Both Sides Now

 Sun setting at not-quite-snow-covered golf course

I felt much better today, probably due in no small part to the fact that I started the day with my yoga practice. I'm finding that now that I've settled into a six days per week practice routine, the most challenging thing about it is the day that I don't practice. I just don't quite feel sorted. I think it's healthy to take a day off, but it's often uncomfortable, and yesterday was no exception.

I had a super productive day today -- grocery shopping, baking, cooking, shoveling, cross country skiing, going to Alanon -- and it felt really good.

I think part of the reason for my funk yesterday was feelings stirred up from seeing my family, and Alanon is helpful with that.

But maybe the most useful thing I got from the meeting was this saying:

Part of growing is letting illusions die.

That really hit me like a ton of bricks. That's exactly what I need to do, I thought, and exactly what I have been doing -- allowing the illusion to die that I'm going to get to marry the New Englander and live happily ever after. It's an illusion, and it's time for it to die.

Here's a song about letting love's illusions die:

Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way

I've looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It's cloud illusions I recall
I really don't know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I've looked at love that way

But now it's just another show
You leave 'em laughing when you go
And if you care, don't let them know
Don't give yourself away

I've looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
It's love's illusions I recall
I really don't know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say "I love you" right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I've looked at life that way

But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I've changed
Well something's lost, but something's gained
In living every day

I've looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all

I know how you feel, Joni. Sometimes I don't either. But I'm learning, and as evidenced by my shadow in the photo above, I'm standing a little taller, looming a little larger, every single day...

Hard TImes (No One Knows Better Than I)

I had a little trouble getting out of bed this morning. Monday and all that, I guess. By the time I did rise and shine, I didn't have time to ride my bike to Mound Street to practice and then ride to the gym and shower before my meeting, so I ended up taking my road bike straight to the Capitol and doing some yoga there before jumping in the shower.

Before I left the house, the ipod seemed to be intent on giving me a little perspective on my sluggishness -- when this song came on, I thought to myself, I don't know any problems in my life right now on par those that Ray is singing about:

My mother told me
'Fore she passed away
Said son when I'm gone
Don't forget to pray

'Cause there'll be hard times
Lord those hard times
Who knows better than I?

Well I soon found out
Just what she meant
When I had to pawn my clothes
Just to pay the rent

Talkin' 'bout hard times
Lord those hard times
Who knows better than I?

I had a woman
Who was always around
But when I lost my money
She put me down

Talkin' 'bout hard times
Hard times
Yeah, yeah, who knows better than I?

Lord, one of these days
There'll be no more sorrow
When I pass away

And no more hard times
No more hard times
Yeah, yeah, who knows better than I?

I felt the same way at the Alanon meeting I went to last night, where people with sons and daughters who are active alcoholics talked about their trials and tribulations. My own heartache really doesn't compare to that, and I couldn't be more grateful that both of my children are healthy.

Thanks in part to Ray Charles, in part to Alanon, and in part to all the work I've done so far to walk a path of truth, I saw so much beauty as I rode to work today: All the other bikers who were out with me on a chilly November mroning. All the ducks on Lake Mendota. The lights shining in the greenhouses (in the Botany department on campus) the way they do when the sun's not bright enough to match their intensity. So much beauty. It really helps me stay in the present moment and appreciate how relatively un-hard a time in my life this is by comparison to the trials and tribulations of so many others out there...

Too Long

The beautiful red maple in my backyard

If I thought it was hard to get myself to yoga yesterday, it was sooooooo much harder this morning. I felt so much resistance. But I was committed, and I believe in the practice as a path of liberation, even when, or maybe especially when, it's not comfortable.

Not surprisingly, I had some big releases at practice, and as a special bonus, I got to spend the afternoon on the couch checking out the beautiful tree pictured here.

The ipod today dialed up this tune, which I thought was appropriate for a couple of reasons. First, my yoga teacher was talking to us this weekend about being present, and how that involves not having an eye on the future. That tree, he said, isn't dreading the moment when all its leaves fall to the ground. That's unique to humans.

