Start.
So. I've thought about this a long time, writing a blog. Most of the time I talk myself out of it because it occurs to me that no one really needs or wants to hear this much about me. Then I realize that you reading this is entirely optional. You're either bored at work or trying to pass time in the waiting room of your dentist. And if this provides the wanton distraction or procrastination you needed today, then mazel tov.
It also occurs to me that I post vaguely on FB and Insta about my therapy and sometimes even about my depression. Yes, like most, I post because I like the attention. Most of the time it's not a conscious decision, but rather an impulsive one that springs out of that primal part of one's psyche that craves external validation. Hence the absurd amount of selfies as well.
I know the excessive selfies come from a place of vanity: I like how I look these days. For years I avoided the camera because I felt too fat. I remember one time, Layne and I booked an anniversary dinner at The Melting Pot and I had a MELTDOWN (har har) that he added a professional photograph to "capture the moment" of us eating melted cheese. I mean, I panicked: I knew, just KNEW the evening would be ruined because I'd hate the way I looked in that picture. Of course, having a meltdown sort of took care of that on its own. But, he did politely cancel the picture.
Now, I can take a picture and not edit. I don't worry about the angle or the lighting because I don't feel the need to. It's sort of been my own therapy to make up for all of those years I hid from the camera. No, seriously: you try and look for pictures of me from 2010-2014. You will see very, very few.
But, I digress.
My problem these days is love. I've tried hard to ignore this since my divorce, and to be fair, it was nice to have a break from the monotony of a long term relationship. But since, the loneliness of being single again in my early late 30's has been encroaching, and further, has been weighing on my mind incessantly. Most of this is due to falling for a guy last fall. Whether or not it was the "wrong" guy isn't up for debate. To debate that is to be judgmental of both myself and him, neither of whom deserves that level of scrutiny.
The magic of therapy has proven to me why my world has been so shaken since he and I broke up in November: the future. For the first time since my marriage, I reformed a worldview of my life in the context of partnership. The most difficult part since has been combatting my own perception of what actually happened in that relationship, because many of you know, I have a very strong imagination. Therefore, it is difficult to know whether I am mourning the loss of a relationship that actually occurred, or one around which I have since created a solid mythology.
See, my therapist and I will both tell you: I do not have an identity crisis. In the context of my work and social life, notably when I'm single, I know who I am and how to operate. When I am with someone I care about, that all goes bye-bye. For some reason that I am still grappling to understand, I devote myself completely to people who don't necessarily want or deserve that level of dedication. I will do literally ANYTHING to keep that person happy, even if it means that I often go unhappy. Even if that means I go unhappy for long, long stretches of time. This isn't the other person's fault, mind you: it's mine. I make this choice without even realizing it. My imagination kicks in and fills in any gaps between me and the person.
Knowing this now, I realize how stuck I really am. I can't pursue anyone right now until I can get this more under control. Yet, I fight loneliness and dream longingly of...well, of that same guy. It's too much to handle some days. So again, why I love my therapist, is that she explains that I'm using this guy, the memory of this amazing time with him, as a replacement for a normal, healthy fantasy about the future. Instead of generically longing for a partner, I've subconsciously decided to use him as a figurehead, like the face of an ad campaign.
In essence, what I'm trying to say is that I'm hung up on a guy and it hasn't been abating no matter what I try. Everyday I struggle not to contact him. Everyday I hope he'll contact me. Everyday I wish we'd bump into each other on the street. The work of therapy is that I must choose everyday to focus on myself and not make any attempt to recreate something that may never have existed in the first place. I choose to interrupt fantasies of "us" to remind myself that "he" should be better thought of as "someone."
I've not been this honest with anyone but my therapist, ex-husband, and sister, mostly because I hate the idea of being pitied for something so asinine as a mooning over an ex-crush. I've been very judgmental of myself, feeling like some teenager fan-girling over a boy band. But I will also admit that putting this all in words, seeing it written and editing my thoughts has already lifted a small part of this weight from my chest.
I've learned that I don't need to judge myself because I want the same thing so many other people in the world do: love. I'm not odd, or unhealthy, just pretty damn normal. I don't have to like being single, but I do have to like myself. I have to make choices that augment my happiness rather than cause further anxiety. Getting into any kind of relationship right now would only delay this journey and further depreciate this work.
