Having spent the weekend with the boys, I am completely exhausted. Not having more than as weekend each month to come see them, it is hard not to spend every waking moment possible, focused on them. Which really sucks, because it means that I don't get to spend “normal” family time with them – getting completely wiped aside. Being able to talk to them daily helps, but only so much. Spontaneous discussion of whatever topic happens to be spinning in those little developing brains is half-hazard at best.
But we had fun to say the least. Youngest was his shining, cantankerous little self. He's really getting keen on using his growing, but still sharply limited vocabulary, creating so many more opportunities for the self-righteous indignation of cranky old men. And eldest is really coming into his own now, pressing his neurological tendrils into mid-childhood, despite the many conflicts and instabilities he has faced in his eight short years. It is both sad, but also exciting to catch glimpses of the man he is trying to become.
Parenting from nearly six hundred miles away really sucks. It isn't just the pain of a papa who doesn't get to hug and kiss his boys every night – or even every week. It isn't just the pain of knowing that two boys who have no say in the matter, no control over the situation, really miss their papa so very badly. It isn't even the pain of missing so many exciting ideas and developmental stages. It really sucks to have every visit with them tainted by the sadness that in X number of hours, papa is going to get back in the car and head back along that six hundred mile journey – no more hugs and kisses until next months visit.
It is what it is though. And though it is still some months off, my time for moving down here fast approaches. As it approaches, we are figuring out some of the exciting things we will do to make our time here more interesting and worthwhile. Before we move back to Portland, there are a great many opportunities to take advantage of here – including very inexpensive options for horseback riding lessons for eldest. Things that we can do together to enrich all three of our lives, such as long hikes in the Smoky's and science oriented venues galore – not to mention a zoo membership that costs less than two visits.
In some regards I am actually looking forward to spending some time in Knoxville. There are a lot of excellent and exciting things to explore and science is a big deal down there, thanks to Oak Ridge National Labs and the industry science that has sprung up around it. I am definitely keen to get out to Portland, but will definitely take advantage of what our temporary home has to offer. Including, in a state where religious diversity is what brand of Christian you might be and atheist is a four letter word, a thriving skeptical community.
But all that is still some months off. I am back in Michigan now and very sad. I can almost feel those tiny arms around my neck, hear the frustration of my small son as he struggles to express himself clearly with his words. I can almost see my eldest sitting next to me in the van, talking about the inventions he wants to make, the things he wants us to do and what we might do to get him out of the special school. I am so fucking tired of helplessly trying to effectively parent from six hundred miles away. I am so very tired of my children's frustration at being so sharply limited in what we can do together.
This is especially problematic for eldest, who is used to being able to engage in all sorts of fun and interesting projects with me. We like being able to build stuff together, put together projects together – look up and learn stuff together. This has been a very important part of our relationship in the past - indeed when he was younger, it was a very significant portion of the time we spent together. I was working a lot and so much of our time was spent on the job (he first came to work with me when appropriate at age two) or working on our house as an exchange for rent. And youngest is getting to an age where he can partake in some of the fun.
I will continue this discussion later and intend to continue with this theme. I am really rather keen on writing more about some of the personal issues that I have let fall to the wayside. But I will probably focus this, as much as possible on single parenting – for the moment from a distance. I have rather enjoyed some of the fathering posts of other bloggers and would like to contribute some of my own. While mine will occasionally be rather dark, like this one, I am going to make sure that I intersperse them with fun posts too.
My kids are wonderful, bright and exciting people. What they have done for my life is incomprehensible to me sometimes. I am extremely lucky to have such awesome people in my life and even luckier that they are my kids.
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Round abouts a year in love...
It was around about a year ago now, that I was having an extremely shitty weekend and received a text message of support from a very sexy nerd princess that made me realize that I was in love with said nerd princess. Like all relationships, it has had it's ups and downs since. Sometimes very frustrating downs and sometimes it feels like there aren't enough ups for either or both of us. Sometimes it is just plain fucking ridiculous, maintaining a relationship with a person on the other side of the fucking country. Except for one thing.
I love her quite desperately and she loves me the same.
And the downs are so much easier to manage, when we do the most important thing that one can do in a relationship. We communicate. It isn't always perfect. We both suffer from occasional bouts of insecurity. We both suffer from occasional bouts of frustration and even outright anger at the other. Sometimes we even fail to address these bouts with the immediacy that they should warrant. But we do address them. And while it isn't always as satisfactory as we might wish it to be, it is always honest.
It is this honesty that I think has managed to sustain us through a year in love and only five days of that in each others company. It is this honesty that has made a relationship that stretches about two thousand miles across the U.S., the most incredible relationship I have ever been in. As much as I all too often ache for my lover's arms around me, I am contented by the fact that even from so far away, she is the reason that I am not truly alone.
I am not very good at always being clear about the passion I have for her. While I am free with my admissions of love for her, I am not nearly free enough with the depth and passion of that love. Simple "I love you"s aren't enough and I should be more aware of that - but awareness is rather hard when one is juggling school, kids five hundred miles away and a lover close to two thousand miles away - and at least a pretense of social/leisure time.
But that is no excuse for neglecting something so important.
Darling Juniper, I am not perfect and don't expect to move into our second year in love expressing myself, my feelings as adequately as I should. But I can and will do better. What we have is exceedingly difficult sometimes, but it is so far superior to anything I have experienced in the past, that I can honestly say that I never imagined I could feel this way about another person. That was how I felt a year ago and that has only deepened over the last year.
I am not sure how this will work out. I am rather locked into a future that leaves very little room for me to accommodate for your career needs. I am extremely grateful for your willingness to even try to accommodate for my needs. I am extremely grateful for your willingness to accept years of separation that will allow for minimal time together. It is hard to be so far from you and I know it is hard for you too. But I think our love is worth the difficulties and I am extremely grateful to you for feeling the same.
It would be magical thinking to claim absolutely that we will make it and actually live in the same location in five years or so. But it is hard not to believe, given what we have, that we will make this work. I have spent the last year in something akin to the worst hell I could imagine, not being with my children every day or nearly so. It has been harder still, adjusting to being a student and scholar. It has been so much easier to take, knowing you are there - that you love me so - that you are on my side.
My deepest gratitude to you though, is for your willingness to put up with me - who I was - who I am and who I am trying to me. I love you ever so much and ever so deeply. Knowing that you are there - that you love me, is a wonder without measure.
Thank you ever so much Darling.
I love her quite desperately and she loves me the same.
And the downs are so much easier to manage, when we do the most important thing that one can do in a relationship. We communicate. It isn't always perfect. We both suffer from occasional bouts of insecurity. We both suffer from occasional bouts of frustration and even outright anger at the other. Sometimes we even fail to address these bouts with the immediacy that they should warrant. But we do address them. And while it isn't always as satisfactory as we might wish it to be, it is always honest.
It is this honesty that I think has managed to sustain us through a year in love and only five days of that in each others company. It is this honesty that has made a relationship that stretches about two thousand miles across the U.S., the most incredible relationship I have ever been in. As much as I all too often ache for my lover's arms around me, I am contented by the fact that even from so far away, she is the reason that I am not truly alone.
I am not very good at always being clear about the passion I have for her. While I am free with my admissions of love for her, I am not nearly free enough with the depth and passion of that love. Simple "I love you"s aren't enough and I should be more aware of that - but awareness is rather hard when one is juggling school, kids five hundred miles away and a lover close to two thousand miles away - and at least a pretense of social/leisure time.
But that is no excuse for neglecting something so important.
Darling Juniper, I am not perfect and don't expect to move into our second year in love expressing myself, my feelings as adequately as I should. But I can and will do better. What we have is exceedingly difficult sometimes, but it is so far superior to anything I have experienced in the past, that I can honestly say that I never imagined I could feel this way about another person. That was how I felt a year ago and that has only deepened over the last year.
