Thursday, June 30, 2011

Exhausted with Dispassion

I'm exhausted and want to sleep but here I am awake before the sunrise and have been for a couple of hours.  When I got up yesterday morning I looked a hundred years old with my puffy eyes and wrinkles.  Of course I had spent the whole day before crying.  No crying yesterday.  I felt mostly sad but actually had a pretty fine day.  All that writing helped me move a lot of emotions through my body.

It was strange, after writing about all that self loathing body image stuff I actually felt good being in my body yesterday.  Better than I have in a while.  Last night I was invited out for drinks and dinner with seven women friends that I rarely see.  One friend who has been living in Burma but is in the midst of moving to Ecuador was here visiting and another was here from Brazil.  I was sitting at this table with all these adventurous, creative, smart, sexy women and I realized I was there in my own adventurous, creative, smart, sexy self.  I was subdued no doubt, not quite on my game, but I was present and happy.  As crazy complicated as we women are, being in each others presence makes things so easy and obvious sometimes.  I was with my tribe.

I'm noticing that I feel quite dispassionate and it seems as if I've closed down my heart in order to not feel the all the mixed emotions.  Sadness.  Anger.  Confusion about things that just aren't sitting right that I don't have the energy to sort out.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

A Nice Snuggle

Writing here these last couple of days has been so helpful in processing such intense emotions.  I've felt so relieved ever since writing that last post--really released a lot.  Plus my husband sent me a very touching email after he read it.  My pain upsets him and his words were very sweet and soothing.  I haven't cried all day since first reading rootsdown's comment to one of my previous posts early this morning.  Boy have I havee been triggered in a place that has some gnarly and tenacious roots shooting down into some dark woundedness.

My heart is very vulnerable and open at this moment.  My feelings are vacillating between love, fear, anger, sadness, annoyance,

I worked all day but had a nice break for lunch and took a long walk.  On my way home I stopped by Lover Who Is Not My Lover's office--not to be confused with Lover Who Is Not My Lover Two.  He was on a business call so I curled up on his couch and took a little nap.  When he got off the phone he came and took my boots off and curled up on the couch with me, intertwining his legs with mine.  We shared a soft and gentle space, catching up on one another's lives a bit.  I haven't seen him in awhile and wanted to connect, plus I needed a friend to snuggle with.  I didn't tell him about this drama I'm going through right now and really didn't want to talk about it at that point so I was relieved that he didn't ask about K. because he usually does.  

Feeling Smeagoly

The truth is that the sexy me as been feeling trapped and stifled inside all the fat I'm carrying on my body right now.  My clothes don't fit, and I've been feeling uncomfortable in my body.  Standing in front of a mirror has been miserable.  And once again I'm faced with the reality of how much I depend on the men in my life to help me feel validated and sexy.  Fortunately, I've had a lot of affectionate men over the years that have been willing to accommodate that need.  I get my fair share of compliments and expressed desire directed toward me that it keeps me afloat when my inner Golem attacks.  But I have a tendency to want it from one particular man (needing it from my husband is a given) and that currently would be LWINMLT.

I have a fond memory of a lover who always dated big women.  I paled in comparison to most of the women he was attracted to.  Talk about carrying lots of extra fat around on their bodies, they had it going on.  What I really loved about being in bed with him was the way he viewed and touched my body, especially my belly.  He would grab a hold of my tummy fat and I could sense the extreme pleasure and satisfaction it gave him.  This man was young, smart, talented, and handsome with a firm sexy body so that made it all the better.

Sex with my husband is like that.  He has always been loving and accepting of my body along with being verbally validating.  I was comfortable in my body with him from the get go because he made it so obvious how attracted he was to me.  Of course, I was quite thin and feeling very sexy in my body when we got together so his validations just added to my already positive body image.

