Anxiety and Others

Friends, I don’t have a place to put this feeling right now, so let me state it in this space.

Today, my best friend is coming over to my place and I didn’t organize this get-together. Rich and I have been best friends–he’s like a brother–for nearly 20 years, and I cannot bring myself to face him. My sister told him I’m going through a rough time–as I have withdrawn from him as well–and that I’m grieving. I want to be alone, I don’t want to see very many others (there’s only less than a handful of people I will spend time with), and I’m not myself. I feel embarrassed and ashamed for (still) feeling so sad over Nancy. I don’t want to be treated differently by others, or looked at as having “something wrong” with her. Does that make sense?

Courtesy: Jeffrey Kosh

Here I sit, minutes before he’s due to arrive, and I’m crying. This is not me. I’m feeling anxious about seeing him for the first time in 3 months, since I’m not the same person he’s known for 20 years. I’m like a grieving, sad stranger.

I don’t want to tell him that I don’t want to see him. It’s the oddest feeling, that even familiarity and the comfort I should feel for a dear friend, is missing.

Thankfully, I have a therapy session tomorrow. Wendy gives me a temporary “shot” of strength, but, admittedly, as the week progresses from our sessions, I go through “withdrawal.”

The Pain Game

Gray skies loom over New York City, on this lonely Saturday morning. This blog post is a reprieve from my latest project: I’m compiling a book index for a forthcoming publication. My editor was kind enough to shaft me with it during my only week off from teaching. Nah, it’s not so bad; I’m grateful for the opportunity, and it helps bring me back to when I used to work for her. We’ll call the happier times in my life B.N. (Before Nancy). 

Throughout this nightmare ordeal, I’ve lost a sense of who I am. My identity has been clouded, wavered, and has been a perpetual question mark for most of the year. Who will I become from here? 

Building this index teaches me patience and precision; I’m more accustomed to the latter than the former. But it’s good for me; it helps occupy my already overcrowded mind with different things. There’s no real point to this post, except to serve as an escape from reading one of the chapters in this book. It dragged on far too long, and never arrived at a point, until 3/4 of the way into the (alleged) “argument.”

Reading through this chapter, excising keywords for the index, I began playing a mental game: The pain game.

Courtesy: RTL

Which pain, apart from this chapter, would I prefer?

-Giving Nancy a call? Way more painful than this chapter

-Seeing Nancy again? Way more painful than this chapter

-Passing another kidney stone? I’d take that over this chapter and meeting Nancy

Yes, friends, one of the most excruciating pains (maybe the most excruciating pain) is passing a kidney stone. I would still rather pass one or two of these, if it meant going back one year ago and avoiding Nancy like the plague. Or, better yet, meeting her but rejecting her from the get-go. 

What pain would you prefer, given your situation/circumstance?

It’s dark fun. Now, back to the book. 

Shared Traumas

Courtesy: The Dish

If you’ve been following my blog, you know that I teach at university. I have the privilege of serving students to the best of my ability. My students are my heart and entire world, even the challenging ones. I never turn my back them, no matter the circumstance. I’m accustomed to dealing with challenging personalities and life circumstances. 

Recently, I finished teaching an 8-week summer course, and I’m not the only one who got an education. Despite all of the emotion that I’m currently processing from Nancy, I met with a student who truly knows trauma. William suffers form PTSD and traumatic brain injury, as he served two tours in Afghanistan. 

I recall sitting across from him, at my teaching table, and listening to his incredibly vivid tales of war and heartbreak. I never felt so small and so honored at the same time. I felt guilty; here was a young man who survived one of the most horrific times in his life and military career, and I’m heartbroken over a woman. I know that heartbreak comes in many forms, as does trauma, but it was a humbling moment to grieve for someone else. I consider meeting William, and having the pleasure of educating him, the high point of my year. 

In my mind, I sat listening to his daily grief–as it relates to my own, but of course I said nothing–trouble sleeping at night, sweats, knots in his stomach, never feeling safe, and constant triggers. We are experiencing the same side effects of grief, trauma, and PTSD, and I never served a valiant minute in the military, as William had.

This brave soldier made me feel validated and that I was not alone. In return, I helped him re-craft his writing and was in tears when he improved. Despite his lack of literacy, and writing skills, compounded by a traumatic brain injury, he persevered to rewrite his essays and overcome these challenges.

I will always reflect back on my and William’s experience together. He left an important and humbling mark upon my life, as neither of us has to face our traumas alone. Instead, we can overcome challenges, even when all the grief and triggers try to prevent that.

The Tort(ured) and the Hare: Race to Trust

This blog post is inspired by one of my (kind and insightful) followers, Valour of a Hare. In a comment, she asked if I were open to dating someone new. Good question. 

