Sometimes the Universe just throws something your way and "IT ALL MAKES SENSE!"
There has been lots of swirling confusion and mental anguish and horrific triggers for me this week. It's all I'm comfortable sharing right now. And as my sister HalfNakedRobin says, "I shouldn't be ugly." So...let's just keep going, shall we? Yes, we shall.
First there was the date.
I had already decided that perhaps men and I are not a very good mix right now. That perhaps I am still just a tad too broken and haven’t been glued back together correctly with the pieces in the right places yet. You know, my heart, my big beautiful bleeding heart? It’s still stuck on my sleeve where everyone can see it and needs to be put back in my chest, for one thing. Plus there’s the fact that I haven’t had sex in so long with anyone other than myself and those toys under my bed that I’m thinking I may not even know how anymore. I might need to hire someone just to give me some refresher lessons or something?
Still, he seemed nice enough. At least on the telephone, he did. It has been a long time since anyone of either sex has asked me out for any reason at all, so since he was rather insistent that I go out with him and I wasn’t doing anything else other than sorting my own socks and picking dog hair off the cushions on the couch I thought I might as well give it a go.
Which is how I found myself last Saturday night in a bar I’ve never been in before somewhere not in Salt Lake. I knew things were not going to go well when I arrived and was greeted with “I thought you were going to be younger! You sound like you’re 23 on the telephone!” Not knowing quite how to respond to these words coming from a nearly 50 year old man, I stammered, “I’m 17 in my head. Does that count for anything?”
The next words from him didn’t help matters at all.
“No, seriously. How old are you. You’ve got to be at least 30!”
Well, maybe the man also needed glasses as well as breath mints! Clearly, though, I was not the woman he was expecting. I was far too old for him. I tried not to let this bother me. The fact that he was older than me and I was too old for him. I really did. I tried to remain friendly and cordial and just to have a good time despite his awkward groping at my body (a body that he already told me was too old for him!).
Finally, I made my excuses and told him it was time for me to go. “But when will we get together again?,” he asked.
“When you’re 17!”, I said.
On the drive home I got angrier and angrier. Not at the 50 year old man in search of his 20-something trophy wife, actually. Just angry at the entire situation. This is not the life I signed up for. I’m angry at David. For walking out. I’m angry at myself for marrying David in the first place. For trusting him to love me till “death do us part.” For letting myself believe in happily ever after. For spending 10 years with him to end up right here. Alone. In Utah. Picking dog hair off the sofa on a Saturday night.
Working 60 hour weeks for Sundance and getting very little sleep did nothing to improve upon the situation. If anything it made it worse. I spiraled. Quickly. I became a color of blue I haven’t been in quite some time and I wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.
My days were consumed with being the Sundance Angel (I was so dubbed) and bestowing goodness upon all who came in contact with me. But inside, deep inside, I was really crumbling and hurting. Sadness was creeping in the strangest of places and I would find myself crying because the coffee wasn’t hot enough or the dogs were barking when I felt they should.just.be.quiet.
My very soul was blue. Deep, dark, scary blue. It frightened me and I was unsure what to do.
I’ve been eating cashews my whole life without nary an issue. It is David who is allergic to cashews. An allergy he had as a child and refused to even test when we were married. It made me nuts.
I adore cashews. Especially raw ones turned into other things like delicious “cheese” spreads. When you’re a vegetarian, nuts are a real staple of your diet. Cashews are among my favorites.
I was eating a few raw cashews. I was Angry. I was Deep, dark, scary, blue.
My throat started to swell and my chest started to constrict. Was this a panic attack or was I having an allergic reaction to the cashews? I am allergic to avocados and the sensation I was having felt exactly like what happens when I accidentally eat avocados.
Exactly.
Of course, because I am me, I had to wait it out and see for a while before I actually did anything about it. With my avocado reaction, waiting can be deadly. Why I thought I should wait and see with this EXACT SAME REACTION is a testament to the depths of my angry deep dark scary blueness. I was not thinking clearly.
I was thinking, also, about the dogs. Who would take care of them if I ended up in the hospital? Better of course to just DIE, you know. Because if I just keeled right over right there on the couch while sorting socks and picking off dog hair and wondering about my reaction to the raw cashews, well, at least that would take care of the angry deep dark scary blue place and the dogs would quite possibly bark and someone would come to take care of them.
Amazing how our minds work in these situations, isn’t it?
I can promise you that this is not the Internet’s first missive being written from the great beyond (where ever that may be) and that I did, in fact, take myself to Urgent Care. I can now add Cashews to the list of things to which I am allergic. Very, very, very allergic. Fall over and die allergic. If you want to kill me (and I know you’re out there, you people who do want to kill me), give me an avocado and cashew sandwich. And serve it to me while I’m standing in a patch of poison ivy. That should just about do the trick.
