Gaining Perspective Through Transition

This feels so strange. Sitting in the house where my son will live, not with me. But it’s a nice house. It’s a nice room. It’s a neighborhood much like ours at home. The landlady is, like me, quite spiritual. Loves gemstones and rocks like me. Has a wealth of metaphysical books. She doesn’t seem invasive. I’m not leaving him in her care, of course. He’s 24. He doesn’t need a caregiver. But I do think it’s a good step-down from living with me. It’s only for 3 months, then he and his friends will get an apartment.

There are two parks a within a mile of his house.  Big parks with bike paths, and a lake.  Hiking trails all over.  He and his friends were making plans to go hiking this coming weekend.  There is so much to do here.  It’s seriously unbelievable.

It’s amazing how distance, physical distance, can give one perspective on things. I have been able to look at where my life has been for the last couple years objectively. I can see why I made the choices I did, and what I learned from them. It seems easier, when I’m not sitting in the scene of the crime, lol. There is no energy attachment here, to things. There is still to people, of course. Just, when I think about my relationship with Scott, I’m not sitting in the bedroom, family room, or deck where all the lies were perpetrated. It has helped me detach from him emotionally, completely. Spiritually, I think he and I will always have a connection, because I think we always have had one, and I’m sure we will meet again in another life. But that’s ok. It doesn’t make me long for him. I just have to acknowledge the connection that is obvious.

I am quite ready when I get back to move on with my life. To finish packing, to finish saying my goodbyes, to get the contents of my house on the moving van and drive away with my friend. I have been imagining what will happen there for so long, I know that it will manifest. I feel sure of it. Same way I knew that the perfect house would manifest when I bought the house I’ve just sold.

Son and I are going shopping today, for food, a clothes hamper, a few other things, to finish setting him up. I am kind of hoping we can go somewhere to watch the sunset before I leave. I met his friends yesterday, what a nice bunch of guys. They have all done what he has done, moved here from CT. They are really trying to make the transition easy for him. I know Thursday when he takes me to the airport will be difficult for both of us. But I know we both will be fine.

Transitions are hard, this will be one of my hardest ever. Maybe my hardest one ever. But I’ll get through it. I’m strong. I will break like a little girl, to use someone else’s words. But I put myself back together like a woman.

Love and light, all.

A Larger Perspective


I was looking for a poem I wrote last summer or spring, and in the process, glanced at a lot of my old blogs from that time.

That time when S was playing us both.  I wrote mostly about the pain, mostly about how I missed him, mostly about how he pushed me away and when I was gone, pulled me back.  The only joy I wrote about all summer was when I was with friends.

I didn’t write about when he came to see me much.  I think, I didn’t want anyone to read that I was with him, after he’d been treating me so callously.  I didn’t want to appear weak to anyone, that I allowed him into my bed, when it was obvious that was all he was going to give me.  I was embarrassed by my own weakness.

Why in God’s name did I allow that to just go on?  Damn, I loved that man way beyond what was healthy.  I don’t know why I was so smitten with him, when he obviously had an agenda that didn’t include my happiness, except to give me a few hours of his time every week or two.  Why, why was I so weak?

In between I was not talking him, or trying not to, or telling myself to just let go, to walk away, that what he wanted was not what I wanted.

He was good at the pull back thing.  Sweet, funny, sexy.  It was like he hypnotized me.  As if I was powerless.  I guess what I wanted was him, at the end of the day.   So I allowed it.  Always willing to give it one more try, when I thought he was.

It’s amazing how our perceptions can change.  I made up so many excuses for him, I listened to him make up excuses and believed him.  I was led down the path with him SO many times and disappointed.  I listened and believed his intricate web of lies. I accepted so much less than I deserved.

I don’t know who I was then.  I really don’t.


And him?  Who the hell was he?  A figment of my imagination.  Intriguing I guess, like a puzzle that I wanted put together.  I thought the finished picture would be way different than it was.

I knew he loved Betty at one time.  I just wish he’d been honest with me, and told me she came back.   I would have deferred to that relationship, we’d still be friends, they’d still be together, and everyone would be ok.  Instead, 3 hearts are broken, and 3 lives are ripped apart, because he couldn’t tell me the truth.  If he loved her, which he said to me the last time I talked to him, the day he called me begging me to lie to her for him, why would he dishonor her like that?

He has no idea what real love is.  He thinks it’s a web you catch someone in.

Well, he caught me.  I guess he caught her too.  I cut myself out, patiently allowing the truth to surface, and in the process, created an opening for her to free herself from his web too.

Since I don’t know her, at all….maybe she’ll forgive him one day.  Maybe he’s learned his lesson and will be able to convince her.  .

Personally, I think he is unable to say no to any woman who offers it to him if he thinks he can get away with it.

I would have liked to talk to Betty at some point.  I just would like to know the story from her side.  I’d like to clarify any questions she has.  I’d like to know she will be ok.

A lot of lessons were learned in the 18 months I was with him.  Lessons about trust, mostly, and loving myself first.  About self-respect.  And mostly about being naive.

Yeah, I loved him, and that was real.  And I love him now.  Because, I can’t hate someone I loved that much.  It’s not the same.  I just hope he doesn’t live out his life holding onto pain and hate and anger and sorrow.  But he loves the darkness, it’s where he’s comfortable, and all he’s ever known.

The good thing is…reading old blogs didn’t make me want to go back there.  It made me see how much of myself I was losing, that I lost.  Reading them made me want to get farther away.  I’m feel like I am walking away at light speed now.  Gathering up the lost pieces, and putting them back together, one by one.  Feeling almost whole.

I didn’t mean to dissect this again today.  I am just pleased to see where I’ve come from where I was.  It was all about a greater perspective today, the kind you can only get with distance.  I don’t think I’ll need to revisit it.