New Lows and Spirit in the Highest
We broke up on a Thursday night. Which means it's been seven whole days. He came and got his belongings, and brought me mine, just like I'd planned.
The day I wrote the last post and the day after, I did not see another human being. I did not leave my house. I didn't leave my bed but to pee and possibly ingest some food that I can't even recall. We spoke several times about what had happened, but each conversation seemed tense and full of hurt. On Saturday night he asked me to go to church with him the following day.
Church, had been something Jay had kept separate from me. He said "it's the place I go to cry" but he cried everywhere. In public, in his bedroom, at restaurants. It wasn't his place to cry, and I knew it. I said yes to going, mostly because I just wanted to touch him again and put my lips on his and stand on my tippy toes to hug his towering body. But, I also knew that this was him opening up some door to something intimate and personal that he was asking to share with me.
He confided that church was where he talked to Eva. His "dead wife." He used to call her his "wife" until I got offended about the term. There was one morning where I had slept in his bed, woke up early, made coffee, got back in bed and we made love like ravenous, crazy people. I don't even know if I showered or not but somehow I got the kids up and made their lunches and breakfast and we got out the door in time for school.
Later that day I read his Facebook post. "I miss my wife" it said. So... matter of fact. He'd posted it about ten minutes-- no, it may have been 3 minutes-- after I left his sheets to get dressed. He'd laid in bed, opened the app, and those periodic time capsules from years past reminded him of how beautiful she was. In her polka dot dress he'd bought her. How much she'd meant to him. And how she was never coming back.
Now, we were in the church, sitting in the pew, and he pointed out the podium where he gave her eulogy. He pointed out the altar where her ashes were placed. I asked how long they'd been going to church here before she died and he said maybe 9 months.
I guess the physical building of a church is supposed to bring you closer to something... the sermon is supposed to point your thoughts inward, to rejuvenate hope or to strengthen your commitment. This quaint, color filled room of wood and glass had no significance to me, other than forgiveness. The fact that he'd invited me in, that deep into his life, was monumental. He'd warned me the night before that he'd take communion. That he'd sit back in his place and he would talk to her. His "dead wife." It happened just like that, and we all ate communion and drank the wine. Then we sat back in our seats and while his son asked me a million questions and I rubbed his back, Jay cried with his head in his hands.
"What will you tell her?" I asked him.
He answered that he wanted her to know about me. As if, going to church would be the first time that Eva would know I existed. She's everywhere. Spirits see everything. She saw me naked in her bed with you. She saw me pick her son up from school and feed him dinner. She watched as I pet her fluffy poodle doodle, excited to see a woman enter the house; the dog almost mauled me.
I told Jay once that I thought Eva had brought me to him. That she was my guardian angel. Maybe she'd picked me for him.
Was this all a test?
A test of my will? A test of his ability to love again? A paradigm shift that each of us would have about being someone's partner again. Over the weekend, we'd opened up to each other and expressed a lot of doubts, a lot of truth, and a lot of reasons why it hadn't worked out. I'd come to the conclusion that each of us wanted to find a partner to fill the void. Numb the pain. And fix the gaping hole in our heart that was left by the last partner. Whether from neglect or tragedy, each of us was alone, and the abandonment issues we both faced caused us to act in unhealthy ways. We'd sought the other person's affection and caress more than a few times for a getaway, an escape from reality. Validation that we were human, we were alive, and we were wanted. That we had a worth.
Prior to coming to church, I'd hopped in the shower. While getting ready, I'd listened to one of my schlocky self-help gurus podcast. You may have heard of her. Oprah? Yah. She has really changed the world in so many ways, but in this moment.... The people she was interviewing for her Super Soul Conversation was a pastor and an actress who were married and had written a book. About abstinence.
Now, I don't know if any of you know me that are reading this but you probably just laughed out loud. Since I was a young child, I'd never had a religion and do not believe in the teachings of the Bible. I don't believe in virginity before marriage. I don't believe in suppressing one's sexuality. And I sure as hell don't believe in abstinence.
I'm getting ready to go to church, mind you. So, to say I'm "trying new things" in an attempt to keep this man in my life is understated. But, the past few days of crying alone in my bed were not merely about losing Jay, but also about all the failure. All the loss. All the grasping for something and taking a shallow relationship in an attempt to feel okay instead of working on myself.
I felt like if I'd had a chance to get to know Jay better before jumping in to playing the role of woman in his life, that we'd have succeeded. Maybe if we knew each other spiritually instead of sexually, that we'd be stronger. Maybe I also wouldn't have needed to step out on our relationship to contact someone else for emotional validation. Because my cup would've been full from my love for Jay instead..?
It's all very confusing. Trying to imagine all the things we could've done differently leading up to the break up may drive both of us nuts. But, I held his hand through the church service and I sang as many hymns as I could and I ate the body of Christ. I'm searching for answers. I'm reading, I'm drawing, I'm trying to keep my paws off my phone and just keep busy.