Within my eight year relationship with the father of my youngest child, I never received any sort of  positive verbal validation or proclamations of love.  But I knew he was highly attracted to me sexually and he wanted a lot of sex.  He said that I was the only woman he had very been with that wanted as much sex as he did and he did proclaim his love for that!  Our sex life was great and it kept me in that relationship longer than I should have otherwise stayed.  Finally, when I was in the process of leaving him, he started offering verbal confirmations about how much he loved me and loved my body.  Too little too late.

As I write here now I'm reminded of how private and protective I felt about my relationship with LWINMLT when we first became lovers and it's really the reason I stopped posting on this blog. Of course I've written some about our relationship but not a lot.  There is more I could say along the lines of my body image and  having him as a lover but I find now that I'm still feeling private and protective of that intimate dynamic.  I realize there are things I should disclose to him personally.

Bottom line is of course, I'm so much more than my body.  So much more than my sexuality.  So much more than who is loving or not loving me.  I know this.  That said though, my love relationships, my sexual partners, and my body image, are all tied up in whatever it is I'm doing here in this life.  I feel most comfortable in a thin body.  I feel more at home, attractive, creative, in touch with my true essence, when I'm not carrying around extra weight.  And I feel so much freer.  And of course, even if I am carrying around extra weight, when I'm feeling good about myself and my life, when I'm managing my stress level, staying balanced and in the flow, and connected and happy in my relationships with those I love most, then I'm more able to stay in touch with these feel good parts of myself, regardless.  And I'm not even hitting on the other aspects of getting older that have nothing to do with being fat or thin.  Getting old is not for sissies, I've been struggling here and it's like LWINMLT pushed me over into the abyss.

I know that a big piece of what's going on for me right now is my age old abandonment issue with my father who left before I was born. I identified with being broken and worthless for a good portion of my life, all based on the fact that I wasn't worth it for him to hang around.  I have healed so much of this woundedness on my own over the years, and also within my relationship with my husband.  But I find that I'm still bringing men into my life to help me dig up more of the pain, to be worked through on an ever deepening level.  I feel very abandoned by LWINMLT.  Not totally abandoned.  He is still in my life.  But the way he chose to deal with this issue of falling out of sexual attraction with me really hurts.  I am just so sadA let's put sex on the back burner until we figure this out approach, would have felt a lot more reasonable to me.  You know, a temporary sexual hiatus while we assess what's going on and see how things evolve.  I still would  have cried and felt like shit but it would have been a much better route for me. I want to talk more about his insights (or lack of) as to why he isn't sexually attracted to me, if there is a why to get to the bottom of.  I'm left wondering how deeply this goes.   Is he repulsed by the sight of me?  Does touching me disgust him?  I don't really think this is the case but that's where my pain body takes me.  I do want to know just exactly how long has this been going on.  I've worked with lots of couples and I know there are a variety of reasons why this happens in a relationship.  Sometimes it's lasting but more often it's not.  I had my, I'm fat and therefore not sexually attractive button pushed but that may not be his reason.  Maybe it's my wrinkles, my stretch marks, my age, my smell...all of the above, none of the above.  I didn't ask him because I was so overcome with emotion that I couldn't bear to hear more details that might push me over the edge at that point.  We were in a public place.  I wanted his story, his truth of the moment, but dealing with something like this takes more than one setting, public or private.  Maybe he doesn't know the reason, as it is often hidden from the conscious mind.  There are many components to sexual attraction and sometimes it's just not there with another and there is no need to bother with the reason.  I'm sexually attracted to very few people.  But the fact that he was attracted to me and now isn't, speaks to something that has come up within our relationship.  And relationships change.  There are no real binding contracts, even in a marriage.  People get divorced all the time.  And we aren't married.  But we are going on 3 years together and I want more than this.  I want better than what I was offered.  I think I deserve better

I feel like I've been thrown out with the trash.  Or maybe it's more like I've been set out on the curb for a thrift store pick up.  "Surely someone else will be able to use her.  She's not all that bad."  I know that's not really fair.  Or real.  But it's the way I feel right now.