Courtesy: A. Kelly Photography

Friends, there are women around me that have expressed interest, but I am (honestly) unavailable. Emotionally, I’m locked away. I know that doesn’t exactly sound healthy, at this point; trust me when I say, I feel safest alone. Picture a defenseless rabbit (or hare!) who has been previously attacked in the wild. I’m on high emotional alert, self-protective, and afraid of getting hurt again.

I simply do not trust. 

What frightens me most is getting into another relationship with someone–in the very, very, very distant future–only to have her decide to abandon me at some point. I know that relationships end; I now have a new fear that I will be betrayed or abandoned by her, when she realizes she cannot be with me, or something to that effect.

It’s hard to describe right now. 

Wendy and I briefly discussed this: we both agreed that I am simply not ready to begin again. In fact, the thought of moving on hurts me–and I hate myself for saying this–because I still have feelings for Nancy. (I know, I know.) The reason for this romantic indecision–or whatever you want to call it–is because I saw two versions of Nancy: one that was exactly what I want in a partner, and the other that realized she could not divorce her husband after all. 

What’s ever more complicated in my “moving on” (ugh, I hate that phrase, as you know), is my grief. I’m supposed to mourn the “death” of Nancy, and continue lamenting over the lost relationship. We never truly get over loss, we learn to integrate it into our personal narratives of life and cope. Until I am able to do this, I cannot be an adequate partner for someone new. And I would want to be an equal, loving, and most importantly, emotionally present partner.

I believe I’ll always love Nancy. I do. I just can’t bring myself to date anyone else right now. Whereas I used to move on from relationships with women, and often look forward to healthy beginnings, Nancy was different. I truly fell in love for the first time in my life, even if I was the only one between the two of us. I cannot deny that. 

I’m very much a monogamist; a one-woman woman. When my heart is fixed, it is sadly (and pathetically) set for awhile. I guess it’s just a matter of placing Nancy in a box labeled, “old stuff” (or junk, depending on my mood), and store her away in the recess of my heart. 

How I wish timing and her decision were different. I live with that every day. 

Lately | Unending Speculation and Sexuality

Although I considered it in the back of my mind, while “dating” Nancy, only now do I feel the possibility of it rising up through my chest: that she rejected me based on my sexuality. While there remains unending speculation and scenarios that may or may not explain her decision to remain with Dave, I’m in a perpetual cycle of “what the…?” Wendy and I discuss this as not having answers or closure (or any semblance of closure). 

Courtesy: Surrey Edit

Lately, friends, the issue of my sexuality has been plaguing my mind. Perhaps Nancy realized that she was unable to sustain or wanted to secure a relationship with a woman. In the past, I often told Nancy that if this were an issue, I would walk away; it is something to be seriously considered, especially given her daughter. If it were this reason, I wanted my pain upfront. 

I’m left with feelings of uncertainty and inadequacy. My sexuality, the fact that I am not a man, could be a factor in all of this. While it may or may not seem an obvious part of the overall puzzle, confronting it is not easy. Rather, it connects to my feelings of isolation, loneliness, rejection, and defeat. 

Some of you might think, “what does it matter?” but it does to me. At the core of my identity is my sexuality; I feel it in ways straight people do not. It’s not often that someone questions their lover leaving them because of their inherent straightness. Of course there are exceptions when it comes to homo-or bisexual infidelity, but I think you understand my main point.

While Nancy and I were together, I never felt that my sexuality was much of an issue. Then again, who thought I’d be where I am today? Very unpredictable circumstances.

A good friend of mine also raised a good point: in a way, Nancy offered me an instant family. She brought experience as a lover, someone who could commit (just not uncommit), and a beautiful daughter. That’s gold for some gay folks. 

I will miss being part of Lana’s life very much; in fact, Wendy wants to examine my relationship with Lana at some point in the future. For certain, I will need an entire box of Kleenex tissues for that session. I wanted so much to have that family life with Nancy and Lana. But I guess that makes me sound silly and pathetic; a sentimentalist with too much longing and not much sober reality.

Lately | Rejection and Defeat: The One-Two Punch

Courtesy: Sky Sports

Since my therapy session Monday, I have been combating feelings of rejection and defeat. Wendy asked me to begin unpacking the two, as they are inextricably linked. While we’ll likely focus on these feelings more next week, I can only explain them as a two-headed monster, equally gnawing away at my insides.

Not only was I rejected by Nancy once, but twice: I stood listening to her tell me that she never loved me the way I loved her, and that she chose Dave because she loved him. On one level, I feel as though she said those things to keep me away, especially given the fact that I still have feelings for her. On the other, it brings me no peace or the (expected) impetus to move on–it’s just an isolating and painful experience.

I also feel an incredible amount of defeat, as I am still working to understand the two dynamics. I think after most every breakup, there is the usual form of rejection, but it dissipates over time. For me, rejection is more compounded by defeat, as I see no hope in reconciliation for the future. It seems as though when I lost Nancy, I lost her for good. We will not see or speak again. This still troubles me as well–it’s all a whirlpool of lost feelings.

