The rain pours down as the sky turns late-afternoon winter dark. The fire place warms the living room. It should be comfortable, but my body is not. By body hasn't been comfortable for years, at least not since my grandfather died. I feel the throb of life in the belly and it frightens me. Life frightens me. Death frightens me too, or at least the transition. So where am I? Stuck in a horrible place.
It's the fourth time in my life that I turn to drugs to solve the dilemma. This time its a cocktail of Serenada (anti-depressor), Clonex (anti-anxiety) and coffee (two cups a day)! I just started in small increments - they other times it was straight into the full dose. I feel like shit in the morning until I resort to half a Clonex. I don't know if it's the wrong drug for me or if I'm in a really really bad place.
It sits as a dark nervousness in my right belly. It's the terror of the outside world. It's the fear of something going wrong inside me.
How does one live life knowing that it might end with something going wrong inside you? How does one accept that the end is unknown and live life without the fear creeping into daily life and jumping into panic ever time the body sends out a signal of something different.
How does one believe anything?
Because life lived to the fullest makes death meaningless?
How does one build confidence in life?
What makes life meaningful?
I don't know anything. All I know is that I don't want to die. Or I don't want to die today. And the reality is that maybe I will die today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe some time really soon. And if I don't see the point of it, if I think that life is mostly shitty lived for almost two decades with anxiety and two previous decades surviving a dysfunctional family, if there is no joy, what does it really matter? Because I want a lot of joy before I die. I don't want to be alone. And yet my life created so much loneliness out of so much fear and awkwardness and wanting so much to be loved. I don't want to be alone and yet I make sure that I am. And so I live in the black hole of uncertainty fearful of death and yet expecting it to come soon, frighteningly soon.
I don't have a solution. I struggled for over 7 years without drugs. And the last 6 months, with all the pressures of life, I feel. From the moment I had uncontrollable fear in that hotel room in Austin, my nerves have spiraled down until I've had enough, want a break from it all. I don't even know if the drugs are going to work.
And how am I going to really get out of this before I actually do die? How will I accept that my body got me this far so I should let it be, let it make the noises that it makes without being frightened of the noises or the sensations. How am I going to do it?
Tell me, how? Papa, tell me how. Tell me so that I can at least enjoy this time before it ends.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Wine is my drink
The only time I do this on my own is when I’m travelling through airports: sit in a café drinking wine. But today, I’m not in an airport. I’m almost home. And I’ve just given into responsibility and decided to give myself some time. Oh I feel guilty, even with the knowledge that the grandparents are helping out at home today, I think. I feel like I have to get home when all I want is that there is no time, that everything happens when I want.
Turns out they are out of wine in this café. They have served me a beer that I need to pour myself. How I wish I was back in Europe. It wouldn’t necessarily change my state, but it would make one part of my life feel that it was in the right place. But it looks like I’ve chosen a difficult life. Let’s hope that I find a way to make it feel right before I die.
I’m so down. I don’t see how one finds meaning in life. Actuallly, forget about meaning, I don’t see how one finds a sense of security. I could die right now. I can I give myself the illusion that this is not true, even though it will be true one day.
Good wine is probably the only place that life seems worth it, where I actually accept that I can die now and that’s ok and I feel alive. If it wasn’t for wine, I don’t see what the point of anything is. I wish someone would enlighten me.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Burden
For my whole life, or at least the part that started with the move back to a big city at the age of 12, I have insisted that I am boring. And using the principle of reflection, it may also be true that I find people boring. I noticed that sometimes, but generally its when I’m angry about the world that I will think this. It’s truer to say that I have rarely entertained a regular friendship out of a strong belief that I will bore the other person and thus have to deal with the hurt of rejection. Every time. So I avoid it. And I especially avoid phone calls of a personal nature because there is always a point that I don’t know what else to say and the deadly silence frightens the hell out of me.