Five hours of sleep after being up for 39.  I've been lying awake for a couple of hours watching my ego make up stories.  I am so triggered.  Why did you ask me if I feel old? I'm pretty flipped out about being old right now.  I'd like to crawl out of my skin.  I haven't cried in 6 hours.  Hopefully my eyes will be a bit less puffy today.  I need to be to work at 7:00.  I don't know what I'm feeling right now.  Sideswiped.  Depressed.  Confused.  Dumb.  Mostly numb.  But Aphrodite is waking up.  I notice her in the background with her "Fuck you, how dare you!" attitude.  She is prideful.  And pissed.   Mostly I'm just tired and my heart hurts.  I'd like to go to sleep and either not wake up at all or wake up having this all be an awful dream.  I'm so disappointed.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The Consequences of Falling

The rain is falling as if the sky is shedding tears in sweet companionship.  I'd call a girlfriend except I know I couldn't talk.  I can cry though.  It seems as if that's all I can do.  I can't sleep.  I laid awake all night, the tears flowing silently until the uncontrollable sobbing would erupt.

A couple of weeks ago I found a lump in my breast and it was quite sore so I made an appointment for a Well Women Health Exam.  I wasn't too worried about it but having it checked out seemed the prudent thing to do.  I've been feeling extra vulnerable in my body lately.  Fucking menopause.   My daughter had a cancer tumor in her leg.  A friend died of prostate cancer.  The appointment was early this morning.  After crying all night with no sleep, I walked into the clinic like a zombie, where they hit me with a slew of paperwork that needed updating. As soon as I sat down to work on the stack of papers they called me back to the exam room with a quick stop at the scales for a weight in.  As if that wasn't enough to make me feel like shit, I was told to strip naked and given two small pieces of rough paper to protect my modesty.   I couldn't even figure how to unfold the damn paper covers  and that got me crying again before my health care practitioner made it back into the room.  Bereft of any ability to cope with her professional incompetencies,  within a few minutes I had her running out the door for backup protection from the crazy lady. When she returned, I was fully dressed except for my bra.  In the end I pulled off my top and allowed her to do a breast exam (I already had enough negative body issues going on that I was bound and determined to forego cutting off my nose to spite my face.) But I declined her offers for other medical interventions including their mental health services.  Fucking bitch.

Lover Who Is My Lover is no longer my lover so I'm confused as to how to refer to him here.  I already have one Lover Who Is Not My Lover.  Maybe I should call him Lover Who Is Not My Lover Too, or Lover Who Is Not My Lover Two.  I am not a Well Woman, that's for sure.  My heart is broken.  Not really looking forward to dealing with this lost.  Fuck.  For the last few days I've been listening to k.d. lang's song, The Consequences of Falling, obviously preparing myself for this, and every line speaks to my experience and what I have been dreading.  "...if I'm alone with this, I don't think I can face the consequences of falling.  As it turns out, I am definitely alone in this,  LWINMLT, is not in love with me.  Well, to be more exact, he is no longer sexually attracted to me.  Wow, typing that sentence sent a pang through my heart.  I've been dealing with the not in love part pretty well up until this point.  You know, just letting what is be what it is, accepting the sweet love that is there and not making up too many stories about the rest.  But I really don't think I can face his new disclosure.

are you breathing
what i'm breathing
are your wishes
the same as mine
are you needing
what i'm needing
i'm waiting for a sign
my hands tremble
my heart aches
is it you calling
if i'm alone in this
i don't think i can face
the consequences of falling
are you thinking
what i'm thinking
does your pulse
quicken like mine
are you dreaming
what i'm dreaming
i can't read your mind
one step towards you
two steps back
feels like i'm crawling
if i'm alone in this
i don't think i can face
the consequences of fallin

Well, those questions are answered.  He is not breathing what I'm breathing.  He is not needing what I'm needing.  His pulse does not quicken like mine.  Fuck.  I got my sign.  I don't have to try and read his mind.  I'm alone in this and I don't think I can face the consequences of falling in love with this man.

