Are You Alright?

We started another series, this one even more sinister: True Detective. I love watching TV with my man, and he seems to have a little more ability to watch things that deal with tough subjects than he has in the past.

And we were both pumped that our pal Lucinda was on the soundtrack tonight:

Are you all right?
All of a sudden you went away
Are you all right?
I hope you come back around someday.
Are you all right?
I haven't seen you in a real long time.
Are you all right?
Could you give me some kind of sign?
Are you all right?
I looked around me and you were gone.
Are you all right?
I feel like there must be something wrong.
Are you all right?
Cause it seems like you disappeared.
Are you all right?
Cause I've been feeling a little scared.
Are you all right?

Are you sleeping through the night?
Do you have someone to hold you tight?
Do you have someone to hang out with?
Do you have someone to hug & kiss you?
Hug & kiss you
Hug & kiss you

Man am I ever glad that we have each other to sleep through the night, hug, kiss and hold each other tight!

Blue

My much-improved Halasana: hooray for yoga's healing power!

I set my alarm to wake up for practice this morning and my sometimes-ipod alarm clock was kind enough to wake me with this song from one of my faves:

Go find a jukebox
And see what a quarter will do
I don't want to talk
I just want to go back to blue

Feeds me when I'm hungry
And quenches my thirst
Loves me when I'm lonely
And thinks of me first

Blue is the color of night
When the red sound disappears from the sky
Raven feathers shiny and black
A touch of blue glistening down her back

We don't talk about heaven
And we don't talk about hell
We've come to depend on
One another so damn well

So go to confession
Whatever gets you through
You can count your blessings
I'll just count on blue

I love Lucinda's voice. I am not, in general, feeling blue in my life these days, but I have to admit I was feeling that way when I went to sleep. I was working on my book, which includes the reprinting of a letter that The New Englander and I wrote to each other in March of 2011 to remind ourselves how much we loved each other and how much we were worth fighting for in case that ever came into question. Ironic, eh? We each wrote part of it, but he wrote the end, and that was maybe the saddest part of all for me to revisit:

"But I’ll tell you what: I bet you’re doing just fine. I bet you celebrated each other when things went right, and took solace in each other when they went wrong. I bet that feeling of love that sprouted all those years ago has put down roots that go miles deep, and raised branches way up into the sky. I bet your example has made it easier for friends to honor their relationships the way relationships should be honored, and I bet you’ve helped a few children grow into better, happier adults than they would have if they hadn’t known you. I bet you’ve spread the love like mad, and been a ton of fun to hang around, and generally elevated the tone of the human experience for everyone you’ve come in contact with. And that is because both of you, somewhere underneath all the crazy family bullshit, youthfully ignorant excess and dysfunctional romances, are really, really lovely people."

Yeah? Well I bet you're wrong, about us as a couple, at least.

And I bet it still makes me cry to read that. I don't know if it ever won't. But it's ok. It just feels sad now, like a missed opportunity, but not like a tragedy. I can see now that I will one day soon view that relationship in a similar light to the way I view my first love: It taught me a lot about myself and a lot about love, but because it lacked true reciprocity, it can't really compare to my next love.

His identity may still be a mystery, but I don't think that will be the case for long. Tonight I had a lot of fun talking to a cute man with whom we mutually agreed that if it weren't for the nearly 20 years that separate us, we'd be into each other. It's always good to feel that spark -- even if it isn't going to go anywhere. One day soon I reckon a similar spark will ignite the fire I've been building up to all this time...

Reason to Cry

My ipod woke me up with this song today, and as I lay in bed listening to it, I gotta admit, I did feel sad. It's not like all the lyrics really fit my situation, but the first verse sure makes me lonely for his physical presence:

Just to sit and talk
The way we used to do
It just breaks my heart
That I can't get close to you

Speaking of hearts, I realized something this weekend. One of the questions I'd been asking the New Englander is if he could trust his heart and body, but I could pose the same question to myself. My heart is set on him -- I know that could change at some point if things don't change with our situation -- but for now, I can hear this truth loud and clear. So what would it look like for me to trust my heart, to believe that it knows something I don't, or at least I don't know the whens or the hows? What if I spent less time worrying about what has happened:

I thought things would stay the same
I thought things were right on
In our sunny days
How could we go wrong

Now these days have found us
Right here where we stand
We thought we were so tough
But nothing worked out like we planned

Of everything in this world
I guess I'll never know why
Something as good as this could
Flower up and die

Especially since I know the goodness that we have together has not died. What if I trusted that I need this time as much as he does to get clear on my own stuff, to find my own source of happiness, rather than waiting for it to return:

When you lose your happiness
When no one's standing by
When nothing makes any sense
You got a reason to cry
When nothing makes any sense
You got a reason to cry

Don't get me wrong. I do have a reason to cry and I often do, but it isn't because nothing makes any sense. Things are making more and more sense all the time.