I am not sure how this will work out. I am rather locked into a future that leaves very little room for me to accommodate for your career needs. I am extremely grateful for your willingness to even try to accommodate for my needs. I am extremely grateful for your willingness to accept years of separation that will allow for minimal time together. It is hard to be so far from you and I know it is hard for you too. But I think our love is worth the difficulties and I am extremely grateful to you for feeling the same.
It would be magical thinking to claim absolutely that we will make it and actually live in the same location in five years or so. But it is hard not to believe, given what we have, that we will make this work. I have spent the last year in something akin to the worst hell I could imagine, not being with my children every day or nearly so. It has been harder still, adjusting to being a student and scholar. It has been so much easier to take, knowing you are there - that you love me so - that you are on my side.
My deepest gratitude to you though, is for your willingness to put up with me - who I was - who I am and who I am trying to me. I love you ever so much and ever so deeply. Knowing that you are there - that you love me, is a wonder without measure.
Thank you ever so much Darling.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
As I lie here, without her next to me
I am here in the hotel by the airport, where only 90 minutes ago my lover and co-conspirator was lying next to me - by myself. I have tears in my eyes, because while having Juniper in my life means I am not alone, it will be a couple months at best before I can hold her again, kiss her again and sit quietly with her, just enjoying her presence. I held her one last time this trip, just fifteen minutes ago and already I miss her terribly - even though we have been together virtually non-stop since Monday.
It is easy to take for granted, the things that lovers do. It is easy to get up and walk away for a while, knowing when you get back your lover will be waiting. It is easy to get angry and wish they would walk away just a little more often. It is easy to take for granted, simply sitting together enjoying the quiet, when the quiet times are often. It is easy to take for granted, lying together, your lover in your arms - when every night they are there, body pressed against yours.
I am sorry, those friends we didn't see while she was here. But I was jealous and guarded about my time with her - the more of it that passed, the more I wanted her all to myself. It's not that I don't love you, didn't want to introduce you. It's just that I needed that time - the time together in person - to plot, to plan our takeover of the world. Not all of it, not by a long shot - just our tiny little corner of it.
I miss my co-conspirator, I miss her so desperately it hurts...I can't imagine how I'll feel a little later, when it has really sunk in that I won't feel her lips pressed against mine for months now. And on and off, this will be our life for a while. Which I can accept, because in the end, it is our life and life is a long time. I can accept this, because my lover and our conspiracy is so very worth this ache that never seems to go away - except when her arms wrap around me. I can accept this, because even though she is usually more than twenty-five hundred miles away, she is the reason I am not alone.
I love you as desperately as ever darling, quite as much because of, as in spite of your flaws. Thank you so much for loving me the same in turn.
It is easy to take for granted, the things that lovers do. It is easy to get up and walk away for a while, knowing when you get back your lover will be waiting. It is easy to get angry and wish they would walk away just a little more often. It is easy to take for granted, simply sitting together enjoying the quiet, when the quiet times are often. It is easy to take for granted, lying together, your lover in your arms - when every night they are there, body pressed against yours.
I am sorry, those friends we didn't see while she was here. But I was jealous and guarded about my time with her - the more of it that passed, the more I wanted her all to myself. It's not that I don't love you, didn't want to introduce you. It's just that I needed that time - the time together in person - to plot, to plan our takeover of the world. Not all of it, not by a long shot - just our tiny little corner of it.
I miss my co-conspirator, I miss her so desperately it hurts...I can't imagine how I'll feel a little later, when it has really sunk in that I won't feel her lips pressed against mine for months now. And on and off, this will be our life for a while. Which I can accept, because in the end, it is our life and life is a long time. I can accept this, because my lover and our conspiracy is so very worth this ache that never seems to go away - except when her arms wrap around me. I can accept this, because even though she is usually more than twenty-five hundred miles away, she is the reason I am not alone.
I love you as desperately as ever darling, quite as much because of, as in spite of your flaws. Thank you so much for loving me the same in turn.
Friday, August 21, 2009
This Atheist In Love
I love Juniper in ways that are impossible to describe and really attempting to would only demean that love. Excepting my love for my children, I have never experienced love as perfect as my love for her, yet perfect as that love is, it is also messy. It's messy, because love is messy - people are messy - life is messy. And people are all too often broken, broken like me or broken like you. But we are what we are and we generally do our best to make the best of it - eventually, if we ever start to grow up for realsies.
Love is beautiful, perfect love is a thing of remarkable beauty. Yet in that perfect, remarkable beauty, it is messy and imperfect. Like snowflakes and other crystalline structures, it is those very imperfections that make it so wonderful. Indeed, it is those very imperfections that make it worth the pain and turmoil it produces - inherent side effects of even the most perfect love. Because in the most perfect love we want so badly to care for our partner properly, that we worry ourselves over it and sometimes care for them in a way that causes some detriment to ourselves. Allowed to fester like this, love could become rather unhealthy. But in the most perfect love, both partners feel the same way and it generally works itself out in the end - or more accurately, the succulent beginning.
Unlike academia, love isn't a motherfucking care-bear tea party. Neither is it a Walt Disney production, with fairytale castles and beasts who turn into hot princes. Love certainly isn't a beautiful house with the white picket fence and two and a half kids. Love is two flawed humans connecting their flawed lives and their flawed perceptions of reality. And sometimes - just sometimes, those flawed perceptions of reality do not include forays into magical thinking that would artificially inflate the expectations of the participants of that love. This is where I am at now and I can't tell you how relieving it is to have only my baseline brokenness - our natural flaws to deal with. Not feeling this need for everything to be fucking magical is wonderful. Not believing that there is some power beyond ourselves to bless or otherwise interfere with our relationship, thus relieving us of any small part of our responsibility for our relationship, instills such a sense of freedom.
This freedom is important - especially for people like me and Juniper. Our lives are not ideal right now and while our time together hasn't been perfect, it has been spectacularly wonderful. I don't need to throw out some saccharine line of shit and claim that I am now even more in love with her than I was before - I'm not, because what I felt before was wholly incredible and it is enough to say that now that we have been together in person for a few days, I am still so very deeply in love with her and she with me. But even though this has been a spectacularly wonderful time, there are those who could have the same experience that we have had and decide that there were several signs that things are just not meant to be - I know this, because I was once one of those people and so was this wonderful women I love so very much. Because when one is so into this magical thinking and looking for signs and wonders, one tends to look at things that go wrong as signs that the relationship is wrong.
They aren't and it's not. Remember, life is messy and so are people. And while some people, including earlier versions of both my love and I, could look at our experience and focus on the bad signs, or focus on the fact that (this may shock you) we have even had some minor conflicts and decide that it is just wrong, I look at it and think; "Holy fucking shit!!! We have fallen in love, never having met. We are two neurotic fucking people with neurotic fucking quirks and mannerisms and we are both moody as all fucking get out. And yet we are still in love and have only had very minor conflicts, in spite of suddenly finding ourselves not living together, not getting to know each other in moderation, like most people manage, but staying together in a small hotel room and spending virtually every waking moment together - all that and we are still deeply in love!!!!"
You want fucking magic? The magic is two flawed and broken people developing a relationship from more than twenty-five hundred miles apart, over the course of months finally meeting and discovering that those months of falling in love weren't a wash. The magic is - I love Juniper just as much today, as I did seven days ago and her feeling the same about me. The magic is there is no magic, only love.
Unlike academia, love isn't a motherfucking care-bear tea party. Neither is it a Walt Disney production, with fairytale castles and beasts who turn into hot princes. Love certainly isn't a beautiful house with the white picket fence and two and a half kids. Love is two flawed humans connecting their flawed lives and their flawed perceptions of reality. And sometimes - just sometimes, those flawed perceptions of reality do not include forays into magical thinking that would artificially inflate the expectations of the participants of that love. This is where I am at now and I can't tell you how relieving it is to have only my baseline brokenness - our natural flaws to deal with. Not feeling this need for everything to be fucking magical is wonderful. Not believing that there is some power beyond ourselves to bless or otherwise interfere with our relationship, thus relieving us of any small part of our responsibility for our relationship, instills such a sense of freedom.
