more on the being single

My personal life is embarrassing to write about. I am completely aware that having been married for so long, I am somewhat immature to the ways of adult relationships. It’s like a bizarre gap in my knowledge (and I pride myself on the knowledge of many topics) . To this end, I am admittedly green and self-conscious about my actions when it comes to relationships, but I’m learning.
I’ve operated on the idea for a long time that when you’re into someone, or alternately, them into you, it’s instant, you know right away where you stand. But in the dating world, I often don’t know where I stand and get impatient enough to just end it before the other person does. That action alone seems immature, but in my reality it is necessary.
As for being single, I’ve noticed the men I’ve been involved with falling in to 2 categories. The forever bachelor is under 35 and rhapsodizes about parenthood, but in reality is not interested in a relationship. They seem to be still swinging singles as their outlook is quite young and inexperienced. I'm attracted to the aspect of fun but find that I hide parts of myself to accommodate the light and breezy personality. It's feels forced and fake like I'm acting, and doing it badly.
The second category is the broken-hearted-but-still-standing. Over 40, divorced, maybe has kids, maybe not, either way, they are too distressed by their breakup to fall into anything serious. I’m attracted to someone who has had similar experiences but the too-broken-to-try just leaves me empty and dissatisfied.
Needless to say, there have been no winners so far, but some interesting experiences. I’m slowly becoming adept at guarding my heart and dealing with attachment, or rather not becoming attached in the emotional sense. Nothing I’ve been involved with has really gone past the 2-month mark. Having few previous experiences before marriage has put me on the learning curve of defining this single life of mine. Resounding in my head is the line a married friend gave me recently, "you're so lucky, you get to have a do-over." But will the do-over result in Mr. Perfect?

Blame the Meds

Being strong wears me down. It can become too much to bear and I crumble on occasion, biting my lip to sting me back into reality. “You have to stay strong” It’s a mantra during these fleeting yet overwhelming moments.
They are new to me and come in a surprising manner, like a hula-hoop that is slipping off my hips. I wonder if it’s the natural process of trying to create a new life, the obvious fear of the unknown, to which I usually sally forth?
Sometimes I wonder if they have something to do with my medication. I imagine the TV ad—May cause an inability to deal with children. Tendency to get teary when couples walk by holding hands. May lament cooking fantastic meals with no one to share them with. May attract emotionally unavailable men. —Check.
It’s a humorous caveat. I get to blame a lot on the meds.

Six shooter

As January draws to a predictably depressing close I admit I entered the New Year encumbered by too much. As much as I tried, the feelings were hard to shed and I’ve proceeded with my pistol, troubleshooting my way toward some sort of solace.

My anxiety around the trip to see D and the X went as expected. I had to deal with being in a place that had previously brought great joy, I got married there, had many happy moments, and now it reflected only pain, having my stroke there, breaking up there. It was also the house I’ve lived in the longest in my life. Not staying there, viewing it as no longer mine, along with a lifestyle that was not longer mine, was hard to swallow. I had intended to avoid the house altogether as I was staying at a nearby hotel. But D wanted me to be there and I felt fine being there, until it hit me each time, this irrepressible urge to flee, which I did. I couldn’t stand seeing things I bought, the blanket from my trip to Havana, the tray that was a gift from a visiting friend, and of course, my beloved doggy. As I jokingly say to people, the X got custody of him.

As for D, she was happy to see me, but gave it to me in her usual way, through tantrums and oppositional behaviour. On day 2 I had to honestly admit to the X that I was not sure I could deal with her, she was pretty overwhelming. The feelings around this are hard to bear for a mother. I feel guilt that I can’t handle my kid, no matter how needy she may be. I want to do whatever it takes to make her better, but at the same time I am faced with the fact that I am marginally recovered. I’m still dealing with chronic pain, high blood pressure and medication management. The X pointed this out upon my return. He wanted to discuss the reality of what I was able to do ie. Was raising 2 children, one diagnosed with anxiety and very needy, a realistic possibility?

His heart is absolutely in the right place. He is trying to do right by me, right by the kids. But I boomerang back to one of the reasons I split; I have always raised the kids. When he is not around (most of the time) I perceive an out of sight, out of mind scenario with him. I bear the brunt of child raising and there is little he can do to help. Now that he has had D for a few months, he is connected to the process, and perhaps is getting a glimpse and a new outlook.

But the reality of his involvement is the real question. He has no intention of living in the same city as us (work is prohibitive), quitting his current job is a pipe dream that he dangles as some kind of martyrdom (he'd be miserable). Alternately, I want the best for my children always. Subverting my own needs is how I have always lived. The thought now that it may be bad for my health leaves me in a quandary.

Ultimately, and somewhat predictably, my plan is to enlist more supportive resources, for both the children and myself and hopefully that plan will work. We have always led an unconventional life, and my health seems to force that to continue. We all seem weak right now. I can only hope it will make us stronger.

Twenty Ten

It looked like my New Year would come in like a lamb. I was wrapped in my kimono, sipping on bubbly, intent on watching the ball drop on TV, when my friend called and insisted I come out. It was nice to ring in the new decade with friends after all. Though I missed my children terribly.

This first day of the year I woke up with one thing in mind; do not have exasperating conversations with the X anymore. These have generally been made up of things said over and over between us, it’s pointless now, everything has been said. And if it hasn’t, it is useless to say it. There is no end goal. I am at the point that if I hear him repeat things again I just might scream.

The other negative I am willing to drop is my attitude towards his girlfriend. She is minor and a part of his life I am no longer privy to. When I focus on mothering I realize that she has little influence if any, on the bond between the kids and I. It’s an opportunity to strengthen my connection especially when they are away from me.

As many do at this time of year, I see my blessings clearly. I am lucky in so many ways. The kids are growing up in a way that is delightful, even within its challenges. I’m glad to have them as my tribe. I include the rest of my family and close friends within this group. I am truly blessed to have this entourage parade in my mind. I never feel lonely because of them.

I might sound like I’m 80 when I say this, but every morning I feel lucky to be alive. There is a resolve to try harder at remaining healthy. I have all the resolutions that most people have today; exercise more, drink less alcohol. But there is also the big one, live every day as if it’s my last.