In short, I have to do something that I'm loathe to do: I have to let go.
It also occurs to me that I post vaguely on FB and Insta about my therapy and sometimes even about my depression. Yes, like most, I post because I like the attention. Most of the time it's not a conscious decision, but rather an impulsive one that springs out of that primal part of one's psyche that craves external validation. Hence the absurd amount of selfies as well.
I know the excessive selfies come from a place of vanity: I like how I look these days. For years I avoided the camera because I felt too fat. I remember one time, Layne and I booked an anniversary dinner at The Melting Pot and I had a MELTDOWN (har har) that he added a professional photograph to "capture the moment" of us eating melted cheese. I mean, I panicked: I knew, just KNEW the evening would be ruined because I'd hate the way I looked in that picture. Of course, having a meltdown sort of took care of that on its own. But, he did politely cancel the picture.
Now, I can take a picture and not edit. I don't worry about the angle or the lighting because I don't feel the need to. It's sort of been my own therapy to make up for all of those years I hid from the camera. No, seriously: you try and look for pictures of me from 2010-2014. You will see very, very few.
But, I digress.
My problem these days is love. I've tried hard to ignore this since my divorce, and to be fair, it was nice to have a break from the monotony of a long term relationship. But since, the loneliness of being single again in my early late 30's has been encroaching, and further, has been weighing on my mind incessantly. Most of this is due to falling for a guy last fall. Whether or not it was the "wrong" guy isn't up for debate. To debate that is to be judgmental of both myself and him, neither of whom deserves that level of scrutiny.
The magic of therapy has proven to me why my world has been so shaken since he and I broke up in November: the future. For the first time since my marriage, I reformed a worldview of my life in the context of partnership. The most difficult part since has been combatting my own perception of what actually happened in that relationship, because many of you know, I have a very strong imagination. Therefore, it is difficult to know whether I am mourning the loss of a relationship that actually occurred, or one around which I have since created a solid mythology.
See, my therapist and I will both tell you: I do not have an identity crisis. In the context of my work and social life, notably when I'm single, I know who I am and how to operate. When I am with someone I care about, that all goes bye-bye. For some reason that I am still grappling to understand, I devote myself completely to people who don't necessarily want or deserve that level of dedication. I will do literally ANYTHING to keep that person happy, even if it means that I often go unhappy. Even if that means I go unhappy for long, long stretches of time. This isn't the other person's fault, mind you: it's mine. I make this choice without even realizing it. My imagination kicks in and fills in any gaps between me and the person.
Knowing this now, I realize how stuck I really am. I can't pursue anyone right now until I can get this more under control. Yet, I fight loneliness and dream longingly of...well, of that same guy. It's too much to handle some days. So again, why I love my therapist, is that she explains that I'm using this guy, the memory of this amazing time with him, as a replacement for a normal, healthy fantasy about the future. Instead of generically longing for a partner, I've subconsciously decided to use him as a figurehead, like the face of an ad campaign.
In essence, what I'm trying to say is that I'm hung up on a guy and it hasn't been abating no matter what I try. Everyday I struggle not to contact him. Everyday I hope he'll contact me. Everyday I wish we'd bump into each other on the street. The work of therapy is that I must choose everyday to focus on myself and not make any attempt to recreate something that may never have existed in the first place. I choose to interrupt fantasies of "us" to remind myself that "he" should be better thought of as "someone."
I've not been this honest with anyone but my therapist, ex-husband, and sister, mostly because I hate the idea of being pitied for something so asinine as a mooning over an ex-crush. I've been very judgmental of myself, feeling like some teenager fan-girling over a boy band. But I will also admit that putting this all in words, seeing it written and editing my thoughts has already lifted a small part of this weight from my chest.
I've learned that I don't need to judge myself because I want the same thing so many other people in the world do: love. I'm not odd, or unhealthy, just pretty damn normal. I don't have to like being single, but I do have to like myself. I have to make choices that augment my happiness rather than cause further anxiety. Getting into any kind of relationship right now would only delay this journey and further depreciate this work.
In short, I have to do something that I'm loathe to do: I have to let go.
Beautifully said. It is a path worth traveling, healing oneself.
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