Here's what I'm listening to. The iPod playlist I made for our fourth anniversary last year.
First of all, I called it "What Four." Signs.
Jeff Buckley - "Everybody Here Wants You" - LOVE. I wanted him to know what people, including love him and want him. Desperate plea.
Lady Gaga - "Paparazzi" - I think I put it on here because I was working on a modern day MEDEA adaptation and I wanted to share what I was working on. I wanted to be heard and acknowledged.
Linda Clifford - "Red Light" - It's a disco song from the 70s that I had recently heard on KCRW on a Sunday drive to the farmer's market. I'm a great dancer, a fact that he would always make fun of. Passive aggressive on my part.
Neil Diamond - "September Morn"
September morn
We danced until the night
Became a brand new day
Two lovers playing scenes
From some romantic play
September morning
Still can make me feel that way
Yeah. "Two lovers playing scenes from some romantic play." Were we just playing scenes? Were those scenes from "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?"
P!nk - "Mean" - foreshadowing? "How'd we get so mean? How do we just move on? How do you feel in the morning when it comes and everything's undone?" I thought I was just chronicling the good and the bad times. Being honest. What was I saying?
"This Old Heart of Mine (Alternate Version)" - Rod Stewart - Romantic and sad. "This old heart of mine/been broke a thousand times." Now 1001.
"Off the Wall" by Michael Jackson. "Leave the nine to five upon the shelf." Probably a bit of a plea. But also my favorite MJ album, which is why I put it on here. He hated R&B and what he called caterwauling music. I love myself some ass shaking music.
"Crying" by Liza Minnelli. The Roy Orbison song. Just beautiful. Sad. And true. A year later I am crying over him.
"Don't Waste Your Time" by Kelly Clarkson. Gosh I had a lot of anger with a pop sensibility.
"Somebody to Love" and "Alone" by the Glee Cast. Because we were just getting into it and it was our special time together. It's the one time the 10 year old versions of us got to spend time together. The boys who were targets and would have been better if they had found each other then. At the core, we were there together for those boys. The boys who were relentlessly teased. The boy who couldn't help but be himself and got attacked for it. And the other one who "passed" (or thought he did). The one who overcompensated for the person he knew he'd become. The one who almost 30 years later is still overcompensating. That's the one that my adult self would kiss on the forehead until I couldn't any more.
The other reading on these two songs would be that we both wanted so badly to find "Somebody to Love" and thought we had found him in the other. And I constantly was trying to figure out "how do I get you alone?" Away from all of the distractions, the colored lights, the baubles, the craziness. I was just trying to help.
This has been an interesting exercise. Reflective. Sad.
Well, it's a beautiful day. I need to go find myself in it.
Showing posts with label Postscript. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Postscript. Show all posts
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Post Script: Ain't It Funny
Ain't it funny that you're not always keeping the secret you think you're keeping.
People notice more than you think they do.
It's like being in the closet in high school.
Was I ever?
Anyway, our problems weren't a surprise to anyone.
People notice more than you think they do.
It's like being in the closet in high school.
Was I ever?
Anyway, our problems weren't a surprise to anyone.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Post-Script: Gag Reflex aka The Things You Find Out After You Break Up with Someone
I've officially been out of my house (and essentially out of my relationship for two weeks).
This is not how I imagined my life.
Five years and nine days (and now two weeks) later here I am.
And it's fascinating the things you find out after someone leaves your life. Like your friends who knew something was wrong for the past year or so. Or that your friends didn't like how he spoke to me.
I have a friend's significant other (that doesn't make this person gay or unmarried, I am just protecting the innocent, so everyone will be referred to as a significant other) that told me that I never looked like I was bothered by him. Of course, someone else told me that I always rolled by eyes when he said something that bothered me. I remember the eye-rolling more than the not being bothered.
What I'm learning is that I was living in a vacuum. I thought that I was the only one who knew that he was saying insulting things to me. I didn't see that our relationship was contaminating the outside world. I didn't think people could hear us or see us or that they knew what I was experiencing. The same friend's S.O. said that I handled myself with Grace when he was around and didn't let him feel embarrassed for making a fool out of himself.
They say love is blind. It's also deaf. And mute. Love is like Helen Keller. I should start a t-shirt line.
I thought I was protecting him. From what? From himself? Was I trying to protect myself?
I decided that I wouldn't bash him in this blog. See? I'm still protecting him.
What I'm finding out as I'm going through this process of putting my life together again (two weeks in--staying strong) is that it was so obvious to everyone that something was wrong. And we would--
SORRY, need to interrupt. He just sent me a cancelled appointment over Microsoft Outlook for something we were supposed to do over Thanksgiving weekend. I just clicked "Remove From Calendar." This is how we communicate now. We haven't spoken this entire time. Just a lot of angry texts and emails. But more on that soon enough.
So we would do this thing where we fancied ourselves characters in a Noel Coward play where we would quip back and forth. So sophisticated and literate, hurling bon mots back and forth. One thing I said to him early on in our relationship was that we would not become George and Martha. Not Washington, but from the play "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf." Bon mots.
I didn't want the fighting to get ugly or the insults to start hurling. And eventually we went from Coward to Albee. I also knew that if my anger got deep enough, I'd tear him down. If you knew who he was and asked him, he would laugh. He didn't think I had it in me. But I wasn't interested in that. Even post-breakup I'm trying to be graceful. Or protective. Oh, who the hell knows the difference anymore?
