You may or may not be aware - I may or may not have said - 2010 was a bit of a shitty year for me. Which might go a ways toward explaining why I did ONE single blogpost here in the whole year of 2010.
I and my wife, (of 10 years,) divorced. It was, as far as these things go, a relatively clean one. (Which is a lot like saying, "As far as limb-severing car accidents go, this one was pretty good!") We don't talk anymore, really. We did at first, periodically, but it just became too painful. (After she stopped calling I changed the ringtone on my phone because every time I heard that ringtone I started up with a feeling of dread that left a not-nice stomachache coming on, long after I knew it wasn't her.) Toward the end she only wrote me to ask what had or had not been sent, or to say thank you for the periodic cash deposits. Now it appears that even the "thank you" has gone by the wayside.
Two nights ago I dreamt of her - but not of her, in person, but of her as a memory. In my dream she was of the past, and I was doing something (I recall not what,) or saying something to someone which was predicated on our relationship being over. I remember very little of it, except my surprise upon waking to note that now even in my dreams we are over.
I rarely look at her photos - it is painful, it raises memories that would rather quietly slumber. I have learned the ways of thinking that before applied mostly to medical procedures, or things unspeakably disgusting: how to think of them without thinking of them. How to deal in the abstract discrete minute portions of the thing, and by observing closely the tree manage to miss completely the forest. Living flesh becomes muscle-tissue, and pus becomes white blood cells, or seepage only. To kill is only the act of proper placement and then the pull or the push - the result being incidental - though the result be all. Red-swollen-painful-to-the-touch is nothing more than a secondary infection and pain is only insufficient anaesthesia.
She is my ex-wife, my former-wife, and thus I rarely say her name. The curtain in one room has accidentally come to cover the photo that sits on the windowsill and I will not move it.
People ask me how I am - I find I can truthfully say anything: I am fine, (because I am,) I am in great pain, (as I am,) I wish I could go back and fix it, (because I do,) I think it is better this way, (I am sure it is.)
I am happy, (rarely been more so!) I cried a couple of weeks ago, (but before that - it had been months!) I want her to call me, (I long to hear her voice, her soft and hesitant syllables,) I don't want to hear from her, (I start in fear and feel deep dread every time my phone displays an unfamiliar number.) I am happy to be dating - (it's fun after 10 years to be free as a bird,) I miss our conversations, (but not the crying,) I miss her presence, (when not silent/sullen) I miss her killer luscious little body (without qualification.)
When we separated I embarked on a program to remake my life - to break old habits and begin new ones. It was a smashing success for some months, then less and less so. I began writing in a journal more often, cooking at home, meditating on some evenings, working out like a fanatic, and reading more. The nights were cold that winter - the house lonely was full of terrors of the thoughts that might come. The house was dark without her, her smell still in the closets. I filled every hour with activity. I took on extra work at work, I trained like a demon at the gym - I found out later the others are now afraid to spar with me - I still don't really know why. (What are a couple of noses between friends?)
And I read - spiritual and self-help and fiction and classics and whatever else I could lay my hands on. The Bible, the Tao, the Masnavi, I read every night, these and more. I practice meditation some nights or days, till my hips and back ached.
And all this - did it do me any good? I have no idea - it helped. It gave me a handle to hold on to. It gave my mind a place to turn, a raft of ideas and activities to carry me through each frightening week. I don't know how much it helped - I am better than I was - I suspect I am on the upswing - but I think it will be yet another year before I can move the curtain that hangs across the windowsill in one room.
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