This freedom is important - especially for people like me and Juniper. Our lives are not ideal right now and while our time together hasn't been perfect, it has been spectacularly wonderful. I don't need to throw out some saccharine line of shit and claim that I am now even more in love with her than I was before - I'm not, because what I felt before was wholly incredible and it is enough to say that now that we have been together in person for a few days, I am still so very deeply in love with her and she with me. But even though this has been a spectacularly wonderful time, there are those who could have the same experience that we have had and decide that there were several signs that things are just not meant to be - I know this, because I was once one of those people and so was this wonderful women I love so very much. Because when one is so into this magical thinking and looking for signs and wonders, one tends to look at things that go wrong as signs that the relationship is wrong.
They aren't and it's not. Remember, life is messy and so are people. And while some people, including earlier versions of both my love and I, could look at our experience and focus on the bad signs, or focus on the fact that (this may shock you) we have even had some minor conflicts and decide that it is just wrong, I look at it and think; "Holy fucking shit!!! We have fallen in love, never having met. We are two neurotic fucking people with neurotic fucking quirks and mannerisms and we are both moody as all fucking get out. And yet we are still in love and have only had very minor conflicts, in spite of suddenly finding ourselves not living together, not getting to know each other in moderation, like most people manage, but staying together in a small hotel room and spending virtually every waking moment together - all that and we are still deeply in love!!!!"
You want fucking magic? The magic is two flawed and broken people developing a relationship from more than twenty-five hundred miles apart, over the course of months finally meeting and discovering that those months of falling in love weren't a wash. The magic is - I love Juniper just as much today, as I did seven days ago and her feeling the same about me. The magic is there is no magic, only love.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
I'm Such A Happy Boy!!!
I get to get up extraspecially early tomorrow, to make sure I get my morning time, before I get on the road for Flint. I am heading for the airport, to pick up the most beautiful and brilliant Juniper. I am then spending almost a whole week with her, wherein we will spend a lot of time outdoors and doing fun and wonderful things, like simply sitting quietly together and enjoying each other's presence. Things that many people take for granted, but which we never get to do.
It is a beautiful day today and no matter how much it rains tomorrow, it will be a beautiful day tomorrow as well...
(I might find some time to blog this next week....)
FOR THE RECORD, I AM HEADING OUT IN ABOUT AN HOUR TO GET HER FROM THE MOTHERFUCKING AIRPORT!!!!111!!@!!!11!@#
It is a beautiful day today and no matter how much it rains tomorrow, it will be a beautiful day tomorrow as well...
(I might find some time to blog this next week....)
FOR THE RECORD, I AM HEADING OUT IN ABOUT AN HOUR TO GET HER FROM THE MOTHERFUCKING AIRPORT!!!!111!!@!!!11!@#
Friday, July 24, 2009
Because I love you all, I wanted to mention...
...that I am becoming increasingly busy, as the end of the summer semester approaches. I have a shitton of work to get finished and a week from today, I am picking up my boys from TN. I will still have two finals to take after they are here and lots of important, fun things to do with my kids - whom I only get for a very short, less than two week stretch. Then I will have a few days to take care of non-school type business (Like the job I have managed to somehow basically take over), before the absolute greatest women ever is coming to see me, for about a week.
So blogging is going to be lite - or should be. If it's not, please feel free to naggingly ask me if I have gotten ahead of the mountain of shit I have left to do. Not that I expect you to, it is after all my responsibility to put my work ahead of my infesting conversations with my big blue meanieness (really, really, mean and nasty, big blue meanieness)...But if you have the urge and notice I am being a little more obsessed with a argument than someone who has too many other things should be, feel free to point out my stupidity in being so obsessed right now....
See you all on the other side...
So blogging is going to be lite - or should be. If it's not, please feel free to naggingly ask me if I have gotten ahead of the mountain of shit I have left to do. Not that I expect you to, it is after all my responsibility to put my work ahead of my infesting conversations with my big blue meanieness (really, really, mean and nasty, big blue meanieness)...But if you have the urge and notice I am being a little more obsessed with a argument than someone who has too many other things should be, feel free to point out my stupidity in being so obsessed right now....
See you all on the other side...
Thursday, July 2, 2009
One would think that a bunch of Educated Scientists...
...Would recognize the rising of old ones from the depths of time and space - but apparently they want to find a more "normal" explanation for the sewer blob that portends the rise of Cthuluh!!! Juniper sent me a link to this hellish video...PZ Meyers and Dr. M seem to think it's just some sort of worm...
I hope they get eaten first - after the loons...
Yet another thing to love about my partner - she recognizes OUR DOOM!!! for what it is...
I hope they get eaten first - after the loons...
Yet another thing to love about my partner - she recognizes OUR DOOM!!! for what it is...
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
For the record...
...I have the absolute greatest girlfriend and partner ever.
Not only does she put up with, well, me, she is also in love with me. I love not being alone. I love knowing that no matter what kind of day I have, I have Juniper to make it better - and she has me.
No matter how much life sucks sometimes...
...Life is fucking good!!!
Not only does she put up with, well, me, she is also in love with me. I love not being alone. I love knowing that no matter what kind of day I have, I have Juniper to make it better - and she has me.
No matter how much life sucks sometimes...
...Life is fucking good!!!
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Seriously, these Damned Canadians!!!1!11!!!1!
Apparently get up more than a little fucking early (that, and I slept late today). So yes, my friend* Jason was proposed to online, through several blogs, by Jodi - who was until quite recently his girlfriend. Part of me was holding out hope that, in spite of neither of us being particularly gay, he might marry me so I could get access to that Canuck healthcare - but I suppose I can go off and befriend some other Canadian now...
Seriously though, congratulations Jason and Jodi and thank you for making me a small part of your odyssey march toward pre-marital bliss...
*In spite of him being one of those. You know, a Canadian.
Seriously though, congratulations Jason and Jodi and thank you for making me a small part of your odyssey march toward pre-marital bliss...
*In spite of him being one of those. You know, a Canadian.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Numb3rs, The Princess Bride and Fairy Tale Endings
When I was a kid, one of my very favorite movies was The Princess Bride. I must have watched that movie fifty times, if I watched it once. The sword fights, the witty repartee, the sheer cheese - it was possibly the very best movie ever. But there's something I never admitted to my friends at the time - not even my friends who were girls. Don't tell anyone, but I rather appreciated the whole fairy-tale, once in a century "true love" of Wesley and Buttercup. It settled rather well with my general sense of justice, that this very special love would be bestowed upon commoners - and I was always something of a romantic. The latter being something that even my friends of the female persuasion would have gagged at, because while I broke the general convention that girls are icky and had a few close friends who were girls, they were not so much the pretty pink princess types. One of them had a habit of beating up boys who dared infer that she was anything less than capable at boy type games...
Just last night, I was watching the season finale of Numb3rs, which is my absolute favorite show currently on the tee vee (though I don't actually watch the tee vee and have no idea what else is on for the most part - I watch stuff online, mostly CBS). There are a myriad reasons I love it, not the least being the fact that several main characters are math and science profs who are portrayed as real human beings. But my very favorite aspect of Numb3rs is the dynamics of the interpersonal relationships. Across the board they are realistic and compelling - it's rather hard not to really care about them.
My very favorite relational dynamics is that of Charlie, Don and their father. But that one aside, I am also fond of the relationship between Charlies and Amita. It has been rather exciting watching their relationship evolve into something truly remarkable. And the season five finale was the culmination of that, with Charlie proposing to Amita at the end. It wasn't that proposal that got me though. It was in the previous episode when Amita was apologizing for not answering Charlie's earlier "would you love me if" question. It was really a small thing when it had come up and there was a larger discussion going on, but when Amita went to apologize, she had tears in her eyes, because she realized that in ignoring that question, she had implied that her love was somehow conditional. Of course plot rules and their "moment" was disrupted by Amita getting kidnapped, so that the resolution came at the end of the following episode. But that whole scenario, minus the intervening kidnapping and rescue, was one of the most romantic moments I have ever seen on the screen - as much due to the buildup that began in the first episode of the series, as was due to the phenomenal acting.
