The development which occasioned the return of mine to blogger was the failure of my first mini-relationship of my post-Elaine life. That relationship was with Lisa, and she left me. Thankfully, I am arriving at the place where not much else needs to be said about that.
I went out with Mary last night; I had chosen her more because of her attraction to me than because of an attraction on my part to her. The initial, premature passion of our first meeting had subsided quite a bit as of last night. She might call me and invite me to bring my dog and join her for a walk this afternoon.
I did find my own private moments of humor regarding Mary's outlooks and attitudes. Her statement that she has made it a rule to not date blue collar men was an interesting admission of some elitism. And her struggle with believing that I am as well off financially as I say that I am was, again, funny. I even offered to open up my filing cabinet, when she (if she) visits my downscale place to show her statements and account numbers of every financial holding that I possess.
It is so interesting how simple-minded most people are when it comes to their view and understanding of money. Plain and simple, it is this: if you have a physical asset, whether it is home, car or boat they are impressed, and it doesn't matter how much you are in hock to the bank, as long as you are making the payments. If you own financial assets which people can't see, such as common stocks, they usually don't understand what you own, doubt that you own it, or are not very impressed with what you do own.
Am I capable of continuing to pursue an association with Mary with this change? More to the point, today would I feel better joining her without needing to express much in the way of physical affection?
Do I even come close to understanding the transactional equation and my part in it, when it comes to physical affection? I don't think that I do, and this alone has caused me great suffering, and rejection in my life.
When sex is closely followed by betrayal, as happened with Lisa and other instances in my past, I begin to wonder whether the sex is doing anything remotely resembling good for me.
I digress here with the observation that self-acceptance is not something which you do, but it is something which gradually happens to you. I don't know much about it other than that it is mysterious, and I believe it has something to do with breathing.
I think that it matters not in life where you start out, but whether you make a journey. I wish that I had made more progress in my life against my old arch-enemy of loneliness. Mr. Loneliness has had way too much power and has exercised it consistently and too my detriment.
Yet, I shouldn't sell myself short. For instance, when I compare my functioning in the face of aloneness now, compared to the few years immediately following my divorce in 1990, there is a stark difference. I cope better now, and I am nearly devoid of any significant financial worry in the present. That alone gives me a huge amount of comfort.
But as I look back I believe that I have made a journey and that I have made progress. I don't think that being married or in a relationship removes the necessity of a continuation of the individual struggle, nor does it remove the possibility of loneliness.
My son pointed out to me that I am quite lucky in my career stability and pay level, and my lack of credentialed education doesn't detract from that advantage that I enjoy.
The biggest problem is and continues to be my difficulty believing that I can stand on my own and be happy and satisfied without a physical/emotional relationship with a woman. That is a battle which I have waged lifelong, and am still fighting.
Another day. Fight on.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
an alternative view and strategy
I am not sure that I can manage to not be seeking to find a good relationship--despite all of my intentions.
I spoke with someone new who likes me on the phone today, and I am meeting her for the first time for dinner tonight.
Maybe I just need to find the right person for me.
I spoke with someone new who likes me on the phone today, and I am meeting her for the first time for dinner tonight.
Maybe I just need to find the right person for me.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
class is in session
I thought that it might be helpful to describe in cursory fashion my own hypothesis concerning the origins of my present condition.
I was born in Joliet, IL in April, 1953. After a short time of being at home as a formula fed baby in my mother's care, I began to fall ill, weak and listless. As my mother's concerns grew, her mind was made up to contact the doctor when I failed to stir from a near unconscious state as she bathed me, and she clapped her hands, hoping to elicit a startle response.
When the doctor arrived at our house (yes, Virginia, they made house calls back then), after brief examination he told my mother that I must be rushed to the hospital if I were to be saved. He and my mother rode with me in his car, and I presented at the hospital in a severe, critical state. It was later determined that I was having an allergic reaction to the formula that I was being fed. My state was so dire that the Catholic last rites were administered to me.
I was observed and cared for almost 24/7 by a nun who my mother remembers as angelic, and credits with saving my life. Only after recuperating for weeks in the hospital, did I regain sufficient strength to return home to my mother.
