I stared at my cupboards, full of the same old stuff. I got bored.
I went to go get food in St. Paul. On the way I drove too fast and listened to music too loudly. I guess I wanted a bit of a rush. Nothing happened. But on the way I was thinking about how boring and routine my life is, and began to sing loudly over the music to M, thanking her for lending me some meaning and purpose for a while.
Thats what it felt like. Thats why I loved being in a relationship and what has felt so missing from my life all these years. A purpose outside of my own. I often think about why I do the things I do, the work, the friendships, my role in the family, and when I escape or do a creative project or teach or whatever... they are all pretty related. When I was a kid I'd tell the stories of the action figures out loud, talking to myself. Same when I was drawing. I was in relationship even when I was alone. When I travelled I would think of how I would tell others what I was seeing, would explain it to them as I walked mile after mile. A million conversations in my head. Sometimes I would think of how I'd teach it. I am actually not a very good story teller. I miss the natural punchlines, emphasize the wrong parts, tell details that don't matter, forget the arc. I share the meaning I make, the feelings. I ask questions and try to bring about understanding. But all the same, the way I have gotten through life is telling people things, relating my experience to others, if only in my head.
When I was a child there were numerous times when I got lost, the loneliness, the pain, the feeling of being abandoned, left out, left behind, my hurt asked me to question the world and G-d, childhood depression led me to existential despair... I don't remember how old I was the first time, but I know it happened on several occasions and one of those times I ran away and found myself in church crying in the pews, asking G-d why he made the world full of such suffering, and why he blamed and judged us for doing wrong when it was so clear that we only did it out of our pain. I remember saying I'd dedicate my life to serving if he promised not to send people to hell, and I have done so.
I've fucked up. But I return to the promise again and again. It gives my life meaning. That martyrdom kind of meaning. I've been wondering if I need to renegotiate the terms -as an adult. My child self saw the world in black and white and said to G-d don't judge the darkness, and I will try to add to the light.
I'm not really a christian in the traditional sense anymore. I don't know that I believe in the G-d that I made that promise to. I don't know that I would serve that kind of god. But I do serve G-d still. Do seek to understand and bring light where I can.
But it is lonely.
When I was driving through St. Paul, I was thinking of all the nights that I rushed over to M's house after the kids had gone to bed. Or the nights when I would drive all over the city to buy her a snack or a treat. The errands I sent myself on because I wanted to make her happy or make her day just a bit easier. Wanted to share something with her. How each little thing suddenly had more meaning than just taking care of myself.
I've struggled with St. Paul ever since we broke up, because all of the places remind me of her. Memories come back. And yes there are other memories, but they take effort to recall, where as the ones with her were effortless. It was a vacation (a very difficult one in reality), but my mind made magic of it all -said that it was meaningful. And then suddenly the balloon was popped. The magic disappeared and I was left with all this evaporated "meaning," and forced to look at the painful reality. And further, forced to go back to my dullness, my own wary mind which already has too many unhelpful thoughts. Where to put them????
It was funny to be driving and remember how easy it was for me to be in love. It felt good to make the effort. It made me want to do things. Yes, I was still a curmudgeon and a homebody. Yes I was still anxious and I didn't go out of my way, but I did for her, would for her, at the slightest hint that she wanted it.
That was also why it was so painful to have my love questioned... like, wow have you really not noticed that I am head over heels for you? That I spend all day thinking about you? That I go out of my way? That I sneak little things you didn't know you needed into your apartment? and clean up when you are in the shower? and take care of you when you are sick? and notice when you haven't eaten or slept or need to exercise? That I encourage you in your relationships? And plot vacations? That I think about your family and your kids as much as you do? Are you really not aware that I am totally attuned to you, cry at the parts that are hard, believe in you, know you better than you know yourself OR is it just that you don't care... and haven't made the effort back... oh shit. You haven't.
I saw that she was entering into another relationship, pointed out the behaviors, even pointed out his... and she went "no, he doesn't like me like that." rather than "you have nothing to worry about I love you."
And then she blamed me when she dumped me... and I apologized.
Because I'd fucked up. I made someone my world... and didn't wait to make sure they wanted to be part of mine. And why did I do that? because I was sick of mine. I was bored by it. It was getting old and I was stuck in my ways. I wanted a reason outside of the one I have always had, a reason for me. I wanted to selfishly hold on, even as I saw it failing. I wanted love so badly I was willing to ignore all the signs.
Sometimes I still do, because I am not sure what else will fill the emptiness. ? is that what it is?
Attached to nothing, connected to everything as the Buddhists say... but what about when you detach from everything and can't connect?
Or in short....I need a crush.
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