For years now, I have appreciated that people fall in love like Charlie and Amita. I have also appreciated that the standard many would hope for is more like Wesley and Buttercup's, "once in a century" sort of love. But I also appreciated that that depth of feeling is something that other people, people who aren't me achieve. I understood that my capacity for romantic love was far short of that mark and always would be. While my love for my boys scales far beyond what I ever thought I could possibly feel for a women, they are my children and I figured that made for a rather special case. I resigned myself years ago, to loving a partner on a very different level. Had you asked a few months ago (and my therapist did), I would have still told you that I had reached my capacity for feeling with the mother of my children.
And then Juniper happened to me. While ours is far from a fairy-tale ending - or more accurately, a beginning, I now know that I am capable of a depth of feeling that I knew I would never come close to. I love her with a passion that occasionally manifests as actual physical pain. I am not alone and don't feel alone. I have a lover who shares everything with me, my pain, my mistakes, my dismay, my joys, my beauty and I share hers. A million miles away, yet right here with me, loving me and sharing my life. And I'm with her, loving her and sharing her life. Neither of our lives are all that perfect right now. Indeed both of us have a lot of unpleasantness to deal with at moment. But having each other makes it tolerable.
It's not fairy-tale love, but I suspect that it's as close as real life can get...
Just last night, I was watching the season finale of Numb3rs, which is my absolute favorite show currently on the tee vee (though I don't actually watch the tee vee and have no idea what else is on for the most part - I watch stuff online, mostly CBS). There are a myriad reasons I love it, not the least being the fact that several main characters are math and science profs who are portrayed as real human beings. But my very favorite aspect of Numb3rs is the dynamics of the interpersonal relationships. Across the board they are realistic and compelling - it's rather hard not to really care about them.
My very favorite relational dynamics is that of Charlie, Don and their father. But that one aside, I am also fond of the relationship between Charlies and Amita. It has been rather exciting watching their relationship evolve into something truly remarkable. And the season five finale was the culmination of that, with Charlie proposing to Amita at the end. It wasn't that proposal that got me though. It was in the previous episode when Amita was apologizing for not answering Charlie's earlier "would you love me if" question. It was really a small thing when it had come up and there was a larger discussion going on, but when Amita went to apologize, she had tears in her eyes, because she realized that in ignoring that question, she had implied that her love was somehow conditional. Of course plot rules and their "moment" was disrupted by Amita getting kidnapped, so that the resolution came at the end of the following episode. But that whole scenario, minus the intervening kidnapping and rescue, was one of the most romantic moments I have ever seen on the screen - as much due to the buildup that began in the first episode of the series, as was due to the phenomenal acting.
For years now, I have appreciated that people fall in love like Charlie and Amita. I have also appreciated that the standard many would hope for is more like Wesley and Buttercup's, "once in a century" sort of love. But I also appreciated that that depth of feeling is something that other people, people who aren't me achieve. I understood that my capacity for romantic love was far short of that mark and always would be. While my love for my boys scales far beyond what I ever thought I could possibly feel for a women, they are my children and I figured that made for a rather special case. I resigned myself years ago, to loving a partner on a very different level. Had you asked a few months ago (and my therapist did), I would have still told you that I had reached my capacity for feeling with the mother of my children.
And then Juniper happened to me. While ours is far from a fairy-tale ending - or more accurately, a beginning, I now know that I am capable of a depth of feeling that I knew I would never come close to. I love her with a passion that occasionally manifests as actual physical pain. I am not alone and don't feel alone. I have a lover who shares everything with me, my pain, my mistakes, my dismay, my joys, my beauty and I share hers. A million miles away, yet right here with me, loving me and sharing my life. And I'm with her, loving her and sharing her life. Neither of our lives are all that perfect right now. Indeed both of us have a lot of unpleasantness to deal with at moment. But having each other makes it tolerable.
It's not fairy-tale love, but I suspect that it's as close as real life can get...
Friday, May 15, 2009
My Rational Belief in Juniper's Love For Me (or why I love her more than my beloved SciFi)
In comments on the previous post, Abby Normal used my mentioning Juniper's love for me as an example to describe a question about irrational and rational. Abby had mentioned it in the context of non-rational thinking and I responded by explaining that in reality, my belief that Juniper loves me was actually based in evidence. But I didn't explain what that evidence was - largely because I thought it would make a good post - in turn because I love Juniper and enjoy writing about her. While the evidence I discuss will be limited due to the very personal nature of some of it, I really have been looking for an excuse to explain what a wonderful women she is...
It all started several months ago, when she wrote about her desire to prance about in an Edwardian tea dress. It may well have been the first post of hers I read. All I know is that I thought what a wonderfully fun person she must be. Smart, beautiful and quite charming - I had a crush. Like most crushes, I figured that was that - except it wasn't. We emailed regularly and quickly became friends. Only as our friendship developed, I was increasingly uncomfortable because I was feeling things that I thought were rather inappropriate, untenable and very likely offensive. I continued to write, but increasingly writing her felt very dangerous - but given the value we both placed on our friendship, I couldn't stop.
I felt a lot of contradictory feelings. I was confused. I was also afraid that I was just allowing my crush to run wild, because I was recently come out of a long term, very toxic relationship that ended in a brutally fucked up manner. I was, to put it mildly, a bit panicked. It was noticeable too - she asked me about it, concerned about our burgeoning friendship - so I sucked it up and told her what was happening and managed to rather piss her off with my presumption that my feelings might freak her out. She had after all, mentioned that she was rather attracted to me - by explaining that she was keeping a tally of my negative attributes to keep herself in check.
I was mostly concerned that she would think I was insane for even contemplating the possibility of a relationship with someone who lives a million miles away and who is far more stylish and elegant than my rather rough and, err, less than elegant, stylish self. The jury's still out on the insanity of it, but it is an insanity that we share.
Did I mention Juniper's real name is so very lovely? Almost as lovely as she is...
I definitely had feelings for her, but what? I truly believed that I had reached the pinnacle of my depth of feeling with the mother of my children. That is not to say that it was a heart-stopping excitement - it assuredly was not. I loved her, and I still do in a way - even after the hell she's put me through. But it never even approached what I feel for Juniper, not even what I was feeling then. I truly believed that what I had felt in the past was the sum of my capacity for romantic love. I could not begin to understand what the fuck was happening - it was - and is, completely foreign to me. Terra incognito.
I was also rather panicked because I had resigned myself to being alone. Not completely alone - I have kids and love them, they love me - and I expect to have them a lot of the time. I refuse to parade women through their lives and really don't see myself wanting to waste the time that I do have to myself, on pursuing even Teh Sex. I figured on being alone for a rather long time and was actually resigned to it - looking forward to it really. And then Juniper happened and happened big. I felt what I feel now (though the depth continues to grow) a while ago - but I wasn't sure what it was or if it was even healthy - she lives a million miles away after all. Then something happened that forced me to accept what I felt and to tell her. It was at once both very simple, a small gesture and absolutely, stupendously exciting.
It was when I was last in TN to see the boys. We had started talking on the phone quite a bit and that had been very exciting. But on my last morning there she really blew me away, smiting me with a small gesture. That morning I was going to meet with Eldest's therapist, his teacher and check out his therapeutic day school. I was frazzled - moreso because our wakeup call didn't reach us. When I got up and was checking the time on my phone, I noticed I had a text message - considering that the only texts I got were spam, I almost didn't open it. When I did, I knew beyond any doubt that I was in love with Juniper.
She had sent me a text to let me know she was thinking of me and hoping that my visit with the school went ok. Like I said, a very simple gesture. Probably not even a big deal to most people. But it was to me. I almost started crying - did a bit when I got done at the school and got back to the hotel to finish packing my van. I was in love with her and this was evidence that at the least, she cared a great deal for me. I emailed her, letting her know that I love her. And was later gratified to find that she hadn't been online all day, so I was able to tell her on phone, when I called to let her know I made it home safely.
