Friday, October 12, 2012

The Intersection

The intersection of transition and old behaviors is a lonely place in my opinion.  It’s where I currently sit, idling.  And that’s the rub, I’m idling, in neutral.  Ahead of me is what appears to be an insurmountable incline pockmarked with craters, evidence of landslides and fires.  At the peak of this behemoth is a sungold halo, sparking crystalline rays outward.  I can barely make it out – it’s miniscule and the glare damn near blinding, but I can see it.  It’s Something Better.  I know it.  I look again in front of me.  I feel the air release from me like a balloon.  I deflate some.

What a climb, I think.

Behind me, I can see clear across the horizon.  No craters.  No hills.  No landslides.  No fires.  No Something Better with the halo and crystals.  I’ve been there before.  I know where it leads.  And that’s what draws me in: I’ve been there before, it’s familiar territory.  I’m at a point where I’ve got to decide: what was versus what could be.

Face the insurmountable.
Or ride the familiar roads.

Therein lay one of my life’s greatest challenges.

I was driving to a recent therapy session and caught scent of my hand.  I’d just been cleaning with bleach thus, my hand emanated a fleshy chlorine smell.  I was brought back to high school when I damn near smelled like that all the time since I spent all winter and all summer in the pool, swimming for sport and swimming for pleasure.  I thought of those times, and in particular the team for which I swam and felt lonely. 

Did it stem from me “missing” how many people I used to surround myself with in order to fill some undefined void?  Or was it a small realization that even then, there was no one that really cared about me.  I was alone, though I wasn’t actually alone.  Rather, I was lonely, though I wasn’t actually alone.  I’m concerned about the first thought I had – that the loneliness I felt was a result of missing whatever environment I was in years ago.

At present, I’m fighting myself to be closer to my wife, to my kids.  I behave in ways that prevent true and sustained intimacy, that prevent true and sustained relationship growth.  This is my war.  The war with myself.

11 comments:

  1. The best things in life are those you have to earn. Or so I'm told. I'm in my own limbo. Keep putting one foot in front of the other.

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    1. It was always "good enough" for me to be "good enough". I have to break that, which is unfathomably difficult. Limbo is right.

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  2. That's a good way to describe it. And yet, is the familiar really smooth? Or is it simply a matter of being familiar with every pit and jagged edge so there aren't many surprises? The road ahead isn't easy, but it's worth it. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

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    1. My therapist said something similar. It may be comfortable for me to be on that horizon road, but I think you may be right - that it may not be smooth but I've traveled it so many times that I can do it with my Eyes closed. Worth it. That's what I keep reminding myself. It's all worth it.

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  3. I've found I struggle to be close to my husband because I always feared being left again. Kind of a protection thing: if I'm not close to you, it won't hurt me when you leave me.

    I'm wishing you well.

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    1. Same here. Push away so I can't be hurt. Bury, so I can't be hurt. Be selfish so I can't be hurt.

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    2. Pushing away, burying, and being selfish are only ways to repeat the cycle, not end it. What do you want to pass down to your children, and what do you want to throw away? More importantly, how do you want them to live? You are their role model and you are supposed to be their number one (plus mom) supporter. Live how you want them to live. Listen, so that they will learn how to listen. Communicate, to them, and to others, how you want them to communicate.

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  4. The ascent doesn't need to be done in a day. You are already way ahead of all those that didn't make it to the base of recognizing a desire to change. You came this far you can keep going. I am learning that the ascent is worth it. Kind of like the donkey story where you shake it off and step up. http://www.agiftofinspiration.com.au/stories/persistence/shake.shtml

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  5. If you want to be closer to your wife you have to get off those familiar roads. And when you do, stop and ask for directions. Whether you need them or not.
    I'm not sure why women like to watch us do that, but they do.

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    1. We're "man enough" to admit when we're lost and humble enough to accept the help, perhaps.

      I think maybe my wife's atop that monolith, along with a better life overall.

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