It's Not the Years, Honey...

I've been doing a lot of thinking over the last few days and weeks, trying to make sense of what happened, how it happened, and the impact of the various changes that have taken place.

Four months ago, I was proud to celebrate my fifth anniversary. Within days, I learned of a betrayal...and as the weeks have continued, I have learned of other betrayals. Broken trust, broken confidences, broken promises. The hits keep coming and I keep trying to understand how things have changed so much in so short of time.

The most trusted person in my life four months ago has become, well, among the least trusted...and the least respectful. It gives me pause...and it's made me think...and rethink...a lot of the past.

A friend of mine, who shall remain anonymous because I don't have permission to "out" her here, put it this way, "Betrayal takes away your past as well as your present." She's quite right. I recently looked back at a number of photographs of earlier times and I couldn't help but see them in light of today's knowledge. The same is true of some of my previous posts, one of which I'll highlight in a couple of weeks.

Three years ago, I took a picture. It was just after the Reconciliation and I was struck by the loving emotion, promise, and happiness it showed. It meant a lot to me; I used to keep it on the refrigerator because it spoke volumes to me about how far I thought my relationship had matured. "We'd been through so much," I thought, "Surely we can survive anything."

I recently burned that photo in a personal ceremony designed to recognize the ashes my hopes had become...a ceremony designed to help me release those dreams. I want to open myself to new hopes, new dreams, new ideas, and new beginnings.

And yet, as I face the prospect of opening myself to these things, I wonder...how do I open my heart again? I gave everything I had to my previous relationship...and it wasn't enough. Can I truly take that leap of faith once more?

The part my friend didn't connect to is that betrayal also affects your future. One of the many questions I'm trying to answer is, "How do I trust again?" Here's another, "How do I open my heart that completely again?" A third, "How do I seriously believe that I can allow someone that much access to my inner self again?"

In one sense, it's hideously ironic...in another, it's pathetic and ridiculous. I have so much love to give and give so much of myself to a relationship...and, yet, I continue to fall for women who can neither recognize the rarity of such gifts nor honor...or respect...the risks associated with unconditional love. These women ply their own agendas. They take and they give as little of themselves as they can to get what they want.

Oh, I know. I'm being a little bitter and I'm throwing myself a nice little pity party here. But even as I recognize that, I also recognize that there is truth in these doubts. In so much that I can no longer trust either of the women I once called "wife," I wonder if I can trust anyone with my heart...or my soul...again.

It concerns me. It concerns me because I have chosen to live my life in a way that allows me to love freely...and completely. I don't play games with my heart because, well, frankly it takes a lot of energy to play games, energy I'd rather spend communing, flirting, playing, collaborating, exploring, giggling, tickling, cuddling, and well I'm sure you can imagine the next few action words.

When I think about the possibilities of actually having opportunities to suit those words to actions, it makes me stop for a moment. You know what? It actually makes me a little nervous, truth be told.

I realize that I don't want to go through this; I don't want to start over again. I have to, of course, but it's not something I really want to do.

I remember a certain moment, standing on a department store roof overlooking the Paris skyline. I remember the thrill of watching someone realize a lifelong dream. I remember the flash of love in her eyes...as well as the joy of discovering things in a city I'd never been and probably wouldn't have gone to without her influence, help, or dream. (I remember other things about that trip and see them in a completely different light than I did then, but that is a story for a different post. This post is about me and how betrayal has affected my perspective.)

I have to admit that there's something exceedingly tempting about running away. How nice it would be to grab my kit, spend my last few on a ticket, and blow this popsicle stand for a new set of constellations and a new opportunity at life.

I can't, of course, because I'm connected to my daughters and will not abandon them. Also, I have responsibilities, such as financial commitments I'm still trying to figure out how to meet and pets to care for, but it is a very appealing and romantic vision, isn't it?

I'm beginning to yearn for new discoveries. And you know what? I think I'm going to start saving for a ticket somewhere. Where? I don't know yet. Barcelona? Tokyo? Rio? Dublin? Rome? I haven't decided. I do know that my last two trips abroad included a person who eventually backstabbed me.

I have pleasant memories of those trips, but those memories are tainted. I will not forget the good times, nor will I poison them with untruths about what "really" happened. I will remember those times as truthfully as I can. A scar, however, is a scar.

I think I'm going to do something else, instead. I am going to complement those memories with better ones. It may take a few years to arrange, but at some point, I'm going to stand at an overlook in an exotic location, one I've never been. I will look at the view and will have my own realization, my own dream fulfillment. I will know that I am there in spite of the betrayals in my life.

And you know what? I think that's going to feel good.

--f

An Observation on Life

As you may have heard, DD recently turned eleven. I periodically write about my experiences as a parent and about the pride I have in my children. DD and I have an interesting relationship in that we have honest and connected conversations about many things.

As she's gotten older, she asks me about things and I try to explain them to her, or at least I try to explain my perspective on them to her. For example, we've had several conversations about B's drug use and how the choices he's made have lead to various outcomes. We've spoken about the importance of self-image and how a poor sense of self can lead to choices and actions that are less than ideal.

We've talked about divorce (and separation) and why it's important to focus on what's possible, rather than what wasn't. We've talked about Kara's unique situation and how her experiences as a child of divorce is different than DD's...and how those differences complicates Kara's experiences, actions, and choices. We've even spoken about how Kara's sense of identity is more complicated because of the roadblocks my ex raises.

DD and I have talked about responsibility, both personal and financial. (She's really wants a cell phone and is desperately trying to convince us to get her one.) We've talked about cause and effect...and why it's important to plan a few things out before you jump into them.

DD surprises me with how much she understands, especially for someone of her age. She's aware of other people's feelings and tries hard to take them into account when she makes her own choices. She understands that things don't always work out the way one would like. She understands that frustration is a part of life.

Yet, through it all, she is cheerful, bubbly, goofy, loving, generous in spirit, and...well, happy. She's a very happy, giving spirit.

I mention this because I wanted to share a poem she wrote yesterday. She calls it Life.

Past is our Present
We can’t leave it behind
It maybe the hope we carry
Or the guilt we hold
We can’t let it go

The Present is our Future
We worry what will happen next
We won’t know what to do
Or how it will happen
So we pray

Future holds the pain
We struggle through the years
Sometimes we’ll lose our dignity
But never faith
We hold faith in others
But hardly our selves

We may cry
We may laugh
We may lose hope
But don’t give up

Our lives are difficult
We’ll lose the things that mean the most
Our friends, our family
We are here for a reason
To live, to be imperfect, to be different
But not suffer so let us remember
In our times of need to stick together