Tonight is one of those nights, when the subjects, not the words, won’t come. I think I’ve managed to write nearly everyday for the past month – which may be the longest I’ve kept something like this up. Of course I don’t exercise at all – I suppose something had to suffer. Some of the posts have been meh, others I think were decent – some maybe even approached slightly better than decent. One purpose has been to practice, to develop habit.
I re-read them often. It’s not quite narcissism that takes me back, but more a sense of self-doubt. I’ll get a nagging feeling that I was unkind, and try to re-read to see if I was. More often than not, I’m re-reading to see if I come off as crazy or obsessed, do I make a larger point with my life examples? It’s amazing what someone’s words can do to you. Thankfully, I usually find that I’m ok with what I’ve written. Almost everything is about love, the power it has, what it’s like to find it (or lose it), and, of course, a whole lot of internal struggle and complexity. I suppose if I had more than one really deep experience of love (that I had any memories from), I could use those feelings in addition to what I felt with my ex-fiancee, but this was by far the greatest, and also the latest. At some point, it will cease to be front of mind.
The things that stand out from my day, because… why not? As I walked in to work I was walking behind what seemed like an attractive woman (I didn’t really get a good look). Immediately I realized I was drawn to the red hair. I thought to myself, nope, not ready, I don’t want a replacement – this will seem like a replacement. A little further down the street, I started to think about how to write a poem that isn’t about my ex-fiancee, B,…. how to write about what I know, what I see? By the time I got in to the office, I had abandoned the poem. I was going to write about this homeless woman that I see nearly every day. I realized I know nothing about her story, and to make something up, to even try to imagine felt like I could only do a bad job and that it was somehow a disservice to her humanity.
I spent a little time thinking about hardship as an essential part of the triumphal tale. At an event last night I was told about how the organization I work for was on the brink of collapse a number of years ago. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard this story. The people that tell it like to highlight how far we’ve come. I think we like the out of ashes tale, the tales of rebirth, the tales of overcoming adversity. As I thought about these things, I tried to put them in the context of my story, the context of my ex’s story. It made me wonder if being more open with the struggle is a sign of pride at how far you’ve come. It made me think of an early text exchange she and I had:
[Tuesday, July 17, 2018 9:31:55 PM] B: Think its a fucking miracle I’m standing sometimes.
[Tuesday, July 17, 2018 9:32:42 PM] B: I wouldn’t expect anyone to understand, so don’t worry
[Tuesday, July 17, 2018 9:32:49 PM] B: That’s why I don’t talk about it
[Tuesday, July 17, 2018 9:33:00 PM] B: I just deal with it
The story of triumph hadn’t been finished, there was still a lot of struggle going on there, and the story wasn’t being told. I sometimes write about my ex-wife. For years I’ve been at a place where I’m ok with how things ended. I suffered my part – I’m sure she suffered hers. I write a lot about owning your story. I spent a lot of time trying to own that story, trying to show that I emerged, somehow wiser, stronger, more understanding and compassionate. Anytime I’ve told it, I began with the rocky start and how I was unfair to her. How I withheld commitment.
I think the more accurate process of emerging from the tale is one of first being able to tell your story, then being able to tell it as one of personal triumph, and then realizing the triumph is when you don’t even feel the need to tell the story. I always had this notion that we are three stories all at once (past, present, and future). The past is important, it is foundational. How we interpret it and use it is a choice. It helps us define our present and future stories. Personally, I prefer to acknowledge it in it’s full messiness. I see people who use it as a springboard to a new self, carry the chip on their shoulder. It’s becomes the motivation for continuing on. To me that seems exhausting and turbulent. The now and the future seem like such better motivating factors. When I started dating, my marriage was a big part of my story. My early, post-divorce relationship experiences became a big part of my story. Once I met B, those things started to fade away – I was motivated by the future we were planning together, I was motivated by how I felt in the moment. B was still at a point where she was surprised she was still standing. She was still trying to figure out how to move on from her past…. we both knew this. It was, at times, a significant barrier to our growth. How could I accept her past if she was still struggling to accept it? How could I know and appreciate her triumphs, if she hadn’t fully reached that part of the story, if she wasn’t ready to talk about what she overcame? I clumsily danced around what I really wanted…. help me understand how you felt.
I go back to Adrienne Rich who describes love as “a process of refining the truths they can tell each other.” I talked to B a lot about my past – I was constantly refining the truths I could tell her – I wanted to get to point where it was all out there, and all understood (on some level). I wanted us to get to a point where the past was just the past, neither good nor bad. That’s the benefit of a true partner, one who can fully see you – all of you. I will always be a divorcee. I will always be my father’s son. But…. I was getting to point where I saw an entirely different me, and I felt safe enough to look a little deeper and see how my past influenced my current behaviors. B will always be a widow. I think she was emerging beautifully from that definition – though sometimes I can imagine how difficult it is to shed that skin. How difficult it is to carry that sadness alongside a newfound joy.
We are complicated and beautiful beings.