And the second reason it feels appropriate is that the Alanon meeting I went to tonight was about the iterative nature of the healing process. We talked about how sometimes, it can feel in an instant like you haven't learned anything because you find yourself responding from the old place or having to relearn the same lesson over again. When this happens, there can be some frustration, and a feeling that the healing is taking too long:

It's been much too long, I feel it comming on
The feeling is getting strong
It's been much too long, I feel it comming on
The feeling is in my bones

Too long, can you feel it, too long, oh can you feel it
Too long, can you feel it, too long, oh can you feel it

At last the long wait is over
the weight is off my shoulder
I'm taking all control
My mind is set so free

I'm where I want to be
To get the best of me

Too long, can you feel it, too long, oh can you feel it
Too long, can you feel it, too long, oh can you feel it

I see, you feel the way I do, the feeling all so true
the good feelings coming through
My mind is set so free
I'm where I want to be, to get the best of me

You know you need it, I need it too
you know you need it, it's good for you
We're gonna move
You know you need it, I need it too
you know you need it

It's good for you

Yes, it is. Even when it doesn't feel good, the healing process is good for you. And while it might seem like it is taking too long, it's actually taking exactly as long as it needs to take...

Human

I love this happy couple!

Yesterday I went to the wedding of some dear friends of mine. It was an outdoor ceremony, in which the groom's 4-year old son was an integral part, and it was super sweet.

Normally I cry at weddings, but at this one I didn't. I don't know if it was the presence of a little kid, or the fact that I was with coworkers rather than loved ones, but no tears.

Although I was super glad to witness the union of two people I care about, it wasn't exactly easy. Being there alone, rather than in a couple. And being there knowing that my dreams of marrying the man from New England were all but dead wasn't easy either.

From the moment I woke up yesterday, I was dealing with anger about those dreams dying. I had a dream in which I was so angry I was looking for something to break that wouldn't make too big of a mess. Strange, I know. You'd think in a dream I could smash whatever I wanted, but I was pretty careful. Afterward, (but still in the dream), I was trying to calm down, and I started walking down a path when I ran into my 11-year old daughter, who took one look at me and cursed, as if she knew exactly what I was upset about and thought it sucked too. I went to scold her for it, but then stopped myself. Seemed pretty appropriate to be feeling that way about it.

The reception turned out to be fun, but at one point I found myself passing judgement on a guy who lived with a woman for 5 years and then recently started dating someone whom he already wants to marry. He took it in good humor, but today when I was riding my bike I realized that I had projected my anger and sadness about my own relationship ending rather than resulting in marriage onto him, so I decided to send him an email and apologize for my behavior.

My bike ride didn't turn out as planned, either. I'd hoped to revisit some single track along the river that I rode a couple of summers ago with my now departed (from my life anyway) mountain biking pal, but I couldn't find it, so I ended up riding along a different section of the river on a wider gravel trail. It was still in the woods, and I got to see a great blue heron take off, so it wasn't a total loss. But it did get me in touch with the tears that hadn't flowed at the wedding. "I don't know where I'm going without my mountain biking pal," I sobbed. "On my mountain bike or in my life." Which sounds a little melodramatic, but it also happens to be true. And although it feels uncertain and scary, it also feels pregnant with possibility, and I haven't been carrying that baby for quite some time now.

I decided to jump in the car after my ride and head back to Madison in time to make it to Alanon, and I'm sure glad I did. I suggested the topic of letting go, and I got all kinds of good advice from the folks around the table. One guy said "pound the gratitude" which I thought was pretty darn cute, and an old man said to me on his way out: "We all want our way, Sarah, we just don't always get it."

Nope, we don't. But it's only human for us to want our way. Just ask Christina Perri:

(But) I'm only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I'm only human
And I crash and I break down
Your words in my head, knives in my heart
You build me up and then I fall apart
'Cause I'm only human

I can hold my breath
I can bite my tongue
I can stay awake for days
If that's what you want
Be your number one

I can fake a smile
I can force a laugh
I can dance and play the part
If that's what you ask
Give you all I am

Another piece of advice I got at the meeting was to act as if. Act as if I'm over him. Act as if I'm letting go. And it makes sense. Because if I'm acting as if I'm over him, I'm not still sending him emails, which I did as recently as three days ago. "Forgiveness isn't necessarily forgetting, it's letting go of the hurt," another man said. Yes. I need to work on forgiveness. I need to work on letting go of the hurt.

And:

I can do it
I can do it
I can do it

I know I can. I just need to give myself time and space to work through it, and remember that:

(But) I'm only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I'm only human
And I crash and I break down
Your words in my head, knives in my heart
You build me up and then I fall apart
'Cause I'm only human

I can do it
I can do it
I'll get through it

Yes I will...

