Shaken Not Stirred
On an overcast day melancholy is sometimes all you can tap into unless you are Gomez and appreciate the dull greyness of it all. B told L that love is an act of choice, an act of will, it’s volitional. I disagree – there is some choice in there but I don’t think you can choose to love someone, I think that you are drawn there and you choose to stay with it if love gives you back what you desire.
There are 4000 people still missing in the city. The pelicans are back at the bayou, large with their gunmetal plumage and majestic beaks. We missed fall, my favorite time of year. S always claims I am a person with too much yearning and fall always makes me nostalgic and full of yearning, but we missed it in the 107 degree dry heat of Texas. So now too I missed my time for nostalgia and am not quite sure what to yearn for in this dull grey sky’d day.
S sent an angry response to my blog that I wouldn’t accept for post because he apologized right after sending it and I know it was sent in anger and it was ugly. He told me today he vacillates between anger for Nick and me, and tenderness for us. He has always had that depth – I see now he understands the complexities – that is what drew me to him many years ago. S is still uncertain about where he will plant himself for the next year and he still entertains staying in NO and working with N, but he’s not sure he can trust him. I recommended therapy. S asked what N was doing and I said working on his marriage.
I had my first therapy session with E on Saturday and tried to get her up to speed and at the end when we agreed we would continue seeing each other, she said, well, you are not boring that’s for sure. I told her that I had no intention of trying to change from being a caretaker – that I have a pleasing nature. She said the point of our talks would be to be more comfortable with that role and to learn to negotiate it with external relationships. She said a lot of couples fit together because one is a caretaker and one wants care, but when the caretaker becomes healthy, it disrupts the dynamic. The fact that I sought out N she found to be healthy because it shows that I am moving towards getting healthy, towards allowing someone to take care of me.
This afternoon I had a vivid dream that while I was sleeping N came over with Lilli in the car seat and put her down on the bed and sat down beside me and put his hand on my face. I felt the warmth of his skin. I woke up with my hand outstretched towards his face to tug on the red beard. I can’t bear waking up.
I asked E if I was nutty for continuing to communicate with N while he goes through marriage counseling, and she said well, you have a stake in him given the fact that his marriage might not work out, which would open possibilities. Her take on an affair is that it is a sign of something wrong in the marriage – and that no matter what I am not the cause of his marriage ending or he the cause of mine. But my work with E will be to find my own way here and not be reactive to his or anyone else’s outcome.
But what does a lover do with the slot in the heart reserved for the beloved, which is still so full of hope, desire, images, feelings, memories, longings, laughter, senses, adoration and love – how long can these be held in abeyance? Last night, J’s words – I am “a sensuous woman” – said he enjoyed rubbing my feet. Good grief. N said I should meet this other J, a stone fox, who she is going to see the bonfires with and I’m like good grief. Men – are we really talking about men here? Good grief. I am going to take the poison pill.
N emailed that his tribe is forgiving him and demonizing me, the mistress. I told him my tribe never believed in his marriage to begin with. Obviously mudslinging doesn’t do any of us any good, but I seem to be sitting on a mess of snakes right now – anger just crawling up at every turn where once there was general joie de vivre. I have a poison tongue and should not send missives that are filled with venom.
I think about a week ago today when I was packing my clothes to head to Charleston with the man I love and the man who loved me and I marvel at how different my life looks in a matter of only a few days. Kind of like Katrina – one day you are doing this, and the next you are doing that – and there is no transition – it’s just this then that.