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.

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What is love?

Yesterday night, the bubble burst. All the pain of Austin sobbed out of me. She was gentle with it.

Somehow the conversation wound its way back to the same place, something in her that needs the relationship open in some way that still isn't clear.

I closed my heart. I hardly slept. Everything in me was screaming, I don't want this, I don't want an open relationship, I'm not made that way.

I had a horrible day. And on this day, the most unusual thing happened. Three people reached out to me. I read the email of my only long-term pen-friend from a small town in Switzerland and she made me feel cared for in a way I never thought possible through writing. A colleague gave me a beautiful perspective on the situation and ended with the warmest hugs. And the pilot that I have written flight simulator programs for as a hobby came and had lunch with me after months that we have not seen each other and for the first time, it was the most warmest contact that I have had, fatherly. I hold this believe that I am a lonely fool who keeps away from people, and here I am blessed with people with such good hearts who listen to my heart.

Calm came.

I drove back home after work ready to tell Mon Amour that I can't take this any more, that I can't live in any kind of open relationship right now, that I feel disrespected that she continues her experience with this woman when I am not ready, that I have reached the point where I am ready to leave.

I saw her and all I felt was love and in that moment, I let everything else go.

She encouraged me to sleep and I slept next to my baby daughter, the greatest little creature that this world has to offer.

I woke up around 11pm. She was out in the kitchen. I wanted to make love to her. But the timing didn't feel right as I stepped out. We had a simple contact. I could feel how she is working hard to not lose herself. Love needs a lot of patience. I'm so typically impatient and exigent.

I finished the film that I started watching on the plane, Salmon fishing in the Yemen. The end brought me to heart renching tears. "Do you need an assistant Dr Jones? ... an assistant? ... a P A R T N E R? ... a partner? Yes Miss Jepwort Tolbert, more than anything". I sat against the fire place, head resting on the top, eyes closed, chest open, sobbing like a silly romantic with a real pain.

I have a partner. I just don't know where her heart is.

And I love her.

And I don't understand anything about love.

And sitting there on the floor with the film credits rolling and the music filling my body, I felt alive, open with all this pain. And most of all, in the pain, I felt, I am me, even if no-one else is here, I am me.

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Everything has a price

A day before I left for this business trip, I was driving with Mon Amour's father. He made one of his usual comments that I label "pessimistic". He said, referring to the fact that I will be leaving, that he's happy to see my career doing so well but that everything has a price. The comment stuck because I carried it with me. That's what I hate about his comments, there is a good sense of reality in them that I'm not permitting myself to see. Me wanted to say, no, it's not that serious, it's just a trip. But it's a loaded question, everything always has a price and we, or at least I, don't like dealing with the price and asking the obvious question before hand: is it worth the price? I'll avoid the question in general, maybe out of fear that I would do nothing in my life if I was paying any attention to this concept.

The unusual thing about this trip was that I created it. In the past, I've been assigned these trips. This time it was me running with an idea. Meeting the engineering groups in Austin was going to push things along fast and secure a long term relationship for our small group in Israel. I remember the point so clearly where I was aware that I could just let the idea sit and never really go anywhere or make the leap. I took the later because as much as the fear wanted me to stay, I was excited to be driving something on a much bigger scale.

There were two parts to the fear involved in the decision. First there was the fear of standing out on a limb professional, taking a risk when I wasn't 100% sure of what I was doing. And secondly there was the fear of the impact on the family - my five year old daughter's sensitivity to separation, the guilt of leaving Mon Amour alone with our two young children and the fear for the couple at such a sensitive time.

The anixety started before the trip and reached panic on the flight away. Anxiety is always the sign-post for the unspoken, for the intuition that you are ignoring.

I arrived home to my five year old daughter so happy to see me yet full of pain in her eyes and a kind of compulsive need to go to the toilet every half hour with a kind of diarhea. I arrived home to find my partner even more in a bubble than when I left. I arrived home to my guilt for having messed up the lines of communication home. She was happy to see me, but in the end, he quick withdrawl make me wonder how welcome home I am. I was so exhausted that I couldn't even keep myself awake to give her some attention after the children went to sleep.

I paid a really high price on this trip. I might win a rosier professional future out of it, but the way I feel right now, at home, unwanted - the price was too high for the family and for me.

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Drowning in loneliness

Here's my ride home. New York to Tel Aviv. No matter how messed up your destination is, it is always sweet.

My five year old daughter has a fever. She always gets a fever before I arrive. She's so affected by the separation. And who am I to think that I am not. I am completely affected.

As I flew up from Austin, I did some meditation to manage to the anxiety. Suddenly I remembered the shoes that I had bought for her, then I had the image of sitting on my suitcase before opening it, asking her to look me in the eye and telling her how much I missed her and I love her. A few tears fell. She has made my life so tough. She's such a sensitive soul, a lot like me. And since I don't manage my own sensitivity, I definitely don't manage her's.

I went to an amazing sushi restaurant on Thursday. Incredible ambiance. Amazing food. Really nice people. If you are ever in Austin, this is the finest of restaurants:

http://www.uchiaustin.com/

I sat at the bar. Had a few easy conversations with the neighbors, received a few music-bar recommendations. Things were flowing as they would say.