As for listening to my body, that's a little harder to discern. On the one hand it's sure about the New Englander, just like my heart. On the other, it has noticed that there's no one crawling in bed with me at night and would prefer to be getting snuggled and loved up...

Metal Firecracker

I talked to a friend the other night whom I hadn't talked to in a long time. We went to grad school together, and though we're different in a lot of ways, we also have some important things in common. We both grew up with fathers who were alcoholics, both of us finally sought treatment for that when we were in our 30s, and neither of us have been particularly successful in our love lives.

I told her about what's going on in my life, and she told me about a book called The Art of Loving. I started it last night. It's a super old book, but an interesting one, based on the premise that we don't tend to give enough credence to love as an art form. That it contains a theory and a practice. That we can understand the theory and get better at it in practice, and in doing so, overcome our feelings of separateness.

What I find confusing and confounding is, I feel like I've done all that. I feel like I deeply understand the theory of love and practice it with proficiency. So what am I to take away from this situation? What can I do that is in alignment with the art of loving but also allows me to take care of myself and leave myself open to the love I want and need?

I don't know. I'm going back to therapy next week, and I'm hoping that helps.

Until then, my therapy is Lucinda Williams:

Once we rode together
In a metal firecracker
You told me I was your queen
You told me I was your biker
You told me I was your everything

Once I was in your blood
And you were obsessed with me
You wanted to paint my picture
You wanted to undress me
You wanted to see me in your future

All I ask
Don't tell anybody the secrets
Don't tell anybody the secrets
I told you
All I ask
Don't tell anybody the secrets
Don't tell anybody the secrets
I told you

Once you held me so tight
I thought I'd lose my mind
You said I rocked your world
You said it was for all time
You said that I would always be your girl

We'd put on ZZ Top
And turn em up real loud
I used to think you were strong
I used to think you were proud
I used to think nothing could go wrong

All I ask
Don't tell anybody the secrets
Don't tell anybody the secrets
I told you
All I ask
Don't tell anybody the secrets
I told you

I don't know what Erich Fromm would say about Lucinda's lyrics, but I do know that although many of them fit, some really don't, including a few that seem important:

1) He never said I'd always be his girl
2) I don't have any secrets
3) I still think he's strong
4) I never thought nothing could go wrong

Am I Too Blue

As I've written about recently, the rest of my body seems to be taking this break-up almost as hard as my heart. The latest additions to my list of maladies are low back pain, knee pain and headaches. Ugh. Time for as much bodywork as I can fit into my schedule and afford.

Yesterday I went to the chiropractor -- not the one that takes my insurance and therefore costs $6 but only spends about 3 minutes with me -- but the one who spends 45 minutes with me, employs the graston technique among others, and costs $40. He worked on my low back, as well as my psoas, and as he was adjusting me he asked if I was headed back up north anytime soon. I started to tell him about my plan to take the kids camping next week in Door County, and I just started bawling. It was pretty embarrassing, but I guess it was an effective way to communicate that a large part of why my body is such a mess is emotional:

Am I too blue for you?
Am I too blue?
When I cry like the sky
Like the sky sometime
Am I too blue?

I heard this song tonight after I got home from bodywork #2 in 2 days -- today it was acupuncture. I love Lucinda Williams, and the lyrics really spoke what I've been feeling with some people in my life about where I am emotionally.

Case in point: the mail guy at work came over to my desk and asked what was up with me. I told him that I was dealing with my love leaving Wisco and his response was: "I thought you dealt with that six months ago?" And he isn't wrong, I did, when the decision was made, but I still have to deal with it now that it's actually happened, and I think it's hard for some people to be confronted with other people's emotions.

Seeing my acupuncturist - and I hadn't seen her in 7 months -- was super helpful. She traced back a lot of my current physical issues to the dehydration incident after the last half marathon, explaining that my kidneys had been stressed by that and with the hot weather, amount of raw food I've been eating, and amount of exercise, they just haven't gotten enough of a break to get back to normal. She asked how I'd been sleeping, and I explained the problem with that, and she said that also fit with the kidney issue.

And I cried, a lot, catching her up on what has gone on in my life over the last 7 months. I explained to her how very hard it is for me now, not to know what or how he's doing:

Is the night too black?
Is the wind too rough?
Is it at your back?
Have you had enough?

Do you miss my touch?
Do you wanna stay?
Do you have so much
Still left to say?

But I went through a phase, after he left, when I couldn't handle knowing how he was doing. When the thought of hearing his voice threatened to crack me open and break me. And then not hearing his voice did crack me open, but I didn't break.

Who knows where he is in that process? All I can do, as I have done, is tell him I'm in a space now where I've dealt with the anger and the fear and there's space again, on my end, to receive from him when he's ready:

When you're in the dark
Do ya call my name?
Is there still a spark?
Does it feel the same?

