Hard Habit to Break

I drove across town this morning to go to the sports chiro for a pre-race tune-up, and it was move-into-the-dorms day on campus. I can remember the feeling I had when my parents left me alone in my dorm room like it was yesterday -- though it was nearly 25 years ago now.

While flooded with memories of that uncomfortable alone-and-starting-a-new-phase feeling, I realized that things are kinda like that for me now, too, just as this classic from my youth came on the radio:

I guess I thought you'd be here forever
Another illusion I chose to create
You don't know what ya got until it's gone
And I found out a little too late

I remember, back in the day, singing this song as if I knew what it felt like to have someone and then lose them, even though I didn't. Not really.

Fast forward to now, having had and lost the real deal, I have this to say in response to the first verse:

1) I did think he'd be here forever. Felt it too.

2) Looking back on it all now, it seems it was another illusion I chose to create. What a delicious illusion it was, too, until it became impossible to maintain.

3) I knew what I had long before it was gone -- hell, I knew what I had before it had even really gotten started.

4) What I found out or when proved completely immaterial in the end.

But I'm not gonna take issue with the chorus, because I'm right there with them on that front:

Now being without you
Takes a lot of getting used to
Should learn to live with it
But I don't want to
Being without you
Is all a big mistake
Instead of getting easier
It's the hardest thing to take
I'm addicted to ya babe
You're a hard habit to break

Candy

I go through stretches where I can feel that things are being unearthed, whether from yoga, or bodywork, or environmental triggers. Sometimes when this happens, I feel up for seeing what's under there, for allowing it to be revealed. But sometimes I don't. And when I don't, I usually engage in some sort of escape, and generally my favorite to indulge during these times is vino.

Being the child and the granddaughter and the niece of alcoholics, I'm quite aware when this is happening, but I often do it anyway, for a finite period of time, when the alternative is to feel something yucky. I've been hitting the white wine (mainly because it's been hot) with gusto these last couple of weeks, but I decided to put the kibosh on that last night because my half marathon is coming up in three days.

At yoga last night I could feel the energy moving, but it wasn't until I was in the car on the way to the airport to pick up my son and parents that it hit me: An engulfing sadness. As I sobbed, I remembered people telling me I had to feel it, I had to let it in, or it wouldn't be released.

I was aware of not wanting to dwell on the sadness or feel too sorry for myself -- it already feels to me like it is taking me a long time to move through this heartbreak. Maybe it's taking longer because I sometimes choose not to feel. In fact, I am sure that's the case. But I gotta do what I can when I'm ready. And I have a feeling this weekend coming up in the U.P. is going to be a reset button for me, I really do, and I sure could use one.

Anyway, I woke up this morning with this song in my head:

Beautiful beautiful
Girl from the north
You burned my heart
With a flickering torch
I had a dream that no one else could see
You gave me love for free

Candy, Candy, Candy I can't let you go
All my life you're haunting me
I loved you so

Candy, Candy, Candy I can't let you go
Life is crazy
Candy baby

It's in my head this morning because in the middle of my in-transit crying jag last night, it came on the radio, reminding me about the time in my last relationship when we were dating long distance. We often sent each other songs -- and at one point he sent me this one. I remember him saying he'd had the hots for Kate Pierson, and I remember just being so thrilled by the whole thing. His coolness was definitely a big draw.

And that Kate Pierson, she's not just a hottie, she can sing -- and she sings my favorite part of this song:

I've had a hole in my heart
For so long
I've learned to fake it and
Just smile along
Down on the street
Those men are all the same
I need a love
Not games
Not games

Me too Kate, me too...

Patience

Love G'n'R's Patience, but this same-titled song by my new favorite male artist just might be even cooler:

I'm running out of patience to be fucking with this now
You better believe me when I say this now
I'm packing up my nightmares and I'll be on my way
You better find me some time when you have more to say

My only complaint is that it's super short -- that's the one and only verse -- but he really packs a lot into four lines, doesn't he?

On the subject of nightmares, usually I dream about either kissing him or other men, but last night I dreamt about him kissing other women, which is still really more like a nightmare for me than a dream:

I'm packing up my nightmares and I'll be on my way

Oh wait, I can't. And that's what makes being the one left behind harder than being the one who leaves: I can't pack up my nightmares and be on my way, like he did. I have to stay right here, in the bed we slept in together, on the couch he laid on every time he was at my house, with my kids' memories of him...

There's really nowhere to go, (except temporarily, and I am looking very forward to my weekend away), so I guess I just have to stay here, feel it, and trust that it will keep getting easier. There'll be days, for example, when I don't have to start by waking up and remembering those images. Most days. Just not today.

But as germane as the nightmares line was to last night's sleep, it's the last line that most speaks to what hurts in my heart:

You better find me some time when you have more to say

I know it's not my job to say what someone else had "better" do, but it really, really hurts, and has for quite some time, that he never seems to get to that point. How we went from such a space of open-hearted dialogue to such a shutdown silence is both beyond my comprehension and really, really difficult to sit with...

Owner of a Lonely Heart

Every day in my email inbox, I get a note from the Universe. Anyone can sign up for them by visiting their website. I find that they vary -- sometimes they don't resonate all that much, but other times, they are exactly what I need to hear -- and today's was the latter variety:

The real trick, Sarah, for confronting boredom is to ask more questions.

For tackling loneliness, it's to take more action.

And for easing sadness, it's to think more of others.

I like it. I think that's sound advice, and I'm working on asking more questions, determining what actions to take, and thinking more of others. And I'm sure I'll largely accomplish that, probably pretty soon.

But after a day at work and then subbing a yoga class, the only action I want to take is to come home, have dinner, and sit on the couch and watch a movie. And that's what I did tonight. I stopped at Wholefoods on my way home to get food for dinner, came home and cooked some delicious king salmon for myself. And then I watched a movie that a friend recommended, Horrible Bosses, which was pretty amusing. It's hard not to focus on what's missing, but it's important, too. Just be here, now, I told myself, even if you don't really like it.

The combination of the note from the universe and my day brought this classic number to mind:

Move yourself
You always live your life
Never thinking of the future
Prove yourself
You are the move you make
Take your chances win or loser

Yes and the Universe seem to be on the same page, don't they?

See yourself
You are the steps you take
You and you - and that's the only way

Shake shake yourself
You're every move you make
So the story goes

Owner of a lonely heart
Owner of a lonely heart
Much better than - a
Owner of a broken heart
Owner of a lonely heart

I'm not sure which I have -- or what the difference is exactly? Maybe that the owner of a broken heart would still be feeling this:

Say you don't want to chance it
You've been hurt so before

Whereas the owner of a merely lonely heart would be ready to give it a whirl again?

I'm guessing time, along with healing wounds, will reveal what's next for me, so for now, I just need a little patience.

Ooh! Have I got a song for you about patience, or lack thereof, but that'll have to wait until tomorrow...

To Feel Alive

I started my day today by biking to an Ashtanga yoga class, which felt awesome. I hadn't been to this class in a few weeks, so I was a little worried about how it would go, but I felt strong and it really helped move the energy that needed to move. Riding home afterward, I felt like a new woman.

My daughter got to hang out with one of her favorite sitters while I was gone, so we were both in a good place when we headed out to see Percy Jackson and the Sea of Monsters.

It was a good flick, and, as luck would have it, one of the songs from the soundtrack feels just right to mark this day:

Like a dream, the tree of life
Covers me and dulls my eyes
I fall asleep a thousand nights before I wake

That first verse feels fitting for a couple of reasons:

1) I feel like I've spent much of this summer with eyes dulled, covered over by sadness; and

2) I had a bunch of crazy dreams again last night. One of those dreams included getting laid, and I gotta say at this point it felt a bit like waking up after a thousand nights of sleep!