I Am What I Am

Yesterday I went to an Alanon meeting, which is a good place to share the pain of this breakup with a group of people who know all-too-well about pain. The topic was focusing on ourselves rather than trying to change others, which was a pretty perfect topic for me. I particularly liked the quote from the reading from Courage to Change that someone shared:

"The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves and not to twist them to fit our own image." (Thomas Merton)

The thing is, I love who my favorite New Englander is. I loved who he was when we first met and I loved who he was last week when we were with him. I wanted to spend my life celebrating who he is and who we are together. But did I twist him to fit my own image? I don't know. If I did, I didn't do it knowingly. But I did take his actions -- like moving across the country to be with me -- as a yes to the person I wanted him to be -- i.e., someone who wants to get married, share a home with their partner, and have kids and a dog. In retrospect, I guess he wasn't sure he wanted to be that person. He didn't want any of those responsibilities. I thought that meant that he was scared, and I think he was, but I also don't think he was clear, and really still isn't, on what he wants. When he left town last June, he said he didn't want them. When he called up at Christmas, he said he did. When I was out there last week, he said he hoped I'd find someone who wanted to have a family. I thought YOU wanted a family, I wanted to scream. I thought we WERE a family. That's why I put you on our fricking Christmas card two years in a row.

But even if he had been or became clear on that at some point, there's another part of him I tried to change. And that was the part that hasn't yet fully dealt with the trauma of his painful childhood, or his divorce for that matter. In my opinion he has ongoing mental health issues that haven't been fully addressed, and he continues to choose to address them the way he always has: By doing what he loves. I never wanted to take away what he loves. I wanted to see him revel in those activities, and I wanted to work on getting better at them myself. But I also wanted him to become more functional in the world. To keep appointments that he makes, understanding that it is disrespectful of other people's time to say you will be somewhere and not show up. To understand that it's just irresponsible to behave that way, even if you're doing it because you got caught up doing something you love. And to choose for himself to live differently. More consciously. More wholeheartedly. I admit it. I wanted to change him in that way. It felt justified, too, because I think we both knew he'd be better off if he could. But he wasn't invested in that change, and me wanting to do it for him made me feel more like his mother than his partner, and that wasn't satisfying for either one of us.

I found this song, which seems to be right in line with what I'm wrasslin' with here:

I know you've read
So many books
You keep a breast of all the things you think you should
You've got your own home grown philosophy
And it works for you
But please don't try to make it work for me

You have nothing to prove
But you're trying much too hard
Stop trying to change me (Stop trying to change me...)
I am what I am (I am what I am...)
No I don't need you to save me (I don't need you to save me...)
I am what I am (I am what I am...)

I don't want you to show me (I don't need you to show me...)
Because I stand where I stand (I stand where I stand...)
I just need you to know me (just need you to know me)
Just know who I am (Just know who I am...)

Just know who I am...
Just know who I am...

I know you feel
You need to prove
That you are good at something
Everything you try to do
And people have on your every word
That you deliver
With conviction
Though they may just be absurd

Leave your armor behind
Free your vulnerable mind

Stop trying to change me (Stop trying to change me...)
I am what I am (I am what I am...)
No I don't need you to save me (I don't need you to save me...)

I am what I am (I am what I am...)
I don't want you to show me (I don't need you to show me...)
Because I stand where I stand (I stand where I stand...)
I just need you to know me (just need you to know me)
Just know who I am (Just know who I am...)

Just know who I am...
Just know who I am...

I tried. I really did. And I thought I knew who he was. But the man I fell in love with wouldn't have turned his back on this love. He would've instead taken steps to nurture and cherish it. Unfortunately, I'm not sure where that man went. He hasn't consistently shown up for me or with me since 2012.

That's right, more than two years ago. I know. It is time for me to move on. Time for me to put this one behind me. And I will. I know I will. It's just really, really hard to do...

Honesty

I've been more tired than usual since getting back from our vacation, so I haven't been doing as much in the evenings after work. But the one thing I haven't neglected is getting to Alanon meetings. I find them especially helpful after spending time with my extended family.

I went to a meeting tonight, and as usual people shared their pain and their experiences. But one particular person's sharing really stood out for me. It came from a man who shared that he'd recently undergone a bunch of testing, and had learned that he was cognitively disabled as well as depressed. This man went on to talk about how drugs and alcohol had affected his life -- how he was always numb, so he had never really come to terms with what he was dealing with in terms of his mental illness and disability. He said he now understood that using drugs and alcohol was like throwing fuel on the fire in terms of his depression, and that he now understood that he could make a different choice.

