Saturday, May 20, 2006

Wine and Song

I suppose I should have written this sooner, but I just couldn’t pop myself out of the grief back draft I have been suffering since my date with that guy. He has e-mailed me from his trip a couple of times and to my surprise, his e-mails still make me happy.

Anyway, since that date, I have been coming home every single night and falling apart, crying, waking up in the middle of the night crying and waking up with a dehydration headache which I unsuccessfully chase away with a steaming hot cup of coffee.

At my session with Clay, I could not come up with anything that was bothering me even though I know I have been in an horrid state for weeks. I told him I could feel the heaviness and that I know I am depressed but everything that is bothering me is hiding behind my brain and I could not get to the heart of my feelings. I sat in his office feeling as though nothing was really wrong and eventually, my brain just became empty. I had nothing to work on. I knew it was there, but I could not bring any of my feelings close enough to the surface to mention.

When the hour was up and Clay ended the session, all of my grief began to reappear. I told Clay and he mentioned that he felt as though my grief and anxiety seemed to come from the knowledge that I was about to be alone. He was right. I went home and cried again. Then I began to think about what he said.

A year and half has passed and crying every day is not something I have been doing. The regression is understandable since I took a huge leap of faith in myself by going on a date. I began to ponder my recent grief episodes, wondering if my tears have been a method of “paying my respects” to Chris, trying to reassure him that even though I went out with another guy, I still love him and I always will. If I’m not upset, I feel as though I have forgotten him or never loved him or something to that affect. My tears have felt contrived, not heartfelt...well, that’s not entirely true. My tears begin in a contrived manner and bringing myself to the point of inconsolable heartbreak again, which is what I felt for a very long time, actually takes quite a bit of Stanislavskian effort. I don’t do it on purpose, but I do it. When I realized that, I told myself for the umpteenth time that I need to stop. I can not do this to myself for the rest of my life.

Am I still grief-stricken? Of course I am. Do I still sometimes fall apart and cry my eyes out? Yes I do, and usually my despondence is genuine. Valid. But I need to find a way to give myself permission to find happiness with another man someday. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not soon. Maybe not with this guy. But I most definitely need to find a way to make this happen.

At my nephew’s baseball game today, somebody hit the ball and it almost hit the pole behind the home plate. I thought, “Oh. It almost hit the Pesky pole. “ and felt myself turn to Chris for the approval he always gave me when I knew something about baseball. I almost shared the moment with my sister, but I knew she probably wouldn’t understand how I could go from one-hundred to zero in a matter of one second in time. I wanted to cry, but I stifled myself. I took a walk over to the playground to visit my little niece and on the way, I talked to Chris, telling him about the Pesky pole and about how I knew that because of him. I choked back my tears. Wrong place. Wrong time. Wrong everything.

I have a right to cry, but what if whatever new guy comes into my life doesn’t think that I do. What if he gets mad or hurt or worse than that, what if he yells at me? I hate being yelled at. I can’t take it. Chris yelled at me once. Just once, and it wasn’t out of anger. I scared him with my stupid centipede phobia. He hated when I freaked out and I freaked out pretty often, but he usually came to my rescue whenever a bug threatened my life. Just one time, I caught him off guard and he stomped on the bug and yelled, “There! It’s dead! Are you happy?” I was. His anger was well worth my peace of mind.

The bottom line is I don’t want somebody else. I don’t want to teach somebody else not to yell at me or treat me badly and how my mind works and how to understand and respect me and love me anyway, despite my shortcomings .

I just want him back.

But I am going to move forward if it kills me. Hopefully it will kill me and I’ll get to be with Chris afterall. That’s just not how my life goes, though. I just know I’m here for the long haul because I have to “learn” stuff.

Wow. It feels really good to have gotten to the heart of that. I’m off to an open mike to celebrate with wine and song.


No comments:

Post a Comment