And this next verse describes what feels possible when my girl and I are on the same wavelength, as we were today:

Free to rise again
Hand in hand against all odds
We’ll overcome
Together we are one
For the first time in this life
Don’t have to fight to feel alive

No we don't, thank goodness, but sometimes (like yesterday) we have to take that on faith and hold on for the ride:

Up Down, Up Down
Up Down, Up Down
Just Believe, Just Believe

There was a scary bit early on in the movie when I grabbed my daughter's hand. Initially she rejected it, but later, as it got more frightening, she was only too happy to view the Sea of Monsters hand in hand. And that just might have been my favorite part of the moviegoing experience:

Free to rise again
Hand in hand against all odds
We’ll overcome
The Future we’ve begun
For the first time in this life
Don’t have to fight to feel alive...

I've Been Let Down

About a week ago I had a conversation with a friend, and she said something that was really helpful to me in the way that it is helpful when someone really nails what you're feeling.

She said: "It seems like you feel really let down, not just by him, but by life."

Yes.

I

Do.

Luckily, Mazzy Star's been there too:

I've been let down
And I'm still coming round
I've been pulled down
And I'm still coming round for you
Coming round for you

Take away everything that feels fine
Catch a shape in the circles of my mind
Make me feel like I belong to you
Make me feel it even if it ain't true

Uh-huh.

My son's in California with my parents at the moment, so my daughter and I are getting lots of one-on-one time. Which is good, in a way, but it's also hard, for both of us. I realized today when she was really missing her Dad and I was really missing a man that we both just really groove on male energy. And that's not necessarily a bad thing, but it does get a little tough when the testosterone levels get too low:

Catch a train on a silver afternoon
A thousand miles and I'm gettin' there too soon
Take me there, when I should be going home
Tell me why I'm still feeling (all) alone

I've been let down
And I'm still coming round
I've been pulled down
And I'm still coming round for you
Coming round for you

Let's Spend the Night Together

One week from today, I'll be arriving in Marquette, Michigan to participate in the Marquette marathon and half marathon. As I've written about previously, I signed up for the marathon in May after meeting a woman from Marquette when I was vacationing in Copper Harbor (also in Michigan's Upper Peninsula) with my then-family-of-four.

But you see, things aren't really working out like I'd hoped/planned:

1) I've been nursing several injuries since the half marathon I ran on June 8, and as a result, I had to shift my registration in Marquette to the half and spend hundreds of dollars on bodywork just to keep myself in the game for that distance.

2) My favorite U.P. travel companion left the region, and none of the friends whom I invited to do the race with me are actually coming with me. Last week I thought one had decided to join me, but now she can't go either.

3) The tagline on the website for Marquette (linked above) asks: "What's your human nature?" Well, let's see: My human nature involves things like signing up for races in places I've never visited when I meet someone whom I get a good feeling about who invites me to sign up for them; AND my human nature involves going to said race even if I have to scale back the distance and nurse injuries and no one I know is able to accompany me; AND my human nature involves feats of athleticism like running a half marathon and mountain biking in the same weekend and I can hook myself up with those; BUT, dear Universe, another lovely part of my human nature involves a desire to be befriended and touched and held and supported and sexed up by a hot man, and I gotta say you've kinda left me hanging in that department!

So here I am, a week away, marking this day with a little friendly challenge courtesy of the Stones:

Don't hang me up and don't let me down (don't let me down)
We could have fun just groovin around around and around
Oh my, my
Let's spend the night together
Now I need you more than ever
Let's spend the night together

Come on, Universe, you can do this for me, can't you?

You know I'm smiling baby
You need some guiding baby
I'm just deciding baby; now-
I need you more than ever
Let's spend the night together
Let's spend the night together now

You've been known to do it before -- on Maui, at a certain wedding just over three years ago (though the shacking up had to wait a few weeks with that one):

This doesn't happen to me everyday (oh my)
Let's spend the night together
No excuses offered anyway (oh my)
Let's spend the night together
I'll satisfy your every need (every need)
And I now know you will satisfy me
Oh my, my, my, my, my
Let's spend the night together
Now I need you more than ever
Let's spend the night together...

So how about next weekend? Feels like that would be just what the Dr. ordered...

Coming Around Again

I really dislike cleaning, but I could avoid it no longer with my parent's imminent arrival, so I used a trick I sometimes use to get myself to do it; I fired up a movie on Netflix. This time my selection was Heartburn, with Jack Nicholson and Meryl Streep, from 1986. I don't think I'd ever heard of it, but it was a very satisfying clean-while-you-watch.

The main premise is that Meryl's character marries Jack's knowing he's a philanderer and then guess what? He cheats on her. Repeatedly. Even though they have two kids together. Even though he promised her he wouldn't. Even though she's absolutely lovely.

As Carly Simon's voice started singing this song in the background:

Baby sneezes
Mummy pleases
Daddy breezes in
So good on paper
So romantic
But so bewildering

I had a pretty interesting thought, which is that maybe the problem is the expectation of happily ever after, the expectation that there's someone out there who will value us above all others, who will always be thinking about what's right for the family, who couldn't possibly do the one thing you most feared he'd do:

I know nothing stays the same
But if you're willing to play the game
It's coming around again
So don't mind if I fall apart
There's more room in a broken heart

I love that the last line of that verse is similar to what my acupuncturist said about an empty heart being a beautiful place. There is a lot of room in a broken heart. It's big, sometimes even giant, and often it feels all-encompassing. To view that as possibly being a good thing is oddly comforting.

There may also be another misconception about heartbreak, which is that we think that certain things shouldn't happen to us. We try to assign "if I do this, this should happen" -- but our lives aren't a science experiment or a math problem. We choose to have relationships with other human beings, and we bring our own stuff to the table, but in entering the relationship, we're signing up to deal with the other person's too. And sometimes the other person's stuff might just cause them to break our hearts. Like Jack's character did. And like my last love did, too.

The thing about falling in love is, you can play it safe, but why would ya?

And I believe in love
But what else can I do
I'm so in love with you

I'd rather be with crazy, sexy, cool Jack Nicholson for a few good years before it all goes wrong than stay with a safe guy my whole life, and maybe that's not so different from what just played out in my own life? Maybe it happened just the way it was supposed to happen? The point is, I don't know, and I don't get to decide. I just have to be able to accept what is. I'm working on that, and for the time being, I'm comforted by Carly's assurance that it'll be coming around again, because you know I'm willing to play the game:

I know nothing stays the same
But if you're willing to play the game
It will be coming around again.

At the end of the movie, Meryl's character talks about when a dream breaks into a million little pieces, saying that when that happens you have two choices. You either continue to try to hold onto that dream, as unbearable and implausible as it is, or you dream a new dream. She decides to dream a new dream, and that's the choice I'm making too...

Feel the Pain

I had a rough evening last night. Yoga class was really difficult, physically and emotionally, and it brought up some pretty difficult feelings. When I got home, I had half a mind to go into it deeper, but I didn't have the strength to keep feeling it.

It seems my Dinosaur Jr. friends have had a similar experience:

I feel the pain of everyone
Then I feel nothing
I feel the pain of everyone
Then I feel nothing

On more than one occasion of late, people have suggested that I need to really allow the grief to come in - saying that's what will best promote its release. I gotta admit, I'm kinda baffled by this. What have I been doing for the last 3-8 months if not grieving? Is there really more grief waiting inside me that's bigger or darker or meaner than what I've already experienced? Shit. I don't feel like I can take it.

I guess maybe the roughness last night is it was my first night going to my yin class -- which is about deep release -- without the crutch of my fantasy that he's coming back. Now it's just me and the cold, hard facts of the situation: I loved with my whole heart, mind, body and soul. Another being met me there, maybe even took me there, and then left me. Sometimes the pain of that reality is so great that all I can do is find a way to escape it:

I feel the pain of everyone
Then I feel nothing
I feel the pain of everyone
Then I feel nothing

But I know that won't take me where I want to go.