She loved me too.
There is more evidence than her now regular texts, when she knows I have something stressful to deal with. But those data points are rather more personal than I am willing to go into. Suffice to say that I have a great deal of evidence as to the veracity of Juniper's love for me.
I also love my SciFi. SciFi and Fantasy has been my boon companion since I was a child - more than any other genre. Exploring strange and exciting new worlds, being regaled by stories of lands that exist with different laws governing time, space and matter have provided the very best escape from the worse my mind has to hammer me with, for as long as I can remember. When I was the most upset, the most alone - there were my friends, Daneel, the Magician and his wives (the gorgon was my favorite), the Pevinses and Prince Caspian, the Space Tyrant, Brother Paul of Tarot, Maudib - the list of my dearest friends is endless and I loved my visits with them - still do.
I am quite serious when I say that were it not for them, there is a good chance I wouldn't be alive today. I am not talking about some passing fancy, or minor infatuation.
Forced to choose, there would be no question or competition.
I choose Juniper......
It all started several months ago, when she wrote about her desire to prance about in an Edwardian tea dress. It may well have been the first post of hers I read. All I know is that I thought what a wonderfully fun person she must be. Smart, beautiful and quite charming - I had a crush. Like most crushes, I figured that was that - except it wasn't. We emailed regularly and quickly became friends. Only as our friendship developed, I was increasingly uncomfortable because I was feeling things that I thought were rather inappropriate, untenable and very likely offensive. I continued to write, but increasingly writing her felt very dangerous - but given the value we both placed on our friendship, I couldn't stop.
I felt a lot of contradictory feelings. I was confused. I was also afraid that I was just allowing my crush to run wild, because I was recently come out of a long term, very toxic relationship that ended in a brutally fucked up manner. I was, to put it mildly, a bit panicked. It was noticeable too - she asked me about it, concerned about our burgeoning friendship - so I sucked it up and told her what was happening and managed to rather piss her off with my presumption that my feelings might freak her out. She had after all, mentioned that she was rather attracted to me - by explaining that she was keeping a tally of my negative attributes to keep herself in check.
I was mostly concerned that she would think I was insane for even contemplating the possibility of a relationship with someone who lives a million miles away and who is far more stylish and elegant than my rather rough and, err, less than elegant, stylish self. The jury's still out on the insanity of it, but it is an insanity that we share.
Did I mention Juniper's real name is so very lovely? Almost as lovely as she is...
I definitely had feelings for her, but what? I truly believed that I had reached the pinnacle of my depth of feeling with the mother of my children. That is not to say that it was a heart-stopping excitement - it assuredly was not. I loved her, and I still do in a way - even after the hell she's put me through. But it never even approached what I feel for Juniper, not even what I was feeling then. I truly believed that what I had felt in the past was the sum of my capacity for romantic love. I could not begin to understand what the fuck was happening - it was - and is, completely foreign to me. Terra incognito.
I was also rather panicked because I had resigned myself to being alone. Not completely alone - I have kids and love them, they love me - and I expect to have them a lot of the time. I refuse to parade women through their lives and really don't see myself wanting to waste the time that I do have to myself, on pursuing even Teh Sex. I figured on being alone for a rather long time and was actually resigned to it - looking forward to it really. And then Juniper happened and happened big. I felt what I feel now (though the depth continues to grow) a while ago - but I wasn't sure what it was or if it was even healthy - she lives a million miles away after all. Then something happened that forced me to accept what I felt and to tell her. It was at once both very simple, a small gesture and absolutely, stupendously exciting.
It was when I was last in TN to see the boys. We had started talking on the phone quite a bit and that had been very exciting. But on my last morning there she really blew me away, smiting me with a small gesture. That morning I was going to meet with Eldest's therapist, his teacher and check out his therapeutic day school. I was frazzled - moreso because our wakeup call didn't reach us. When I got up and was checking the time on my phone, I noticed I had a text message - considering that the only texts I got were spam, I almost didn't open it. When I did, I knew beyond any doubt that I was in love with Juniper.
She had sent me a text to let me know she was thinking of me and hoping that my visit with the school went ok. Like I said, a very simple gesture. Probably not even a big deal to most people. But it was to me. I almost started crying - did a bit when I got done at the school and got back to the hotel to finish packing my van. I was in love with her and this was evidence that at the least, she cared a great deal for me. I emailed her, letting her know that I love her. And was later gratified to find that she hadn't been online all day, so I was able to tell her on phone, when I called to let her know I made it home safely.
She loved me too.
There is more evidence than her now regular texts, when she knows I have something stressful to deal with. But those data points are rather more personal than I am willing to go into. Suffice to say that I have a great deal of evidence as to the veracity of Juniper's love for me.
I also love my SciFi. SciFi and Fantasy has been my boon companion since I was a child - more than any other genre. Exploring strange and exciting new worlds, being regaled by stories of lands that exist with different laws governing time, space and matter have provided the very best escape from the worse my mind has to hammer me with, for as long as I can remember. When I was the most upset, the most alone - there were my friends, Daneel, the Magician and his wives (the gorgon was my favorite), the Pevinses and Prince Caspian, the Space Tyrant, Brother Paul of Tarot, Maudib - the list of my dearest friends is endless and I loved my visits with them - still do.
I am quite serious when I say that were it not for them, there is a good chance I wouldn't be alive today. I am not talking about some passing fancy, or minor infatuation.
Forced to choose, there would be no question or competition.
I choose Juniper......
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Long Distance Relationships...
It's really hard sometimes, to be in love with someone who lives a million miles away. There are just so many times that I so desperately want to be with her and she with me. It helps a lot that we have email, text messages and long conversations on the phone. We are quite capable of really making up for being so far apart, by talking for hours and falling more deeply in love. Knowing the logistics are so very difficult - it will be months at best, before we're able to see each other in person. But it's ok, because Juniper is a truly remarkable and brilliant women, who is worth the difficulty and who remarkably finds me worth it too.
Today and this evening however, we have both been in somewhat introspective moods (mine wouldn't have anything to do with listening to my Joni Mitchell station on Pandora - nope, nope, nope). And I think this is the hardest it's been, because all I wanted to do was be with her, enjoying a companionable quiet. And while it felt good to lay there in my bed on the phone with her, enjoying the quiet and knowing that she was there at the other end, loving me the way I love her - it just wasn't the same as actually being there with her, enjoying the quiet together.
I am ultimately rather new to this feeling. I always assumed that how I had loved before was my capacity and that was all there was. There was that and my love for my boys and nothing more was possible or even plausible. But now I love someone so much, that even my aching to be with her - actual pain - feels better than anything I have ever felt for another person in this context.
I love loving, being in love and being loved like this. Accepted with my flaws, my brokenness and fears - loved by someone so very intelligent and so impassioned by a desire to understand the world around her. Someone as insatiably curious as I am...
Today and this evening however, we have both been in somewhat introspective moods (mine wouldn't have anything to do with listening to my Joni Mitchell station on Pandora - nope, nope, nope). And I think this is the hardest it's been, because all I wanted to do was be with her, enjoying a companionable quiet. And while it felt good to lay there in my bed on the phone with her, enjoying the quiet and knowing that she was there at the other end, loving me the way I love her - it just wasn't the same as actually being there with her, enjoying the quiet together.
I am ultimately rather new to this feeling. I always assumed that how I had loved before was my capacity and that was all there was. There was that and my love for my boys and nothing more was possible or even plausible. But now I love someone so much, that even my aching to be with her - actual pain - feels better than anything I have ever felt for another person in this context.
I love loving, being in love and being loved like this. Accepted with my flaws, my brokenness and fears - loved by someone so very intelligent and so impassioned by a desire to understand the world around her. Someone as insatiably curious as I am...
Saturday, April 18, 2009
In Which DuWayne Discusses HisTherapy
This last Friday, was my last session with the therapist I have been seeing. Her internship is up and I am probably going to be out of therapy until June.