My entire life experience and memory has been that I have perceived a terrible, shameful void inside of me; I have felt shame that I have felt so alienated from myself by a great deal of anxiety. My own belief is that this early experience had by a preverbal mind, of proximity to death and separation from mother, was the first of possibly many experiences which caused a lifelong problem with my emotional functioning. It has resulted in divorce, failed relationships, a tragically curtailed formal education and much personal unhappiness.
This blog is coming about because a recent experience has provided the critical mass to convince me that I will only get different results if I dramatically change.
I am of the belief that I can sit and pay attention to me. I can stop using my personality as an agent of escape from self and deception to others. I can start using my personality as a willing and humble student of learning the topic of me.
If I can begin to experience an ability to survive my way through my own anxiety, and become convinced that the same anxiety won't kill me, I think that I will have planted a new, fresh, powerful awareness inside, that I can turn to for insight, and more effective personal/emotional skills, behaviors and perceptions.
I think that the mythological allegory of depotentiating the dragon speaks eloquently to my own anxieties. It points the way. But I have known such facts for literally decades. What is required of me is to sit in class and read from the book of my own unfiltered being.
I was born in Joliet, IL in April, 1953. After a short time of being at home as a formula fed baby in my mother's care, I began to fall ill, weak and listless. As my mother's concerns grew, her mind was made up to contact the doctor when I failed to stir from a near unconscious state as she bathed me, and she clapped her hands, hoping to elicit a startle response.
When the doctor arrived at our house (yes, Virginia, they made house calls back then), after brief examination he told my mother that I must be rushed to the hospital if I were to be saved. He and my mother rode with me in his car, and I presented at the hospital in a severe, critical state. It was later determined that I was having an allergic reaction to the formula that I was being fed. My state was so dire that the Catholic last rites were administered to me.
I was observed and cared for almost 24/7 by a nun who my mother remembers as angelic, and credits with saving my life. Only after recuperating for weeks in the hospital, did I regain sufficient strength to return home to my mother.
My entire life experience and memory has been that I have perceived a terrible, shameful void inside of me; I have felt shame that I have felt so alienated from myself by a great deal of anxiety. My own belief is that this early experience had by a preverbal mind, of proximity to death and separation from mother, was the first of possibly many experiences which caused a lifelong problem with my emotional functioning. It has resulted in divorce, failed relationships, a tragically curtailed formal education and much personal unhappiness.
This blog is coming about because a recent experience has provided the critical mass to convince me that I will only get different results if I dramatically change.
I am of the belief that I can sit and pay attention to me. I can stop using my personality as an agent of escape from self and deception to others. I can start using my personality as a willing and humble student of learning the topic of me.
If I can begin to experience an ability to survive my way through my own anxiety, and become convinced that the same anxiety won't kill me, I think that I will have planted a new, fresh, powerful awareness inside, that I can turn to for insight, and more effective personal/emotional skills, behaviors and perceptions.
I think that the mythological allegory of depotentiating the dragon speaks eloquently to my own anxieties. It points the way. But I have known such facts for literally decades. What is required of me is to sit in class and read from the book of my own unfiltered being.
Disabused of Self-delusion
Any self-deception that I maintained regarding my most recent relationship was disproved this morning as I read the email sent to me by the party who was leaving me. I was maintaining belief in a self-deceiving lie that this time was different. That I had found a person with motivation of her own to love me in spite of my emotional inabilities.
The tragedy of my life is the toll that my relaionship addiction has taken on me, my children, and my relationship with self. It is the relationship with self that I have to start with. And this will be, admittedly, a start at the most fundamental level.
I will strive to have time devoted to self observation. I think that means that I just am with myself. Sounds easy, but I am a practiced and habitual avoider of that pursuit. My self seems to be obscured by fears of a swallowing darkness which I will not survive and from which I will not emerge. The fear seems to speak a foreboding lie that it will consume me.
Learning textual information about my condition doesn't seem to help me. I think that my experiences have demonstrated that force of will doesn't do the job either. It must be the case that only as the futility of my experiences totally convince me of the only alternative course which promises a chance at a different outcome, do I summon up the courage and conviction to try to face my demons. And prove them assailable.