The upshot of all of this is that my little trip to Urgent Care along with my imagined near-death experience seems to have dissipated the anger and deep dark scary blue feelings. Of course, it also helps that I had a double session with my therapist.
Let’s just say there were a series of very unfortunate events. A series of very unfortunate events that, in retrospect, have proved quite fortunate.
i just went and saw burn after reading at the dollar theatre. i think that dollar theatre is going to become my new church on sundays. i had totally missed that film in the regular run theatres and then kind of forgot about it because everyone i knew hated it.
i, however, loved it. and maybe it is because i paid attention to the script? the writing? i thought there was just really great writing. i don't know? plus i have a huge love for john malkovich. i think he's just totally brilliant. and i loved that the entire thing took place in d.c. and i knew the houses, etc., where they were filming. that kind of thing always makes me giggle. for $1 on a sunday morning, it was definitely worth the price of admission!
i gave up my netflix subscription because i realized i just wasn't actually using it. i would get a movie in the mail and it would sit here for two months (two months!!) and then i'd finally watch it without even really even "wanting" to watch it.
of course we're moving into the cold, dreary, snowy, winter months and that is going to mean perhaps i'll want more movies? but first i have sundance. and i'll see like 40 movies and be movied out for a while. so, yeah. it just seems silly to pay for netflix when i can go to this dollar theatre, you know? it's walking distance from my house! also walking distance from my house are blockbuster and hollywood video. they're literally one block away. so if i really am desperate for a movie, i can rent one for $3. which still, at the rate i go, is cheaper than netflix.
so, david arrives in salt lake tomorrow. gah. i'm actually still trying to wrap my mind around all of this. his new girlfriend has family that lives here in salt lake city. of course he didn't tell me WHERE in salt lake city, just gave me just enough information to make me rather nutso. i know how old she is and that she has a daughter, i know her entire family is mormon and i know some of them live here. and she lived here for a while. now she lives in berkeley. where he lives with her. gah.
and they're coming here for thanksgiving. arriving tomorrow. spending a week.
i know this sounds completely SELFISH, but i feel totally violated. mostly because now that i know all of this, i feel like this city is no longer the safe haven it once was. it is no longer just MY TOWN, but i have to share it. and that just doesn't seem fair. i left santa cruz and came here so i could have a space that was just mine. without any reminders of him, you know? and now i have him everywhere i look because every person i see (and this is me being NUTSO) i think..."oh shit, are you related to the new girlfriend??? are you her sister and know all about me?"
this is because SHE reads my blog. gah.
it is just one week. they'll be here just this one week. i won't be seeing them (unless i happen to just run into them, which could easily happen, salt lake...the nicer parts...is VERY SMALL), but i'm still just haunted by this knowledge that her family is here. it's now HER TOWN TOO. gah.
the whole thing is making me vomit and bang my head. literally. and i'm not sure how to reconcile all of this? how to just let it go? how to make it all better for myself? in my effort to do that, i actually called david. i told him i was going to blog about it, but decided to call him first. but that just devolved into a big fat puddle of tears and accusations and david telling me to "live my life." in my effort to take care of him, i was trying not to blog about this. but you know what? i need to blog about this because i need fucking help. intellectually, i know, i very well know, that it should not matter where on the planet david is standing or who he is fucking or in what town he happens to be doing just that! i know that he has REJECTED ME and that i should just accept that and move on and find someone and a life much better. i know that in his reality, in his version of the story, he gave me plenty of chances to say "YES" and to participate in the ending of our marriage.
i know all of this, but i'm still feeling like i'm going fucking insane. i am falling apart at the seams. all those steps toward being better that i have made during the past year, i feel like i've just slipped on some snowy icy precipice right back down to the very bottom. and it's fucking freezing and i don't like it at all.
i know that there is growth to come from this. that there is an opportunity, a grand opportunity being presented to me here, to love myself just a little bit more, to heal, to reach the other side. to truly live my own fantastic and beautiful life!
i happen to live my life on the internet, the internet is my family, so internet, here i am. asking for your help. please.
fucking a. the universe deals us some mighty cruel challenges sometimes, you know? really really cruel.
so, dear and lovely friends. what do you suggest? what would you do? i'm serious. because i'm pretty much a basket case over here and can use all the help i can get.
and....
honestly, i was doing a good job of living in a truly healthy and loving way until just this week. the reality of dealing with my divorce (all over again!!) and having to deal with david and renegotiate things with him directly when i had created real and true boundaries for myself and was truly allowing myself to heal was just a lot in a really compressed amount of time.
and then to have the information about thanksgiving and salt lake heaped on me, as well, was just more for the hamster wheel in my own head.
intellectually i know this is all just stupid. i know i'm being completely irrational and stupid. i know this. but emotionally, i'm just a bigger mess. fragile. broken. and i know i do not have to be. i'm just not there yet.
i'm determined to get back there. back to that healthy and loving place. i'm better than this. i know it.