I learnt something in my last therapy session – that this feeling of being boring to someone is more deeply rooted in a feeling of being a burden. It might seem a bit theoretical, but something about it rings true. So I’m noting it for future reference. It definitely explains why I don’t want to reach out to someone when I’m going through stuff. And since I’m pretty much “going through stuff” all the time, that rules out any friendship that has a chance to go deeper.
I am in a deep hole of loneliness. I felt depressed most of the weekend with the only respite being after a nice walk in today’s afternoon sun. I have my prescription of anti-depressors sitting in my back, but I’m avoiding going there. I keep on hoping that this phase of panics will just end.
It feels like she hates me. Which may just be because I hate myself. Or maybe I also hate her – this new age stuff that she is so attached to is alien to me, and she’s right, there’s not much point of contact in that. Not that we have much point to find out if there is a future – we have virtually no time for each other.
I definitely hate the way she is so preaching about being a centered person without exaggerated emotions. I am the exact opposite so you’ll forgive me for getting the impression that she hates me. She definitely hasn’t hidden her belief that I’m just wallowing in anxieties and that I should be able to pull myself out of it, just like that. If you ask me, she’s in such denial of her own fear and lack of empathy. But there’s no point throwing that back at her – she’ll just accuse me of having too much of the traditional therapies. She actually got angry at our 5 year old daughter who spent the day crying because she missed her friend who stayed overnight for the first time – first time also that a friend stayed the night we her. I can understand getting a bit frustrated, but she actually gets angry because she’s expecting Z to be more centered and see that everything is ok. There’s nothing worst than new age idealism. It’s like a rejection of our human nature. At least in her case, it looks more and more like she uses it to justify her denial to feel all the “negative” emotions. I hate it when she talks this way, which is becoming more and more since she started with this group a year ago. I’m the opposite – I just want people to talk about the way they feel. I don’t want what she and her sister keep on doing – talking slogans in a language that is not even their own. They are completely infatuated with gurus, which if you ask me, doesn’t show a lot of centeredness.
To conclude, I wanted to jot down another reminder. Which is where she is right – I should grow a center. When anxiety comes, either in the car or in a queue, what I search for is a connection. Generally a connection can pull me back to reality. What I see is just how I’m not enough for me – I have no idea about how to be alone with myself. Self-love. My great short coming.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
The holy grail of beliefs
If I had to use one word to describe my situation in life, it is this: lonely.
Don't get me wrong, I created this loneliness. I'm not asking anyone to shed a tear. At least, that's the lie I tell to myself. I probably want all the attention and affection in the world, but it all ends up making me feel the one in the wrong or the one with problems. So I keep the loneliness going just so I won't be reminded of how shitty I believe that I am. Not that I'm succeeding very well because I have a partner and two children and my inability to bring joy into our lives is enough to make me feel bad about myself. And even when I loved alone, I did a good job of being unhappy.
Everyone wants to be happy. But I resist it in ways that I haven't even fathomed. And believe me, I've done a lot of therapy. The anxieties continue, and I'm in a long horrible period of panic attacks.
I say that if I didn't have anxiety and panic attacks, I would be so much better. Which is a lie. I would still be just as undefined and unhappy as I am now. Or is it a lie? I don't know really.
The panics seems to have a root in traumatic ear operations that I had when I was young. At least there was this one when I was ten living in outback Australia and they took me and a bunch of Aboriginal children in an ambulance to a hospital some 250km away. They operated one after the other. I was the last. I remember my eyes rolling in their sockets before I passed out. I threw up all the way home lying on the floor. I entered into this in my last therapy session because the panics that stem from driving through bad traffic and feeling stuck seem to bring me back to this situation. I never had so much fear flood my body in a therapist's room. But the wave of panic came when I tried one of those therapy tricks - go there and be with your child. I couldn't do it. I was flooded with anxiety. My therapist asked me, who do you want there with you. "No-one". That was the answer. And yes, it brought tears, but it didn't bring relief. If I did something in my early childhood, it was to decide that no-one will be permitted to be here for me. I was so frightened and so lonely in that hospital surrounded by such impersonalism that I understood just how lonely I was in that place. In this place. In this world.