I am very grateful for the experience that I had in eleven sessions with Theresa and can state categorically, that she is one hell of a therapist who will serve her clients well. I was rather reticent in the beginning and she admitted yesterday, that she was as well - for some of the same reasons. For my part, I was concerned about her lack of experience and the fact that she's a women. She was concerned because she believes that I am more intelligent than her and that I would find therapy more effective with a male therapist.
I have been trying to figure out how to explain the methods used in my therapy with Theresa and keep running into something of a wall with it. The reason is that the therapy was by needs, rather unconventional - utilizing a great many tools that are not generally used together. The diversity of the problems that I need to deal with make any singular approach simply impossible.
The first thing we did was to define the issues I am dealing with and my goals. This was excruciating, to put it mildly. We discussed a great many, very difficult issues in a very short time and explored issues that I was mostly unaware of. The biggest issues were figuring out where the cognitive problems end and the neurochemical issues begin and helping me recognize my emotions. The former is not something that can be accomplished with absolute accuracy. What we were really trying to do is help define broadly, the parameters of my neurochemical issues. The latter was and is, far more of a problem. When I first walked in the door, I knew that I needed to learn to deal with my emotions more effectively - instead of just shoving them away, into the recesses of my mind. What I understand now, is that I have very little grasp of my emotions.
On top of all this, we were also dealing with the nuts and bolts of managing the situation with my family and my reaction to it. This was in part, the hardest aspect of therapy to deal with - mainly because it really was what caused the realization that I have very little grasp of my emotions. It was also the hardest, because the situation with my family has been so absolutely insane.
In working out the parameters of my neurological issues and their interface with my cognitive issues, Theresa really probed my understanding of managing cognitive issues. Not necessarily in direct context to my own experience, but in a more generalized context. She then probed for how I've been dealing with a lot of my problems - what has helped and what has not. Finally, we delved into my experience as a child - not so much what was happening around me (though that was explored some as well) but what was happening in my head. Through this we were able to make some reasonable assumptions about where this therapy should be focused and also where my discussion with my doctor should be focused.
Exploring my problems with emotion was considerably more complicated. This is also where Theresa's ability as a therapist really shined. It's not that I was purposefully skirting the issue, it was just very hard to bring me to the place that I could actually see what's been going on. She had to ask a lot of questions, sometimes pretty much the same question - restated after we had managed to work out another point. She had a very good grasp of what was going on, but due to a need for me to figure it out myself, we had to get there the hard way.
Like any effective therapy, it was entirely based on asking the right questions and through that leading me to figure out what the hell is going on. When the problems being discussed are as diverse as my own, a baseline difficult task becomes huge issue. And to make it far more difficult for Theresa, I came into therapy with a few beliefs about who and what I am, that turned out to be entirely wrong. I truly believed that I had a pretty solid grasp on my emotions - I just didn't think that I was really capable of many of the emotional responses to various situations, that I saw in most of the people around me. While it the context in which it was said is important, alexithymia came up and I wasn't the one who mentioned it. She was clear that she didn't think this was a perfect descriptive, only that based on our discussions, she saw some alexithymic tendencies in me and the way that I manage my emotions.
One of the very few times she actually pointed something out to me directly, was when I came in and told her that the short-form assessment I had taken at the doctor's office had claimed that I suffer depression. This was certainly news to me and my surprise at this was pretty obvious. She then pointed out that when I was very young, I had desperately wanted to die - that when I got over wanting to die, I then moved to simply not caring if I died. Then she asked me how I felt about dying now, to which I responded that I don't want to. It finally sunk in when she asked me why I no longer wanted to die, which I explained was because of the boys...Not because I had somewhere developed a desire to live, but because I have children who need a dad. Just to make sure, she was clear that most people, even people who aren't really afraid to die, want to live and would really rather put off death - excepting those who get particularly old, or who suffer some debilitating disease or injury.
No, I'm really not a moron. This does however segue well into another important focus of my therapy - my own little world, the world that I built for myself when I was really young and wanted to die so badly. The world that I built as a form of self-medicating. The world that I thought was no longer a factor, after an early version of it shattered when I was thrown out of my church so many years ago. The world that has continued to be a huge aspect of my life since I was nine or ten, though it has seen a great deal of remodeling over the years.
A great deal of my life is spent inside my head. There is a rich and diverse universe to experience there, where I will never run out of ideas to explore, sculptures of words and music to explore and occasionally attempt to express on the outside and completely abstract mindscapes to ride, like a helicopter ride over the most beautiful landscapes this planet of ours has to offer. I have always been pretty capable of occupying myself for extended periods of time, with minimal external stimuli (I basically did just that when I spent a little more than a month in the woods once, completely isolated from human contact).
A side effect of spending this time in my head, has been my presumption of self-awareness and my ability to compartmentalize. Combined with my ability to feel at all, I firmly believed that I really understood my emotions and what I was capable of. I just believed that I wasn't really suited to feeling the way a lot of other people seem to manage.
I am not setting a course to vacate my head though. It is an important aspect of who and what I am. I am working on spending less time there and deconstructing some of the more prohibitive aspects of my own little world. Mostly, I am trying to learn who and what I really am - learn how to feel what I am really feeling and embrace it in all it's glory, horror, pain and ecstasy. I am trying to learn what DuWayne is actually capable of feeling. Thankfully, outside the parameters of therapy, I have found the most remarkable help with that.
One of the earliest discussions that came up, one that's pretty relevant, was about my belief that I am incapable of feeling romantic love, the same way most people do. I believed that I am incapable of loving a women the way women should be loved. I explained that the reason I had been so keen on my children's mom, is because I thought she was pretty much the same. I have since discovered I am very, very wrong. And while there are issues to iron out, Juniper is all about working it out together and loving me, in spite of my rather fucked problems with feeling, which she is aware of.
My therapist was excited when I initially told her about Juniper and was positively thrilled when I told her that I had told Juniper I love her. And while there are definite logistical issues that complicate our relationship, it has it's advantages for a person who is as broken as I am - offering a chance to explore feeling and understanding it, without the pressure of my lover being with me most of the time. At the same time, we both get the support that can only come from someone who loves you so much that it hurts - and both of us need that support.
I am far from done with therapy. I doubt that I will ever not be in therapy, though the focus and needs will change with time and context. I am a firm believer in those who work as psychotherapists should always be seeing a therapist for their own sake. And I am going through a hell of a run with school that is only going to be more challenging - not to mention the situation with my kids is not going to get easier any time soon. I need the help maintaining, above and beyond learning how to be not broken. But I am definitely in a much better place than I was when I first walked through the door and sat down with Theresa to talk.
And I have a supporter and teacher who provides me with something that no amount of therapy could begin to challenge. A remarkable, brilliant woman who accepts my love and beyond reason loves me as desperately as I do her.
I am very grateful for the experience that I had in eleven sessions with Theresa and can state categorically, that she is one hell of a therapist who will serve her clients well. I was rather reticent in the beginning and she admitted yesterday, that she was as well - for some of the same reasons. For my part, I was concerned about her lack of experience and the fact that she's a women. She was concerned because she believes that I am more intelligent than her and that I would find therapy more effective with a male therapist.
I have been trying to figure out how to explain the methods used in my therapy with Theresa and keep running into something of a wall with it. The reason is that the therapy was by needs, rather unconventional - utilizing a great many tools that are not generally used together. The diversity of the problems that I need to deal with make any singular approach simply impossible.
The first thing we did was to define the issues I am dealing with and my goals. This was excruciating, to put it mildly. We discussed a great many, very difficult issues in a very short time and explored issues that I was mostly unaware of. The biggest issues were figuring out where the cognitive problems end and the neurochemical issues begin and helping me recognize my emotions. The former is not something that can be accomplished with absolute accuracy. What we were really trying to do is help define broadly, the parameters of my neurochemical issues. The latter was and is, far more of a problem. When I first walked in the door, I knew that I needed to learn to deal with my emotions more effectively - instead of just shoving them away, into the recesses of my mind. What I understand now, is that I have very little grasp of my emotions.
