i've got the spirit / elusive feeling
It's been a quiet weekend. Despite my plans for Pavlovian late night dancing to motivate my completion of this mark cycle, I gave up two full days to various non-marking pursuits and have not hit my targets for either dancing night. Meh. At least I like hanging out in my own house. Even hanging out alone while Blake is wined and dined* at the Casa Nova isn't so bad now that some of my mojo has returned. What with the marking, the knitting and the housework, time here all seems well-spent, whether it's with Blakeasaurus or with jazz radio.
That said, I found myself occasionally swept by sadness. Denial is there to protect you until you can handle the sad; this weekend the denial eased up a bit and I started to understand that the Boy might never be back. That I may have kissed him for the last time. That we might never go to Halifax again. (This isn't a euphemism. Odd as it may seem, I am more comfortable with the idea of eventually sleeping with someone else than I am with the idea of visiting Halifax without the Boy. Which does not make it a euphemism for sex, so stop trying.) This weekend I was hit with a few neveragains, and it was rough.
But I'm still coping. I know that I have a lot of tears ahead of me, and they won't just be tears of frustration because we're bickering over access. When we came home from our last counselling session, I lay on the bed and cried harder than I've ever cried as an adult. So much of the fear bled out of me that night that I think I've become used to a false equilibrium, one that's slowly eroding. Again, I'm still ok. I'm just becoming a little different in my okay. (This is the "more different s" I suppose.)
What helped was the continuous love I was shown this weekend even in my isolation. On Saturday Scherezade invited me over for dinner and a movie, which was both utterly comfortable and completely refreshing. On Sunday I met my neighbour coming out to clean off the car, and when I told her about the Boy, she held my hand and prayed with me in the driveway. Her absolute faith in God's ability to renew my matrimony was deeply moving, in a way that I can't explain without lapsing into irreverence. Last month I learned that Preacher was on my side. This month I learned that my church was there, too. Maybe February is when I discover God's feelings on the subject of me and my marriage.
* or juiced and let loose as the case may be
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*