A time for planning, for introspection, surely. Ray wrote that I did not seem to exercise any control in the relationship (of course, that was part of its definition), that Dwain did exactly what he wanted, giving me what he wanted, taking what he wanted, and so he had no real investment in it.
I am printing out Ray's mail, thinking about this, reminding myself. This reminds me of what women often do on the job: work hard, do what we're told, and then wonder why we don't get where we want.
Ray suggests that I remember that whatever I did in a relationship, however I felt, was the way I felt at the time. No reason for guilt, in other words. He put it another way: "consequences are not as bad as the reponsibility for the consequences." Yes, I'll feel loss and loneliness but not guilt.
Of course, the main reason I stay in any relationship is this feeling of loss. It is so painful that I will do almost anything to avoid it. I need to pay attention to what I am doing now and find a way to go forward again, risk again, yet be able to let go if it doesn't feel right. I wonder if it would be easier if I initiated it.
Yesterdays' stuff...saved on a disk...
It's actually about 7:45 am. The Joester will likely press buttons if I get onto his mom's computer to write, and I will lose everything. I am watching the boy today. I am thinking we might go on a hike, a short one, Elaine & Joey and I. That may be too ambitious, though. Oddly, I tend to lose ambition when I am here. I wonder what happens.
We went out to the Olive Garden for dinner last night. I shoveled it in - not as much as I used to eat but way more than I usually do now. I felt so stuffed and out of it. I am hoping to regain some sense of control from here on. Well, of course I will. I have been too far down this road for too long not to get back on that horse.
We went to Ethel M's Chocolate Factory to see the lighted cactus garden. So wondrous, beautiful. But I didn't have my camera with me. Maybe we can get back there again before I leave. It is hard to describe it otherwise.
Many hours later. Joey is asleep on the floor of the living room. Probably I could pick him up and put him on a bed but I am not taking the chance. It has been a quiet day, really. Joey is a nice little boy, selfish as young children are yet not overly. Not unreasonably demanding, able to give up when it looks necessary. Altogether adjustable, flexible. Interested in much, learning from whatever is in front of him. Active little brains like his can use a lot of assistance. I have never been great at that, not on a continuous basis anyway.
As I read this book - My Secret History (Paul Theroux) - I keep seeing parallels to my life through this man who is in some ways like Dwain. I see this woman - two women, actually - who are so worried about losing him. He keeps his distance and they worry. They apologize for their words or actions. They second-guess themselves. This is so like me. How much easier to just be, to let go and let it be. Ray can do this. Doesn't worry what people think, expects them to take him as he is or not at all. Dwain doesn't give for another either, although he will berate himself for what he feels was bad behavior on his part. Recognizes his own insensitivity - but this has always been a question for me. If you know you are insensitive, aren't you sensitive?
It's funny how books can come along right when I can get something from them. Likely I find what I need in them and it doesn't really matter which books they are. But in this case there do seem enough parallels to make the discovery of the book fortunate.
I found a book at a used bookstore yesterday: Dare to be a Great Writer. It's got to be a better book in some ways than the usual books on writing. I keep thinking of using these times, this time, in my writing, and I think I have one way at least. There will be others.
I don't know what is up with this program. My latest entry is not showing up. So I am writing another to check.
Joey goes to daycare for the first time today. I hope it happened. I hope he likes it.
Used to be there was someone I could write to. Longwinded letters. Right now there isn't. I have Mary and Elaine, but I don't want to overburden them with my personal issues. They know about Dwain but it isn't appropriate for me to be going on and on about it, the way I feel like doing. I used to write to Leah and to Karen, both are gone. Although Leah, having been in a similar relationship, might understand some things.
It started hinting at around noon, and in the last hour, or less, it has ballooned up to major major. I found a codeine tablet and took it, even though it will probably make me sick.
I did one of my new FIRM videos for the first time: The Tortoise. It is really for more advanced people, but I did what I could modify. It requires a barbell, which I do not have, and a small step, lower than what I have. So I did what I could. There are several segments featuring dance steps, like the cha cha. A bonus if I get onto them.
When I walked into the house this afternoon, later than usual, I felt such a lurch of loneliness. I keep reminding myself that I am enough, that I am better off, that this is not my fault, I am everything I ever was and more. This evening is no different from so many others. I need to get more revved up so I can get things done, not just veg around and feel sorry for myself. The video helped. My headache came and went and right now it isn't bad. I ate a sald, which I think helped too.
I had lunch with Phyllis. Told her about the breakup. She's been there - everyone has, I suppose. She suggested that I wipe Dwain out of my life completely, otherwise I'll do the "slow bleed". Probably right, but I can't do it. He is not a bad person, he is a good person who does stupid things sometimes, and I like him and I like him as a friend. I hope I can keep him as a friend. But it may not be possible ultimately. It seems so horrible, so impossible, that a special person enters my life and because we had an intimate relationship I have to shut him out. It doesn't compute for me.
It seems to be gone now.
The phone has rung and rung tonight. A call from a guy in the park, telling about a meeting of residents next week. Someone - a guy - calling to raise funds for NOW - I said send me the form, I'd contribute something. And then a call from a former friend of Mary's, who is now in S. Carolina and has one child. We talked quite a while. I think I just wanted contact.
I am feeling a bit better now. I sent an email to Dwain that I think was nice. So adult.
Writing is what I can do. Writing is the answer.