Sometimes this blog can be a pain in the butt. I spent all yesterday trying to think of a good topic. Everything I do, becomes a search for something to write about. I visit my mortgage broker; I look under his desk for a story. Yeah, I'm not sure I'm welcome there again…
I'm staring at every facet of my life looking for "The big story." The big reason why for today. The reason why is ever elusive and can hide in everything from a dog's slobber to a friend's email. That's where today's topic comes from.
Even when I find the topic though, it's an unruly mess. Sometimes I start typing, and by the time I'm done, I've got a poorly organized doctoral theses trying to squeeze into a blurb-sized blog space. I have to hack it to bits to keep my 2 readers reading.
Hi guys! We're about a quarter of the way done. Slog it through! Keep reading!
My divorce has been the same way. Sure it's been the search for meaning but I'm returning to the opening sentence. It's been a pain in the butt, but who didn't see that plot twist coming? Divorce=pain in the butt? c'mon. Raise you're hands, there's no stupid people. Only stupid ideas pointing out idiots.
See my divorce has been like a load of dirty laundry dumped out on the floor. It's a mess that needs to be sifted through before it can be cleaned up and put in it's respective compartment, or compartment of perspective.
Carrying the laundry analogy another step too far, there are things that you try to sort, but they still cling together. I'll put on the pant's of loneliness, only to find the sock of regret clinging to my crotch. (Yeah, that's not the first time I've seen that sock hanging around, but let's stay on topic here).
It's so difficult to separate the feelings from the emotions. When am I feeling lonely, and when am I just missing MyUnwife? Is there a difference? Yes there is. One is focused on me, the other is aimed at her. Sure, they're both forms of self-pity ( a subject I am a renowned scholar on. I could close my eyes and cry volumes of self pity without trying. Yes, I am that good--or pathetic. It's such a fine line.), but they required different strategies to overcome. The trick is to figure out what's afflicting you.
Regret is the easiest, but the most lasting. It's your mind telling you what you've lost and reminding you of all those things you'll never have again. Yeah, it's a charming trait. It's a photographic negative emblazoned on your retinal wall. The only way to remove it, is to paint over it with other experiences, until you can no longer see the original. The problem is, some memories are bloodstains, and they don't cover with just a quick coat of primer. It takes months and months of fresh paint smell to pretend it never existed, and usually that's just the fumes messing with your mind. I shrug. Either way, toxic hallucinations, or new adventures, the new wall now looks pretty. It's time to move on.
Loneliness is a tougher creature to snare and skin. It's my Jabberwocky. I caulk the cracks of my time with people and busyness, because the dreaded beast can sneak in the smallest of moments. I'm standing in the shower, the curtain pulls back and "Ahhh!" there he is. He also likes to hangout with insecurity too, so he's also in the room pointing out my nakedness. Now I'm in a ball at the bottom of the shower, my defenses swirling down the drain.
There is something I had to relearn keeps him away. It's so simple and stupid that it sounds like a bad Hallmark card, but it's easy to forget: being alone is not always avoidable, but you can distract yourself. Being lonely isn't the same as being alone. Remember that; it will save your life.
I'm free do things on my own. I find if I'm feeling really lonely, I do things for other people, like read and edit submissions for people in my writers' group. If I'm helping others, even while I'm alone, it helps. It's weird. When I'm at my loneliest, I'm at my most philanthropic. Is that so bad? Making somebody else happy in the heart of my worst depression. Even better, by lifting their hearts, even just a little, the loneliness slips further away. Isn't that part of what being married was about in the first place?
It's a pain in the butt, but it makes my world a little better.
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