What else am I noticing, now that I've got some distance? I'm noticing a lot of people are telling me that they're proud of me. I'm also noticing that a lot of people I know have been through the same thing. And I never knew it. I only thought that the members of the support group I used to visit had my problems. Now I know that other people I know share the same experience.
I'm coming out all over again.
The people who tell me they are proud of me are the ones who have been there. These words, "I'm proud of you", were first met by shock. As in, "What did I do to make you proud?" Or, "It's not that big a deal." I do that a lot. Diminish myself.
That reminds me, need to call my therapist and get back into therapy.
But that's what I do. I think or pretend that my accomplishments are no big deal. Like anyone could get a full ride to a graduate writing program at NYU. Or anyone could decide that they've had enough of an emotionally abusive relationship. Wait, my relationship was emotionally abusive? What? Again, deaf. It's only through the process of opening up and starting to talk and share stories that I'm having new kinds of shock.
Those shocking moments are getting filed under the heading: "Wait, you mean that I'm NOT crazy?" No, buddy, there's a whole history of people who you could actually learn from if you just opened your mouth and shared your pain and confusion. Instead of swallowing it whole. Time to stop ignoring that gag reflex. Choke on it a little bit. That gag reflex is trying to tell you something.
Stop deep throating your pain. Not a phrase you're going to hear from a therapist, trust me. Although, it would be awesome if that was a piece of advice.
Listen, you need to pay attention when you experience resistance. If your eyes are watering or you're choking, there's something wrong. If you feel discomfort, that's a sign.
Stop deep throating your pain.
This is not how I imagined my life.
Five years and nine days (and now two weeks) later here I am.
And it's fascinating the things you find out after someone leaves your life. Like your friends who knew something was wrong for the past year or so. Or that your friends didn't like how he spoke to me.
I have a friend's significant other (that doesn't make this person gay or unmarried, I am just protecting the innocent, so everyone will be referred to as a significant other) that told me that I never looked like I was bothered by him. Of course, someone else told me that I always rolled by eyes when he said something that bothered me. I remember the eye-rolling more than the not being bothered.
What I'm learning is that I was living in a vacuum. I thought that I was the only one who knew that he was saying insulting things to me. I didn't see that our relationship was contaminating the outside world. I didn't think people could hear us or see us or that they knew what I was experiencing. The same friend's S.O. said that I handled myself with Grace when he was around and didn't let him feel embarrassed for making a fool out of himself.
They say love is blind. It's also deaf. And mute. Love is like Helen Keller. I should start a t-shirt line.
I thought I was protecting him. From what? From himself? Was I trying to protect myself?
I decided that I wouldn't bash him in this blog. See? I'm still protecting him.
What I'm finding out as I'm going through this process of putting my life together again (two weeks in--staying strong) is that it was so obvious to everyone that something was wrong. And we would--
SORRY, need to interrupt. He just sent me a cancelled appointment over Microsoft Outlook for something we were supposed to do over Thanksgiving weekend. I just clicked "Remove From Calendar." This is how we communicate now. We haven't spoken this entire time. Just a lot of angry texts and emails. But more on that soon enough.
So we would do this thing where we fancied ourselves characters in a Noel Coward play where we would quip back and forth. So sophisticated and literate, hurling bon mots back and forth. One thing I said to him early on in our relationship was that we would not become George and Martha. Not Washington, but from the play "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf." Bon mots.
I didn't want the fighting to get ugly or the insults to start hurling. And eventually we went from Coward to Albee. I also knew that if my anger got deep enough, I'd tear him down. If you knew who he was and asked him, he would laugh. He didn't think I had it in me. But I wasn't interested in that. Even post-breakup I'm trying to be graceful. Or protective. Oh, who the hell knows the difference anymore?
What else am I noticing, now that I've got some distance? I'm noticing a lot of people are telling me that they're proud of me. I'm also noticing that a lot of people I know have been through the same thing. And I never knew it. I only thought that the members of the support group I used to visit had my problems. Now I know that other people I know share the same experience.
I'm coming out all over again.
The people who tell me they are proud of me are the ones who have been there. These words, "I'm proud of you", were first met by shock. As in, "What did I do to make you proud?" Or, "It's not that big a deal." I do that a lot. Diminish myself.
That reminds me, need to call my therapist and get back into therapy.
But that's what I do. I think or pretend that my accomplishments are no big deal. Like anyone could get a full ride to a graduate writing program at NYU. Or anyone could decide that they've had enough of an emotionally abusive relationship. Wait, my relationship was emotionally abusive? What? Again, deaf. It's only through the process of opening up and starting to talk and share stories that I'm having new kinds of shock.
Those shocking moments are getting filed under the heading: "Wait, you mean that I'm NOT crazy?" No, buddy, there's a whole history of people who you could actually learn from if you just opened your mouth and shared your pain and confusion. Instead of swallowing it whole. Time to stop ignoring that gag reflex. Choke on it a little bit. That gag reflex is trying to tell you something.
Stop deep throating your pain. Not a phrase you're going to hear from a therapist, trust me. Although, it would be awesome if that was a piece of advice.
Listen, you need to pay attention when you experience resistance. If your eyes are watering or you're choking, there's something wrong. If you feel discomfort, that's a sign.
Stop deep throating your pain.
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