Is it up to me?
You won't wait to see
Screwed us both again
About as close as you dare

Yep, Sarah, it is up to you. It's up to you to find the strength in yourself to show up to this pain and, when you're ready, not disappear again. Stay. Because you want to really show up for the life you were meant to live, not what you believe should happen in the scarcity-based place your fear can take you.

I feel the pain of everyone
Then I feel nothing
I feel the pain of everyone
Then I feel nothing

Nah. I accept that this is what I've been able to do up to this point, but now I'm asking for the willingness to resist going to the place where I feel nothing. I know it'll be hard, but I also know that what will be revealed will be worth feeling all the pain...

Where Were You

Today I drove to Milwaukee for a presentation given by the Superintendent of the Louisiana Recovery School District, Patrick Dobard. He was super inspiring, and the experience really made me ask myself whether I'm really doing what I'm called to do. He talked all about how our schools are failing our most vulnerable kids and what we can do about it.

One thing that was super interesting to contemplate about what he said was that Hurricane Katrina, as devastating as it was, actually created an opportunity to start fresh. Jackson Browne's song captures some of the mayhem and the upheaval of the storm:

Where were you in the social order
Lower nine or a hotel in the Quarter
Which side of the Quarter between rich and poor?

Where were you gonna evacuate to?
Assuming there was any way to
Where if you didn't own a car

Where were you, where were you?

Where were you when you understood?
However decent, however good
However hard some people try
They only barely make it by
They're born to live their entire lives
In harm's way

So now where are we gonna go?

There's no question that it was a devastating experience for all concerned, but it also created an opportunity that the recovery school district has used to more than double poor kids' test scores in NOLA! They're trying to do the same thing in other cities like Shreveport and Baton Rouge, but it's more complicated when all the old power structures remain in place and no new money is flowing in:

However hard this country strives
Where property is valued more than lives
How strong will we ever really be?
How long do we imagine we'll be free?

Tbat's a good question, Jackson, and one I'm grappling with this week more than I have been in a long time. I was listening to a book on tape that was talking about the infinite inside us versus the finite outside, which also applies to relationships. They are finite, but even when they end, the infinite still lives on in all of us. The author talked about being led by the infinite more -- and it's a direction I'm feeling willing, or maybe compelled, to head in. Because the infinite in me cannot and will not accept that our public schools aren't serving all kids, giving them all a shot at better lives.

But what am I doing about it? Where am I?

I Feel Good

Tonight I had drinks after work with some friends who are much younger than I, and one of them just broke up with his live-in girlfriend of 5 years. His friends were giving him shit about hooking up with a crazy girl this past weekend; I told him not to listen to them. As far as I'm concerned, you are allowed a free-for-all period after a tough break-up in which you do pretty much whatever the hell you want to do. My one rule, and I told him this too, is that you don't lie to people. Other than that, it's basically all good.

The general theme of the evening centered around laughing about random hook-ups, and on the bike ride home the song that came to me was this one:

Whoa-oa-oa! I feel good, I knew that I would, now
I feel good, I knew that I would, now
So good, so good, I got you

And I think it came to me for a couple of reasons. For one, I do feel good, finally, and I knew that I would, I just wasn't sure when it would happen. But I felt on tonight, and back out there, and while the "I got you" line doesn't apply to me right now, I'm ok with that. I am in a place where I can both recall a dreamy lover (my coworker and I were discussing the importance of loving your man's smell) and be pregnant with the possibility of another, and that's a pretty damn good place to be:

Whoa! I feel nice, like sugar and spice
I feel nice, like sugar and spice
So nice, so nice, I got you

The other reason I think this song came to me on a night when I was encouraging hook-ups with people who aren't really prospects in the most complete sense of the word is that I had just such an experience with someone who loved this song. The year was 1994, I was traveling around Australia with a couple of friends, and we ended up meeting a group of guys whom we traveled with for a while. We all hooked up with one of the guys, and the guy I hooked up with was, hands down, the biggest asshole of the group. Not only was this guy a dick, but he was pretty lacking in personality altogether, with two notable exceptions: he was super satisfying to mess around with, and he became a different person when we were in a club and this song came on:

Whoa! I feel good, I knew that I would, now
I feel good, I knew that I would
So good, so good, I got you
So good, so good, I got you
So good, so good, I got you
HEY!!

And at the time, that was enough. But mark my words: the next time I'm singing "I've got you" for real, he's going to be the total package...

Out the Door

What an amazing day! I spent it with one of my favorite people in this world, probably my very favorite person to see movies with, and the only man with beautiful, beautiful arms with whom I am closely acquainted but not sexually drawn to, because, well, he's my gay boyfriend.

I loved him from the moment I met him four years ago on a yoga retreat on Maui, but we've grown closer over the years for sure. One of the many things we share is that we were both raised by alcoholics, and he's recently become curious about what it means to grapple with that kind of history. So we started our day today with an Alanon meeting -- one I attended regularly for a couple of years. The meeting was a good reminder that the only person I can control is me, that the world does not and will not behave according to my will, so I may as well just let go of any illusion of control. When it was my turn to speak, I talked about my own recent experience of trying to force something to work because I wanted it so badly -- and y'all know what that's about.

Next stop was a delicious brunch at Dohban, during which we dissected, and I think managed to largely quell, his fears and desire to control his budding romance with a man in Provincetown. I am so excited for him to be in such an open-hearted place -- a place where he is more willing to be vulnerable than I've ever seen him. And when he says he'll be fucked if this doesn't work out, I can relate -- and y'all know what that's about too.

After browsing at some offbeat shops and hitting a coffee bar, we grabbed a Kombucha and headed back to the West side to take in The Way, Way Back at Sundance. I was worried that it would hit a little close to home, or at least the childhood home of someone to whom I'm closely connected -- since it was partially filmed in Marshfield, Massachusetts. And it did hit close to home, but more in terms of my own parents and my own choices as a parent than anything else.

I was also keenly aware that this might be the last movie we see together, at least in Madison, since one of the consequences of falling in love with someone from another state is that when you're really into them, you move to where you can be close to them. (And I'm really, really hoping for his sake that his cross country move doesn't end the way the one made for me did.)

One of the songs from the soundtrack just happened to be about the liberation that you feel when you fall for someone and, for a time at least, believe that being close enough to that person to hold his or her hand is all that matters:

Here I go out the door
I don’t need no more
Here I stand, I got your hand
There’s no need to know which way to go

Which way to go, honey
I don’t mind, I don’t mind
Which way to go, honey
I don’t mind, I don’t mind
I really don’t mind.

Here I go out the door
I don’t need no more
Here I stand, I got your hand
There’s no need to know
Which way to go out the door
I don’t need no more
Here I stand, I got your hand
There’s no need to know
There’s no need to know

After the movie, he went to the grocery store and bought food to cook for us and wine for us to drink, and then we enjoyed a few more hours of conversation and a little bodywork (for my many maladies) before he left to go home.

I cried when he left; today was probably our last whole day together in Madison, and he's one of my closest friends. Among other things, he's one of a handful of people in my life who truly understand the magnitude of the loss I've recently suffered, and now he's leaving for that side of the country too.

Yep, it sucks for me, but I'm too damn psyched for him and the manner in which he is embracing life not to back his move 100 percent. That's the thing about gay boyfriends, the lack of sexual tension makes everything so much cleaner, so much more straightforward than I could ever feel about a man leaving with whom I had the best sex of my life.

To date, that is. I should not neglect to add those two important words, because I know that all aspects of my life will go on without my best-sex-ex-boyfriend, even those that I didn't dream I'd be doing with anyone other than him -- or should I say even those I dreamed I'd only be doing with him...

Flesh and Bone

This morning the Universe sent me a message, bright and early, when I went to get on my road bike and the back tire was completely flat: You don't need a new man to ride your mountain bike - get on it right now! And so I did, and although all my riding today was in town, and it is admittedly slower than my road bike, I was loving both the shocks and the freedom that big tires offer.

