Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Blog it Out

In a post from October 2009, right before Becky and I started dating, I said that I’d never again make the mistake of censoring my blog based on who reads it.  This is tough when what you want to write about is doubting your relationship, and the person you live with is who you’re marrying in five months.
My Gaba moved to Seattle (damn his evil heart for leaving) after ending a seven-year relationship.  He got together with TheOneTheyCallB after seven months.  He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him, and they’re getting married next month.  In fact, seeing pictures of the beautiful engagement ring is one of the things which kept me from proposing (damn his decent-wage-paying job for delaying my happiness).  
Getting together fairly quickly has led to its share of problems for Gaba and TOTCB.  What those problems are, I have no idea.  Early in my relationship with Becky, TOTCB and I shared some correspondence.  I wondered how things would work for me.  I worried I was suppressing pain under the glow of new love, I worried because of warnings against rebound relationships.  
TOTCB made a comment like, “Gaba and I went through a lot of that at first, believe me.  It wasn’t easy but we got through it.”  I wondered, what’s that about?
Well, now I know.  
The saying goes, Sing like no one’s listening, dance like no one’s watching, and love like you’ve never been hurt.  Now that I can think straight (and by that I mean it feels like I’ve stopped drifting through a storm and picked up my oars once again), that last part is proving more difficult than I ever thought it would be.
Every misunderstanding feels like the end of the world.  Complicating matters, I also can’t talk about them for some reason.  Something as simple as, “When you joked about_____ it made me feel _____” is like trying to lift a building.  I don’t even know how to begin a task so impossible, let alone have the tools or strength to accomplish it.  So the tiny (usually imagined) slight festers like a splinter.  It festers and it poisons my thoughts.  
My head belongs to someone else, someone I dislike intensely, someone who only sees faults everywhere he looks, be it the mirror, his life, or the woman he loves.  I develop a lump in my throat, pounding around the base of my skull, and pressure in my chest.  I doubt everything.  I doubt her love.  I doubt mine.  The world feels like a bluish-black swirl of pain, sucking me down into it’s pit.  I want nothing more than to curl into a ball under my desk, or inside a closet, anywhere dark, enclosed, and hidden.  
I can’t get over my divorce, for some reason.  On my divorce post, I said there must be a finite number of tears you can shed over someone.  Either I was wrong, or I had more tears to shed.
Well, I can’t afford a shrink.  All I have is Sweet.
Bear with me. 


  1. "He got together with TheOneTheyCallB after seven months."

    actually, two. Yes, really. He moved to Seattle end of February, and we were together the first week of May.

    And some of those problems were my fault - I pushed too fast. While I understood (and supported) his mourning/grieving the ending of his previous relationship (6 years is a long time), I pushed for us to be together sooner than he was ready. We already loved each other, that's true and definite, but I regret so much pushing as hard as I did. I pushed out of fear - I was afraid if we didn't do it right then we never would. But I wonder how much less rocky our first year would have been had we waited a little. and I think his pain and grief and guilt from the prior relationship might have been less prolonged if he'd had a chance to really mourn it properly. But the joy of being in love with me, as well as giving me attention, as well as being in a new city and job - all of these took the forefront sometimes, pushing his grief at goodbyes and loss to the back burner, so that instead of dealing with it all cleanly, it instead bubbled to the surface now and again, causing pain for him, and for me, and problems in our relationship. Like I said, our first year, even year and a half were quite rocky.

    But - and I can only speak for me now, but I think he'd agree - all the doubt is gone now. Entirely. I sometimes go "AHHHH WE'RE GETTING MARRIED OMG OMG WHAT IF WE DO IT ALL WRONG WHAT IF WE HAVE A BABY AND HOLD IT UPSIDE DOWN AND SHAKE IT LIKE AN ETCH-A-SKETCH AAHHHH AHHHH" but I have zero doubt that marrying him is the right move, my best move. When he asked me, my heart sang. I have no idea what the future holds, but I have utter faith and belief that we will both work hard to take care of the other, and that we have as good a shot as anyone does.

    I think if it's right, you just know. Try not to rush yourself or feel defective if you're not over your divorce. Your marriage was over less than two years ago. Give yourself time and permission and space to hurt, sometimes, if you hurt.

  2. Beth's a wise one.

    It's hard to see something you see as perfect die in front of you and thats what happened with your first marriage. It's only natural having been through that to doubt every aspect in approaching it again, but that's selling yourself and Becky way short. You've both been there before. You're not the same people who made those mistakes. You're older, wiser and more cautious. You won't make those mistakes again

    Go make new mistakes together. Make new answers together. Take the happiness you deserve with the care and experience you share. The rose tinted glasses are gone now. It helps. Honestly.

    Aye, it's scary and aye, it's hard too. That's life. That's the lesson you've learned.

    But its just a theory........

  3. This is the first of a series of posts I wrote a month ago. I proposed March 18th and I was over the moon. Nothing prepared me for all these rotten emotions bubbling to the surface, and nothing helped. Finally I wrote everything out, and split them into posts.

    I wrote because thinking about it made it worse. I needed that lens, that added distance of writing to clearly see what was happening. When I finished, everything felt better. I felt like myself, and the last few weeks have been the happiest of my life.

    I posted these (well, they're already written and scheduled through Sunday, I think - technology at its best) because I know from emails I've gotten that reading this blog helps people. Whether it's taking someone's mind off of her own problems, or identifying with what I'm going through, I feel that very American need to share my story in hopes that it will help someone else.

    Those reasons were enough, but reading these comments, Beth, and Al, make me even more glad that I've shared. You are both wise, and right, and I appreciate your words.

    I just wish that I'd spoken with Becky as I was writing. I could have explained my behavior, that I hadn't waited a year and half to show her that I'm really an asshole. More importantly, she could have gotten over my dark period with me, instead of having a hiccup in the middle of all this lovely-dovey goodness.

    So despite what you'll read in the next few days (or perhaps for having faced it and come out stronger) Becky and I are in an excellent place right now.


  4. It's interesting to read that you hid being an asshole for 18 months. Thinking you were hiding it at all says a lot about you. Putting up with you thinking you were hiding it says a lot about her!


    Glad to hear this isn't as real time as I thought at first too...

  5. Of she knew of my asshole side even before we started dating - she worked with me for a year and a half, after all!

    But when you've been treating someone one way for months, and there's a shift... I saw her looking at me like, "Who the hell..? What the hell?"