Sometimes I think the underlying part of feeling rejection and defeat is how I was (more or less) used by Nancy. I vacillate between accepting her commitments to keep her family together, and seeing them as excuses for rejecting me outright. Even if she believed herself to be at the precipice of great change in her life–finally detaching and divorcing Dave–why did I have to bare the brunt of indecision, or worse yet, no intent to leave him at all?

I was her temporary fix for an unhappy marriage.

Even given all of her pins on Pinterest, promoting their marriage and “happy” life, they only reinforce the fact that I feel completely rejected and defeated because she chose him. I feel that I went through an unbelievable cycle of pain…for nothing. Ultimately, he was never going to be on the chopping block, so to speak; that meant I had to go. And she never knew this?

Some days, I find myself breaking down over this at my desk or in the middle of doing work. Others, I want to pull the covers over my head and hide. I feel I cannot ever face her again, I’m simply too embarrassed and defeated; I feel as though they are strengthening their marriage as a “fuck you” to me. To prove me wrong, and forever invalidate the love Nancy and I had at one time. (I know it may seem crazy to even say this, but I know what I felt. The feelings were real between us, but she chose to continue living in her fantasy reprieve, while I later paid the price.)

I feel so low. Just defeated. I have no other words to really describe the phenomenon–this is the best I can do. I’ve taken punch after punch, and I’m down for the count right now.

 

Lately | Complicated Grief and A Coping Strategy

Courtesy: APA.org

A few weeks ago, I was diagnosed with complicated grief. 

Prior to this label, I had some experience with grief, but never knew that it could be complicated. Unlike simple, or uncomplicated grief, an individual will go through the stages of grieving and eventually integrate the loss into their lives; it becomes a part of them. Complicated grief is when there’s sort of a breakdown in the grieving process of the particular loss. For some people, and this is true in my case, we’re stuck in a cycle of grief; we cannot integrate the loss into our lives and “move on.”

In fact, two of the phrases that I have come to hate over the course of my grief are “let it go” and “move on.” These phrases are nothing more than cliches that never provide insight or help; rather, they are used to pacify and try to make someone feel more at ease about their loss. Because my response to those who say “let it go” and “move on” is how? and where?

How do I let go of my lack of closure and inability to forgive the past? How do I stop the feeling of loss and sadness that grips my chest and stomach every day? How do I stop the script of rejection in my head and heart? How do I begin to feel alive again without Nancy and Lana? How do I cope with the fact that my relationship with Nancy is over? How do I tell my mind and heart to forget her, when she’s the only one that I think about? How do I tell my heart to forget loving her, when I know that if we met at a different time, we would be together? How do I begin to feel it is over? 

My mind knows that our relationship is over, but it’s a long mile down to my heart. Neither of them agree. There’s a great disparity among them. 

Even though Nancy let me go in November, I never had the chance to even heal. She came back to the yoga studio, she pushed for me to be friends with her, and then she sent me mixed messages by kissing me and being affectionate. What was I supposed to believe then? How could I let go? Initially, I think I was in shock and was hopeful that her choice to be with Dave would change. Now I know that likely will not even happen, or she never planned to leave him. 

Where do I go on from here? Where do I begin reshaping my identity after her? Where do I go to so I don’t fear running into her? Where do I go to escape reality when it’s truly painful? Where do I begin processing the fact that I’m lonely and all alone. Nancy and Dave have each other; I have no one. 

How do I cope with the fact that she’s pregnant? That she’s moved on and I haven’t even begun to truly feel the loss, until I went no contact in April. I’ve only really begun to make sense of all this–by myself–four months ago. I only entered therapy this month.

 

| Coping Strategies | 

Courtesy: Giphy

I’ve been in dark places, as I’m certain everyone has at one point or another. Being involved in an affair places one in the darkest pit of isolation and loneliness, particularly if you are the third party. Cheating spouse aside, you are the guilty party; you wrecked a perfectly normal home and seduced/lured a perfectly committed partner from his/her loving family.

To help cope with all of this, and for me especially, coping with a woman on a Pin-spree, I created a Fuck You Folder. On the desktop of my iMac, I designated a folder labeled, Fuck You, and it is here that I place my feelings and/or responses to Nancy’s Pinterest tirades. While I do not have to engage with her directly, or virtually through social media, I can retain a place/spot for my responses. Some sayings I take from social media, Google, or simply create in Photoshop. And, believe me, the ones I create myself are much more pointed and nastier. They feel the best.

At times, I am so tempted to nuclear her ass on Pinterest by posting all of what is in my Fuck You Folder and let it all rip. Release my bottled anger and let her have it. I planned to do this, prior to finding out she’s (allegedly) pregnant. Do I want to upset a pregnant woman? No. So I found a way to privately express my frustration and all other emotions.

My best advice, friends: start a Fuck You Folder for whatever you’re going through. It helps.