in constant motion and filled to the brim with something new to do. Certainly my emotional state somewhat requires this because as I've mentioned before, idle time messes with my delicate psyche. But the end of my work day constantly brings something new into which I must pour myself. And the result is I have no real routine. Before my wife and I split up my days were very much the same. I'd get up, get ready, go to work, end my day, go home, watch the news and then Two and a Half Men, have dinner, tinker on one of my projects, and then go to bed. While that sounds mundane, it was how I enjoyed living. I am a basic man and enjoy living a basic life.

My heart's desire is to create a life of normalcy, routine, predictability. For me there is tremendous value in knowing what to expect at the end of my day, my week, whatever. I hear others who view their own daily routine as representative of some boring or undesirable life. I view it as representative of a normal life. And a normal life is very desirable. Don't get me wrong... I love new and exciting adventures. But not as the standard itinerary of life.