Was that the beginning of all this? Who knows. I remember loneliness even earlier. I remember Broome, another outback down on the Australian west coast. Every lunch I used to walk alone in one corner of the school where no-one congregated. There was a fence I used to tight-rope along it. Every lunch. It was a mostly Aboriginal school. I had one white friend Scott but he left town.
But to go from loneiness to anxiety is a step. I live with the belief that there is no protection in this world, that no-one will ever look after me if I am sick and that dying is absolute sheer suffering and fear. And I live with the knowledge that I am the one lying on the floor, I'm the one that is sick, I'm the one that is not strong, not brave. I don't look at the world, I just assume that it's perfect and that I am the one suffering. I don't think it's arogance or narcisism, I think that its the pure anger that I am the one who is not good enough, not brave enough, not strong enough. I am the one on the floor. Not them, only me. I am stuck on that belief and I am already a deadly 41.
Was it that hospital visit and the ambulance ride that planted the seed of anxiety? Is the reason important? Probably not. All I know is that I suffer from so much panic at the moment that I start to believe that I'll never get out of this and live a "normal" life like everyone else.
I get into the car to drive home from work and I'm already trembling inside with anticipation of being stuck on a freeway with traffic. I already have the belief that I will not make it. I have made it a thousand times, sometimes easily, sometimes with immense suffering sitting in the car in an off-road frightened that death is coming. Even then, I make it home. But the belief continues.
Anger sits there ready to pounce on who ever tries to belittle the beliefs. So I swear, I don't ever want to live in these stupid over-populated parts of the world. But I keep on doing it of course, probably because I don't want to end up in the isolated dumps of my childhood, probably because I'm afraid to be bored and most probably because my job is the only way I can make money to stay alive. That's the belief anyway. I found one thing I'm good at and I hold onto it with all the benefits and all the stress that it brings into my life. I actually like my job - or at least I think I do, even though it doesn't seem to bring joy to my life. But it sits on two conflicting beliefs. One that I won't make it - I'm actually not good enough. And the other that no-one is going to look after me, so I have to make this work no matter what, accept whatever conditions that come with the job. And maybe even one more, that I'm going to do this alone, I'm not going to let anyone help me because I don't want a reminder of just how inadequate I feel.
That's a lot of survival shit sitting there in my life. A lot of stressful beliefs. A lot of miserableness. And a huge amount of anger that the rest of world is able and well and doesn't care.
Don't get me wrong, I created this loneliness. I'm not asking anyone to shed a tear. At least, that's the lie I tell to myself. I probably want all the attention and affection in the world, but it all ends up making me feel the one in the wrong or the one with problems. So I keep the loneliness going just so I won't be reminded of how shitty I believe that I am. Not that I'm succeeding very well because I have a partner and two children and my inability to bring joy into our lives is enough to make me feel bad about myself. And even when I loved alone, I did a good job of being unhappy.
Everyone wants to be happy. But I resist it in ways that I haven't even fathomed. And believe me, I've done a lot of therapy. The anxieties continue, and I'm in a long horrible period of panic attacks.
I say that if I didn't have anxiety and panic attacks, I would be so much better. Which is a lie. I would still be just as undefined and unhappy as I am now. Or is it a lie? I don't know really.
The panics seems to have a root in traumatic ear operations that I had when I was young. At least there was this one when I was ten living in outback Australia and they took me and a bunch of Aboriginal children in an ambulance to a hospital some 250km away. They operated one after the other. I was the last. I remember my eyes rolling in their sockets before I passed out. I threw up all the way home lying on the floor. I entered into this in my last therapy session because the panics that stem from driving through bad traffic and feeling stuck seem to bring me back to this situation. I never had so much fear flood my body in a therapist's room. But the wave of panic came when I tried one of those therapy tricks - go there and be with your child. I couldn't do it. I was flooded with anxiety. My therapist asked me, who do you want there with you. "No-one". That was the answer. And yes, it brought tears, but it didn't bring relief. If I did something in my early childhood, it was to decide that no-one will be permitted to be here for me. I was so frightened and so lonely in that hospital surrounded by such impersonalism that I understood just how lonely I was in that place. In this place. In this world.