Anyway, the reason I was up early and out the door on my bike this morning was that one of my teammates from the half marathon I did in June ran another half today, the Madison Mini marathon, and was really hoping to PR. A couple of weeks ago, I did the whole practice course with him, but I didn't register for the race today because mine's coming up in a couple of weeks. I was also worried about how my leg would fare today, so I met him at mile 4 and kept him on pace for about 5 of his 13 miles before my knee got mad and I had to stop. I listened today -- I'm not gonna guarantee I will listen in a couple of weeks if it pulls the same shit during my next actual race.

Anyway, it was pretty fun popping in all fresh at mile 4 with the job of keeping someone else psyched and making sure his race went the way he was hoping it would rather than running myself ragged to beat the clock as (I tried to do) in my last half marathon experience. I know my "coaching" helped him some, but I also know at a certain point I had to back off -- he did not wish to relentlessly pursue the mile pacer (even the mile pacer he'd chosen) the way I had in my race.

I met some other people on the run too, including a super-sweaty guy who appreciated when I reminded my friend it may feel like a profoundly physical challenge but it's really mostly mental.

It's true, just ask The Killers:

Somewhere outside that finish line
I square up and break through the chains
And I hit like a raging bull
Anointed by the blood, I take the reins
Cut from the cloth, of a flag that
Bears the name of "Battle Born"
They'll call me the contender
They'll listen for the bell
With my face flashing crimson from the fires of hell

(What are you afraid of?)
And what are you made of?
(Flesh and bone)
And I'm running out of time,
(Flesh and bone)
And what are you made of?
(Flesh and bone)
Man, I'm turning on a dime,
(Flesh and bone)

Super cool song, and quite inspiring:

He faces forward,
Trading in his blindness for the glow of love,
And time is raging, may it rage in vain,
And you always had it, but you never knew,
So boots and saddles, get on your feet,
There's no surrender, 'cause there's no retreat,
The bells are sobbing, in this monster land,
We are the descendants of giant men.

Sure hope my flesh and bone heal over the next couple of weeks so I can do those giant (wo)men proud...

Two Out of Three Ain't Bad

If I've said it once, I've said it a hundred times: I love me some Meatloaf. Yep, I know he's the king of cheese. Yep, I know he ain't easy on the eyes. But I love him anyway.

When I walked into the gym today, this classic was humming from the speakers in the locker room:

Baby we can talk all night
But that ain't gettin us nowhere
I told you everything I possibly can
There's nothing left inside of here
And maybe you can cry all night
But that'll never change the way that I feel
The snow is really piling up outside
I wish you wouldn't make me leave here
I poured it on and I poured it out
I tried to show you just how much I care
I'm tired of words and I'm too hoarse to shout
But you've been cold to me so long
I'm crying icicles instead of tears
And all I can do
Is keep on telling you
I want you (I want you)
I need you (I need you)
But-there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you
Now don't be sad (Don't be sad)
'Cause two out of three ain't bad
Now don't be sad (Cause)
'Cause two out of three ain't bad

Now I warned you that his lyrics were cheesy (if you didn't already know), but he always throws in some nuggets of wisdom, and this verse has a good one:

You'll never find your gold on a sandy beach
You'll never drill for oil on a city street
I know you're looking for a ruby in a mountain of rocks
But there ain't no Coup de Ville
Hiding at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box
I can't lie
I can't tell you that I'm something I'm not
No matter how I try
I'll never be able
To give you something
Something that I just haven't got

See? He speaks the truth in those last few lines for sure.

Here's where he really starts to tug on the heartstrings:

There's only one girl that I will ever love
And that was so many years ago
And though I know I'll never get her out of my heart
She never loved me back
Ooh I know
I remember how she left me on a stormy night
She kissed me and got out of our bed
And though I pleaded and I begged her not to walk out that door
She packed her bags and turned right away
And she kept on telling me
She kept on telling me
She kept on telling me
I want you (I want you)
I need you (I need you)
But there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you
Now don't be sad (Don't be sad)
'Cause two out of three ain't bad

Don't listen to her, Meatloaf. Two out of three sucks!

Baby we can talk all night
But that ain't getting us nowhere...

Like Meatloaf and his long ago love, my man and I reached the point where we could talk all night but it wasn't getting us anywhere. He wasn't happy here and wasn't sure he wanted the life with me I was offering him. I wasn't happy that he wasn't able to more fully embrace moving in and getting hitched.

With him, I too had two out of three: he wanted me, oh yes, definitely and deliciously, and he loved me (still does), truly and completely, but he didn't need me. I knew it, and it bothered me, and I suppose I told myself some version of two out of three ain't bad, but neither my man nor I are two out of three ain't bad kind of people. I think that's a big reason he left.

And today, I feel like I turned a corner. From denial to acceptance: He's not my man anymore.

Here is what I know and accept to be true today:

1) I had nearly three years in a romantic relationship with a phenomenal human being, two of which I got to spend mostly by his side (mmmmm). As a result of the time I spent with him, I am more fully able to love. Myself. My children. Men. My parents. And I'll always be grateful for that.

2) Despite our extremely powerful heart, mind, body and soul connection, our needs as individuals and current life circumstances mean that we're choosing not to remain romantic partners. This may be difficult, but it feels better if I don't act like it's happening to me and I have no power. I have power here, and I'm using it to say very clearly that I need my lover physically present and all in. I understand that he cannot be physically present or all in, at least not now, and thus I choose not to remain his lover.

3) While I've had to grieve both the loss of what he and I did have and the dream of what I wanted for him and for us, I'm fortunate to be able to hold on to many of the wonderful aspects of him and of our relationship. We are still capable, and we still do, connect on a heart level, both as individuals, and as family, with my kids. And I know that we will continue to do that into the future. For this, too, I am profoundly grateful, and so are my children.

4) I'm going for three out of three this time, and that feels good. Riding my bike out to teach this evening, I decided I'm going to work on my list a bit to ensure that the next person I choose to have a romantic relationship with is as much fun to be around, and as good in bed, as the last person. That's right, I'm gonna date another mountain biker, or someone with the same physical prowess and adventurousness. I could use an excuse to get back on that bike anyway -- I miss it.

Two out of three ain't bad? Get out of here. It's three out of three for this girl! I've worked too hard, come too far, and gotten too close to settle for anything less...

Dream Baby Dream

Sleep I did last night, a nice, long, dream-filled sleep. Some pretty crazy dreams they were, too, so I figured it'd be appropriate to mark this day with this song by Suicide:

Dream baby dream
Dream baby dream
Dream baby dream
Forever...
And ever...

One was even about a baby, or at least, about me being pregnant with one, which is indeed one of my dreams, and I don't just mean the nighttime variety:

Keep those dreams burnin' forever
Keep those dreams burnin'
Forever...
And ever..

I reckon that my dream last night about being with child was inspired by the friend I ran into this week who is herself 12 weeks pregnant. Like me, her marriage ended before her desire to have babies had been satiated. So she's pretty excited, even if the situation is less than ideal because she's not so sure about the babydaddy (though she does appreciate her bike mechanic's skills in the bedroom, an experience with which I can definitely relate).

I'm also excited because she's such an awesome runner that, even three months preggers, she agreed to come to Marquette and run the half marathon with me in a couple of weeks!

Anyway, back to the nighttime dreams: One of them was about my favorite of the boyfriends I had the year I lived in England, only it was him now (his hair was gray). The dream was weird -- I was aware that he was here visiting but I made a point not to see him (even though he was staying with our family) until after he'd been there for a few days. When I did, he started to tell me what he thought all the issues were with all the people in my family. Bizarro, and I really don't quite know why he popped up?