There are people, good friends, who are willing to show up with a shovel and bury the body should I go overboard. I have no plans to go overboard. In fact, I have no plans to do anything at all, really. Other than write here, right now.
I am angry. I am bitter. I am terribly sad.
September 18 marked the ten year anniversary of the day that I walked into what is now Lulu Carpenter's Coffeehouse and met David for the very first time. That date that was supposed to be just a chat in a cafe ended up lasting until nearly four a.m. the following morning. The only reason we didn't actually have sex that evening is because we both thought that would be "crazy."
Ironically, it would also mark the 20 year anniversary of my life in Santa Cruz. A life full of amazing shared adventures and a rich history of very very dear friends. I treasure all those magical moments that made me, well, me. I would not be Nakedjen if it were not for my posse in Santa Cruz. I may have arrived there as an adult, but I promise you, I grew up there. I discovered me. I embraced me. I loved me.
It isn't that I don't love me, now. I do. Certainly the past few weeks have been an eye-opening lesson in exactly how much more I love myself now than I did even a year ago when I made the decision to leave Santa Cruz. However, I am angry and bitter and terribly saddened that I had to make a decision to leave Santa Cruz.
When life imploded last year I received an email from a very old friend who cautioned me to not make any rash decisions and to definitely not move away. He told me that leaving would only cause me additional pain and that I would find myself needing my own community in the months to come.
As with a lot of things in those first few months, I completely ignored this advice. My life, as I knew it, stopped. I was having trouble just remembering to breathe. I was incapable of making rational decisions. Making sure that Buddha and Stella received minimal care was about the extent of my capabilities.
How I ended up in Utah, in one piece, with most of my belongings is still rather mysterious to me. I know I made the decision to move here. I know I sat in that yurt and said, "I'll get a job at Sundance" and I did exactly that. I know it all just snowballed into an crashing avalanche that found me wandering the streets of Salt Lake half-naked on New Year's eve.
I know this and I know I was complicit in all the events that got me here.
Still, I am angry. I am bitter. I am terribly sad.
I still feel as if I didn't get to truly participate in the ending of my marriage. That I truly was not allowed to be a part of the conversation. That I was just told that it was over. That it was done. That we were done. That he was done. David's story had reached THE END.
Last week, because I am missing my friends, my people, my community in ways that are truly palpable, I tried to purchase a plane ticket to Santa Cruz. My thought was I'd visit for a few days and soak up the love I so desperately crave. But as I was making the purchase, I literally started to vomit. Not wanting to bang my head, I abandoned the tickets.
Vomit.
I want to go home, again. To soothe my lonely and saddened soul, I need to reclaim my little hamlet by the sea. I must walk on the beach and smell the sea air and taste the oxygen on my tongue. I need a hug. I need a lot of hugs. I need many many many hugs. Hugs that are waiting for me in Santa Cruz.
If only David wasn't there, as well.
I am angry. I am bitter. I am terribly sad.
“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.” - Neil Gaiman
Almost a year ago, as those of you who have been here that long know, David informed me that he was done. And our marriage ended. We also know that I really didn't get to participate in that decision. It was his decision. Not mine. He decided to end our marriage. I decided that it was certainly not worth trying to force him to stay in a marriage that clearly made him depressed and unhappy. So it ended.
It was then that I began quite an interesting journey. One that I didn't really plan to take. One that I never imagined was going to be on my life's path. First because I had never planned to get married at all. I married David because I did believe that love could last forever, because I did believe in forever times infinity (a phrase we shared together) and because, well, I thought he was my soul mate.
The months that have followed his pronouncement and the separation of not only the entwining of our physical lives but our hearts and souls, as well, have not been at all easy for me. I keep throwing up and banging my head. I keep waking in the middle of the night unsure of where I am and reaching for him and finding no one there. I keep wondering, some days aloud, if this is all some cruel joke?
I've talked with my own therapist about this for hours and hours and hours. Oh the hours! Oh the words! Oh the time I've spent talking. But my head and mouth (and even fingers) are really good at talking and articulating things. My heart, however, is not so good at actually taking it on and living it.
