abeyance
the mere habit of learning to love is the thing
I feel brittle. I listened to Linford Detweiler’s piano on the way back from my doctor’s appointment and a wave of emotion washed over me. Grief is never far below the surface, like the muddy mantle under the cracked crust of a salt pan.
It helps a bit that the house is coming into focus for, really, the first time. The arrangement with D here was always a stopgap, a temporary setup; whether things were destined to be restored between us, or we’d move out, it felt limbo-y. Now I have an office arrangement that helps me focus at home—always a challenge—and it feels like things are in their correct places, upstairs at least. I still haven’t yet figured out what to do with both downstairs rooms; they’re just storage at the moment, but I’m determined to keep them clean and organized rather than letting them turn into catch-all rooms that no one ever enters. The main basement room has actually turned into a staging area of sorts for donations and throw-away sessions. I suppose it’s possible the rooms will just exist without any official purpose until it’s time to move, which is fine as long as I keep up with them. For now, I’m going to indulge this motivation to clean and declutter as long as I can. Goodness knows the house needs it.
I’ve been encouraged with how well the kids have been handling the transition, P in particular. L is a rock, and not much fazes him as long as his routine is maintained. P’s working through her issues, but at least from my vantage point, doesn’t seem to be flying off the handle, or making questionable life choices—and may it remain that way. Then again, it’s only been three and a half weeks, so maybe I should withhold judgment for now. My strategy has been to maintain her “allotted times” open, just continue to initiate conversation, and gently inquire how she’s doing in general terms. No pressure about anything, but as much assistance as I have time and energy to provide. I want her going into this fall with as clear a head and heart as possible, even if that’s still not very clear.
I’ve arrived at a resolution/feeling very similar to what I experienced for years in my marriage: Simply going without. I had a brief flirtation with jumping back onto a dating app of some kind, but after a “What the hell am I doing?” epiphany, deleted everything. And I’m going to keep it that way, keep myself from the “If only I had XYZ, everything would be better” trap. I’ve gone through periods like this before; if we remove my marriage from consideration, the longest was from late 2002 to early 2006. I certainly had romantic interests during that period, even a couple of significant ones, but was decidedly single. A few things helped in that instance, though: I had a real life direction, which made me hesitant to extend myself into a relationship because of the inevitable conversations about compromise, I had probably the best friend group I’ve ever had, and I was in my mid-20s, when the world is at your feet. If I’m honest, my hobbies helped a bit as well. Things are different now, especially with respect to age. The sense of urgency is always there, lurking just below the rim of my mental reservoir. But maybe I really should be encouraged: There’s still time for me, if I waited until age 46 to actually fall in love for the first time in my life. If that can still happen, maybe it’s not over.