I was listening to a new song today and I realized how limited the English vocabulary is. In other languages, there are so many words that simply don't exist in the U.S.
In any case, this song was about betrayal, and as you listen to the lyrics, you think that it's the betrayed person singing, but then it ends with him talking about wishing the other person good luck and wanting the best for them/her. The song, once you soak in all of it, is about betrayal to yourself. Betraying yourself at the expense of making the partner happy. So, "go on and go forth to be happy. I have sacrificed myself in all ways possible, let this be the last and final thing that I do for you. Let this be the last time that I prioritize you over myself. The last time that I betray myself and my needs for someone else."
Wow.
It was SO powerful hear and oh-so-true.
I promptly broke into tears.
Enchanted forest
Fall decoration @ Bellagio Hotel, Las Vegas, October 2010
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Being single, and love
I am a single mother to a 2-year-old dog who is recently adopted and who initially seemed like the dream dog. He is still my dream dog, of course, but he is not as laid-back as I thought he was, and he is not actually potty-trained, and I suspect he has some serious separation anxiety issues because he chewed off chunks of my door frame this morning and has been soaked in his own vomit/pee for 2 consecutive mornings in a row....
Because I've never really had a pet before (other than goldfish that I overfed and a turtle that I underfed-- both in elementary school), raising Mr. Z. is quite stressful for me even though I have read/watched numerous books, articles, and shows about raising a dog. I KNOW A LOT! I know information at a theoretical level, but actually being responsible for a life-- on my own-- is quite scary.
I signed up to be a single mom and completed the adoption process the day after I broke up with B. Adopting Mr. Z. was actually the catalyst for the break-up because I knew I could not parent with someone like him, I did not want to parent with someone like him, and because I knew that whatever life I would bring into my life would deserve better than whatever/however B. would treat him.
So I am proud to say that I am a single mom of an adorable dog, but I have to also say that it's kind of hard and that I kind of wish I had someone to rely on. I kind of wish I could just sleep and not worry if he needs to potty (because he won't tell me), and that I can go to meetings without worrying about how to leave the house without getting Mr. Z nervous, and also being anxious about what the house will look like when I come home. I am dreading the day when we may have to run to the emergency vet clinic one night, at an ungodly hour when something may happen and I will have to make a decision by myself for him. Will I make the right decisions? Will I know what is happening? Will I know what to do in the moment? I don't even feel like I know what I'm doing now, much less how I'll respond in an emergency.
The best thing about having a dog though, is feeling the love that he has for me. It's quite healing to be loved unconditionally and to see the appreciation and the joy that he has for simple things like taking a walk, getting food, playing with his toys. His presence grounds me and helps me to be able to sit-in-the-moment to just be. Thanks, Mr. Z. Thanks for taking care of me. I'll do my best to take care of you too.
Because I've never really had a pet before (other than goldfish that I overfed and a turtle that I underfed-- both in elementary school), raising Mr. Z. is quite stressful for me even though I have read/watched numerous books, articles, and shows about raising a dog. I KNOW A LOT! I know information at a theoretical level, but actually being responsible for a life-- on my own-- is quite scary.
I signed up to be a single mom and completed the adoption process the day after I broke up with B. Adopting Mr. Z. was actually the catalyst for the break-up because I knew I could not parent with someone like him, I did not want to parent with someone like him, and because I knew that whatever life I would bring into my life would deserve better than whatever/however B. would treat him.
So I am proud to say that I am a single mom of an adorable dog, but I have to also say that it's kind of hard and that I kind of wish I had someone to rely on. I kind of wish I could just sleep and not worry if he needs to potty (because he won't tell me), and that I can go to meetings without worrying about how to leave the house without getting Mr. Z nervous, and also being anxious about what the house will look like when I come home. I am dreading the day when we may have to run to the emergency vet clinic one night, at an ungodly hour when something may happen and I will have to make a decision by myself for him. Will I make the right decisions? Will I know what is happening? Will I know what to do in the moment? I don't even feel like I know what I'm doing now, much less how I'll respond in an emergency.
The best thing about having a dog though, is feeling the love that he has for me. It's quite healing to be loved unconditionally and to see the appreciation and the joy that he has for simple things like taking a walk, getting food, playing with his toys. His presence grounds me and helps me to be able to sit-in-the-moment to just be. Thanks, Mr. Z. Thanks for taking care of me. I'll do my best to take care of you too.
Ending of a chapter
As of this week, we no longer live in the same city or state, or even region of the country.
Last week, he left a voicemail to say he was leaving for his new job and that he would return to me my favorite Frank Sinatra CD and a pair of earrings that I left at his apartment. He also had some old binders that he wanted to give me (I am a stationery lover, so I assume that was his way of being friendly, loving, or giving) and said he would leave it with his secretary for me to pick up. He wished me luck for the future, told me he was fine and that he was back on anti-depressants and then he apologized for being a jerk.