I texted a friend. I asked her about codependency. Her husband has struggled with it and I wanted her advice. The moral of her story was "less needy men, more friends." As if being without a man who is in emotional turmoil and focusing in on my girl friends would leave me happy. hmm... She asked "How long were you single after your husband left?" long awkward pause (via text message that means 45 seconds, tops) "Five minutes?" I joked. It was true, I had dates lined up for my very first weekend without the kids. "At a minimum, you need to be single for 6 months." I wanted to chuck the phone across the room. It would land on top of that stupid pile of books by Melodie on inner peace and...
Fine.
You know what?
Not only that, but I will not have sex for 6 months. I won't go on a single date. How about that!? (I'm not promising I won't send a single text message.) But I will not go on a date for 6 months. I won't drink alcohol because that's my other famous crutch. I like to get shit faced and speak my mind and cause a scene. I endanger my kids while driving us home. And, I park the car in weird places, like crosswalks. With my hazards on. All night long.
Here's to a better me. A holier me. "It's going to be hard" said three people I've told so far.
Harder than what? Going on a date that sucks and coming home broken and wishing I hadn't? Drinking too much and the next morning and feeling my brain swelling and wishing I hadn't? What have I done in the last 6 months that was so life changing? Where did it get me, to date? Where did it get me: to meet Jay and have the rug pulled out from under both of us?
I'll go to church. I'll read. I'll be a fucking monk. You know why? Because I've got to try something new. This isn't working. It hasn't worked.
Love like they had. Love like her and him, in all the pictures. I told him I wish I'd known her; that I think we would've been friends. But, I'm glad I hadn't because I would've been jealous of her. I would've been really jealous of what she had.
I'm sad I may never know what him loving me completely would've been like. I'm sad we built this up to have it crumble. And I'm sad that I look down at my phone and all I can think is "I love you! Take me back!" and it's not going to happen. But, today is DAY 7 of the new me. And for that, I suppose I'm grateful to have had this wake up call.
The day I wrote the last post and the day after, I did not see another human being. I did not leave my house. I didn't leave my bed but to pee and possibly ingest some food that I can't even recall. We spoke several times about what had happened, but each conversation seemed tense and full of hurt. On Saturday night he asked me to go to church with him the following day.
Church, had been something Jay had kept separate from me. He said "it's the place I go to cry" but he cried everywhere. In public, in his bedroom, at restaurants. It wasn't his place to cry, and I knew it. I said yes to going, mostly because I just wanted to touch him again and put my lips on his and stand on my tippy toes to hug his towering body. But, I also knew that this was him opening up some door to something intimate and personal that he was asking to share with me.
He confided that church was where he talked to Eva. His "dead wife." He used to call her his "wife" until I got offended about the term. There was one morning where I had slept in his bed, woke up early, made coffee, got back in bed and we made love like ravenous, crazy people. I don't even know if I showered or not but somehow I got the kids up and made their lunches and breakfast and we got out the door in time for school.
Later that day I read his Facebook post. "I miss my wife" it said. So... matter of fact. He'd posted it about ten minutes-- no, it may have been 3 minutes-- after I left his sheets to get dressed. He'd laid in bed, opened the app, and those periodic time capsules from years past reminded him of how beautiful she was. In her polka dot dress he'd bought her. How much she'd meant to him. And how she was never coming back.
He posted it without thinking.
Now, we were in the church, sitting in the pew, and he pointed out the podium where he gave her eulogy. He pointed out the altar where her ashes were placed. I asked how long they'd been going to church here before she died and he said maybe 9 months.
I guess the physical building of a church is supposed to bring you closer to something... the sermon is supposed to point your thoughts inward, to rejuvenate hope or to strengthen your commitment. This quaint, color filled room of wood and glass had no significance to me, other than forgiveness. The fact that he'd invited me in, that deep into his life, was monumental. He'd warned me the night before that he'd take communion. That he'd sit back in his place and he would talk to her. His "dead wife." It happened just like that, and we all ate communion and drank the wine. Then we sat back in our seats and while his son asked me a million questions and I rubbed his back, Jay cried with his head in his hands.
"What will you tell her?" I asked him.
He answered that he wanted her to know about me. As if, going to church would be the first time that Eva would know I existed. She's everywhere. Spirits see everything. She saw me naked in her bed with you. She saw me pick her son up from school and feed him dinner. She watched as I pet her fluffy poodle doodle, excited to see a woman enter the house; the dog almost mauled me.
She was watching me replace her.
I told Jay once that I thought Eva had brought me to him. That she was my guardian angel. Maybe she'd picked me for him.
Was this all a test?