I was blown away. How is it that this man, suffering from cognitive disabilities, can understand what members of my own family, who do not have such problems, can't or won't understand? I sought him out after the meeting, and told him that he may be cognitively disabled, but he understands something that many, many people don't or won't: using drugs and alcohol to cope with depression is like saying you not only want to stay depressed, you want to go even further down.

This man also talked about how dishonest he was during the time that he was using, and how he'd lost his wife and had strained relationships with his children. It made me think about the fact that the most pervasive, and probably the most damaging, kind of dishonesty is lying to ourselves. And if we don't tell ourselves the truth, how can we expect to tell it to others?

As I was pondering this, Billy Joel started singing to me:

If you search for tenderness
It isn't hard to find
You can have the love you need to live
But if you look for truthfulness
You might just as well be blind
It always seems to be so hard to give

Honesty is such a lonely word
Everyone is so untrue
Honesty is hardly ever heard
And mostly what I need from you

I can always find someone
To say they sympathize
If I wear my heart out on my sleeve
But I don't want some pretty face
To tell me pretty lies
All I want is someone to believe

Honesty is such a lonely word
Everyone is so untrue
Honesty is hardly ever heard
And mostly what I need from you

I can find a lover
I can find a friend
I can have security
Until the bitter end
Anyone can comfort me
With promises again
I know, I know

When I'm deep inside of me
Don't be too concerned
I won't ask for nothin' while I'm gone
But when I want sincerity
Tell me where else can I turn
Cause you're the one that I depend upon

Honesty is such a lonely word
Everyone is so untrue
Honesty is hardly ever heard
And mostly what I need from you

The honesty that people tend to exhibit around Alanon tables is one reason I get so much out of meetings when I go. Listening to other people talk, I almost always learn ways to be more honest with myself, and feel inspired to live my life from that place...

Don't Let It End

I had kind of a weird day today. It started off well, with a run and a yoga class with a friend this morning, but the afternoon was filled with little bursts of work (all I could muster) followed by multiple naps. In part I think the sleepiness had to do with the germs my kids currently have that I've definitely been fighting, but I also felt sort of a general psychological malaise that I couldn't pinpoint.

After rousing myself from nap #3, I decided to drag my ass to an Alanon meeting. I knew a friend of mine would be there, and I thought it might lift me out of my funk or at least illuminate it a little further.

I wasn't disappointed. I got to hear people talk about how they deal with the desire to control the things they can't control, and that was helpful. And then this woman starting talking about the death of her mother, and her adolescent's lack of appropriate response to it, and then I both realized and shared (complete with tears) that in a way I'm a bit like a 42 year old adolescent when it comes to my mother.

I don't like how things were when I was a kid, I don't like a lot about my parents' lives now, so I try to avoid having too much contact with them. This gives me the illusion of control (plus some real control) but it comes at the expense of what might be a more authentic relationship.

I say might because I don't know that for sure. It might not. I do have the sense that if I can let go of this hardness I have toward my mother, it will allow something to soften in my daughter, and that feels worth the price of admission even if the show is not pretty.

On the way home from the meeting, I heard this song on the radio:

What can I do
Pictures of you still make me cry
Trying to live without your love
It's so hard to do
Some nights I'll wake up
I'll look at your pillow
Hoping that I'll see you there
But I get up each day, not much to say
I've nowhere to go
Loneliness fills me up inside
'Cause I'm missing you
So if you'll give us a chance to remember
The love we had once together
Wait and see
Time is all that we really need
I'm praying you won't say no
I mean to tell you

Don't let it end
Baby we could have so much more
Don't let it end
Honey please don't walk out that door

And I felt so much gratitude for the fact that although my honey did walk out the door, now he's saying things like this:

I'm telling you baby, I made my mistakes
But I'll make you this promise to do what it takes
I'll be there to protect you and hold you tight
You got my lovin' baby every single night

I'm gonna have to wait for a while for the every single night kind of lovin', but it really looks like it's coming, and I'm damn glad. Because as he was leaving, I was saying:

Don't let it end
I'm begging you, don't let it end this way
Don't let it end
I'm begging you, don't let it end this way