My reaction?
- Happy: At least he's saying goodbye.
- Disappointed: Why didn't he say he wanted to see me one more time?
- Conflicted: Why do I care if he wants to see me one more time? I broke up with him for cheating and I am the one that said I never want to see or hear from you again.
- Hopeful: Should I call him back to say goodbye in person?
- Sad: He really is leaving. I can't imagine being in that city without him.
- Relieved: He really is leaving. I can have my city back again.
- Surprised: Did he say sorry? What?! He knows he's a jerk? He has remorse? He knows what guilt feels like?
- Validated: Yes, he is a jerk. The biggest jerk I've ever met and finally, finally, finally, he admits to being someone who has constantly been a negative source of energy for me.
- Indifferent: Why are you calling? I said don't contact me ever again.
In the end, I saved his voicemail and never called back. That is very UNlike me, because I am a huge advocate for closure and for 2 people saying goodbye. But reality has bitten me in the ass so many times that I've realized it's impossible to really say goodbye peacefully when there has been so much damage down throughout the way. So I went through an entire day of internal conflict and questioning and cried a lot, thinking about the implications of calling/not calling and knowing that we will never see each other again.
As far as I am concerned, we will never see each other again. Even if we do, a significant chapter of my life has closed and it can never be re-opened again. We will NEVER live together in the same city again. We will NEVER work in offices near each other again. We will NEVER be together again so that we go in and out of the same house, kitchen, living room, bed, and emerge as a couple to go to different places in the city and country. This chapter of my life is closed and it is a loss, nevertheless.
Goodbye.
I simultaneously feel like saying "good riddance" and also crying out, "don't leave me here alone". As usual, I have so many conflicted feelings.
Last week, he left a voicemail to say he was leaving for his new job and that he would return to me my favorite Frank Sinatra CD and a pair of earrings that I left at his apartment. He also had some old binders that he wanted to give me (I am a stationery lover, so I assume that was his way of being friendly, loving, or giving) and said he would leave it with his secretary for me to pick up. He wished me luck for the future, told me he was fine and that he was back on anti-depressants and then he apologized for being a jerk.
My reaction?
- Happy: At least he's saying goodbye.
- Disappointed: Why didn't he say he wanted to see me one more time?
- Conflicted: Why do I care if he wants to see me one more time? I broke up with him for cheating and I am the one that said I never want to see or hear from you again.
- Hopeful: Should I call him back to say goodbye in person?
- Sad: He really is leaving. I can't imagine being in that city without him.
- Relieved: He really is leaving. I can have my city back again.
- Surprised: Did he say sorry? What?! He knows he's a jerk? He has remorse? He knows what guilt feels like?
- Validated: Yes, he is a jerk. The biggest jerk I've ever met and finally, finally, finally, he admits to being someone who has constantly been a negative source of energy for me.
- Indifferent: Why are you calling? I said don't contact me ever again.
In the end, I saved his voicemail and never called back. That is very UNlike me, because I am a huge advocate for closure and for 2 people saying goodbye. But reality has bitten me in the ass so many times that I've realized it's impossible to really say goodbye peacefully when there has been so much damage down throughout the way. So I went through an entire day of internal conflict and questioning and cried a lot, thinking about the implications of calling/not calling and knowing that we will never see each other again.
As far as I am concerned, we will never see each other again. Even if we do, a significant chapter of my life has closed and it can never be re-opened again. We will NEVER live together in the same city again. We will NEVER work in offices near each other again. We will NEVER be together again so that we go in and out of the same house, kitchen, living room, bed, and emerge as a couple to go to different places in the city and country. This chapter of my life is closed and it is a loss, nevertheless.
Goodbye.
I simultaneously feel like saying "good riddance" and also crying out, "don't leave me here alone". As usual, I have so many conflicted feelings.
Anger
Dear Anger,
Hello. It's me. Nice to meet you. No, not really. It's not nice to meet you. We don't know each other very well but I'm starting to get acquainted with you and I'm very uncomfortable. You are overwhelming to me, foreign. Scary, to be exact. These days, I find myself meeting you every night as I lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. I replay scenarios from my relationship and start to feel all of the things I didn't feel before. Big, hot teardrops erupt from my eyes, like lava from a volcano rolling, tumbling, speeding their way down my face, burning as I feel more and more indignant about all the wrongs that he has done me. I feel indignant. I feel hot. I breathe heavily, and I catch myself clenching my teeth. I never felt this way before when I was with him. Is this what I should have experienced before? Is this what people meant when they said, "Where is your healthy anger?" each time I caught him cheating?
