Exercising the contributive identity

Though all the dog lovers out there might hate me for saying it, I think maybe I should learn something from the way Michael Vick seems to be handling his past.  It seems he manages to keep from being consumed by guilt over the wrongs he's done, without minimizing them.  Of course, it could be that he still doesn't really think what he did was "all that bad," and by comparison, I guess I'd tend to agree . . . (the reader will please note that I am not suggesting that cruel treatment of animals is not a terrible evil, but its practitioners likely compare it against murder, torture, rape, and many forms of child abuse to conclude that it isn't as harmful as other things . . . )

There's Fr. Spitzer's "comparative identity" kicking in again.  And I really think that this concept must be at the root of effectively dealing with my shameful past.

There's some important reconciling of my thought processes to be done here . . .

Agreeing with Thomas Wolfe

This morning I had a friend request from a classmate from grade- and high-school.  I'd seen Gary since then, at least once that I remember, at our 25-year high school reunion.  It was good to see him, along with the couple other folks from our grade school who'd gone to the same high school.  His friend request was a pleasant surprise, and I enjoyed strolling through his friends list to see other familiar folks, many of whom I haven't laid eyes on in 35 years.  Among them was my first crush, with whom I share a birthday, along with my closest friend from my junior high years and a number of other people it might be nice to say "hi" to after all these decades.

The thing is, back then, I was pretty much an outcast - I mean, there was only one of these folks I ever really thought of as a friend.  I know, now, that this wasn't their fault.  I'm sure most of them would be somewhat glad to hear from me now, in a "blast from the past, glad we made it" sort of sense.  And I'm not the social misfit now that I was then.

Yet, I feel lonelier than ever, as if the mere act of reaching out to these once-familiar strangers and saying, "Hi.  How are you?" with no intention of acknowledging my interim history, would be disingenuous. Maybe that'd balance differently for me if I hadn't just learned of my late MIL's lifelong feelings, but that may be just as well. In truth, I still feel somewhat the same about every reconnection I've made since then.

I'm sure many of us have had our demons to battle.  "The brighter the light, the darker the shadow," as Fr. Dave quoted Carl Jung a few weeks ago, and that's certainly been true for me.  The darkness I've lived since they knew me is the reason I probably won't FB friend anyone from my childhood, even though I've long since emerged from it.

Ennui

I think I was more . . . what? . . .

when I just judged myself harshly, what was I more?

comfortable with my status quo?  satisfied with my life?  that's not exactly right . . .

appreciative of it?

maybe so . . .

It's a gray, cold, rainy day.  Matches my mood.

Time, time, time . . . See what's become of me
while I looked around for my possibilities.
I was so hard to please.
But look around: leaves are brown
and the sky is a hazy shade of winter.

. . .

Hang on to your hopes, my friend.
That's an easy thing to say, but if your hopes should pass away,
simply pretend that you can build them again.

Ineffective guilt management

I really could have gone the rest of my life not knowing that she went the rest of hers without ever forgiving me.

Why did you think I needed to know that??

Ineffective pain management

So I wake up at 4 am, ribs aching, needing ibuprofen.  I eat cookie and grab another, and get out the milk so I won't be taking my pill on an empty stomach.  On a quick check of FB, I see a post from Cassie that I really felt called for a reply.  Our girl is really struggling, though not any more than you'd expect an Army wife with three young children to struggle on her husband's first deployment to a war zone.  I wanted to share a message of support, but thought it best not to publicly post what I wanted to tell her.  So I spent the next 40 minutes carefully crafting what I wanted to say, including beginning to discuss her request that we watch the younger kids for her between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  


Then I fat-fingered a set of keystrokes and lost my message (FB, you really can't ask me "Are you sure?" before I leave a page where I've been writing?), and then spent the next 40 minutes redrafting my message.  By now I'm really beat, and even though I'm not really feeling any better, I send my message and head off to bed.  There I have a really fitful and uncomfortable two-and-a-half hours, after which I get up to get ready to go to St. Helen and pull music for this communion service at Trinity, when what I really want to do is just get a couple more restful hours of sleep.  


Then I walk into the kitchen, where I see the package of cookies sitting there open.  And the milk sitting open on the counter.


And my pill.


No wonder it never really kicked in.

A need for a more perfect union

I keep waiting for this recent breakthrough, for which I've longed for so many years, to start making the difference in our relationship that I've always imagined it would.  Over and over again I'm amazed as we express the common groundwork we've laid throughout the course of our life.  I hear the echoes of our hearts and our minds beating the same song.  And yet we feel like musicians who can't quite find the groove, each of us intent on the song, yet not able to play it together in a way that lets it just resonate in our lives.  The countermelodies we're interested in exploring don't work together.  We use similar words to describe what we think the song should sound like, but when we actually play it, it's as if we've had a different vision for it all along.

Our different day-to-day interests matter.  At the end of every day, you can't wait to unwind in front of the television, and while there are shows I enjoy, there aren't any that make me say "I'm really looking forward to relaxing for a while and watching the TV."  Certainly not every night!  You realize, right, that there's going to be something "interesting," and even worthwhile, on the television every night, right?  You're not going to miss anything important by choosing not to watch all of whatever tonight's programs might be . . .

The last two days in a row, you've had really great days.  I've admired you (still do) for the way you've lived them, caring for those you love - including me - yet setting your boundaries.  I've had tough but good days, too - for which I don't feel particularly appreciated, btw.  And yet the things we wanted at the end of each day didn't bring us together.  Would that have been different if we'd done the dishes together Wednesday, instead of me finishing them as you came back upstairs at 10:30?  I didn't resent doing them; I was glad to, and I really appreciate that you planned to do at least some of them before you came to bed, even after the day you'd put in.  I'm not complaining about doing this chore, but about how we ended our day in different activities. Would it have made a difference if your biggest concern on the way home from Shelly's party last night wasn't whether the Springsteen special I was finally catching on the DVR was going to keep you from watching your shows, and run off to them as soon as we finished dialoguing? In this case, probably not, as I had work to do, but I'm concerned about the trend of our interests taking us in different directions.  There we were, both nights, in different places, with different interests and priorities at work in our lives.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not going to build this into a crisis for us.  It has been status quo for too long for that, and doesn't keep me from loving you deeply.  But I'm also not going to pretend it isn't something we need to give some attention.  It has been going on for enough years that I know it's more than something for us to keep a cautious eye on.  I also understand that just because I may be the one it bothers, that doesn't make this just "my problem."  ME is supposed to help us keep from living our life as "married but separate."  We're supposed to find enough common ground to leave us room within our unity for our different interests.   But I'm growing concerned that our common interests aren't "daily" enough . . .

So what can we do about that?  Is daily dialogue going to give us a chance to explore my frustration and build more bridges in daily life?  If not, what's the point?

Mostly, I think it's important for you to know this: I'm feeling a little lonely.

Dear blog,

I'm sorry.  I know you deserve better.  I'll make you a deal.  You get the rest of my life to give me a break, and I'll take better care of you!

Seriously, though, I haven't even had time to work on therapy homework.