Expanding on yesterday’s poem, I’ve hit a snag in my recovery.
Things had been going pretty well, I was going weeks at a time without crying and I was excited about the future. It seemed that the past was in the past and there was nothing but a blue-skied future ahead. However, the past few weeks have seen a reversion back into melancholy and sadness. Memories of her and times we shared together are bubbling to the surface with their old regularity, accompanied by daily watery eyes.
I was shocked to catch myself thinking if she came back, I would accept her and still love her. That’s crazy talk! We’re DIVORCED… she ain’t coming back and I know it.
What happened? Have I gone backwards?
In the immediate aftermath of the split, there was nothing but pain, loss, confusion… the raw emotions the come from from having your partner of many years, the object of your devotion, suddenly end things. Every little thing was a trigger for sadness and I couldn’t even keep it together through the morning bike commute to work.
Then, after a few weeks, the pain morphed into action. There were divorce steps to organize, a project to work on. Grocery shopping and weekly dinners were something to figure out, another challenge. All the chores we used to split, like laundry, were now back on my plate and had to be slotted in. Everything old became new again; fresh challenges were tackled, new routines and habits were figured out, new freedoms were discovered. I spent time thinking about who I am, what makes me me, and what I’ll look for in my future partner. The silver lining started to materialize. Looking back, this was around when I wrote Movement.
That period took me into the holidays, which despite some trepidation about being alone for this festive time, were a welcome distraction. I was lucky enough to spend two weeks back in the midwest over both Thanksgiving and Christmas/New Years. Being removed from Portland, back in familiar surroundings with family and friends, was enjoyable and for the most part made me feel happy and supported.
This momentum continued on through my return to home in January. I even returned to the therapist, not to get help moving on but to talk through my desire to start dating and how to approach it. But then, a few weeks ago, I found myself back in the sad state of mind. The sheen of my new life suddenly wore off: I am alone. Reality has set in… all the time, the years, spent getting to know her have been for naught. Finding someone new will be just as long of a journey, not something that will happen overnight. I desire a life partner, but it will take years to get there with someone. In other words, I’m going to be alone for a long time. This dose of reality is what brought me back to Earth, and likely is what has my brain serving up fond memories of the past, wishfully hoping I’ll make some attempt to regain that past relationship.
I know I’m going to be okay. I know I just need to keep continuing forward and this pain will subside, that this is just a phase. But I’ll be damned if it doesn’t suck any less than it did on day 1.