I found myself sitting in a bar, alone. The music wasn't that great - I should have gone with the Jazz recommendation instead of the blues. But there were a few songs to strum the heart's cords. And that's where I felt the tears. There's no woman in this bar giving me any attention. There is no woman in all my life running after me. All the way back to Broome, there's no girl that wanted me.

There is nothing like receiving someone's affection, someone's attention. A boy without loving grows up to be a man longing for attention. I have everything I could ever want, but when I find myself alone in a town, I drown in the loneliness of my child craving for some love.

I move in mysterious ways.

I grew up in the smallest of towns.

Then I was dropped into a huge city. I never really adapted.

I can remember the fear or the shame of walking on the main streets and thinking that everyone was watching me, me with the old-fashioned, home hair-cut, second-hand clothes and the absolute belief of total unhandsomness - pale skin, dark marks under the eyes.

I remember not feeling well every time I went downtown or into a mall. I didn't know it was anxiety. It wasn't until I got frightened of dying of a heart-attack that it became debilitating, a physical nightmare, clostrophobic.

And only after I had my first "official" panic attack, after my only friend - my grandfather - had passed away, did I start making my own huge movements across this globe.

Every movement to a new place brings a resurgence of fear. Every holiday location, every business trip, has been a nightmare, managed only by anti-anxiety pills or anti-depressors. Yet I have always moved, I love moving, but I have suffered and I don't really know why.

My last business trip to San Francisco, half way across the world, was the first trip I did without a pill. I can't say I was well, but I wasn't drowning.

Two months later, and I'm drowning here in beautiful Austin. I always thought that it was the people who frightened me, but my confidence with people has sky-rocketed this last year. I can be anxious in a crowd and not need to run away. I can be anxious and deal with people confidently. The only place that I'm better is at home, in the hotel room, in the office.

Things seemed to have improved these last months. I could walk into a mall in Israel and not feel too uncomfortable. However, it's all very delicate. And so I find myself in Austin, full of fear, disappointed that I can't do this without a pill, panic slowly creeping in as I walk around downtown.

I don't know what it is. I don't know what I'm frightened of or angry at. Maybe I just can't bare the loneliness.

I wish I would find out soon. I want to just feel good for once when I travel.

This is where I am.

 

 

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That frightening tunnel

I am high above the earth.

It's so quiet, if you take out the scream of the air.

It's so smooth.

The cabin is mostly empty.

I could almost be mistaken for thinking that I am in limbo.

I'll be honest, I usually inebriate myself to the point of emotional ecstasy.

But not this time. I almost believe what I feel now, that this is my rarified air home and there is nothing else.

There is the knowledge that I will soon meet a new town and that brings a flash of excitement.

And there is the memory of revealing the truth to Mon Amour. That when she got off me after riding me to the point of orgasm (she can never quite get there, in her whole life) she lay in front of me and the vagina being open, frightened me. Like the fleshy jaws of an octopus that will strangle me. I admitted it for the first time in my life, there is this point in sex where I am disgusted.

Which of course I can't get my head around because of all the sights that one can see on this amazing planet, nothing compares to luscious valleys of the vagina and the taste of a throbbing clit. Nothing, absolutely nothing. And yet, when the tunnel opens, my stomach drops.

I told her this on the day I left. And she gave me a viewing. Then my daughter woke up and it was over.

We were left with such a beautiful feeling. Something simple, lightly sexual. I love her.

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In transit

I am on the other side of the world. I bought a Starbucks double-shot then watched the sun rise over Manhattan. It's quiet and all the voices are hushed. I'm feelingless, hardly aware of where I am really. I want to wake up completely, but the drug is keeping the senses dull.

The departure was tough. My 5-year-old daughter didn't want to let go. Which is good because she used to not express her feelings. She's almost theatrical in her misery, so it's hard not to laugh. I spent the whole afternoon at the swimming pool with her thinking this would make it easier for her. But who was I kidding, though I have heard that good memories go a long way to helping the heart deal with missing. Eventually I asked her to draw me a picture that I would carry with me. She has a talent for drawing and here is her 10 second caricature for my trip:

How does one really say goodbye with completeness, with 100% centeredness. Maybe as my 1 year old daughter does: bye-bye, waving her hand awkwardly. Mon Amour was effected just as much. She said that I have brought so much presence to our lives, presence as a father and presence as a lover. She said she was going to miss me, she of all people. We are going places deeper than before, on all levels. She's the one.

I think that I prefer being the one staying behind. Because being the one leaving carries too much weight. As I went through all the over-security at Ben Gurion, anxiety crept in. Two glasses of wine in the Dan Lounge wasn't enough to bring me back to earth. I'm embarking on the first global project that I'm driving. I'm excited, I'm frightened, and yet I don't yet feel the strength of a worldly man. I'm not a pillar, I still crumble. Eventually I popped a pill sitting on the plane feeling uncomfortable in the belly and uneasy breathing.

And so I slept, and I calmed and now I'm awake, more confident, but feeling a bit lost. I love my family more than anything else in the world and yet I'm still not able to stand strong as a man. I'm lost because in this moment, so far from everyone, I don't think that I'm anything much.

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