Romance? Ha!

When we first reconnected (that is after he realized who I was), Charlie asked me a series of questions about Bridget. He was trying to flesh out her character, and on some level, I think he was trying to figure out my motivation to open communication with him after all these years. Were my intentions devious? Was I trying to trap him in some way? What exactly did I expect?

The honest answer: I didn't know. 

Maybe it was more of that self-sabotage stuff. I thought he would confirm what Todd had told me about him (and about me) for all these years -- that he had just been playing a game to get in my pants -- that the intense connection I thought we had was just my once over-active imagination, delusional thinking. I thought he might negate that sliver of a belief that we had shared something real (and that it therefore might be possible again with another someday). Maybe he would prove me to be the fool once and for all -- put me in my place as an unlovable joke, and cause me to never again waste a moment on unrealistic desires. 

One of the questions he asked to figure out the Bridget character was, "Does she read romance novels?" Since I am Bridget, that was an easy one to answer. I told him of my disdain for romance novels -- they only set us up for disappointment. And that old adage: "Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he shall not be disappointed," is the easy way out, so I take it again and again. Lower the expectations, numb the heart so it cannot be broken.

As I'm attempting to learn more about myself through Bridget, however, I continued to consider that question. The immediate answer that had popped into my head when asked if Bridget liked romance novels, was, "No, unless by 'romance' you mean..." And then I ran through a string of unlikely titles, like "Fight Club," "The Hours," "Fried Green Tomatoes," "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," and "The Shining." What started out as a bit of a joke of a list, got me thinking about what I did see as a romantic story. I started to realize that the only romance I could believe was tragedy. "Romeo and Juliet" and other such stories in which the characters realize too little, too late.... 

Last night I was in one of those hopeless places. The riff between my eldest daughter and I, although cordially "okay," continued to bother me. And then her boyfriend (fiancee, actually) made a comment that was meant to be helpful, but just ended up compounding my stress level (which was already teetering on edge of sending me to the ER). I just wanted it to all be over with. 

Thinking of how all the times I had been tempted to "off" myself, I had fought the urge for the sake of my kids, I now found myself dwelling on all the ways my "trying" to make things right failed and fell short, on what a disappointment I was even to my own kids.... The effort I had put into sticking it out now seemed as ridiculously insufficient as my efforts to move forward.

Romance? Ha! Unlikely. The last thing I wanted was to be with anyone. I'd rather be alone, numb, but free from pain. Free from feeling. 

But that's not entirely true. That sliver of hope remains, mocking apparent reality, peeking through the crusted scabs of slashed wrists (metaphorically speaking).

This is as romantic as I can get for the time being (and even this is a stretch)...

Everybody's supposed to be strong...

I'm too tired. No need to babble about my thoughts. I'll grab someone else's.

Just watched the DVD commentary on the movie, Walk the Line. I was struck by the Thanksgiving scene at the lake house, just after Johnny confronts his father . . . Thirty years after the loss of his brother, the feelings are still as raw as if it just happened. He's tried to overcome, but still meets with disapproval. He's messed up, addicted to drugs. He's on the path to self-destruction. Thanksgiving dinner is ended abruptly by his altercation with his father. His guests can't leave quickly enough. Johnny makes a mad dash for his stuck-in-the-mud tractor and starts up the engine. This is not going to be good. Everyone knows it. June Carter is about to get in the truck with her parents and daughters, but her mom stops her.

Mother: "You should go down there to him... He's mixed up."

June: "I'm not going down there. If I go down there--"

Mother: "You already are down there."

June's parents camp out at the lake house, while Johnny goes through detox, fending off his drug dealing friends with their hunting rifles. In the DVD commentary, the writer/director said that he doesn't think June would have stuck with Johnny if it weren't for the support of her parents.

I hear people saying that in tough situations, you have to "find the support that you need." June didn't actively find that support, she didn't ask for it. God provided it in the form of an older retired couple who were not distracted by the demands of raising young children or supporting a family. They weren't tired, like their single-mom-and-twice-divorced daughter was. Being tired of trying myself, I found that beautiful.

I'm feeling the pressure to do something . . . to decide everything right now and jump through the hoops of official paperwork, OR to be Todd's mommy and walk him through recovery when I can't even seem to manage the much simpler task of getting the kids to do their homework . . . OR, of course, there is the other alternative of doing what I've been doing for the past quarter century: Numb myself and do what has to be done to survive. I mean, he doesn't beat me, so what's my problem?