The sun beats down
It burns your skin
When you run into, my arms again

In the meantime, I'm not going to stop fantasizing about holding him again, but I am going to continue to try to live my life and be in my body as peacefully as I can. As I was leaving my appointment, my acupuncturist told me I was doing really great. I cried and said: "Really? Is this what great feels like?"

Am I too blue for you?
Am I too blue?
When I cry like the sky
Like the sky sometime
Am I too blue?

And she said I might not feel great, but I had handled the situation beautifully by being clear about my needs and leaving space for him to figure out what he needs. Nope, I don't feel great, but I know that creating space is good, even when it's scary...

Broken Butterflies

So many songs I thought about selecting to mark this hallowed day, but then the ipod dialed this one up, which was especially welcome because it put words to the frustration I've been feeling with some angry, negative coworkers:

You wear your anger well and stand

For all the world to see

A heavy cloak and one gloved hand

And no humility

You stand inside the garden

And feast on black cherries

And swallow the manna from heaven

And spit out the seeds

You spread your anger on sharp-edged knives

Cut my skin and make it bleed

Like pilate in his self righteousness

You're a traitor and a thief

Choking on your unplanned words

Coughing up your lies

Tumbling from your mouth a flurry

Of broken butterflies

But the blood that flows I cannot hide

That blood that covers me

Nourishes the butterflies

And they are healed and are set free

I wish you had what Ruth possessed

But then I don't expect that of you

Grace and honor and faithfulness

And the love that you refuse

Will you ever learn to just forgive

Will you open your beautiful eyes

And bleed the way Christ did

And fix the broken butterflies

I know, I know. The lyrics are a bit biblical and a lot dramatic, but they carry a clear message that I am definitely wanting to send: forgiveness, love, truth, humility -- those are the qualities that Martin Luther King Jr. embodied and the ones I try to emulate, and I want to be around people who are at least trying to do the same...

I Lost It

This song was a loyal companion during the early days of my split, and it's been back on repeat again the last couple of days:

Gimme some love to fill me up

Gimme some time, gimme some stuff

Gimme a sign, gimme some kind of reason

Are you heavy enough to make me stay?

I feel like I might blow away

I thought I was in Heaven, but I was only dreaming

And it's the heavy enough to make me stay question that was with me when I awoke this morning. I know that this lyric appeals to me because I sometimes feel quite ungrounded. There are lots of ways I know to ground myself -- yoga is high on that list. At the top though, for me, is having the weight of another body on mine, and although it makes sense, it feels particularly cruel that when I've recently had that experience and then have to give it up, I feel even less grounded than I did before. Methinks this means I have some more work to do on grounding myself, without the assistance of another person.

Time to hit the yoga mat, but I'll leave you with another of my favorite verses:

I just wanna live the life I please

I don't want no enemies

I don't want nothin' if I have to fake it

Never take nothin' don't belong to me

Everything's paid for, nothin's free

If I give my heart, will you promise not to break it?

Those Three Days

This is tricky business, trying to be gentle with myself and keep my heart open while letting go of the attachment part that comes when one is fortunate enough to find someone to connect with in every sense of the word and then has to let go of a big part of that connection.

Lucinda Williams to the rescue, once again.

Listen and weep, as I did:

You built a nest inside my soul
You rest your head on leaves of gold
You managed to crawl inside my brain
You found a hole and in you came
You sleep like a baby breathing
Comfortably between truth and pain
But the truth is nothing's been the same
Since those three days...

Like a Rose

Summer is my favorite season, and today, on this first day of summer, something in me is determined to make the year's longest day even longer. I woke this morning before the sun with this palpable feeling in my chest that I was carrying something. Not something that was crushing me -- like the things I was carrying around in the latter part of my marriage -- but something a little heavier than anything I really need or want to carry these days. It's a good thing I have a lot of practice with letting go, because my heart is definitely tempted to hold onto this one with all my strength. I could do that, but it would sap my own energy, which wouldn't serve me or this big green world.

Thankfully, a song appeared that is already helping me lift this weight: Like A Rose by Lucinda Williams. The only online version of this affecting song that I could find accompanies some scenes from the movie Transamerica. If you're feeling anything like me on this day when so much is so young, you might want to have some kleenex handy when you listen to it:

It's ok, you don't have to be afraid
There's nothing to worry about cause we've got it made
It's just a simple matter of letting me into your love
If you let that feeling come over you
Then there's nothing more that you can do
Just let it go
Let it go

If it's love you want
Hold out your arms
It's alright here, it's safe and warm
It's ok to feel good
That's the way it should be
Everything we have is fresh and new
I will open myself up to you like a rose.

Even with so much growing going on inside and outside this time of year, I can't quite seem to find the space she sings about in those last two lines. So for now, I'm going to see if I can get back to sleep, trusting that my time with fresh and new is coming.