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Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Misanthrope, mysoginy and other 'M' words...

Life. The pendulum swings...things are good, not so good, suck really bad, better again, aw hell this is great... then back again. It took a while for me to learn that life was not static, that things change, always.

I went through a rough patch getting off the pain pills, but found that if I rolled with it, the urge would subside. Sometimes not for very long, but hey, small battles right?

So life was nice. Until I got my mail.

I have found that historically no good ever came from me checking my mail, even less if something were sent 'certified'. Nope, no sir, no good at all.

Divorce papers. Pages of legalese that amounted to my marriage being over. Now, I was not even close to being considered a good husband or father, and my first marriage had to be one of the most disastrously dysfunctional relationships ever imagined...but the finality rocked me.

I brought the parcel with me on the boat one day, just me and the skipper, and read them in front of God, his world and a pod of bottle nose dolphins that had been following us from our leaving the harbor.

They required I sign the documents and send them back. I couldn't understand why there were tears staining the pages as I read, as I had no barometer for loss, as of yet, but there it was.

I was now an official, court documented failure.

"Never again, skipper." I grinned through my tears.

He laughed, and pulled deep on a Doral. "I'll give you five years."

"You're crazy."

"Nope. I've seen it before. You are the marrying kind. Dead set on someone else being responsible for your happiness, you don't have a choice."

Smug asshole.

What could I say, deep down I knew he was probably right, although I couldn't see me doing it any time soon.

(After three marriages, I can see he was right. It took me eight years of being alone to come to a place, a place where I am absolutely complete being alone, and pretty damn happy. Not to say I'm not open to the right possibility, but today, I don't chase it. If it ever happens again, I want it to be for the right reason...but there's no hurry.)

So I swore off women. Lasted about a week.

But it was a start.

That's the thing about exotic locales. They are, by nature and definition, romantic. I had a friend in recovery whose sister was visiting the Islands from California. He thought I should show her around the Island. I did, and the forces that be donkey punched me in the heart.

I blame a full, yellow moon, walks on the beach at night and the bane of my existence...holding hands. I am an absolute sap for holding hands.

I knew she was a tourist. I knew it was a vacation fling. I failed to see this was a rebound affect brought on by my losing my first family.

When you're tumbling in the dryer, it's hard to focus on your socks.

No comments:

My new disclaimer...yeah I know.

Okay, the old disclaimer was tired. The ideas were outdated and keeping me stuck in a place I don't want to be now for something more refreshing.

I have recently changed my views regarding women. Seems I had some issues with the fairer sex due to past pain and self- centered fear. (Yes...duh applies.)

I'm done with that.

Being in recovery has helped me change my entire life, perceptions and attitudes. I cannot change my history but I can change my today and my future.

I recently realized that the women I know in recovery are some of the strongest, bravest, most gentle and kind teachers I have ever had. You exemplify integrity and spiritual growth, and I hope you know who you are.

Some may know of my past marital and relationship history and been a participant in them as well. It's past and that's where it the past.

I own my part in those failures but claim no more responsibility in any misery you may be experiencing. I am sorry, but it's time to get off the cross. We need the wood.

Thank you all...