Was that the beginning of all this? Who knows. I remember loneliness even earlier. I remember Broome, another outback down on the Australian west coast. Every lunch I used to walk alone in one corner of the school where no-one congregated. There was a fence I used to tight-rope along it. Every lunch. It was a mostly Aboriginal school. I had one white friend Scott but he left town.
But to go from loneiness to anxiety is a step. I live with the belief that there is no protection in this world, that no-one will ever look after me if I am sick and that dying is absolute sheer suffering and fear. And I live with the knowledge that I am the one lying on the floor, I'm the one that is sick, I'm the one that is not strong, not brave. I don't look at the world, I just assume that it's perfect and that I am the one suffering. I don't think it's arogance or narcisism, I think that its the pure anger that I am the one who is not good enough, not brave enough, not strong enough. I am the one on the floor. Not them, only me. I am stuck on that belief and I am already a deadly 41.
Was it that hospital visit and the ambulance ride that planted the seed of anxiety? Is the reason important? Probably not. All I know is that I suffer from so much panic at the moment that I start to believe that I'll never get out of this and live a "normal" life like everyone else.
I get into the car to drive home from work and I'm already trembling inside with anticipation of being stuck on a freeway with traffic. I already have the belief that I will not make it. I have made it a thousand times, sometimes easily, sometimes with immense suffering sitting in the car in an off-road frightened that death is coming. Even then, I make it home. But the belief continues.
Anger sits there ready to pounce on who ever tries to belittle the beliefs. So I swear, I don't ever want to live in these stupid over-populated parts of the world. But I keep on doing it of course, probably because I don't want to end up in the isolated dumps of my childhood, probably because I'm afraid to be bored and most probably because my job is the only way I can make money to stay alive. That's the belief anyway. I found one thing I'm good at and I hold onto it with all the benefits and all the stress that it brings into my life. I actually like my job - or at least I think I do, even though it doesn't seem to bring joy to my life. But it sits on two conflicting beliefs. One that I won't make it - I'm actually not good enough. And the other that no-one is going to look after me, so I have to make this work no matter what, accept whatever conditions that come with the job. And maybe even one more, that I'm going to do this alone, I'm not going to let anyone help me because I don't want a reminder of just how inadequate I feel.
That's a lot of survival shit sitting there in my life. A lot of stressful beliefs. A lot of miserableness. And a huge amount of anger that the rest of world is able and well and doesn't care.
Friday, October 5, 2012
What game is she playing?
When she doesn't want to have sex, which is pretty much most of the time, if indeed there is no time away from the kids, I feel ...
I feel low and moody and want to be on my own. But it doesn't help to say that. I don't even feel there is anything I want to scream out in anger, unless it was to say that she makes no effort. But you can't force someone to be sexual. Probably I don't make enough effort either, just feel my arousal and in most cases, the kids are there or its two late at night and she doesn't respond, she doesn't want to respond, she's resisting. A friend told me that he noticed with his wife that when they don't make love for over a month, there is a kind of resistence in the female that builds up. I don't understand that. I thought that people just liked having sex.
Anyway, I don't want to talk. There's nothing to say. I've held this conclusion from childhood that there is nothing sexually appealing about me. So as much as I hate the new age crap, there is truth that you get what you project. But she doesn't open up to her part, she just ignores and I have no compassion for that kind of behavior. Check-mate. I have no idea how to advance from here except get over the emotional down and continue the usual cycle of this. Just fuck it. I never liked the game that the woman that I knew played.
I feel low and moody and want to be on my own. But it doesn't help to say that. I don't even feel there is anything I want to scream out in anger, unless it was to say that she makes no effort. But you can't force someone to be sexual. Probably I don't make enough effort either, just feel my arousal and in most cases, the kids are there or its two late at night and she doesn't respond, she doesn't want to respond, she's resisting. A friend told me that he noticed with his wife that when they don't make love for over a month, there is a kind of resistence in the female that builds up. I don't understand that. I thought that people just liked having sex.
