The hurt is beginning to dull, and I find myself feeling more free each day. I didn’t realize how much work that relationship was for me. To be constantly prodded to argue, when I had no interest. Rarely a discussion, always an argument, which I hate. I found myself having to constantly reassure the man that he had worth, and value. I gave it my all. I didn’t mind, because I loved him and I could see how, and why, he needed it. Though he would never admit that. It’s whatever.
On Sunday, he came to my house purportedly to get a tool he needed. He knew I would not be home. He not only got his tool, but about half his clothes, the 40” gong (which was his) and the buffalo drum, (also his). He only took his stuff. He also brought most of mine. So yesterday, I packed the rest of his things and a friend came with me for moral support to his house to drop them off. I thought he would be gone, since he’d said he had a dr. appt, but he was not. I just left his stuff on the front stoop of his condo, and left. Not wanting a conversation. His front door was open, but I’m guessing he did not want to talk to me either, because he didn’t acknowledge that he even saw me. That was good, that was what I hoped for. We had nothing to talk about, at that point.
As we (my friend and I) drove away, I was flooded with the sense of relief, that it was done, and that now I could move forward. Oh, there were a couple of things he didn’t bring me, simply because he forgot. But I let go of things quite easily, and none of it was worth knocking on his door to retrieve them. When I divorced my ex, I left with a couple boxes of kitchen stuff, my clothes, a bed, a dresser and a rocking chair. I just let go of the rest of it. Even though we’d been together for nearly 40 years, it just such a relief to be rid of that burden that I easily walked away. This relationship was only 2 ½ years old. Much easier to let go, but the sense of relief is quite similar.
Anyway, I’m hopeful that now I am beginning to move on. I have, obviously, returned to my writing. It’s always been my solace and my joy. My habit has been, for a decade or two, to write in the morning, with my coffee. When I worked I would get up at 5:30 or so, just to have an hour to myself for writing, meditation, coffee….before I left the house at 8:15 for work. When I moved, to Florida it was the same, though over time I started to get up later and stay up a little later. But he resented me being behind the computer at the table, so I stopped writing for the most part in the morning, which meant I didn’t write nearly as much. It was my choice, I picked my battle, and that wasn’t one I would have. I wanted him to feel important, so we would talk, but almost inevitably end up in an argument as his choice of topics was always political, and we rarely agreed on that. And, I frigging hate politics. I know what I believe, it is part of my being, and don’t need to try to convince anyone of anything.
In hindsight, it is probably not a good thing to try to build a relationship with someone who is diametrically opposed to my point of view. We were not James Carvel and Mary Matlin. Ah well, live and learn. Anyway, it is so nice to be back to my own thoughts, my own feelings, my own expression.
I still feel enormously sad for him. I know he did not want us to end up this way, but couldn’t stop himself. So yesterday, when my friend told me her husband wanted his phone number, I was elated. Yes, yes. Please! I would be so happy if someone from our group contacted him, because I know he’s sitting home alone, pretending he’s good with it. But I know he will miss our life, so I am happy if someone is able to include him even on the periphery.
Besides writing, I have decided I need a new computer. I am shutting down and rebooting several times a day to unfreeze my cursor or to keep it from jumping all over the screen. Since I’m writing more, it’s really annoying me. I am also really sad that the sound healing will be over, at least in the old form, since I cannot cart the stuff around in my tiny Nissan Versa. I think I could play by myself, because I only have one gong, but it wouldn’t be easy to handle that with all the other instruments. I think in the meantime, I may offer to do private healings in my house, for up to 5 people at a time. If I charged $50 an hour or $30 for a half-hour, I could possibly save the money for another gong. If it’s inside the house, one gong is plenty, since my house is tiny anyway. So I may put something together, so that eventually I can get back to doing it at the beach, or somewhere for a bigger crowd. I have not even wanted to play the gong for the last few weeks. It was our thing. But I’ve taken a long enough break now, I know the healing power of the gong, and I’m going to start to play it again, just for myself, then maybe for others. We’ll see, but that journey is not one that should end. It should just evolve, and that’s what I will endeavor to do.
The next thing I want to do creatively is to get back to my jewelry making. I’d like to learn some new methods, get active on my Etsy site again. It is an activity that I enjoy and uses another part of my brain. I have not been able to motivate myself for a long while now. I have my ideas about why suddenly I couldn’t imagine what to do with most of the stones I have. At any rate, I would like to return to it.
It appears I am putting my irons back in the fire, after a couple years of being told I should just choose one thing to do creatively. I never understood that frame of mind, at least not for me. Why should I limit my interests? I believe it was his way of justifying the fact that he had no passions of his own. Whatever. I guess I am still trying to understand why this relationship, which had so much promise in the beginning, fell apart. But I hope these posts will dwindle and die as I move on with my life. I don’t like to obsess, and it seems I’m doing just that.
So in the interest of moving ahead, I will end this post now. I thank everyone for reading this, as I walk the labyrinth back to the center.
Love and light to all.