Maybe because he was a hottie and someone that I would quite like to revisit now that I'm single again and a much more emancipated version of female self:

Keep that flame burnin'
Keep that flame burnin'
Forever...

But that's not bloody likely considering that he's in England and has a super common name and isn't easy to track down. Oh well. I guess I should just consider it a good sign that my subconscious self is thinking about other dudes because my conscious self is still pretty one-dude-minded.

Speaking of dreams and dream lovers, I'm pretty sure I could get over this heartbreak if the Boss was single and wanted to hook up with me -- could he be any hotter in his khaki shirt in this extremely poorly shot video of him beautifully covering this song?

Been Here Before

There's no easy way to be where I am right now. Unlike the title of this lovely song by Jeremy Enigk, I haven't been here before, but I can relate to many of the lyrics:

Been here before.
Though there's something in the air this time.
Now I wanna give away what I've taken back.
Run away with you toward the night.
A thousand names.
Though this something in me cannot smile,
don't wanna spend the day retracing steps.
Run away with you toward the light.

There is definitely a part of me that cannot smile right now, and though I don't wanna spend the day retracing steps, I often find myself doing just that. Would that running away with him toward the light was an option, or wait, maybe not, would that mean dying? I wouldn't choose that, because there's a part of me that still can and does smile, and a part of me that understands on some level that my world with him going wrong is ok, even if it doesn't feel ok:

I can't stay long in the morning.
Another world went wrong - it's ok.
Now that you're gone,
hold me in your eyes or suddenly deny
I sympathize.

And while I'm not 100% sure I understand what he means by hold me in your eyes or suddenly deny, if I had to guess, I'd say it's related to something with which I am intimately familiar -- that space when letting go of a love where nothing feels quite right: lack of connection with him feels difficult and connection with him leaves me wanting more:

Those diamond days
A thousand strands of sunlight in her eyes.
Now I wanna give away what I've taken back.
Step away with you toward the night.

I wonder, too, what it means to give away what one has taken back? To move on to a new love, perhaps?

I'm not there yet, but there is a discernible difference between how I feel now and how I felt last week and how I felt last month. It's getting easier -- I have to believe it'll keep getting easier -- and hopefully eventually I'll stop vacillating between two painful poles:

Hold me in your eyes or suddenly deny
I empathize.

But for now, I'm going to go sleep, just as Jeremy suggests:

Hurry up and sleep,
to the night you go.

Imagine That

The ipod dialed up this song this morning:

Imagine that I'm on the stage
Under a watchtower of punishing light
And in the haze is your face bathed in shadow
And what's beyond you is hidden from sight

And it struck me for a couple of reasons:

1) Ani usually sounds much angrier in her songs than she does in this one, which made me listen more closely than I otherwise would have:

And somebody right now is yawning
And watching me like a TV
And I've been frantically piling up sandbags
Against the flood waters of fatigue and insecurity

There's definitely vulnerability in her oft-displayed anger, but it was pretty cool listening/watching her lay it out there without the guise of anger. It inspires me to get beyond my anger, too -- I mean I've tried -- but it inspires me to really deal with what's preventing me from moving beyond it.

Unfortunately, unlike Ani, I don't have guitar playing and singing as an outlet, though I wish I did:

Then suddenly I hear my guitar singing
And so I just start singing along
And somewhere in my chest all the noise
Just gets crushed by the song

Imagine that I'm at your mercy
Imagine that you are at mine
Oh, pretend that I've been standing here
Watching you watching me all this time

Now imagine that you are the weather
In the tiny snow globe of this song
And I am a statue of liberty, one inch long

And here I am at my most hungry
And here I am at my most full
And here I am waving a red cape
Locking eyes with a bull

Just imagine that I'm on stage
Under a watchtower of punishing light
And in the haze is your face bathed in shadow
And what's beyond you is hidden from sight

2) The title and subject of this song, as it turns out, is also dead on, because it seems that me moving beyond my anger has everything to do with me facing up to what's actually in front of me and what I'm just imagining.

You see, yesterday I went to see my zero balancer/rolpher, whom I hadn't seen in a number of months. When I caught him up with what's going on with me, he really laid it out there for me. He said that for me to continue to hope for something that the evidence does not support is a fantasy, and that I'd be better off working out what it is that continues to draw me to men that leave me feeling, on some level, empty. Ouch. Looks like I'm gonna need that inspiration noted in #1 and then some.

He also noted that the left side of my body -- the feminine side -- appears to have taken a beating (my words not his) and encouraged me to send love to the feminine side and acknowledge myself for taking a risk and giving it everything I had. And then he said: "It doesn't always work out, but it is important to acknowledge yourself for trying."

I cried when he said that, and the tears were both the kind of tears you cry when someone touches something in you and the kind of tears you cry when you realize that Bambi's mother is dead or that Thelma and Louise don't manage a Dukes-of-Hazard style landing and come out without a scratch after flying over a canyon.

I know that it probably sounds incredibly naive but honestly, it is just very difficult for me to believe that it's true that it doesn't always work out when you have all the feelings that I had for my moved-away-again man. I guess when I think about it, it kinda makes sense. I am about three or four years old when it comes to the amount of time I feel like I've been able to really live and love from my heart, which maybe just isn't long enough to have learned the hard lessons that life eventually forces on us. But here I am now, with this opportunity to learn it now, whether I like it or not.

Imagine that...

I See You

Last night I had the pleasure of watching Avatar with my son. Neither of us had seen it, and both found it breathtakingly beautiful (my words, not his, just in case there's any doubt about that).

The movie has a very powerful message about connection with spirit, trust, love, betrayal, redemption, goodness...

Afterward my son said it was probably his favorite movie ever, and a bit later, he said: "You probably liked it because it was spiritual, Mom." I answered that I did, and also because it was about love. "Your two favorite things," he said.

Yep. And as I know from my very recent past and as the movie so beautifully depicts, truly seeing someone, and letting them see you, is powerful beyond the words available to describe it.

Here's how the theme song tries to encapsulate it:

I see you
I see you

Walking through a dream, I see you
My light in darkness, breathing hope of new life
Now I live through you and you through me, enchanting
I pray in my heart that this dream never ends

I see me through your eyes
Breathing new life, flying high
Your love shines the way into paradise
So I offer my life as a sacrifice
I live through your love

You teach me how to see all that's beautiful
My senses touch a world I never pictured
Now I give my hope to you, I surrender
I pray in my heart that this world never ends

I see me through your eyes
Breathing new life, flying high
Your love shines the way into paradise
So I offer my life, I offer my love, for you

When my heart was never open
(And my spirit never free)
To the world that you have shown me
But my eyes could not envision
All the colors of love and of life evermore

Evermore
(I see me through your eyes)
I see me through your eyes
(Living new life flying high)
Flying high

Your love shines the way into paradise
So I offer my life as a sacrifice

And live through your love
And live through your life
I see you
I see you

It sure was nice of James Cameron to make an epic motion picture about the power of truly seeing someone and having them see you, especially since he had the ability to make love triumph with a happy ending. I prayed in my heart that a dream and a world wouldn't end too, pretty blue people, but it appears to have ended all the same.

I'm pretty sure there's a happy ending coming for me, but that movie has yet to be made. So I'm just going to have to take that on faith -- which isn't nearly as satisfying as watching it play out for the blue people while curled up on the couch with my boy...

Blackbird

I've got the kids this weekend and needed to get a long run in, so I set my alarm for 6:30 am and up I rose. I've been struggling with some injuries, and by mile two I could feel/hear the outer left knee talk louder about its aches and pains. I started to doubt whether I'd go through with my original plan, which was to go to Picnic Point and back as I've done on multiple occasions but also to extend it from 8 to 11 miles by tacking on a trip to Memorial Union and back.

I made it out to the Point and had stopped to stretch when I ran into a friend I hadn't seen in a while. She lives on the near Eastside, meaning she was headed to the Union, so I took that as a sign I should/could go the distance and told her I'd run there with her.