In case you've never had the man you love tell you that he isn't sexually attracted to you, I can share with you first hand that it feels really shitty. Damn, talk about a body slam.  As if I haven't been slamming my own body enough as it is.  I'll be 57 years old in one week and I gotta tell you, I've been in a wretched place with my body image and this whole menopausal pack on the fat phase.  Slam dunk K.  You know where to hit a girl where it hurts.

Not that I blame him.  I mean, what was the poor man to do?  If he's not sexually attracted to me anymore, what else is there for him to do but tell me?  He obviously didn't relish disclosing this little (huge) piece of information to me and it was a truth I was not happy to hear.  But the truth is, I'm not sexually attracted to my own self right now.  I'm quite aware that I'd be more physically attractive if I were holding less fat on my body.  But you want love to see beyond that.  I'm fairly full of self loathing.  And now to add to that, my feelings are hurt.  My ego is bruised and busted.

I told him I never trusted "us".  I guess I've always held some trepidation.  I definitely hold some post traumatic stress from when he contemplated breaking it off with me two years ago.  How could I fully trust my relationship with a man who never told me that he was in love with me? At the same time, our friendship was deep and I had grown to trust his love for me and I was holding big appreciation for his presence in my life.   I hold confusion about the difference between "loving" and being "in love" with someone anyway so I just accepted his love for what it was, without needing to put a label on it.   He is kind.  He is truthful.  He is a good man.  A sweet lover.  I had let go of many of my attachments about how I needed to be in relationship with him and I was simply allowing myself to be happy and content.  Comfortable.  Mostly.  But I suppose that I was secretly hoping that he had fallen in love with me and would come around, sooner or later to figuring that out.  I feel like a fool.  When he told me that he wanted to have a "candid" talk, I knew, in one way or another, what was coming.  Although after my immediate tachycardia I told myself not to jump to conclusions.  I imagined a number of different possible topics.  Maybe he even wanted to tell me that he was in love with me, that he was "dreaming what I'm dreaming".  I didn't imagine hearing his words telling me that he was no longer sexually attracted to me.  I've never had a man tell me that before.  It stings.

It's weird, as k.d. says, "one step towards you, two steps back, feels like I'm crawling".  K was a wonderful lover to me in many ways and I'm feeling pretty fucking devastated to lose this aspect of our relationship.  To face this reality, that he isn't physically attracted to me, doesn't want to make love with me,  doesn't want to fuck me.  WTF am I suppose to do with this information?  It makes me angry too.  My sexuality is a huge piece of my identity.  Who and what I am.  Jesus fucking Christ.  Talk about the ultimate rejection.  God fucking damnit.  And the truth is that I constantly held myself back from him sexually too.  It was obvious that he didn't desire me as much as I desired him and I chalked it up to a difference in our libidos, and the fact that he holds his sexuality differently than I hold mine which is always in the forefront.  His is more compartmentalized.   I was always hungry for him but I learned to control my cravings, waiting for him to make the first move, always stepping back, never wanting to pressure him.  I consistently felt like I was crawling in our relationship.  And the crawling wasn't bad.  I wasn't complaining.  And I'm not complaining now, about how it was.  I accepted him for who he was, how he was.  Instead of wanting more, I practiced wanting what he gave me and I was pretty much satisfied with that.  But I don't know how to begin being satisfied with this.  I am complaining about this.

And I never got to get my tramp stamp tattoo and surprise him with it when he took me from behind and fucked me.  He told me that's how he wanted to discover it.  I waited too long.

I've always said that we fall in love with who we fall in love with, and then we create a relationship from there.  Our lovers are real people, acting out their own karma, living their lives and trying to get their needs met to the best of their abilities, just like we are.  When we love another, we have the choice of either loving the real person or loving a fantasy, a made up story that we create in our mind about who and what that person is and how they will meet our needs and make us happy.   But real people don't always come through for us the way our fantasies do.  They improv in the roles and scripts we make up for them.  I'm so let down.  I invested so much of heart and body to this man and he never fully claimed me in my totality.  I knew that.  And I knew not to trust that he wouldn't do what he just did.  Why am I so insistent on falling in love with unavailable men?

