Thanks Be

I feel sad and grateful tonight. Sad for the loss, for all the years of slowly closing in on myself, and grateful for the light-speed opening that is happening inside me now, all the insights, all the awareness I've had lately that I am not alone at all but truly blessed in the world.

I am grateful for:

My dear friends, most immediately M~, who has been in my life since second grade and has never been more appreciated; L~ and L~, among others; and S~, who has been my bestest for a very very long time. I am listening to her sing as I write this. (Her name is no secret, really, because she uses it herself at myspace, where you, too, can hear her beautiful voice, and simulate the experience I had writing this post). The song is perfect for my mood: sad sad sad and lovely.

My incredible family, today especially my nearly eighty-year-old father, who drove 7 hours to spend the afternoon and evening with me, to buy me meals and early birthday presents and to simply be Dadness. "It's difficult for me to go to you with the pain of this," I told him the other day on the phone, "because it feels like it has its roots in my relationship with you." But then again, there is no better salve than his love.

J~, whose wife left him a week before A~ left me, under quite similar circumstances. We haven't officially met, though we will soon. Through the luck of the grapevine (namely, my brother, his co-worker), we've become a support group to each other by phone and email, sharing the internal reckoning, fighting our way out from isolation, exploring the great steaming gumbo of difficult emotions. And laughing. There is actually some laughing.

My coworkers at the clinic, who are so sincerely committed to caring for women in their hour of need, they move me to tears on a regular basis. I'm honored to be part of their team.

My guitar, which was collecting dust, but no more.

My readers, who keep me writing.

And finally, A~, (yes, A~ makes the list). He called me yesterday because he was feeling bad about how bad I must be feeling, wanting to know how I was doing. In a year of miscarriages and grief, I never got such basic, unsolicited care. Strange as it may seem in light of recent events and our continuing sure-footed movement toward divorce, our friendship might actually be improving.

Okay I Admit It

Ugh, the layers, the layers! I've gotten below the shame now and, surprise, surprise, I'm ashamed to admit what I've found. But for the sake of non-avoidance, I will bare my soul to you, good and loyal readers. What lies below is this humiliating truth: If A~ were to want me back, I would be so glad.

I deserve better than the relationship we had, and I would never settle for it again, but the fact remains, I wish he still wanted me. I wish the choice were mine. Don't get me wrong, I want the divorce. But I still fantasize that once we're fully separate, his relationship with K~ will quickly fall apart, he'll realize what an idiot he's been, and suddenly not only want to do the work it would take to be worthy of me, but be capable of it. Of course I, so much stronger and wiser, would accept nothing less. In the end, we'd live happily ever after. So much more happily than we'd ever have been if this hadn't happened.

I know, I know, believe me, I know what you're thinking. I know already. That's what makes this so embarrassing.

To those of you readers who are wondering, yes, I will eventually shut up about all this divorce stuff and get back to the meat and potatoes of fertility and miscarriage and abortion and babies (actual newborn infants, I mean, not baby ex-husbands). I've got a lot of new thoughts on those subjects too, believe you me. But for today, please indulge my obsession. And in the meantime, check out the archives. And don't hesitate to post comments to old entries. I read those too.

Speaking of Babies...

Lately I've been consumed with the seemingly rhetorical questions, "How could you do this to me?" and "What were you thinking?" A~'s response is that he wasn't thinking of me at all. No twinge of guilt, no fleeting anxiety, nothing.

"Then when did you think of me?" I ask. "Right after? The next morning? When you looked down at your ringing cell phone and saw I was calling?" After a moment's contemplation, he admits he doesn't remember thinking of me or the situation until the plane ride home, where he thought of nothing else. "I was in shock," he explains, still absorbing that this had actually happened. He didn't know yet how to handle it, or if he was even going to tell me.

So far, I've been able to accept the facts and grieve accordingly, but to admit to myself that A~ was so completely detached brings me up against a wall. In spite of all good and well-meaning advice to the contrary, what stops me is a sense of shame.

I see now how mother-child our relationship was.

Like a good son, A~ was polite and did his chores (going to work, hugging me, apologizing or offering reassurance of his love when asked). But when there was a chance that something he'd done or said or felt would cause me distress, he evaded my questions. It wasn't my feelings he was concerned about, but whether or not he'd get in trouble.

And like a good mother, I explained and taught and scolded when necessary.

He was so completely terrified of being without me, it wasn't until K~ came along that he even saw it as a possibility. (And he has said as much.)

What's behind this feeling of shame? I ask myself. The response that comes to mind is this: It's a shame, really, that I put up with him as long as I did.

p.s.

Reviewing what I wrote earlier today, I realize I didn't mention something important: that I'm not always miserable. That in fact, for sometimes hours at a time, I feel happy and hopeful and excited about the road ahead.

Right Now

Tomorrow, it'll be three weeks since my life blew up in my face.

I sleep between five and six hours each night. No trouble drifting off, but I wake up early and fully in the dark.