Anyway, I don't want to talk. There's nothing to say. I've held this conclusion from childhood that there is nothing sexually appealing about me. So as much as I hate the new age crap, there is truth that you get what you project. But she doesn't open up to her part, she just ignores and I have no compassion for that kind of behavior. Check-mate. I have no idea how to advance from here except get over the emotional down and continue the usual cycle of this. Just fuck it. I never liked the game that the woman that I knew played.
Posted with BlogsyTuesday, October 2, 2012
Staying home
It's been a long time since the last post.
She came back that night to the tent. I was just finishing the post. There was no anger in me. I was happy there alone on the beach. I expected that it was over after the anger that I threw at her.
We moved my daughter Z to the tent and settled down.
Then she said, "This is where I want to be".
She was stoned. And when she's stoned, I know that she sees things more clearly. And so I believed her. I melted.
It's been a long heavy month or two. I let life continue, ignoring the obvious question of whether I really want to be here. Work was challenging and stressful. I stopped looking at personal email (well, nothing new there). Panic attacks started up. Tough energy in the body. Started taking some old anti-anxiety tablets every two days. I felt really lonely. My heart was closed. It was only in the last two weeks that I started expressing the anger of what I went through. She didn't take it so well and definitely I didn't get any sympathy that might make me melt again. She's not a watery person, like she says. So why did I end up with a hard dried up woman when what I seem to crave is exactly the kind of feeling she seems to have for this other woman? Who knows. Definitely I lost a lot of my own love in this ordeal. By I don't stay out of convenience. Apparently a lot of people do, or at least couples with kids. Not me, or at least, I hope not. There is something that feels that she actually might be my best friend, either because there is some kind of inexplicable connection here or simply because history permitted me to go beyond so many of my limitations with another human being. I don't know, I haven't work this out yet. Even if Heidi stood on my doorstep right now, I don't think I would run away. So something is hold me here.
We saw the woman at the Jewish new year party. I was ok there but afterwards we had a bout of arguments. I guess I felt it, she wants to start again. And somehow I got to the point where I was able to find and express what I felt deep in me: there is not enough love in this relationship right now to permit another relationship. That was my truth. And expressing it opened my heart. I still haven't learnt that when you can express what you are and put your borders without question, you're a happier person. Even if you lose a couple because of it. I was certain that this would be the end by expressing that, knowing how much she is also attracted to the other side. But no, it brought closeness.
So here I am. Exhausted from parenting. Exhausted from badly managed stress at work. Next to zero time for a couple. Panic attacks. Bad energy in the body. Struggling. Suffering. Life isn't worth it. And now I've taken a few days holiday at home. I doubt that I can find me in that time. But its nice to be home.
She came back that night to the tent. I was just finishing the post. There was no anger in me. I was happy there alone on the beach. I expected that it was over after the anger that I threw at her.
We moved my daughter Z to the tent and settled down.
Then she said, "This is where I want to be".
She was stoned. And when she's stoned, I know that she sees things more clearly. And so I believed her. I melted.
It's been a long heavy month or two. I let life continue, ignoring the obvious question of whether I really want to be here. Work was challenging and stressful. I stopped looking at personal email (well, nothing new there). Panic attacks started up. Tough energy in the body. Started taking some old anti-anxiety tablets every two days. I felt really lonely. My heart was closed. It was only in the last two weeks that I started expressing the anger of what I went through. She didn't take it so well and definitely I didn't get any sympathy that might make me melt again. She's not a watery person, like she says. So why did I end up with a hard dried up woman when what I seem to crave is exactly the kind of feeling she seems to have for this other woman? Who knows. Definitely I lost a lot of my own love in this ordeal. By I don't stay out of convenience. Apparently a lot of people do, or at least couples with kids. Not me, or at least, I hope not. There is something that feels that she actually might be my best friend, either because there is some kind of inexplicable connection here or simply because history permitted me to go beyond so many of my limitations with another human being. I don't know, I haven't work this out yet. Even if Heidi stood on my doorstep right now, I don't think I would run away. So something is hold me here.