I'm alone in this and I don't think I can face the consequences of falling...


Friday, June 17, 2011

Portentous Portals. Powerful Passings.

Portentous portals.  Powerful passings.

Birth and Death.

My friend Rudy died a couple of days ago and my heart cracked open.  I have been so touched by this beautiful man and the sweet love he offered me for so many years.  He was not a close friend.  But he was.  We didn't know each other well.  But we did.  I never spent long hours talking with Rudy, getting to know the intimate details of his life. Nor him mine.  And yet, our souls recognized each other from the beginning, and when our eyes met, we fell in love.  We fell into love.  That's the effect Rudy had on me--I would fall right into this big puddle of love and get soaking wet every time I saw him.  He validated my beingness.  With Rudy, I remembered that I was love.

Rudy was a well known person around town, big in the jazz scene, he played the alto sax, and was a professional photographer.  Everyone loved him.   How could they not?  Rudy had a wide open heart.  Sparkling eyes.  Infectious laugh.  Rudy hugged and kissed people.  Rudy gave big love and was loved big in return.

When my husband texted to ask if I had heard of Rudy's passing I remembered that I had dreamed of him the night before.  I walked into a party and he was there, off to my right with a group of musicians.  Our eyes met and he smiled at me as we exchanged that simple acknowledgement of  friendship.   He had come to say goodbye.  What a gift.  That sweet, sweet man. 

Oh precious one, your presence in my life has blessed me.  I cry, already missing your sweet face and embrace, and that love offering of a smile that bore the fruit of happiness in my heart.

It was Ryland's birthday.  He is one of my son's best friends and was born in one of the bedrooms in my home.  I lit a candle for him and Rudy.  A flame to celebrate Ryland's birth and Rudy's death. 

I'm dealing with my mother's passing.  It's up big for me.  I don't know when she will be gone, but she is going.  I've had two death dreams of her passage.  One by water and one by fire.  Yesterday I went to an audition for a local celebration of death that will happen in October.  Through spoken word I performed my dream of my mother's death by water:

Mother Carry Me, Your Child I Will Aways Be

It was assisted euthanasia.  Like a water birth, and I was the midwife.  Only this was her death.

We were in a large pool in a creek.  The water was low and I was allowing it to fill up, like in a swimming pool, or a bathtub, until it would cover her and take her under.  And I would let her go.  I would stay with her and hold her hand until she went under the water and drowned.

But all of a sudden the water was deep and it took her when my back was turned.
She was gone.  And I wasn't holding her hand.  The water was rough and murky and I couldn't see under it's surface.  I was walking around searching for her with my hands in the water, trying to find her.  But all the while I was afraid that I would find her, her body, floating in the water, dead.

I stepped down into another pool where the water was calm and clear.  I saw her lying there, convulsing and bleeding on the gravel floor of the creek bed.  It was like she was lying in front of the hearth in a living room.  A sacrifice on the altar of her watery grave.

The sight of her scared me at first, seeing her there.  Still alive.  Struggling.  With her blood swirling in the water above her head like a spiraling halo.  I ducked behind a corner to hide so I wouldn't have to witness her death.  But I turned back and went to her.  I couldn't let her die alone.  I reached down and took her hand as I crawled between her and hearth.  It's not so easy, lying on the rocky bottom of a creek bed, holding on to someone you love as they die.

I maneuvered myself in next to her.  And I was holding her hand.  She looked at me.  As our eyes met, I told her, "I found you mama, I'm here."  It's not so easy speaking underwater.  

I held her head in my hands and kissed her as she died.

Mother Carry Me, Your Child I Will Always Be

I miss you mama.  Already.  And you are still here.  I miss every moment I'm not with you.  I regret every moment lost to my inability to be present with you in love.

I love you mama.