seeking the ground state

The other night's words were about feeling betrayed and sad. Other feelings are happening, too.

As is The Muse's fashion, once her brain realized I wasn't bluffing, she immediately found another place and signed a lease. Almost funny, it's so like her -- once she knows something is going to, or might happen, or once a decision is made to do something, she has to do it. Immediately. I guess she's consistent. Like I said, it's all happened so fast. I've thought that it's quite possible, given her behavior, that she was dabbling in some bullshit idealized fantasy thing -- whatever -- which didn't become reality for her, maybe, until I said in essence "you need to go." (I meant, "we need to be apart to get through this.") Sucks pretty bad, but she needs to figure out some shit, and she can't figure it out living with me, regardless of what she may be thinking. Perhaps the meds evened out her moods, but made her nuts in other ways. I don't know, but I don't want to be the one to bear the burden of responsibility for dealing with it. For the first time in my life, in this kind of situation, I'm worrying about me, and taking care of myself, instead of second-guessing everything I say, and feel, and thinking "oh I want this to work so badly, and what if telling her this was the final straw ......." -- you know the shit -- not doing it. Not going there. If she wants to be with me, then fine, but she needs to know what she wants. And I can't wait around for her to figure it out, and just won't risk getting dragged through the shit so she can grow. Pardon my French, but fuck that. I've had too much of it in my life. I know it isn't my shit, and I've learned that people dealing with this crap are the only ones who can do anything about it. Sad, but they have to change, and only they can do that. Plus, I've tried, lots of times, in past r-ships and in this one, and I'm just tired of it. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. Hate to sound jaded, but it seems the likelihood of this level of change taking place in a reasonable period of time is pretty slim, and the potential for those who stick it out to be subjected to serious extended pain is too, too high. Too high for me.

Feels kind of like I'm processing the whole situation at high speed, or something. Maybe it's adrenalin, or maybe my past experiences have given me just that -- experience. Maybe my age. Maybe I've faced what feels to me to be so much of this already in my life that I don't have much patience left for it. Maybe I've finally grown up. I mean, it wasn't like this when my marriage went to hell -- that was total insanity. And when I broke up with C., I was a mess for almost a year. So, something's different. I'm different.

Or maybe, maybe, I'm actually learning how to do it better.

Anyway, there's another part of me that worries. It's just so different. Past r-ship crises have always -- always -- pretty much decimated me emotionally, and sent me into a tailspin that spit out red and black trails of doubt and anger. I've always managed to hold it together, basically -- like, I've been functionally decimated -- can go to work, get up, eat, sleep. But it's always been horribly painful, emotionally and physically for me.

This is no different, and, in fact, may be worse. I really truly love this woman. I know that what it's not is that this was some kind of lesser love. I risked a lot for this r-ship -- my former job, r-ships with colleagues, to some extent my rep. It was all worth it. But I don't feel like I'm dying, and I don't wish I were dead. I have felt that in the past, as the result of this type of heartbreak. Nothing I would ever act on -- I'm so non-suicidal -- just that feeling like, well, if I don't wake up tomorrow, ok. I've felt that, but I don't this time. My heart is broken, but it's like I'm at a point in my life where I refuse to die.

Or I know better, know myself, know I won't let my broken heart kill me. Won't let it break me, either. Won't let it break my soul.

But, it's so different, I kind of worry. Have I lost the ability to feel the pain deeply? Prior to this past weekend, a friend advised me to "get away -- get out of the house -- do something fun and totally carefree -- you deserve a break." Well-intentioned, of course. But, I know me. One, I'm not one, never have been, to work out my pain that way. I knew going into this weekend that it would be hard, and that I would be there. That I would not try to run from it. That I would face it. I need to face it. I need to look life straight in the eye. I need life to see my face, too. That's who I am.

Perhaps it's the sense of somewhat knowing what to anticipate. The forgetfulness and totally distracted spaciness. The acceptance of the fact that, when I'm upset, it takes me six tries to get out of the driveway -- get in the car, forget the keys, get the keys, forgot the wallet, get the wallet, put the keys down, forget them again, forget the CD I want to hear while I drive, fast, needing to sing, scream. It's just me. Me and U2. With or without you. And Husker Du. You left me, you left me, you left me, standing in the rain.

So, hard to tell how I'll feel much in the future, which I readily admit. Still in shock, I think. But not in denial, I'm pretty sure, I hope, not this time. And maybe I'm past the days of black loss-induced anger, past the deeply cutting doubts. I've gotten this far, after all, and I'm ok. I've recovered from everything that's ever happened to me. I have family who I can talk to, and friends, both of whom I trust, and believe in, and am comfortable being open with, with my emotions, my thoughts, my fears. I know I can turn to them, and I know it's not an embarrassing thing, that, in fact, they ache to help as much as I ache to heal.

Maybe that's it. Maybe I just ache to heal. Love isn't lost. I believe that. True love, real love -- it's never lost. It goes somewhere. I don't regret any love I've ever given to anyone in my life. Good begets good. And the fucking universe needs it. If I haven't been able to hold onto it at times, so be it -- call it my cosmic contribution.

And, life's weird. Maybe it will work out. At least we weren't married. But, either way, I know I'll come out of it ok. Just seems to be what I do.

Wanted to tell you personally.

Peace.