We saw the woman at the Jewish new year party. I was ok there but afterwards we had a bout of arguments. I guess I felt it, she wants to start again. And somehow I got to the point where I was able to find and express what I felt deep in me: there is not enough love in this relationship right now to permit another relationship. That was my truth. And expressing it opened my heart. I still haven't learnt that when you can express what you are and put your borders without question, you're a happier person. Even if you lose a couple because of it. I was certain that this would be the end by expressing that, knowing how much she is also attracted to the other side. But no, it brought closeness.
So here I am. Exhausted from parenting. Exhausted from badly managed stress at work. Next to zero time for a couple. Panic attacks. Bad energy in the body. Struggling. Suffering. Life isn't worth it. And now I've taken a few days holiday at home. I doubt that I can find me in that time. But its nice to be home.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Beautiful lonely sea
It's been a horrible week. I never know if it's over or not. I never know if I want it over or not. I've come to the place where I've take the step to end it, and it's still not enough, it's still not over. It feels like it's over now, but who know what the morning will bring.
I'm in a tent. On beach. A cool breeze refreshes the moist skin. I'm happy and calm here, even though I am alone and she is extremely angry at me. I don't like the feel of sand on the skin, but what can you do, just enjoy the breeze. My daughter Z hates sand on the skin. We pour bottles of mineral water over her feet before she gets into the tent, only for her to scream at the sand that somehow found it's way into the tent. You can't be on the beach without sand, even in the food. Somehow Z's boundaries (her skin) are extruciatingly sensitive. She feels like an extreme version of me, and I seem to be extreme enough as it is.
That woman that she makes love to is here, on the beach. This is a kindergarden gathering with all the kids, so of course she would be here.
I was in a terrible state arriving here. Partly because I didn't want to see this woman nor her husband, but mainly because I made some insensitive remarks on the drive up. She said that Z wants to sleep with this woman's children in the same tent. So I made the joking remark that she could sleep with her lover. It was actually a joke. Later she said that she bought a new swim suit. I ask if it was sexy. She said yes. I felt my arousal. Then made a stupid remark, you bought it for her? After a few minutes of silence, she said that she doesn't want me to put her down this way. I wasn't putting her down, but she's right, it wasn't respectful to say those things.
I reached the point where in order to deal with the pain of rejection and being left out, I try to accept that I should try to find my satisfaction somewhere else rather than waiting like a victim for things to change. Dating, fuck buddies, whatever they call it. I have never been there, I don't really want to be there, I think that I mix love and sexuality to easily to go there. But it was suggested to me that if I want to preserve the family and everything the couple has fought for, then maybe this is a temporary solution. And so I try to put myself in a different frame of mind: she's in love and making love to another woman, she's rejecting me during this time, showing me now affection, so let's just find what I'm missing somewhere else. Like it falls from trees - yeah, right. I'm not so bad looking, but neither am I full of testosterone confidence. Women don't fall flock around me. But, let's give it a try. And so I try to be light and end up belittling the experience that my woman is having. This experience represents something momentus in her life. She never dared like this before. And here I am portraying it as a bit of light sexuality. I know, it's crass. But I'm hurting, really hurting bad, and these comments are what sneaks through when I'm trying to be ok.
So she put me in my place. And then I felt my pain. That pain of not being taken care of. It's ok for her to have sex with this woman today and it's ok that she has rejected me these last weeks, hell, these last seven years. And that our relationship should continue because she thinks that I'm her soul mate. Her soul mate? I feel like I've given so much and receive so little in return. Maybe I receive on the spiritual level - the evolution level - but my heart needs something too. Doesn't every heart need something? Isn't that what she's doing with this woman? Re-energizing her heart. And me, what about my heart? I want you to love my heart, I don't want another woman. You arrive today at my office with our so beautiful children. And you are the most beautiful of them all. And suddenly I feel inadequate, that I'm not man enough to love you physically, that's why you go else where? I doubt it, but I felt strongly for the first time that I'm not enough for you.