A test of my will? A test of his ability to love again? A paradigm shift that each of us would have about being someone's partner again. Over the weekend, we'd opened up to each other and expressed a lot of doubts, a lot of truth, and a lot of reasons why it hadn't worked out. I'd come to the conclusion that each of us wanted to find a partner to fill the void. Numb the pain. And fix the gaping hole in our heart that was left by the last partner. Whether from neglect or tragedy, each of us was alone, and the abandonment issues we both faced caused us to act in unhealthy ways. We'd sought the other person's affection and caress more than a few times for a getaway, an escape from reality. Validation that we were human, we were alive, and we were wanted. That we had a worth.
Prior to coming to church, I'd hopped in the shower. While getting ready, I'd listened to one of my schlocky self-help gurus podcast. You may have heard of her. Oprah? Yah. She has really changed the world in so many ways, but in this moment.... The people she was interviewing for her Super Soul Conversation was a pastor and an actress who were married and had written a book. About abstinence.
Now, I don't know if any of you know me that are reading this but you probably just laughed out loud. Since I was a young child, I'd never had a religion and do not believe in the teachings of the Bible. I don't believe in virginity before marriage. I don't believe in suppressing one's sexuality. And I sure as hell don't believe in abstinence.
I'm getting ready to go to church, mind you. So, to say I'm "trying new things" in an attempt to keep this man in my life is understated. But, the past few days of crying alone in my bed were not merely about losing Jay, but also about all the failure. All the loss. All the grasping for something and taking a shallow relationship in an attempt to feel okay instead of working on myself.
“When we chase the high of instant gratification, we make choices that for many reasons are irresponsible and based on poor reasoning . . . or no reasoning at all. It takes time and self-control to take in information, let people reveal their true character, be consistent and disciplined, and give conflicts time to work themselves out. Delaying gratification means working at becoming more self-aware and humble enough to admit that our first impulses aren’t always smart ones.” ― DeVon Franklin, The Wait: A Powerful Practice for Finding the Love of Your Life and the Life You Love
I felt like if I'd had a chance to get to know Jay better before jumping in to playing the role of woman in his life, that we'd have succeeded. Maybe if we knew each other spiritually instead of sexually, that we'd be stronger. Maybe I also wouldn't have needed to step out on our relationship to contact someone else for emotional validation. Because my cup would've been full from my love for Jay instead..?
It's all very confusing. Trying to imagine all the things we could've done differently leading up to the break up may drive both of us nuts. But, I held his hand through the church service and I sang as many hymns as I could and I ate the body of Christ. I'm searching for answers. I'm reading, I'm drawing, I'm trying to keep my paws off my phone and just keep busy.
I texted a friend. I asked her about codependency. Her husband has struggled with it and I wanted her advice. The moral of her story was "less needy men, more friends." As if being without a man who is in emotional turmoil and focusing in on my girl friends would leave me happy. hmm... She asked "How long were you single after your husband left?" long awkward pause (via text message that means 45 seconds, tops) "Five minutes?" I joked. It was true, I had dates lined up for my very first weekend without the kids. "At a minimum, you need to be single for 6 months." I wanted to chuck the phone across the room. It would land on top of that stupid pile of books by Melodie on inner peace and...
Fine.
You know what?
I'll try it.
Not only that, but I will not have sex for 6 months. I won't go on a single date. How about that!? (I'm not promising I won't send a single text message.) But I will not go on a date for 6 months. I won't drink alcohol because that's my other famous crutch. I like to get shit faced and speak my mind and cause a scene. I endanger my kids while driving us home. And, I park the car in weird places, like crosswalks. With my hazards on. All night long.
Here's to a better me. A holier me. "It's going to be hard" said three people I've told so far.
Harder than what? Going on a date that sucks and coming home broken and wishing I hadn't? Drinking too much and the next morning and feeling my brain swelling and wishing I hadn't? What have I done in the last 6 months that was so life changing? Where did it get me, to date? Where did it get me: to meet Jay and have the rug pulled out from under both of us?
I'll go to church. I'll read. I'll be a fucking monk. You know why? Because I've got to try something new. This isn't working. It hasn't worked.
“Change is always difficult, which is why people so often retreat into the familiar even when the familiar is awful and depressing. That’s why we get back together with our exes even if things ended the last time in screaming and broken glass. It’s why we go out with the same friends even when we know they bring out the worst in us. We crave familiarity,”
I. want. true. love.
Love like they had. Love like her and him, in all the pictures. I told him I wish I'd known her; that I think we would've been friends. But, I'm glad I hadn't because I would've been jealous of her. I would've been really jealous of what she had.
I'm sad I may never know what him loving me completely would've been like. I'm sad we built this up to have it crumble. And I'm sad that I look down at my phone and all I can think is "I love you! Take me back!" and it's not going to happen. But, today is DAY 7 of the new me. And for that, I suppose I'm grateful to have had this wake up call.
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