I feel used. Used and abused. Discarded. Re-used. Discarded again. At his convenience, I was at his whim for anything: a car ride, my heater, my bed, my couch, my patio, my spellcheck abilities... Given his international status here, I was also his cultural broker, teaching him the ways of our country, the culture of our country, educating him about the social norms, routines, and activities that we experience here on a day-to-day level. I showed him what it was like to eat at different restaurants in town -- good ones too, I might add. I drove him to places beyond his typical 5 mile radius between home and work. I cooked for him. Cleaned for him. Gave up my own hobbies to accommodate to him because he hates watching TV and would insult me (and my culture and my people) to criticize how much we didn't appreciate the outdoors. I showed him as much of my world as I can and tried to open his eyes to living a life outside of work and sleep. In turn, he offered insults and condescension about my way of living, and would often expand it to the "people in my country" and the "people in my culture."
Did I feel angry at those times? Heck yeah. And we would often fight about it. But I was fighting for what felt like social advocacy and I believed I was standing up against him to challenge his ignorance. I wasn't necessarily angry for me. I did know then, that he was a terrible fit for me, that his values are completely the opposite of mine. I knew I couldn't respect him and his outward disdain for others different from him. I couldn't stand his inability to tolerate new things and his lack of social etiquette to simply co-exist with the new.
Even as I write this, I feel anger now. Anger that I could have suppressed before, because if I did feel anger, I would have to leave. Actually, he would have had to leave. If I had felt the anger as strongly as I do now, then I would have had to leave him, altogether. But I wasn't there yet. Not emotionally, so I couldn't leave. And if I can't leave, then I have to live under a false pretense of accepting him for who he is, and not being angry. I chose pity. I chose to pity him instead, and to take on the charitable work of opening his eyes to multiculturalism and diversity. I treated him like I would a volunteer project and I became a helper. If you are assisting someone weaker than you, there is no possible way to be mad, is there? Or impatient? I drew from the deepest parts of me to have compassion instead.
Oh, the denial I've been in! THAT is what I'm familiar with.
Hello. It's me. Nice to meet you. No, not really. It's not nice to meet you. We don't know each other very well but I'm starting to get acquainted with you and I'm very uncomfortable. You are overwhelming to me, foreign. Scary, to be exact. These days, I find myself meeting you every night as I lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. I replay scenarios from my relationship and start to feel all of the things I didn't feel before. Big, hot teardrops erupt from my eyes, like lava from a volcano rolling, tumbling, speeding their way down my face, burning as I feel more and more indignant about all the wrongs that he has done me. I feel indignant. I feel hot. I breathe heavily, and I catch myself clenching my teeth. I never felt this way before when I was with him. Is this what I should have experienced before? Is this what people meant when they said, "Where is your healthy anger?" each time I caught him cheating?
I feel used. Used and abused. Discarded. Re-used. Discarded again. At his convenience, I was at his whim for anything: a car ride, my heater, my bed, my couch, my patio, my spellcheck abilities... Given his international status here, I was also his cultural broker, teaching him the ways of our country, the culture of our country, educating him about the social norms, routines, and activities that we experience here on a day-to-day level. I showed him what it was like to eat at different restaurants in town -- good ones too, I might add. I drove him to places beyond his typical 5 mile radius between home and work. I cooked for him. Cleaned for him. Gave up my own hobbies to accommodate to him because he hates watching TV and would insult me (and my culture and my people) to criticize how much we didn't appreciate the outdoors. I showed him as much of my world as I can and tried to open his eyes to living a life outside of work and sleep. In turn, he offered insults and condescension about my way of living, and would often expand it to the "people in my country" and the "people in my culture."
Did I feel angry at those times? Heck yeah. And we would often fight about it. But I was fighting for what felt like social advocacy and I believed I was standing up against him to challenge his ignorance. I wasn't necessarily angry for me. I did know then, that he was a terrible fit for me, that his values are completely the opposite of mine. I knew I couldn't respect him and his outward disdain for others different from him. I couldn't stand his inability to tolerate new things and his lack of social etiquette to simply co-exist with the new.
Even as I write this, I feel anger now. Anger that I could have suppressed before, because if I did feel anger, I would have to leave. Actually, he would have had to leave. If I had felt the anger as strongly as I do now, then I would have had to leave him, altogether. But I wasn't there yet. Not emotionally, so I couldn't leave. And if I can't leave, then I have to live under a false pretense of accepting him for who he is, and not being angry. I chose pity. I chose to pity him instead, and to take on the charitable work of opening his eyes to multiculturalism and diversity. I treated him like I would a volunteer project and I became a helper. If you are assisting someone weaker than you, there is no possible way to be mad, is there? Or impatient? I drew from the deepest parts of me to have compassion instead.
Oh, the denial I've been in! THAT is what I'm familiar with.
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