On top of all this, we were also dealing with the nuts and bolts of managing the situation with my family and my reaction to it. This was in part, the hardest aspect of therapy to deal with - mainly because it really was what caused the realization that I have very little grasp of my emotions. It was also the hardest, because the situation with my family has been so absolutely insane.
In working out the parameters of my neurological issues and their interface with my cognitive issues, Theresa really probed my understanding of managing cognitive issues. Not necessarily in direct context to my own experience, but in a more generalized context. She then probed for how I've been dealing with a lot of my problems - what has helped and what has not. Finally, we delved into my experience as a child - not so much what was happening around me (though that was explored some as well) but what was happening in my head. Through this we were able to make some reasonable assumptions about where this therapy should be focused and also where my discussion with my doctor should be focused.
Exploring my problems with emotion was considerably more complicated. This is also where Theresa's ability as a therapist really shined. It's not that I was purposefully skirting the issue, it was just very hard to bring me to the place that I could actually see what's been going on. She had to ask a lot of questions, sometimes pretty much the same question - restated after we had managed to work out another point. She had a very good grasp of what was going on, but due to a need for me to figure it out myself, we had to get there the hard way.
Like any effective therapy, it was entirely based on asking the right questions and through that leading me to figure out what the hell is going on. When the problems being discussed are as diverse as my own, a baseline difficult task becomes huge issue. And to make it far more difficult for Theresa, I came into therapy with a few beliefs about who and what I am, that turned out to be entirely wrong. I truly believed that I had a pretty solid grasp on my emotions - I just didn't think that I was really capable of many of the emotional responses to various situations, that I saw in most of the people around me. While it the context in which it was said is important, alexithymia came up and I wasn't the one who mentioned it. She was clear that she didn't think this was a perfect descriptive, only that based on our discussions, she saw some alexithymic tendencies in me and the way that I manage my emotions.
One of the very few times she actually pointed something out to me directly, was when I came in and told her that the short-form assessment I had taken at the doctor's office had claimed that I suffer depression. This was certainly news to me and my surprise at this was pretty obvious. She then pointed out that when I was very young, I had desperately wanted to die - that when I got over wanting to die, I then moved to simply not caring if I died. Then she asked me how I felt about dying now, to which I responded that I don't want to. It finally sunk in when she asked me why I no longer wanted to die, which I explained was because of the boys...Not because I had somewhere developed a desire to live, but because I have children who need a dad. Just to make sure, she was clear that most people, even people who aren't really afraid to die, want to live and would really rather put off death - excepting those who get particularly old, or who suffer some debilitating disease or injury.
No, I'm really not a moron. This does however segue well into another important focus of my therapy - my own little world, the world that I built for myself when I was really young and wanted to die so badly. The world that I built as a form of self-medicating. The world that I thought was no longer a factor, after an early version of it shattered when I was thrown out of my church so many years ago. The world that has continued to be a huge aspect of my life since I was nine or ten, though it has seen a great deal of remodeling over the years.
A great deal of my life is spent inside my head. There is a rich and diverse universe to experience there, where I will never run out of ideas to explore, sculptures of words and music to explore and occasionally attempt to express on the outside and completely abstract mindscapes to ride, like a helicopter ride over the most beautiful landscapes this planet of ours has to offer. I have always been pretty capable of occupying myself for extended periods of time, with minimal external stimuli (I basically did just that when I spent a little more than a month in the woods once, completely isolated from human contact).
A side effect of spending this time in my head, has been my presumption of self-awareness and my ability to compartmentalize. Combined with my ability to feel at all, I firmly believed that I really understood my emotions and what I was capable of. I just believed that I wasn't really suited to feeling the way a lot of other people seem to manage.
I am not setting a course to vacate my head though. It is an important aspect of who and what I am. I am working on spending less time there and deconstructing some of the more prohibitive aspects of my own little world. Mostly, I am trying to learn who and what I really am - learn how to feel what I am really feeling and embrace it in all it's glory, horror, pain and ecstasy. I am trying to learn what DuWayne is actually capable of feeling. Thankfully, outside the parameters of therapy, I have found the most remarkable help with that.
One of the earliest discussions that came up, one that's pretty relevant, was about my belief that I am incapable of feeling romantic love, the same way most people do. I believed that I am incapable of loving a women the way women should be loved. I explained that the reason I had been so keen on my children's mom, is because I thought she was pretty much the same. I have since discovered I am very, very wrong. And while there are issues to iron out, Juniper is all about working it out together and loving me, in spite of my rather fucked problems with feeling, which she is aware of.
My therapist was excited when I initially told her about Juniper and was positively thrilled when I told her that I had told Juniper I love her. And while there are definite logistical issues that complicate our relationship, it has it's advantages for a person who is as broken as I am - offering a chance to explore feeling and understanding it, without the pressure of my lover being with me most of the time. At the same time, we both get the support that can only come from someone who loves you so much that it hurts - and both of us need that support.
I am far from done with therapy. I doubt that I will ever not be in therapy, though the focus and needs will change with time and context. I am a firm believer in those who work as psychotherapists should always be seeing a therapist for their own sake. And I am going through a hell of a run with school that is only going to be more challenging - not to mention the situation with my kids is not going to get easier any time soon. I need the help maintaining, above and beyond learning how to be not broken. But I am definitely in a much better place than I was when I first walked through the door and sat down with Theresa to talk.
And I have a supporter and teacher who provides me with something that no amount of therapy could begin to challenge. A remarkable, brilliant woman who accepts my love and beyond reason loves me as desperately as I do her.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Indeed.
I am rather up and down about reading Pharyngula. I really enjoy many of the posts, but one of the pleasures of blogs is discussing what's been said and that is kind of strange over there. Which is, in turn, kind of strange coming from me - because I'm kind of an asshole a lot of the time. But I really enjoy a lot of Paul's posts and wander on over once in a while. This post rather struck me, especially the following:
The fact of the matter is, as is the case with most other woo - the victimizers are also the victims. Yes, there are a great many scam artists and pretenders - in the clergy and congregations. But there are also a whole lot of Christians out there who are honestly and earnestly seeking to save you from what they believe will be your eternal damnation and suffering. They truly believe that if you don't go to church, follow the dogma and believe/worship who and how they do - you're going to suffer horribly.
I know how they feel, I've felt it - I've been in those shoes. I was ok with being mocked, because I knew that what I had to say could go somewhere someday. If my small part to play eventually led to their salvation from eternal suffering, well, who cares about a little mockery at my expense? I know how they feel, because I spent years with an underlying terror that my own dad and eventually my brother were going to hell.
This makes it very difficult for some people to withstand the deluge. If you haven't read the whole of PZ's piece, do so. He describes a couple of situations, one written about by one of his readers and one that happened to him. I have been that proselytizing jackass, astounded that someone could be so blind to the obvious. I mean it really did seem so obvious to me and it was very confusing when people just didn't see it after I explained it all.
I was very good at helping bring people into my Faith, because I was so very genuine. Because no matter the sorts of mischief I got into - and I got into a lot - I genuinely cared about other people and really wanted them to avoid eternal suffering. I was obviously imperfect, yet entirely confident that my god loved me anyways and it was all ok in the end. I was trying and that was what mattered. That and I genuinely cared about the people I was proselytizing to - and it showed. That showering love fest that PZ describes is entirely accurate, but it's also far more nefarious for being genuine.
I feel genuinely sad for many of the people I went to church with who know that I am not a Christian. They genuinely love me and also believe absolutely that I am going to suffer eternal damnation if I don't accept their Faith. Even worse is my mom, who obviously loves me and wants me to avoid the eternal suffering that she believes is what people who do not Believe will suffer.
But it just is what it is - and isn't what so many Believe it is.
I am still working on my first post about things that kept me holding desperately onto my faith. But I think this actually can qualify as a prelude of sorts, because it was the loving community that made it very hard to leave - not to mention the disappointment of a great many loved ones.
