Thursday, April 22, 2010
It's Too Late To Fight
I haven’t written about the details of ending contact with Mark because I’ve needed some time to process it. But, basically, here’s what went down: Everything went smoothly for a while. He cooperated as long as it took to give me the information I needed to fill out the divorce paperwork. However, he then offered more of his help—more than, in retrospect, was really needed for this to get done. I accepted this “help.” That’s when he began breaking boundaries. I called him on it, he corrected that behavior, but then he began undermining the process in more subtle ways: He asked numerous questions I had already answered and brought up issues we’d already gone over, all the while dragging out the paperwork process. I actually started re-answering and re-explaining, all the while feeling resentful that he was taking up my time with stuff we’d already covered and angry with myself for letting it happen. I started feeling crazy in that old, familiar way--feeling so unheard despite so much talk, and delusionally thinking that I'd be heard if I just talked some more. However, what was different from that old, familiar way was that I quickly recognized my feelings and the pattern, and I ended contact.
My emotions have gone through the usual rollercoaster twists and turns. I’m angry, I’m frustrated, I’m sad, and I’m incredibly relieved. I’m angry because it sucks that no matter how much time and space has been between us, we’re still in the same place. I’m frustrated because no matter how much work I’ve done on myself, it doesn’t mean shit when it comes to our interactions—it just means I’m much more calm and diplomatic, but much less willing to tolerate the craziness. The work I’ve done works, but not in the way I had initially thought (and hoped) it would when I started my own program. I’m sad because I love him, but there is absolutely no way I can be with him, even in small doses—it’s just too hard to keep my serenity, whereas I experience that serenity quite often when I’m on my own. And I’m relieved, because on so many levels I’m so glad to be ending the relationship, even though it hurts like lots of little paper cuts on my heart.
The visuals and the lyrics in the above video, “It Ends Tonight” by The All American Rejects, seem to capture that jumble of feelings--and the strange catharsis--that comes with the realization that this is indeed, and finally, The End. And then there’s the added bonus of an appearance by my boyfriend Tyson Ritter, who, in the past, has reminded me that I still have a pulse, even when my sexuality felt like it had been hit by a truck and run through a meat grinder. Enjoy!
Your subtleties
They strangle me
I can't explain myself at all.
And all the wants
And all the needs
All I don't want to need at all.
The walls start breathing
My mind's unweaving
Maybe it's best you leave me alone.
A weight is lifted
On this evening
I give the final blow.
When darkness turns to light,
It ends tonight
It ends tonight.
A falling star
Least I fall alone.
I can't explain what you can't explain.
You're finding things that you didn't know
I look at you with such disdain
The walls start breathing
My mind's unweaving
Maybe it's best you leave me alone.
A weight is lifted
On this evening
I give the final blow.
When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Just a little insight won't make this right
It's too late to fight
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Now I'm on my own side
It's better than being on your side
It's my fault when you're blind
It's better that I see it through your eyes
All these thoughts locked inside
Now you're the first to know
When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Just a little insight won't make this right
It's too late to fight
It ends tonight,
It ends
When darkness turns to light
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Just a little insight won't make this right
It's too late to fight
It ends tonight,
It ends tonight.
Tonight
Insight
When darkness turns to light,
It ends tonight.
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10 comments:
Sad that it ends this way but when it comes down to one's serenity and even life, I think that the survival instinct kicks in. I hope that you regain that serenity.
I like the part about feeling "crazy in that old, familiar way." This ability people have never ceases to amaze me. This may be a strange connection, but it makes me think about talking to people who don't have kids, but who have simplistic answers for parenting. Children are born with an astonishingly complex ability to manipulate their care-givers, and this trait only improves as we age. It helps me to remember this when I find myself being manipulated emotionally (again!!!) by someone that I thought I was prepared to face. Sometimes the only solution is to get away. Sounds like you're making progress. Glad you're finding serenity.
after so much time away from him, can you pinpoint what you love (loved) about him? or is it just memory that you love? I'm just curious, going though my own shit with my husband. I'm not trying to be snide.
Eli--Yeah, that's what was really difficult about this. I thought I was prepared to face him. Actually, I was, but being "prepared" meant I had to use my boundary setting skills and get away from him.
Anybeth--No offense taken at all. The things I loved about him: We had a lot of fun together. He was able to make me laugh, and he was very playful and spontaneous. More than anyone I’ve ever met, he drew me out of my seriousness and got me to let go and do silly, innocent, childlike things. Even at the height of all the addiction stuff, there were times when he was genuinely very giving and caring, without trying to get something in return. Despite all the painful stuff surrounding our sex life, he was cuddly and very affectionate. He cooked elaborate meals for me all the time. We enjoyed a lot of the same activities. We had some really good, honest, intimate conversations.
At this point, it all might be a memory--it's so hard to know at this point because I'm still untangling myself from it all. But before all the boundary breaking in this latest interaction, we were actully getting along pretty well, and I don't think it was merely a manipulative lead up to letting me down. I sensed a shift, like I did so many times in our relationship, between his being genuinely caring and his acting like a jerk.
Syd--It's taking some time to "detox," but I'm slowly regaining that serenity.
Going through a divorce myself it's a one day at a time process. With the crazyness sometimes it's hard to keep the focus on yourself, I know I'm dealing with more of the crazy inlaws than I am the alcoholic.
However, it seems like myself I can usually find a song that relates to what I'm going through. Music is my therapy.
Hi K--Yeah, it really is one day at a time. Divorce is so difficult. And I totally hear you on the music thing--I don't know what I would do without it.
"I actually started re-answering and re-explaining, all the while feeling resentful that he was taking up my time with stuff we’d already covered and angry with myself for letting it happen. I started feeling crazy in that old, familiar way--feeling so unheard despite so much talk, and delusionally thinking that I'd be heard if I just talked some more."
This resonated for me, Margaux, because I had that kind of a conversation yesterday. My partner shared something with such empathy for a stranger in exactly the same position she's put me in without any connection that her comments might open my own wounds. Then, she expresses confusion about my hurt, and I find myself pouring my heart out to her AGAIN to explain exactly why it's so painful. I get to relive my painful feelings while I share exactly what she's chosen not to hear countless times before. I'm left exhausted and she seems to protect herself by not hearing me, so my guess is that my exhaustion is the only thing that came out of that conversation. Sad, sad, sad!!
R--Exactly! It *is* exhausting. It's like running on a treadmill and going absolutely nowhere. I'm sorry you had a similar experience recently, but I'm glad you shared.
" I’m sad because I love him, but there is absolutely no way I can be with him, even in small doses—it’s just too hard to keep my serenity, whereas I experience that serenity quite often when I’m on my own. And I’m relieved, because on so many levels I’m so glad to be ending the relationship, even though it hurts like lots of little paper cuts on my heart."
That jumps out at me. Thanks.
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