The tragedy of my life is the toll that my relaionship addiction has taken on me, my children, and my relationship with self. It is the relationship with self that I have to start with. And this will be, admittedly, a start at the most fundamental level.
I will strive to have time devoted to self observation. I think that means that I just am with myself. Sounds easy, but I am a practiced and habitual avoider of that pursuit. My self seems to be obscured by fears of a swallowing darkness which I will not survive and from which I will not emerge. The fear seems to speak a foreboding lie that it will consume me.
Learning textual information about my condition doesn't seem to help me. I think that my experiences have demonstrated that force of will doesn't do the job either. It must be the case that only as the futility of my experiences totally convince me of the only alternative course which promises a chance at a different outcome, do I summon up the courage and conviction to try to face my demons. And prove them assailable.
Friday, November 12, 2010
healing voice
I have run out of a lifetime of options for fleeing. I have lost interest in listening to any voice which heals not. My only alternative is to believe, based on initial, introductory sensations, that there is a healing, voice of substance and comfort within me. I must listen for this voice, and cultivate a sensitivity and an enjoyment of this voice.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
I earned my frappuccino today
Today was momentous.
The last two months were turbulent. I fell victim to deep vein thrombosis in the right leg, and emboli which had traveled through the blood stream into both of my lungs. I was admitted into the hospital on August 4, 2009, and was discharged August 6th. I was put on anti-coagulant therapy which continues to this day.
I progressed from a condition of barely being able to walk through my blood INR getting into what is known as a therapeutic INR range, and my body began to resorb the nearly foot long clot in my leg, and the small clots in my lungs.
I painfully returned to work, and the pain, slowly at first, began to go away.
I had been keeping a secret during the last few days. The thought had been coming from the improving state of my leg that I wanted to run again.
The last time that I had run was on Saturday morning, July 25th. I knew then, subliminally, five days before my DVT made its full-fledged, sinister appearance, that danger was lurking.
That was two months ago.
This morning I awoke, and got my running clothes on, and, of course, my newfound friend: a gradient compression knee-high sock. Training wheels for my right leg's circulation.
I walked at a good clip for about five minutes, warming up and evaluating my physical readiness, and sizing up my fear.
I started running, and intentionally kept it at an easy pace. I felt so good, and as I continued, I gathered the memory of my old accustomed strength and determination. I continued, and ran the remaining seven miles until I returned home.
During my first few years of running, I had shared with Elaine my self-motivating mantra that I would tell myself on a daily basis: "Only runners get frappuccino".
This morning, after my run, I texted her the words: I earned my frappuccino today. She called me back within seconds and I shared with her my ecstasy of a return to running. A return to my life.
The last two months were turbulent. I fell victim to deep vein thrombosis in the right leg, and emboli which had traveled through the blood stream into both of my lungs. I was admitted into the hospital on August 4, 2009, and was discharged August 6th. I was put on anti-coagulant therapy which continues to this day.
I progressed from a condition of barely being able to walk through my blood INR getting into what is known as a therapeutic INR range, and my body began to resorb the nearly foot long clot in my leg, and the small clots in my lungs.
I painfully returned to work, and the pain, slowly at first, began to go away.
I had been keeping a secret during the last few days. The thought had been coming from the improving state of my leg that I wanted to run again.
The last time that I had run was on Saturday morning, July 25th. I knew then, subliminally, five days before my DVT made its full-fledged, sinister appearance, that danger was lurking.
That was two months ago.
This morning I awoke, and got my running clothes on, and, of course, my newfound friend: a gradient compression knee-high sock. Training wheels for my right leg's circulation.
I walked at a good clip for about five minutes, warming up and evaluating my physical readiness, and sizing up my fear.
I started running, and intentionally kept it at an easy pace. I felt so good, and as I continued, I gathered the memory of my old accustomed strength and determination. I continued, and ran the remaining seven miles until I returned home.
During my first few years of running, I had shared with Elaine my self-motivating mantra that I would tell myself on a daily basis: "Only runners get frappuccino".
This morning, after my run, I texted her the words: I earned my frappuccino today. She called me back within seconds and I shared with her my ecstasy of a return to running. A return to my life.
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