"There is no such thing as a problem without a gift for you in its hands. We seek out problems because we need their gifts." ~ Richard Bach
(This is basically a journal entry, unedited. I may pull it, but I cannot bring myself to edit it.)
I’m acting like a jilted lover
Jesus, I can’t believe this.
I just want love and . . .
it’s not available to me.
I thought I got it.
Last night, I got it.
I went through my story
and it made sense.
But today I can’t do it.
I want love, goddamit.
I don’t want to be alone.
I don’t want to be precious Emily Dickinson.
I want someone to hold my hand
to hold me
to kiss me.
I don’t get it.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
Why is everything wrong?
I can’t do this anymore.
Everything is a fucking process.
I’m so tired. It has been so long.
It takes so long.
So I made it up.
I made the whole goddamn
I wanted love so badly
that I just pretended and made up scenarios
and then they came true,
But it wasn’t enough.
It wasn’t right.
I don’t get to have what I want
and I’m so goddamned hurt.
I hate it.
I hate it.
I hate being like this.
I hate myself for being like this.
I don’t know what to do.
And fucking love songs.
I can’t even listen.
I feel so cheated.
Somebody tell me.
Today I banged my fists against the wall and said,
“It does NOT get better!”
Where is this “better”?
I worked so fucking hard on this
relationship. And now it’s shit.
This was what I wanted and I can’t have it.
because it only appeared to be what I wanted.
It was only part of a very complex mosaic.
The most efficacious way for me to change my life,
To fall in love with someone while in another relationship—one that seemed all right, but wasn’t. To fall for someone with whom I seemed so perfectly matched, but who had this HUGE flaw that would always keep us apart. One who I felt, for once I had an honest and open connection to, who ironically couldn’t be honest with me, because he couldn’t be honest with himself. Bullshit, universe. I see part of it, in retrospect, only. The beautiful plan of having to break up a relationship that wasn’t good enough, by dangling one that seemed better, but always just out of reach, because I needed to be broken down enough to turn to my mother and cry to her as I hadn’t in decades, or maybe ever, so that she could tell me, at last, that she had loved me, forever. So that I could hold her hand while she was dying, without any other clouding my view of her sparkling blue eyes. All that had to happen.
And I wanted it to. I wanted change. I asked for it.
I didn’t know for what I hungered, exactly, but what I had wasn’t enough. My life was too small.
I didn’t know I wanted something spiritual until an alcoholic asked me what I thought about God. And then the Twelve Steps and meditation. I was envious. I wanted somewhere to go that would accept me no matter what. Someplace at which I just had to show up as myself.
And soon-to-be previous boyfriend didn’t offer that.
Suddenly after meeting an alcoholic, I found myself surrounded by a cadre of affected folks. Those who had been married to an alcoholic, were in a relationship, were trying to get out of a relationship with, or were in recovery. A support system sprung up for me. I slowly began to see how my life really was, how I was building resentment towards soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, how he didn’t and couldn’t meet my needs. The alcoholic friend in recovery started up a chorus of “Go to Al-Anon. Go to Al-Anon.” I did not want to. I don’t think anybody wants to go to Al-Anon, until they get there. My first visit was eye opening. Although I had been resisting for a long time, as soon as I stepped through the doors . . . .
The first thing that happens at a meeting is the reading out loud of the Twelve Steps. Step One (We admitted we were powerless over alcohol—that our lives had become unmanageable.) which I had previously thought to be so impossible, suddenly made sense.
I was there because my life had become unmanageable. I was powerless. I needed help.
Boom. I knew why I was there. By the grace of God, I had met and fell in love with an alcoholic and that had led me to this spiritual program, which opened up more in my mind and life—the change for which I had asked. Of course, that realization didn’t happen all at once, but I was on the path. Through Al-Alon, I met a yoga instructor and started a regular practice. Through yoga I learned a formal practice of meditation. Weekly interaction with supportive strangers in Al-Anon gave me the courage to join other groups and show up as myself. Most recently, I went through the twelve-week course of The Artist’s Way with four other creatives—what a gift! I found out that I have an interest in watercolors. I’m not just a writer. How cool. I can make art and have fun! Art feeds my soul.
OK, universe, I get it. Kind of.
Just not very graciously at the moment.