Insecure
I’m feeling very insecure right now. I suppose this is a normal phase of the separation process but it is a phase I’m not comfortable with. I’m really questioning my attractiveness, not just physically, but as a whole, an individual. What do I have to offer? What is my worth? I know I’ve changed. Thus, am I significant in any way? Or am I simply part of a very dysfunctional—and now broken—unit.
It feels so very strange to be on such an emotional roller coaster. I’m not an overly-emotional woman. In fact, my husband always said I was the guy and he was the girl because I approach issues with logic and reason rather than feeling and emotions as he does. He would argue a point based on what he felt and then I would point out the flaws in his argument based on logic. The phrases “You’re issuing contradictory statements. It is one way or the other. You cannot have it both ways” were probably said by me about a thousand times. This did not endear me to him and I suppose his qualities did not endear him to me either.
I think, in my heart, I knew it was over when I no longer had the urge to argue. I lost my passion, the burning in my gut, the need for balance. I’m not saying those feelings were correct and I didn’t lose them in hopes of sparing his feelings, which would have been the right thing to do. I lost them because I lost my passion for life at all. I lost my desire to live; I lost the essence of me.
I’ve always been one who lives in the future like others live in the past. With me everything has always been about potential and possibility. Life is about taking the mess you’re in now and making something wonderful out of it. It’s about what I can do, could do, would be willing to do, and want to do. Those aspects of my personality are absolutely fundamental to my survival. I’ve got to believe there is a future to keep living today.
I find myself reaching for reassurance in ways I ought not. I am in new and most-uncomfortable territory making impulsive decisions based on what I feel right then and there rather than my normal, logical way. What sounds good when I’m in an emotional hurricane proves to be totally ephemeral. And like so much cotton candy, it has the illusion of volume and substance but is merely wispy, sugary fluff.
I thought twice about posting something so personal but since I decided to chronicle my feelings I thought I’d put it out there. For me, at least, the longer I keep something inside the less real it is. If I get it out on paper, or electronically for that matter, it becomes real. Maybe seeing it in black and white will enable me to face it head-first. Perhaps I’ll even be able to recognize and rearrange the destructive patterns in my life.
About a year ago my grandmother passed away. Her death gave pause for a lot of introspection. Not too long after the funeral and into the mourning process I spent one afternoon trying to envision my future. What did it look like? Where were we headed? What potential was there for us? I broke down when I realized I could not see anything at all. There was nothing there but a void, a black hole, if you will. While the situation is different now and I’m beginning to see the possibility of a future I’m still in a very sad place because embracing the promise of a future means letting completely go of the past and that is much, much more difficult than I ever thought it would be.
It feels so very strange to be on such an emotional roller coaster. I’m not an overly-emotional woman. In fact, my husband always said I was the guy and he was the girl because I approach issues with logic and reason rather than feeling and emotions as he does. He would argue a point based on what he felt and then I would point out the flaws in his argument based on logic. The phrases “You’re issuing contradictory statements. It is one way or the other. You cannot have it both ways” were probably said by me about a thousand times. This did not endear me to him and I suppose his qualities did not endear him to me either.
I think, in my heart, I knew it was over when I no longer had the urge to argue. I lost my passion, the burning in my gut, the need for balance. I’m not saying those feelings were correct and I didn’t lose them in hopes of sparing his feelings, which would have been the right thing to do. I lost them because I lost my passion for life at all. I lost my desire to live; I lost the essence of me.
I’ve always been one who lives in the future like others live in the past. With me everything has always been about potential and possibility. Life is about taking the mess you’re in now and making something wonderful out of it. It’s about what I can do, could do, would be willing to do, and want to do. Those aspects of my personality are absolutely fundamental to my survival. I’ve got to believe there is a future to keep living today.
I find myself reaching for reassurance in ways I ought not. I am in new and most-uncomfortable territory making impulsive decisions based on what I feel right then and there rather than my normal, logical way. What sounds good when I’m in an emotional hurricane proves to be totally ephemeral. And like so much cotton candy, it has the illusion of volume and substance but is merely wispy, sugary fluff.
I thought twice about posting something so personal but since I decided to chronicle my feelings I thought I’d put it out there. For me, at least, the longer I keep something inside the less real it is. If I get it out on paper, or electronically for that matter, it becomes real. Maybe seeing it in black and white will enable me to face it head-first. Perhaps I’ll even be able to recognize and rearrange the destructive patterns in my life.
About a year ago my grandmother passed away. Her death gave pause for a lot of introspection. Not too long after the funeral and into the mourning process I spent one afternoon trying to envision my future. What did it look like? Where were we headed? What potential was there for us? I broke down when I realized I could not see anything at all. There was nothing there but a void, a black hole, if you will. While the situation is different now and I’m beginning to see the possibility of a future I’m still in a very sad place because embracing the promise of a future means letting completely go of the past and that is much, much more difficult than I ever thought it would be.
posted by Ephemeral | 2:19 PM
1 Comments:
I read your post several days ago, then went back and read it again. Because I honor and respect your candor, I didn’t want to respond hastily, even though your words moved me each time I read them. I don't think you need me to tell you this, but since you put your feelings out there for consideration, I guess I'll reinforce what you know in your head: You’re right where you should be.
You acknowledged that you underwent a mourning process when your grandmother died. Every time someone we love departs, we have to deal with the hole that's left. This is true whether the loved one goes into the earth forever or simply ceases to play a role in our lives. I’m sure you’re familiar with the Kübler-Ross model of how most people deal with grief. The stages apply not only to the death of a loved one but to any catastrophic personal loss, such as divorce. When X1 and I divorced, I believed the person that I had been was suddenly gone, and in a sense that was true. I would never again be that person, living in that house, with that wife, those neighbors, and the in-laws I had come to love. I didn’t chose to end that life; it simply vanished when she said “I want a divorce.”
As unprepared as I was emotionally, I had to grieve my own death. My grief began in denial (I was certain she would reconsider—even as we entered the courtroom) and ended, eventually, in acceptance. In between, I lost faith in myself because I didn’t know who I was without X1. I replayed our marriage—and our arguments—over and over, trying to figure out what I had done that I could undo, or what I had failed to do, so that I could do it. Not for her, necessarily, because the divorce had ended the marriage and any chance to correct past mistakes. But if I failed, I wanted to know how so that I could never repeat such mistakes in the future. How could I possibly succeed at another relationship—or anything else—if I couldn’t become a better, more love-worthy person? Too bad it isn’t that simple: As if every woman I would meet in the future would be exactly like X1. As if I were a finite being that had only to adjust this or that to be perfect in future relationships. Hah! We humans are complexities of strengths and weaknesses; cowardly traits struggling with heroic ones; selfishness vying with selflessness; good thoughts and bad; pride and humility. Modeling the self to “perfection” takes time and involves a lot of trial and error. We’re bound to stumble now and then on the road to success. How else can we learn to watch for roots, eh?
I was a young man back then, inexperienced and naïve, but I managed to crawl my way through the grieving process on my own, largely without the help of family and friends. It wasn’t pretty. I wallowed in depression and self-condemnation until I succeeded in obliterating my old self-identity--and then rose from the mud to find a new one. That's the victory in the defeat, the goal of the grieving process as outlined by Kübler-Ross. You'll rise from your current and necessary grief and find abundant reasons to rejoice over who you are. Just give yourself a little time, and accept that things are as they should be for now.
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