I arrived on the beach with this pain. With the lonely sun setting. I don't want to be here. All these parents here. That woman is here. Her husband here. Me, the over-emotional one, is here. My daughter puts a foot in the sand and she wants to go home. My partner has disappeared down the beach with the bag of clothes. And I'm here with a screaming daugher and my one year old worldly daughter. For a moment I remind myself that I knew this was a bad idea, but then I decide to sit it out and be here with Z.
We brought Z up in our lonely world. We didn't go out much. Z was breast fed for two and a half years. My woman suffered. She's breast feeding our second now at one year and two months. She still suffers. She looks so frustrated. Z and her are still so attached. The only thing that saves her is a spiritual group that she attends each week.
Z was in no good mood this evening. She hates the beach. At some point she wanted to go to bed. We took her to the tent. The sand was a difficult ordeal. At some point my partner exploded, she want's Z to be able to suddenly sleep near the party. I tell her harshly to hold her anger, that if she want's to go and party, she can do that, but accept who our daughter is. Now she's silently livid towards me. I get my daughter to sleep and I tell her to go and have a good time.
So she's gone. I make my angry speech to the sea. You can't sit there all night doing nothing while I hold my one year old daughter and pay attention to Z and suddenly expect that they want to sleep there on the floor with the noise. Just because you are so frustrated and want to have some fun in your life, you can't expect that it will just pop out of thin air. I know how frustrated it is. But don't disappear on me like this. Grow up. You are their mother, whether you like it or not. I know how frustrated you are, believe me, I can see it. But don't get angry at Z. Accept her for who she is, in your image, in our image, and let's make the small changes that will enable her to grow.
I was really angry there and I showed it. I feel she's escaping, disappearing. And at the same time, I don't understand. She has the beautiful love affair with this woman and a spiritual group that fulfills her and yet she's seems even less tolerant of reality. Why? Maybe I can understand.
Anyway, she's off with the adults. And instead of feeling, miserable, I'm happy for her. And I'm happy to be here alone with the sound of the sea. But I would be happy if I was more loved. And maybe I'm accepting more that I can't go through life always being loved. Even if I have a feeling I have gone through 40 years not being loved enough. Maybe she is right after all. Maybe I shouldn't need to be loved, I should be stable enough that me is enough, or at least not shaken, when all there is is me. But I think that's going to far. And besides, that's a whole different topic.
Good night.
I'm in a tent. On beach. A cool breeze refreshes the moist skin. I'm happy and calm here, even though I am alone and she is extremely angry at me. I don't like the feel of sand on the skin, but what can you do, just enjoy the breeze. My daughter Z hates sand on the skin. We pour bottles of mineral water over her feet before she gets into the tent, only for her to scream at the sand that somehow found it's way into the tent. You can't be on the beach without sand, even in the food. Somehow Z's boundaries (her skin) are extruciatingly sensitive. She feels like an extreme version of me, and I seem to be extreme enough as it is.
That woman that she makes love to is here, on the beach. This is a kindergarden gathering with all the kids, so of course she would be here.
I was in a terrible state arriving here. Partly because I didn't want to see this woman nor her husband, but mainly because I made some insensitive remarks on the drive up. She said that Z wants to sleep with this woman's children in the same tent. So I made the joking remark that she could sleep with her lover. It was actually a joke. Later she said that she bought a new swim suit. I ask if it was sexy. She said yes. I felt my arousal. Then made a stupid remark, you bought it for her? After a few minutes of silence, she said that she doesn't want me to put her down this way. I wasn't putting her down, but she's right, it wasn't respectful to say those things.