I noticed my aches and pains a lot less, running at a clip to keep up with her younger self and chatting about boys, girls cutting their hair short, and the process of getting a Ph.D. She's at the "supposed to be studying for Prelims but generally just freaking out" stage, and although my own process didn't involve prelims, I'm all too familiar with the psychological hazing which is, without a doubt, the toughest part of becoming a Dr., at least a Dr. of Philosophy. I tried to talk her down from where she was, gave her some practical ideas about how to tackle the mountain of work ahead of her, told her what I think it's really all about and told her she was bright and insightful and dedicated to making the world better and that that's just the kind of Drs we need so I knew she was gonna make it.

As we parted ways and I headed on the long trek home from the Union, I thought about my own Ph.D. process, and how good it feels to be on the other side, and to be able to help her see what was important and useful. It almost made me ok with every year that my legs were reminding me they'd been alive all the way home.

I was also grateful that all this thinking had a soundtrack. Because my phone con Slacker is in the shop at the moment, I had to make do with my son's ipod, which actually contains a bunch of his Dad's music because that's where he loaded it up a few years ago when he got it:

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Yep, the Beatles provided a pretty perfect song for me to hear, because part of what I learned when I got my Ph.D. was that a big part of moments you wait your whole life to arise are bullshit, because they are so mired in expectation that they don't just get to be what they are:

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free

I'm not sure about blackbirds, but I'm pretty sure for us humans, we're as free as we allow ourselves to be. So often, though, we choose to fly back into the cage. It's comfy. And even if it isn't comfy, it's what we expect it to be, and that's a comfort in itself.

Apropos of the cage analogy, I realized again during the boy-focused portion of my run/chat this morning that I'm just not managing to believe that it is over with my beloved. So once I was solo again and done with the academic portion of my thoughts, I reminded myself about what my acupuncturist told me last month:

"An empty heart can actually be a really beautiful place, but it can feel scary to go there."

Uh-huh.

Cage, anyone?

This also makes me think of this poem from Rumi, which I read during the Svasana portion of my couples yoga class a couple of months ago:

Inside this new love, die
Your way begins on the other side
Become the sky
Take an axe to the prison wall
Escape
Walk out like someone suddenly
born into colour
Do it now
You're covered with thick cloud
Slide out the side.
Die, and be quiet
Quietness is the surest sign
that you have died
Your old life was a frantic running
from silence
The speechless full moon comes out now.

Beautiful, eh?

Speaking of beautiful -- I ran into another friend out running -- a colleague who is moving to Boston tomorrow -- so I felt compelled to stop and chat with him on my journey home. All told, with all the running, chatting and stretching, I was gone for over two hours, but my (not so) little birdies were still fast asleep when I got home!

Oooh! And guess who covered this classic? That's right, Eddie!

Upside Down

When I heard this song in the car today, I had no idea that the video would feature Curious George!?

These are the lyrics to which I was responding:

This world keeps spinning and there's no time to waste
Well it all keeps spinning, spinning

Round and round and upside down
Who's to say what's impossible and can't be found?
I don't want this feeling to go away

Please don't go away
Please don't go away
Please don't go away

Is this how it's supposed to be?
Is this how it's supposed to be?

I felt angry today about the lack of contact and seeming lack of regard for me shown by my departed friend. Since I didn't particularly like taking it out on my kids, I tried to work with it, and I felt a little shift along the lines of these lyrics.

Specifically, I began to wonder today if maybe my insistence about the power of our love (blah blah blah you've heard it all here before) and my thoughts about him coming back are really just a form of protection to help make me less vulnerable. After all, as long as I maintain that, I don't have to feel like I'm really alone, like there's really this giant question mark where I thought, hoped, and not long ago felt there was someone right here next to me.

So today, I tried to turn it into more of a question, asking the Universe for more information:

Is this how it's supposed to be?
Is this how it's supposed to be?

Can't Stop

Love these dudes, I really do.

After a nice day with the kids, I fired up Pandora to keep me company while making dinner, and this is what it had for me that struck a chord today:

Can't stop, addicted to the shindig
Chop top, he says I'm gonna win big
Choose not a life of imitation
Distant cousin to the reservation
Defunct, the pistol that you pay for
This punk, the feeling that you stay for
In time, I want to be your best friend
Eastside love is living on the West End
Knock out, but boy you better come to
Don't die, you know the truth is some do
Go write your message on the pavement
Burn so bright, I wonder what the wave meant
White heat is screaming in the jungle
Complete the motion if you stumble
Go ask the dust for any answers
Come back strong with 50 belly dancers

The world I love
The tears I drop
To be part of
The wave can't stop
Ever wonder if it's all for you
The world I love
The trains I hop
To be part of
The wave can't stop
Come and tell me when it's time to

Sweetheart is bleeding in the snow cone
So smart, she's leading me to ozone
Music, the great communicator
Use two sticks to make it in the nature
I'll get you into penetration
The gender of a generation
The birth of every other nation
Worth your weight the gold of meditation
This chapter's gonna be a close one
Smoke rings, I know you're gonna blow one
All on a spaceship persevering
Use my hands for everything but steering
Can't stop, the spirits when they need you
Mop tops are happy when they feed you
J. Butterfly is in the treetop
Birds that blow the meaning into bebop

Wait a minute I'm passing out
Win or lose, just like you
Far more shocking
Than anything I ever knew
How 'bout you
10 more reasons
Why I need somebody new, just like you
Far more shocking
Than anything I ever knew
Right on cue

Kick start the golden generator
Sweet talk, but don't intimidate her
Can't stop the gods from engineering
Feel no need for any interfering
Your image in the dictionary
This life is more than ordinary
Can I get 2 maybe even 3 of these
Comin' from space
To teach you of the Pleiades
Can't stop the spirits when they need you
This life is more than just a read-through

Yeah it is. And I think these dudes have my truth all summed up with their pretty little lyrics -- I can't stop believing in my departed love and our love for each other and I won't unless I have to:

The world I love
The tears I drop
To be part of
The wave can't stop
Ever wonder if it's all for you
The world I love
The trains I hop
To be part of
The wave can't stop
Come and tell me when it's time to

Even though I can think of at least:

10 more reasons
Why I need somebody new

But unlike the Chilis I don't believe there's anyone:

just like you (him)

So I'll just keep living in:

The world I love -- the one that includes weekly contact with my kids

And I'll try not to worry too much about:

The tears I drop...

Don't You Forget

How could someone who loves my heart so much choose to break it?

That's the question that today is posing for me, and it's a lot tougher than the ones I faced yesterday.

I should clarify: it's tougher to swallow, tougher to sit with, but not really tougher to answer. I think I know the answer: because he didn't feel he had any other choice. And like a lot of things in life, knowing the answer doesn't make it hurt any less.

The question hit me like a ton of bricks when I finished watching Take This Waltz, a heartbreaker of a movie with some seriously heartbreaking music from a super cool dude previously unknown to me:

There are things
That I say
That don't mean a thing anyway

And don't you
And don't you forget about me
forget about me
And don't you
And don't you forget about me
forget about me
forget about me

And there are things
That I do
That don't mean a thing anyway

And don't you
And don't you forget about me
forget about me

I'm not really worried that he'll forget about me. I'm worried he's already forgotten the most important thing any of us can ever do, something he taught me how to do, promised in writing that he would do, and then drove away from, and that is love someone with your whole heart, and then hang onto it, nurture it, and go to the mats to to try to resuscitate it if it’s injured.

Let's just say Micah P. Hinson isn't the only one for whom these lyrics ring true:

There are things
That I say
That don't mean a thing anyway
They don't mean a thing anyway

There are things
That I do
That don't mean a thing anyway
They don't mean a thing anyway

That's how it feels to me right now, but I also know in my heart of hearts that if he'd felt capable of staying true to the things he spoke from his heart, he would have done them instead of doing something that feels to me like a contradiction. Again, knowing this does not make it hurt any less.