I'm eating, but nowhere near as much as I used to. (Not sure I'm eating too little at this point. I used to eat too much.)

Weighed myself at the gym a week ago: I've lost about fifteen pounds. To be clear, I'm by no means emaciated. I was edging into the overweight category at the beginning of all this, and I'm still on the high end of the Body-Mass Index "normal".

Nausea builds up periodically throughout the day. The only cure I've found is crying, but the tears don't come if I'm alone. When I find myself doubling over, beginning to tremble, I know I'm way overdue to reach out for support.

My phone is my lifeline. I looked at the accruing cell bill online yesterday: With six days left in the month, it was already 300 minutes (more than $100) over the basic plan.

I occupy my low-nausea spare time with divorce-recovery chores: Burning copies of his CDs. Long overdue shopping for clothing. Exercise. Writing lists of things to do next, people to call, questions to get answered, possible aspirations for the future.

A date is set for the sit-down with A~ and K~. It'll be Sunday, February 5th, not sure yet what time. Working on the location.

My husband left me for another woman. It's still sinking in.

Flashes

Recently, between the anger and the pain, I've begun to have flashes of appreciation for A~ and K~. This, I'm sure, sounds crazy, so let me explain: I think that on some level, A~ and I have known since early on that we were not what each other needed in a partner. He was afraid to be without me, and I was afraid to be alone, and we clung to each other out of that fear. If we didn't have a strong friendship, and real love for each other, it would have been awful.

Though he did an exceedingly sloppy job of it, and though I got badly hurt in the process, I can't help but feel in moments that A~ was the brave one, and that in the end, I'm going to be much better off because of it.

With this line of reasoning, I can't help but appreciate K~ also. She was at least a catalyst. What role she takes in A~'s life in the long run remains to be seen. Will I be jealous? Will I pity her? Will I have more and greater flashes of appreciation? I don't know.

I understand many of you are concerned about my plan to meet with A~ and K~, and I thank you for it. I know you believe that I'm opening myself up to further hurt. Absolutely, this is true. But I'm also opening myself up to further healing.

When we sit down together, there are only a few things I will want to express, a few questions to ask. I have some hope but no expectation of good or clear or even honest responses. It's a reality check, that's all. And I'm not afraid to take the risk, not afraid to feel whatever feelings emerge, and absolutely convinced that whatever pain comes to the surface will be that much less I'll have to carry around with me.

If I was apprehensive, or gritting my teeth in order to do this, I would know I wasn't ready or that it wasn't right. But I'm actually looking forward to it because I'm sure, whatever happens will make me stronger.

Weeding the Garden

In his book, Anger: Wisdom for Cooling the Flames, Thich Nhat Hanhsays that within each of us is a garden. "Maybe in the past, you left it untended for a long time. You should know exactly what is going on in your own garden, and try to put everything in order. Restore the beauty; restore the harmony in your garden. Many people will enjoy your garden, if it is well tended."

Reading this paragraph, I had a flash of my own inner garden: all spindly and dry and overrun with weeds. It makes me weep to recognize how neglectful I've become of my own fulfillment, how much time I've spent tending to A~ and the dream of family to the exclusion of myself. But when I finish crying, for the time being anyway, all I want to do is get to work on me. I want to roll up my sleeves and start digging, start making repairs to the fences, planting new seeds. I'm very optomistic that there is something to salvage here, something beautiful. But in the meantime, I have weeds to pull.

How to do this? So much is obvious: the work, the phone calls, the reaching out and celebrating my changes for the better and building up the friendships I've been neglecting. But there is also grief and anger I must allow and encourage to pass from my body.

Another thing Hanh says is that it's natural to share joy and good feelings. "But you also have to let the other person know when you suffer, when you are angry with him or her. You have to express what you feel. You have the right. This is true love."

I picture sitting down in silence with A~ and K~, someplace private, somewhere neutral. It would be awkward and difficult for all of us. I'm sure I'd sweat and tremble. I'd probably cry, and they'd feel uncomfortable, but I think that's a good thing. I might be tempted to say something hurtful, but I'd resist this urge. Instead I'd listen, and talk honestly about how I'm feeling, ask all my questions, express my concerns for the future, because it's not about revenge or punishment, it's about healing.

So I told A~ my fantasy. "For my own health and well-being," I explained, "I need to forgive you both. To do this, I must face the reality of K~. And it seems only right that she face me, and that you face the fact that you've brought her into a very significant position in my life without my consent. Besides, she owes me an apology too." Of course, he didn't like this idea one bit. "Please ask her," I said.

Lo and behold, they have agreed to do it. It's just a matter of setting a time, choosing a place. In the meantime, I'll make a list of things I want to say, things I want to ask, and also, I'll line someone up whom I can run to afterwards for hugs and tissues and unconditional listening. And then dear and loyal readers, I'll blog all about it. It's going to be hard, but it's going to be good.