Listening to Air Supply's Greatest Hits

I think I'm in need of an intervention. 

"Here I am playing with those memories again,   

and just when I thought time had set me free, 

those thoughts of you keep taunting me... 

...there's no pretending, 

my heart it's not mending... 

Just when I thought I was over you, 

Just when I thought I could stand on my own..."  

(Here I Am, by Norman Saleet, 1981)

Don't know why I'm torturing myself with this stuff. Guess it's a tidier alternative to cutting and other external forms of self injury.

It's not like I miss Todd. I think this may be more of 

the grieving over an ideal lost... so where better to go than back to some of the pop music about love from the pre-Todd era. What messages was Bridget hearing on the airwaves and in the shopping malls during the formative years of her childhood, before she met Todd?

"I realized the best part of love is the thinnest slice  

and it don't count for much,  

but I'm not letting go...  

...I'm back on my feet, 

eager to be what you wanted..." 

(Lost in Love, by Graham Russell, 1980)

No wonder I ended up lost.

"I'm lying alone with my head on the phone 

thinking of you till it hurts... 

I'm all out of love, 

I'm so lost without you... 

I want you to come back and carry me home 

away from these long lonely nights. 

I'm reaching for you, 

are you feeling it too?" 

(All Out of Love, by Graham Russell & Clive Davis, 1980)

I was such a romantic. It really didn't matter what was real. 

"Making love out of nothing at all... 

out of nothing at all... 

making love... 

out of nothing at all..."  

(Making Love Out of Nothing At All, by Jim Steinman, 1983)

It goes on and on. It always was a rather annoying song. As I hear it now, I realize how well it describes what I did... and what we had -- NOTHING AT ALL. 

I tried, though. I really tried. That's what he says, too. That he tried. Chalk it up to dragging out incompatibility way longer than it ever should have been taken. More than half a lifetime. 

My heart is breaking, but it's not because of losing him. It's because I'm realizing how little I meant to him. How I'm not worth fighting for, not worth sacrificing for. I'd be lying if I said that doesn't hit right to the core of who I believe I am. And I know how to let it build up a case against my value, reinforced by "the others" who didn't think I was worth it. I'm trying to deal with that in therapy--examining my harmful thoughts for accuracy, completeness, and balance... It seems like it should be easier, but those harmful thoughts are tricky. 

My therapist says it is natural for me to have "trust issues" after what I've been through. It may take some time to work through this. It probably won't be as easy of a fix as the old pop songs would lead one to believe, moving from heartbreak to brighter days and better nights just because of one chance meeting...

"I used to think I was tied to a heartache 

that was a heartbreak..."  

(Even the Nights are Better, by Terry Skinner, J.L. Wallace, and Ken Bell, 1982)

But I know that is not a given. There are plenty of people who live out their days tied to that heartache, especially when their trust is shattered. Maybe I can learn to divert my heart into less romantic avenues. Maybe age will take away such desire and I can find total satisfaction in the maternal sort of love. 

Maybe.

Then that someone capable of doing more than mending a broken heart--but also of lighting a fire--enters my dreams... and you know what I do? 

I avoid him...

...only to find myself back in bed with Todd. I'm naked. Todd is there, but like a dead fish. If I lie perfectly still, he might not notice I'm there and I'm naked... but then it crosses my mind that I could use him (even though there has been little satisfaction in that in several years)... but as soon as that thought crosses my mind, I am overwhelmed with a feeling of betrayal... as if being with Todd would be a betrayal... but to whom? to what? To some imaginary man of my dreams? to myself? to honesty?

In the morning a friend tells me she had a dream in which she came to visit me and learned that there was a new man in my life. I was curious... did she meet him? Wouldn't it be wild if he looked like the man in my dream (although I couldn't remember what he looked like because I had been so busy avoiding him.) 

I go several nearly sleepless nights, avoiding dreams altogether. They bring too much heartache. Then when I decide I do want to see him... he doesn't show. Even the man of my dreams is unreliable. 

"Close your eyes, 

I want to see you tonight in my sweet dreams..."  

(Sweet Dreams, by Graham Russell, 1981)

Yes, Air Supply could supply the soundtrack for my disappointing dreams. 

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)...

One of those days when I can't put into words the immense weight of emotions...

...and a movie does it so much better.




Kate, in Last Chance Harvey, said:

"I expected you not to show -- in fact I think I actually almost wanted you not to show because its just easier that way. You -- you just dive in there -- don't you just woosh -- anywhere -- deep end -- and I'm not a bloody swimming pool, Harvey, and I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to do it... because it will hurt... You see, I think that what it is is, I think that I'm more comfortable with being disappointed. I think I'm angry with you for trying to take that away."

Yep, I can identify. Except for the Harvey part. There is no Harvey. No woosh. No one patient enough to try to "take that away." Just the getting comfortable with being disappointed part.


I'm not talking about romance. It's just about showing up. I loved how some of the neighbor ladies do that in the movie, Lars and the Real Girl. When Bianca is "dying," the ladies bring casseroles and come to sit with Lars, 

"That's what people do when tragedy strikes. They come over, and sit." 

So many people feel like they have to offer their two cents about what they would do if they were in my situation, but the fact is such unsolicited advice can often be so full of assumptions that it only serves to confirm my opinion that nobody really understands. (And, even worse, that they don't care enough to invest the effort to try to understand.)


You don't have to understand, if you're willing to just sit. But that is a dying art. 


I'm so lonely, but maybe I can just get used to that. I feel like withdrawing from everyone. It might be better than being misunderstood.


I don't expect anyone to show. But no matter what I say, I do wish someone would. It would be nice to simply be held and comforted. I know God is there for me, I'm not talking about that. 


I wish my mom were here with me.

Don't Go Breakin' My Heart (part 2)

Moving vans are strange things. They pass us on the freeway, but how often do we stop to think about the lives crammed in those traveling boxes? People cruising on to a new life in a new place, but carrying so much old baggage with them.

We did the same. A few months after we married, Todd and I moved to California. We drove a Ryder van through the long stretch of nothing with only our destination in mind.

Over the years I've come to realize that enjoying the scenery is not something we do well together. It seems that either one of us can do just fine on our own, but together? Not so much. Todd gets testy on trips. It's not that he can't enjoy the scenery, in fact I remember multiple times when we'd be driving along and I'd start to say something, only to be chided with "Not now, I want to enjoy this." (And mind you, it wasn't that he had a problem with what I was saying or how I was saying it, because he'd cut me off before I even got a sentence out.) It was (and is) all about his timing, his perfect timing--a second off Todd's ideal schedule and the world might as well be crumbling from it's foundations. Is it any wonder I now pass up trips with him and live for those times when I can hit the road without him?

For only having been married a few months, we had an awful lotta stuff in that Ryder: A monster of a china cabinet we hadn't asked for, in a style I never would have chosen, but the in-laws thought to be just what we needed to display our wedding china (which we didn't ask for either, but when prompted to select a pattern, we obliged only to be told "that pattern is too expensive, pick another.")

One item, a very long, old couch was especially heavy. You'll never guess where that came from. Remember the gal who asked Todd if he'd ever been in love? Yep, she was in need of some cash, I guess, and Todd, being the sensitive guy he is, thought her semi-antique (ratty old) couch would be the perfect addition to cuddle up on in our newlywed nest. I might have thought it was kind of cool if it hadn't carried with it the ghost of "No, I've never been in love" past. We lugged that thing cross country and right into our "new" life.