One of my best friends called me in the middle of my crying jag last night and I told her what I was grappling with (and writing about here). She said she didn't know if that was true for her because she wasn't sure that she'd ever said or done something that didn't mean a thing anyway. "I have," I admitted. "In my marriage." And then she said "Oh yeah, I guess I did too, in my marriage. I guess I said and did things in response to the way I wanted things to be instead of in response to how they really were."

Is that what he was doing? I really hope not, and I truly don't think so, but I guess in a way, does it really matter, given that the outcome is the same? Either way, it hurts like hell.

When I woke up this morning, I could feel it in my solar plexus. That's where the core of our being lies, the oldest part of us, the part of us that, when it gets activated, is usually communicating some old wounds, some of the original vulnerability we had at our core when someone we loved let us down the first time, likely our parents.

Before this last love, I was never able to fully share what was parked in my solar plexus for years. And in sharing it, I got to let go of some of those old wounds that weren't serving my grown woman self. I guess I should be grateful for that. And I am. It's just that now he's gone, and I'm back here, in this super raw awful scary ouchy yucky place, only this time without someone so beautiful to hold me. Now those arms belong to memories of the one who has held me in that sacred place and fantasies of arms that belong to some other beautiful man I've yet to meet, neither of which can actually physically hold me or bring me comfort.

Holy f$#@ this hurts. Yesterday I had lunch with a friend who told me that by the time he was my age he'd said goodbye to three great loves. I walked away thinking: "Wow. This happens all the time."

But it doesn't feel like something that happens all the time. It feels like it's never happened to anyone quite like this, but maybe it's like birth in that way. The Onion once had a headline "Miracle of birth celebrated for 83 billionth time." When you have a baby, it feel like the biggest deal that's ever happened in the history of the world, and yet it happens all the time. I guess heartbreak is like that too.

That makes me feel a little teensy bit better -- the oneness and all -- but unlike birth, heartbreak offers no beautiful baby that you get to take home with you...

The Concept

The movie I chose last night was not a particularly pleasant watch -- Young Adult -- but it does have a pretty fun way of using music to help tell the story, and y'all know I've got a soft spot for that particular narrative device!

This song by Teenage Fanclub, first played in the car on a mix tape from an old boyfriend whom the protagonist is hoping to win back, and then by the band of her old boyfriend's new wife (ouch), is a winner in that 90s Alternative kinda way:

She wears denim wherever she goes
Says she's gonna get some records by the Status Quo
Oh yeah...Oh yeah...

Still she won't be forced against her will
Says she don't do drugs but she does the pill
Oh yeah...Oh yeah...

The lyrics are better listened to than read since it's the sound that is most compelling about this song, but the chorus:

I didn't want to hurt you oh yeah...
I didn't want to hurt you oh yeah...

...is a nice segue into this piece on trauma from the New York Times yesterday about the wounds that are a part of us and what we tell ourselves about them. The author is a believer that trauma isn't something some of us experience, it's something we all experience. I agree. He also talks about the consensus that the way to deal with it is by leaning in -- feeling the feelings -- letting them be there whenever and whatever they are -- and accepting that trauma never really goes away -- it's a part of us -- but the extent to which it takes over our lives can and does shift.

When I was running my practice half marathon yesterday morning, two things helped ensure that I wasn't slowed by the back pain that has been holding me back for weeks:

1) The understanding that I came to after Friday's session that it isn't about my low back pain getting fixed or taken away but about me welcoming it as part of me, part of my present experience, not necessarily wrong or bad but just here, asking me to notice it, asking me to learn something, asking me to listen; and

2) The metaphor that my Pilates expert friend gave me for the spine that I won't do justice to but the gist of which was there are something akin to springs in the lower lumbar and all I need to do is let them bounce a little, let them move, rather than treating it like one big block.

Now, I was slowed by some IT band issues, so all is not copacetic with my runner's bod, but the fact that letting the back pain be there without judgement and letting it bounce a bit crossed it off the list of ailments felt pretty damn significant.

Before I sign off today, I want to return to that chorus for a moment:

I didn't want to hurt you oh yeah...
I didn't want to hurt you oh yeah...

So much of our pain, and trauma, is unintentionally inflicted upon us. In my view, it's our job, then, to:

1) Forgive others with compassion for their inability or unwillingness to behave in the manner in which we want to be treated (and likely they want to act);

2) Decide for ourselves how to deal with it when we are hurt -- both with the pain and with the person or the situation that is causing or exacerbating it.

And both of these, my friends, are ongoing processes...

How

I love Regina Spektor! Got a girl crush on her on the order of the one I had on Amy Winehouse -- guess I go for the dark-haired ladies with lovely voices (in principle if not in practice)...

Home late last night from dinner with my gay boyfriend at one of our fave new restaurants: Pig in a Fur Coat, I crawled in bed with myself, missed crawling in bed with my man, and stumbled on this little gem:

How can I forget your love?
How can I never see you again?
There’s a time and place
For one more sweet embrace
And there's a time, ooh
when it all, ooh
Went wrong
I guess you know by now
That we will meet again somehow...

I sure hope so.

Since the three of us used to ride and dine together, the missing person was the subject of a fair amount of conversation. My friend, enamored of my new haircut, half-marathoner's bod and fetching ensemble complete with gifted-brand-spanking-new Fly London shoes, said something very sweet to me: "I'm not saying the train has left the station but I'm saying it's not going to be here long with you looking like this!" Which was wonderful to hear, of course, but Regina's a little more up on where I am with that prospect emotionally:

Oh baby
How can I begin again?
How can I try to love someone new?
Someone who isn’t you
How can our love be true?
When I’m not, ooh
I’m not over you

I guess you know by now
That we will meet again somehow

Time can come and take away the pain
But I just want my memories to remain
To hear your voice
To see your face
There’s not one moment I’d erase
You are a guest here now

Love that last verse, but that last line kills me.

So baby
How can I forget your love?
How can I never see you again?

I'm not even ready for those questions. I may never be ready for those questions. I may not ever need to be ready for those questions.

The questions I'm dealing with are more along the lines of how am I going to crawl in bed without you again tonight? How am I going to wake up without you? How am I going to have another kidless Sunday without you? How am I going to deal with you saying you'll call and then not calling?

How indeed. I'll tell you how: I'm going to crawl in bed with my computer, find amazing songs like this, shed a few tears, and then fall asleep. I'm going to wake up early, meet up with a friend, run 13 miles and then go to a yoga class. I'm going to take a 3 hour nap in the middle of the day, wake up, make myself dinner and sit on the couch and watch a chick flick on Netflix with our bunny. I'm going to feel a little hurt and a little let down and then I'm going to talk to a friend instead.

That's how I'm going to deal with the only questions I have to deal with today, and that's how I'm going to get through this, one day at a time, answering only the questions that present themselves...

Ho Hey

As I'm sure is clear to all readers of this blog, I am really struggling with the loss of my love:

(Ho!) I've been trying to do it right
(Hey!) I've been living a lonely life
(Ho!) I've been sleeping here instead
(Hey!) I've been sleeping in my bed,
(Ho!) I've been sleeping in my bed

This song by The Lumineers really captures the sort of lost at sea feeling with which I've been dealing:

(Ho!) So show me family
(Hey!) All the blood that I would bleed
(Ho!) I don't know where I belong
(Hey!) I don't know where I went wrong
(Ho!) But I can write a song

(Or in my case, I can blog about a song that someone else has written.)

But yesterday I was fortunate to spend some time with a woman who has provided me with spiritual guidance through lots of challenging times in my life, a woman who has helped me release traumatic experiences from my past, a woman I trust. And I got some clarity from seeing her, talking to her, and receiving energy work. Some much needed clarity -- clarity that doesn't necessarily make the loss any easier to bear, but it does help me understand what my job is and what it isn't.