I reached the point where in order to deal with the pain of rejection and being left out, I try to accept that I should try to find my satisfaction somewhere else rather than waiting like a victim for things to change. Dating, fuck buddies, whatever they call it. I have never been there, I don't really want to be there, I think that I mix love and sexuality to easily to go there. But it was suggested to me that if I want to preserve the family and everything the couple has fought for, then maybe this is a temporary solution. And so I try to put myself in a different frame of mind: she's in love and making love to another woman, she's rejecting me during this time, showing me now affection, so let's just find what I'm missing somewhere else. Like it falls from trees - yeah, right. I'm not so bad looking, but neither am I full of testosterone confidence. Women don't fall flock around me. But, let's give it a try. And so I try to be light and end up belittling the experience that my woman is having. This experience represents something momentus in her life. She never dared like this before. And here I am portraying it as a bit of light sexuality. I know, it's crass. But I'm hurting, really hurting bad, and these comments are what sneaks through when I'm trying to be ok.
So she put me in my place. And then I felt my pain. That pain of not being taken care of. It's ok for her to have sex with this woman today and it's ok that she has rejected me these last weeks, hell, these last seven years. And that our relationship should continue because she thinks that I'm her soul mate. Her soul mate? I feel like I've given so much and receive so little in return. Maybe I receive on the spiritual level - the evolution level - but my heart needs something too. Doesn't every heart need something? Isn't that what she's doing with this woman? Re-energizing her heart. And me, what about my heart? I want you to love my heart, I don't want another woman. You arrive today at my office with our so beautiful children. And you are the most beautiful of them all. And suddenly I feel inadequate, that I'm not man enough to love you physically, that's why you go else where? I doubt it, but I felt strongly for the first time that I'm not enough for you.
I arrived on the beach with this pain. With the lonely sun setting. I don't want to be here. All these parents here. That woman is here. Her husband here. Me, the over-emotional one, is here. My daughter puts a foot in the sand and she wants to go home. My partner has disappeared down the beach with the bag of clothes. And I'm here with a screaming daugher and my one year old worldly daughter. For a moment I remind myself that I knew this was a bad idea, but then I decide to sit it out and be here with Z.
We brought Z up in our lonely world. We didn't go out much. Z was breast fed for two and a half years. My woman suffered. She's breast feeding our second now at one year and two months. She still suffers. She looks so frustrated. Z and her are still so attached. The only thing that saves her is a spiritual group that she attends each week.
Z was in no good mood this evening. She hates the beach. At some point she wanted to go to bed. We took her to the tent. The sand was a difficult ordeal. At some point my partner exploded, she want's Z to be able to suddenly sleep near the party. I tell her harshly to hold her anger, that if she want's to go and party, she can do that, but accept who our daughter is. Now she's silently livid towards me. I get my daughter to sleep and I tell her to go and have a good time.
So she's gone. I make my angry speech to the sea. You can't sit there all night doing nothing while I hold my one year old daughter and pay attention to Z and suddenly expect that they want to sleep there on the floor with the noise. Just because you are so frustrated and want to have some fun in your life, you can't expect that it will just pop out of thin air. I know how frustrated it is. But don't disappear on me like this. Grow up. You are their mother, whether you like it or not. I know how frustrated you are, believe me, I can see it. But don't get angry at Z. Accept her for who she is, in your image, in our image, and let's make the small changes that will enable her to grow.
I was really angry there and I showed it. I feel she's escaping, disappearing. And at the same time, I don't understand. She has the beautiful love affair with this woman and a spiritual group that fulfills her and yet she's seems even less tolerant of reality. Why? Maybe I can understand.
Anyway, she's off with the adults. And instead of feeling, miserable, I'm happy for her. And I'm happy to be here alone with the sound of the sea. But I would be happy if I was more loved. And maybe I'm accepting more that I can't go through life always being loved. Even if I have a feeling I have gone through 40 years not being loved enough. Maybe she is right after all. Maybe I shouldn't need to be loved, I should be stable enough that me is enough, or at least not shaken, when all there is is me. But I think that's going to far. And besides, that's a whole different topic.
Good night.
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