I am going to continue with the post I was actually writing, but honestly can't say how quickly it will come. I have actually been doing things that aren't school or writing and have to get school stuff done too. And focusing is still a huge pain in the ass - exhausting even.
Speaking of, it is way past my damned bedtime - goodnight...
This is what religion is: they angle for fresh prey, and once they snag you, they swallow you up. You are embraced in the rugae and crypts of the gut of the church, all warm and pink and soft and wet and intimate, and each of the members is like a little villus — a multitude of villi brush adoringly against you, each telling you how wonderful and delicious you are, and each leeching away a little of yourself, your individuality, your independence. It feels good as you are slowly absorbed. Then at last, when your will is gone and your dependence is complete, you are digested by the body of Christ, and there you will be for all of your productive years. Eventually, when you are old and no longer active, you'll take residence in the colon of the church, serviced by occasional visits from a priest or a volunteer, in hopes of one final ka-ching from your will…and then your empty husk will be shat out into the church graveyard, with the leavings of other past meals. The churches of your community all ought to be viewed as predatory animals, some lazy and sated, others restless and hungry, but all eyeing you as potential fodder to keep the beast alive.Even a year ago, it is likely that I would have actually argued about this. But the argument would not really have been an argument that this is inaccurate, it would have been an argument of motivations. And the thing is, the motivations are still there - the point is still valid, but it doesn't actually refute a damned thing written in that paragraph.
The fact of the matter is, as is the case with most other woo - the victimizers are also the victims. Yes, there are a great many scam artists and pretenders - in the clergy and congregations. But there are also a whole lot of Christians out there who are honestly and earnestly seeking to save you from what they believe will be your eternal damnation and suffering. They truly believe that if you don't go to church, follow the dogma and believe/worship who and how they do - you're going to suffer horribly.
I know how they feel, I've felt it - I've been in those shoes. I was ok with being mocked, because I knew that what I had to say could go somewhere someday. If my small part to play eventually led to their salvation from eternal suffering, well, who cares about a little mockery at my expense? I know how they feel, because I spent years with an underlying terror that my own dad and eventually my brother were going to hell.
This makes it very difficult for some people to withstand the deluge. If you haven't read the whole of PZ's piece, do so. He describes a couple of situations, one written about by one of his readers and one that happened to him. I have been that proselytizing jackass, astounded that someone could be so blind to the obvious. I mean it really did seem so obvious to me and it was very confusing when people just didn't see it after I explained it all.
I was very good at helping bring people into my Faith, because I was so very genuine. Because no matter the sorts of mischief I got into - and I got into a lot - I genuinely cared about other people and really wanted them to avoid eternal suffering. I was obviously imperfect, yet entirely confident that my god loved me anyways and it was all ok in the end. I was trying and that was what mattered. That and I genuinely cared about the people I was proselytizing to - and it showed. That showering love fest that PZ describes is entirely accurate, but it's also far more nefarious for being genuine.
I feel genuinely sad for many of the people I went to church with who know that I am not a Christian. They genuinely love me and also believe absolutely that I am going to suffer eternal damnation if I don't accept their Faith. Even worse is my mom, who obviously loves me and wants me to avoid the eternal suffering that she believes is what people who do not Believe will suffer.
But it just is what it is - and isn't what so many Believe it is.
I am still working on my first post about things that kept me holding desperately onto my faith. But I think this actually can qualify as a prelude of sorts, because it was the loving community that made it very hard to leave - not to mention the disappointment of a great many loved ones.
I am going to continue with the post I was actually writing, but honestly can't say how quickly it will come. I have actually been doing things that aren't school or writing and have to get school stuff done too. And focusing is still a huge pain in the ass - exhausting even.
Speaking of, it is way past my damned bedtime - goodnight...
Monday, February 16, 2009
Dammit - I have three more pages to get through today, and yet.....
I don't actually have three more pages to get through. I busted quite a bit out while I was writing this. And what I busted out on my addiction paper was pretty awesome.
The last few days have been kind of stressful. The issue of great importance, which I occasionally allude to but of which I cannot speak is kicking my ass right now. I've pretty much been thinking about addiction, my pain and little else. When I wrote that post a couple days ago, I really hadn't intended it to go the direction it did. I think it was the result of having a great therapist and being in the midst of a situation that hurts so very much that I simply can't ignore it. That and all the comments admiring my openness.
I realized that I haven't really been nearly as open as people would think. And as I thought about it, I realized that my pain has been a sort of special, secret place that was all my own - so secret I had trouble realizing it exists at all. Yet thinking about it, it's been my retreat for so many years. My pain and the shame I hardly knew existed. And my fear.
I couldn't very well expose any of these. I was almost convinced I didn't have them. But here I am and here they are. My ugliest addictions. The first step to recovering is admitting you have a problem.
My name is DuWayne and I am ugly inside. I'm not ugly because of what I've done or who I've been. I'm ugly inside, because inside is where I've hidden away my shame, my fear - and my pain. I'm ugly inside because I am addicted to my shame, my fear and my pain, holding it tightly, my brutal comfort - my bed of ice and nails, my blanket of broken glass.
But it's ok. I'm not afraid of my addictions. Addiction is an integral part of the human condition. I've gotten a handle on my addictions before - I can get a handle on this. Changing the ugly I can and accepting the ugly left behind - for now.
Really, it's ok. Because no matter how ugly I am inside, I am also beautiful inside. I love so much it hurts sometimes - a lot of the time. I love my neighbor. I love asshole who cut me off on my way to coffee. I love the little boy, who'll never be a little boy, because he's a boy soldier in Congo. And I love you. Yes you, not someone else you think this was meant for - I Love You.
And this is why I embrace the language of addiction. Because it is embracing humanity, mainstream humanity. Because like every other aspect of the human condition, addiction isn't inherently good, bad or indifferent. It's its expression that places it on the spectrum. And more intense than any other addiction of mine, I am addicted to loving. And loving until it hurts and beyond is pain that is greater than any other pleasure possible.
It's easy now, to understand why I'm addicted to my pain.
The last few days have been kind of stressful. The issue of great importance, which I occasionally allude to but of which I cannot speak is kicking my ass right now. I've pretty much been thinking about addiction, my pain and little else. When I wrote that post a couple days ago, I really hadn't intended it to go the direction it did. I think it was the result of having a great therapist and being in the midst of a situation that hurts so very much that I simply can't ignore it. That and all the comments admiring my openness.
I realized that I haven't really been nearly as open as people would think. And as I thought about it, I realized that my pain has been a sort of special, secret place that was all my own - so secret I had trouble realizing it exists at all. Yet thinking about it, it's been my retreat for so many years. My pain and the shame I hardly knew existed. And my fear.
I couldn't very well expose any of these. I was almost convinced I didn't have them. But here I am and here they are. My ugliest addictions. The first step to recovering is admitting you have a problem.
My name is DuWayne and I am ugly inside. I'm not ugly because of what I've done or who I've been. I'm ugly inside, because inside is where I've hidden away my shame, my fear - and my pain. I'm ugly inside because I am addicted to my shame, my fear and my pain, holding it tightly, my brutal comfort - my bed of ice and nails, my blanket of broken glass.
But it's ok. I'm not afraid of my addictions. Addiction is an integral part of the human condition. I've gotten a handle on my addictions before - I can get a handle on this. Changing the ugly I can and accepting the ugly left behind - for now.
Really, it's ok. Because no matter how ugly I am inside, I am also beautiful inside. I love so much it hurts sometimes - a lot of the time. I love my neighbor. I love asshole who cut me off on my way to coffee. I love the little boy, who'll never be a little boy, because he's a boy soldier in Congo. And I love you. Yes you, not someone else you think this was meant for - I Love You.
And this is why I embrace the language of addiction. Because it is embracing humanity, mainstream humanity. Because like every other aspect of the human condition, addiction isn't inherently good, bad or indifferent. It's its expression that places it on the spectrum. And more intense than any other addiction of mine, I am addicted to loving. And loving until it hurts and beyond is pain that is greater than any other pleasure possible.
It's easy now, to understand why I'm addicted to my pain.
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