She was talking to me about grief, and I told her that one of the hard parts about this is that it is unlike any grief that I've experienced before. I had a ton of grief when my marriage broke up and I no longer got to tuck my babies in every night and wake up with them every morning. I mourned that loss, and I mourned that loss, and I mourned that loss. And it was a loss. A monumental loss. But I chose it, as a path to peace, for me and for my children. So even in the darkest places, I had that knowing to guide me: this is what you need to do to bring yourself and your children peace. I don't have any such knowing in this case. Au contraire. My knowing in this case is much more along these lines:

I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart
I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweet

That's my truth. And I have evidence -- through his words, through shared experiences, through our closeness and our communion with one another -- that it's his truth too.

But -- when faced with the difficulty of navigating a new life and a new career in a new place without the people he's loved and who've loved him for a long time and the mountains in which he feels at home and the bike trails that are his church -- he chose to forgo the ability for us to share experiences, enjoy physical closeness, to commune with each other. Even though he understands that for me to feel loved, (which he wants for me), I need those things to be a part of us, he chose to leave. To go back to what he knew before, to what felt true for him.

And that's, of course, where the grief comes in.

But it doesn't change my truth:

I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart
I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart

And that's where it gets confusing. What got clarified for me, though, is that I can hold the space open for him to find our shared truth again. I can, I will, I have to leave that space open.

At the same time, I have to take care of myself in the wake of his choices. I have to recognize that his choice may very well mean that I'll need to let go of him as a potential partner, even though us being together feels like the most natural thing in the world for me, I have to face that we have different needs. That I am unable to meet his need of living close to his people and his mountains. I can do it, and I would do it in a heartbeat, when my kids grow up, but I don't have that to offer now. In turn, he is unable to meet my need of having my love be physically present, to be close to, and spend time together.

And that's the reality of the situation right now.

It may sound like nothing new. But for me, there is a nuance to the clarity that I was lacking before:

I love him, I see us and know us to be partners, and on a spirit level, we so are.

I can see the many ways that embracing this love can enrich both of our lives, all of our lives, because it affects my kids too, but it can't just be my vision. It has to be a shared vision.

But that doesn't mean I have to give it up. I can hold it. I can stay open to what's possible while staying true to myself. I know that might mean getting more or different information about my next partner on a human level, and I know that though that doesn't feel true for me now, I will know if it becomes true and I will be able to embrace it. And if that does happen, I can still hold open the space where he is deserving of this great love, so that he may find the same kind of partner on a human level that we all want and need and deserve:

Love – we need it now
Let's hope for some...

I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart
I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweet
(Ho!)

Everything Breaks

I've been lucky enough, in the last couple of days, to have lots of quality time with my daughter while my son's away on an overnight trip down the Wisconsin River.

When I asked her what she wanted to do with the evening we had alone together, she selected seeing Smurfs 2, which is the origin of today's selection:

Another fairytale down the drain
And all the pages washed away
Why won't anything last these days
Like love's got an expiration date

Not my usual fare, but we had an interesting conversation along these lines during our time together. We were passing the office where she went to therapy after her Dad and I got divorced, and she asked me a question about therapy - did I really think it helped? I told her I did, and I told her I hadn't seen my therapist since December but I was going again next week. She asked why, and I said I just need some help dealing with my feelings about my love leaving. "Oh. Yeah..." she said knowingly. Then she asked if I was going to get another boyfriend and I said that was one of the reasons I was going to therapy -- I don't really want anybody else, just like these lyrics from the Smurfs 2 soundtrack say:

Even when it rains I still want no-no-no nobody else

But at the same time, I know I want someone who is here, and he is not here, so I guess I need help getting to the point where I can be more open to someone else. Processing the loss as a loss, as it were, which I'm sorta doing and I'm sorta just still waiting for the fairytale ending I've been pulling for all along, because I know:

Everything breaks but our love won't, love won't
Everything breaks but our love don't, love don't

And while I want my daughter to understand that the love can (and does) go on, I'm having trouble allowing it to do so while letting go at the same time. It's a tall order -- and one I can't manage alone. Lucky for me, I don't have to -- I can go to therapy and seek other sources of help.

Even luckier for me is that I have this daughter for whom and by whom I'm extremely motivated to deal with this loss so I can be more present as a mother as well as open to the possibility of someone who'll be able to be the partner to me and the stepdad to her and her brother that we all deserve...

The Seer's Tower

This morning something magical happened: my ipod alarm clock woke me up with this song instead of with the buzzer:

In the tower above the earth,
There is a view that reaches far...

I call it magic because try as I might, I can't figure out how to program it to do that, but once in a while, it just decides to wake me with a song, and I'm always grateful when it does.

A short while later, on my bike commute, I was thinking that there are a couple of reasons why this song is appropriate to mark this day:

1) The bride from the wedding where I met my beloved is a big fan of Sufjan Stevens, and she was a big fan of the two of us as a couple, too. I remember that when we broke up the first time, she sent me some of his songs. His peaceful voice was soothing then, and it's soothing now.

2) Loving someone totally and completely is a seer's tower with a view that reaches far -- it gives you a new perspective on many things about yourself, love, life -- it's one of the best parts about love, especially after the relationship ends (since there are other best things to appreciate while you're together).

As I rode, I started to think about all the ways in which my perspective has changed -- on a number of topics -- as a result of loving and being loved by my New Englander.

Here are as many as I can think of right now -- I am sure there are others (which I can always come back and add later):

*Men's heads: Bald can be beautiful too, baby, and does it ever feel good to rub a particularly well-shaped bald head. (Damn, I miss that head.)

*The purpose of parenting: This one might be tougher to explain, but basically, he added a nuance to my belief or understanding of the purpose of parenting. I've always felt my job as a parent was to nurture my children's spirits -- lovely, but it can come up a little shy in terms of helping form fully functional human beings. My love's focus was about helping them grow into the best adults they can be. So a practical way this might play out is that my son's spirit might lead him to flit around and avoid doing any chores but when he grows up that's going to make his roommates and/or mate pretty dang unhappy, so I'm better off pushing him to learn to deal with this aspect of life now in preparation for later. (Damn, I miss having his yang to balance out my yin.)

*Men's sexuality: Ladies, don't believe that libido has to fade over time -- there are men out there who can bring it, and bring it, and bring it, even in their mid-to-late forties (and I'm guessing long after that, too). Trust me, I had one of them in my grasp for three sweet years. (Damn, I miss that drive.)

*Bikes: Before I met my love I didn't fully appreciate the beauty of the two-wheeled machine in the way I do now. He introduced me to vastly superior bikes than those I was accustomed to riding and bought me probably the single biggest life-changing gift ever -- my road bike -- which I happily ride almost every single day (until I'm forced to get out the winter bike); he fixed my bikes and my kids' bikes; and he reintroduced me to the joys and challenges of mountain biking. (Damn, I miss those greasy fingers, riding around town with him, and watching him ride gleefully through the woods.)

*The relationship between brilliance and advanced degrees: I used to have a more narrow understanding of what constitutes a highly intelligent person. This dude might not have studied as much as some, but he knows and understands more than most. (Damn, I miss that vocabulary.)

*My body and my conception of beauty: I used to be all about being thin, but thanks to him, I've switched to being all about muscle, even if it means having a bigger butt or bigger thighs, and I feel more beautiful than ever. (Damn, I miss my body being appreciated.)

*Classic Rock: Not my favorite genre before my adoration for him began, but there's nothing quite like witnessing the sheer enjoyment of something in someone you love to help your own appreciation grow. (Damn, I miss that beautiful fist pumping in the air.)

Damn, I loved the view from that tower.

Sure wish we hadn't felt the need to climb back down, him because he couldn't abide it's location, and me because I couldn't abide being up there without him...