Saturday, November 22, 2014

quotes and songs and careening creatures

It's like this:  I have to turn off the voice in my head that you might choose to call my "inner goddess".  When I met John, I'd gotten so frustrated with my idiotic behavior in regards to men that I decided I needed to just let the whole dating thing go for a while.  He was just so different than anyone I'd ever dated that, when he showed up a week later, it just made sense to go with the flow.

I assume like most people, all I ever wanted was to find a good relationship.  I wanted love.  A friend in high school dubbed my song "Somebody to Love" by Jefferson Airplane.  For whatever reason(s), I seemed to always be the one guys, uh, well, lusted after...but never the one that anyone really fell for...I was not commitment material, I guess you could say.  And I hated that.  And I played into it far more than I like to admit.

When it became apparent that I was going to lose John, something inside me broke.  It's like there was this small creature, living finally sated inside me.  When we would fight, I'd take a moment to check around inside myself, inside my heart.  And the creature was still sated.  My love for him never faltered.  It was the most amazing feeling I have ever had the blessing to experience.  But when the Grade IV diagnosis came back, that little creature went bat shit insane and broke every tether that could or had held it.  It screamed and cried and threw things.  It banged against every part of my heart and soul and mind.  It sent things flying, broke things, and would just not shut up.  And that hurt so badly.  And it was scary.  And this part of me, this "inner goddess" part panicked fiercely.  She wanted it back the way that it was...she wanted the beast sated again.  So too soon, I thought about a physical comfort.  I wanted touch, tenderness, kisses...I thought of the movie High Fidelity when Robin Wright's character finds out her father dies.  She goes to the funeral with John Cusak's character, who had been trying to get back together with her after she left him.  They have this conversation: 

Laura: Listen, Rob, would you have sex with me? Because I want to feel something else... It's either that, or I go home and put my hand in the fire. Unless you want to stub cigarettes out on my arm.
Rob: No. I only have a few left, I've been saving them for later.
Laura: Right. It'll have to be sex, then.
Rob: Right. Right.

 All I wanted was to feel. Something. Else.  But that's not quite right, because that creature was careening around inside me, screaming to have its peace back, John back, love back.  And that was not something I could offer.  So I reached around for a hundred different things to try and help me, like a blindfolded kid trying to pin the tail on a donkey that didn't exist inside a shop full of hand blown glass figurines, flailing hands just crashing around and breaking everything, hands getting cut, feeling confused, knowing there should be a way to connect and succeed, but not knowing how or why it was turning out to be so damned hard.

Today is the 18 month mark.  Last night, I lost my mind for a little while.  I was using the passion and support of someone from my past to try and quiet my crazy creature.  It worked amazingly well in moments.  But the moments have been getting fewer and fewer.  And then I asked for something small, something loving, something that crossed the line.  And the fact that it crossed the line was like a knife in the kidneys.  It was a sucker punch.  But it was sort of like a Fight Club version, because I basically did it to myself.  I knew I was asking for too much.  I did it anyway.

So now, I have to face the fact that I am terrified to be alone.  I don't want to raise three kids by myself.  I also remember seeing an ad for one of the Nanny shows I used to like to watch.  I saw it when John was about half way through the fight with cancer.  The mother was sitting there crying while the kids went bonkers.  She was telling the nanny that she never signed up for this, raising three kids alone...her husband had died.  She was not handling it well, not at all.  I stopped watching that show then.  But I kept her in my mind and vowed to not let my kids get out of control like that.  But I have to admit, I feel a lot like her.  And I have no clue what to do about this.

I am imagining I need to let the fear of being alone wash over me and run down the drain.  I need to accept the panic that comes when I think of how I work in a field where there are rarely any single men to interact with.  I need to face the fact that online dating may just not be the right thing for me.  I need to breathe deep, love my kids, and just let myself be lonely and scared and angry and lost.  Because I am those things no matter who I try to reach out to, no matter what I say.

When the truth is
To be lies
And all the joy
Within you dies


When the garden flowers
Baby, are dead, yes
And your mind, your mind
Is so full of red
 Tears are running
They're all running down your dress...
Don't you want somebody to love?
Yes, in fact.  I would.  And I have no control over that.  And perhaps I just need to accept that, too.  Accept that I want it, can't control it, and let those things was over me, too.  It sounds so easy.  The screaming creature inside me tells a different story.

"I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it."  
--Sylvia Plath