I have realized, slowly and surely, that I can not be friends with David because I do not know how to be his friend. I have never really been just his friend. From the very moment I met him, I became his lover. I have always been, at the very least, his girlfriend. More importantly, I have for a longer time than not, been his wife. It is the role I play best with him. It is the role I know best. It is what my heart still wants and longs to be, as stupid and crazy and silly as that sounds to the majority of all of you.
So, I am here to say, that today I am done. Really done. I am refusing to have any contact at all with David for at least 12 months. I am telling all of you this because I'm going to need support in this, I think. There are so many moments in each and every day when I think to myself, "Oh, I should share that with David. He'd really laugh about that..." or "Oh, I can't wait to tell David that. It will make him smile.." I want him so much to still be a part of my life, to still be my husband, and that is not doing either of us any good. But it is especially damaging to me, I think. Because it is not allowing me to be the best me I can truly be or allowing my own heart to heal and be open to the possibility of new love.
I will not be doing that anymore. For the next 12 months (maybe longer, who knows?) I am taking care of Jen. Period. I need to learn who I am without David in my life. At all. I was a fabulous person, I know, before he came along. I am still fabulous, actually. But I want to be even more fabulous. I want new and incredible love in my life.
I have no predictions, at this point, if I will ever be friends with David. I'm going to try not to project or think about it, actually. It won't serve me and it won't serve what will be.
I have lots of amazing projects to focus on. Lots of truly beautiful friends here in Salt Lake. I do, fortunately, have a beautiful and fulfilled life. For all of that, I am grateful. I am also grateful to still be here on this planet. The past year has been very difficult.
I am not alone in this journey. I know that.
I am just done.
The irony here is that I spoke to David tonight and in our conversation I actually told him that I rarely, if ever, blog about him anymore. And here I am blogging about him. Well, truthfully, this will be about me. My reaction to a conversation that I had with him. So, no, not about him. About me.
I probably should know better by now than to actually call David on the telephone. I suppose my psyche is still trying to sort out exactly how David and I fit together? It hasn't even been a year yet, since we've been separated, and I think, honestly, my brain is still just a bit confused over where exactly he fits in my post-marriage, post-David life? Are we friends? Are we close? How much, exactly, do I share? What is really too much information?
I won't go into the details or reasons for my phone call this evening. I just called. But during my call, I learned some other details that, well, with complete and utter surprise to me, upset me. Yes, I say surprise because I found myself running to the bathroom and throwing up after I spoke to David.
Throwing up. That's my reaction when I am upset by things that he has shared with me, as we all know.
Throwing up. And banging my head. Where it stops, nobody knows?
I am not naive. I am aware that there are depths of my heart and my soul that I have yet to unravel and yet to purge. I just really wanted to believe that I was doing better than I am, I suppose. I wanted to believe that my heart, that my soul, was over him.
I'm not over him. At least not yet.
So for those of you whom are keeping track (Is anybody keeping track any more or have you all just plain given up? I certainly wouldn't blame you if you have. No, not me. Not at all.) yesterday, Thursday, 26 June 2008, would have been my eighth wedding anniversary.
As was already documented here, I spent a lot of the day hassling with rude technical service providers from Qwest. Certainly not the way I would have probably spent my anniversary had I still been living in Santa Cruz and still been married to David.
But...and this is a rather large but, a but that is perhaps of gargantuan proportions at this point and would not even fit in size extra extra extra extra large clown pants even if we pushed and shoved and put it on a diet it is such a large but (and yes, I know we need another t for that kind of but, but this is my blog and if you want to have the extra t, go get your own blog and put the extra t there) I am no longer married to David and more importantly I am no longer living in Santa Cruz and I now live in Utah where I am subject to dealing with inept and rude technical service representatives who I am not sure ever even graduated from the first grade.
Ahem.
There's an even bigger but than that. That is that my love for David, despite living in Utah and despite not being married to him and despite having to deal with rude technical service representatives just to ensure that I have a connection to the Internet (not that that really has anything to do with being married to David or not, but I was already discussing it so I'm keeping it for continuities sake) has not faded. Not really.
I'm guessing that I've reached that point in the grieving or healing or whatever you want to call it process called acceptance? Is that what we call this point? Where I just plain love him anyway? Not in a romantic, gushy, princess bride I can't possibly live without him kind of way. Oh no, not that. But in a genuine, I love him, he's a decent person, I shared a lot of myself with him, I don't wish him anything but the very best, kind of way.
That kind of love. Genuine heartfelt love.
Still, this wouldn't be a decent blog entry if we didn't have some drama, right? Or are you all over the drama? Shall I save it for my mama? Probably should.
However, I'm going to spill it anyway. Oh come now. You knew I would. You all are sitting there ticking the box saying, "Still needs her meds. Make sure she sees shrink!"
It's just teeny weeny drama. I didn't even vomit or bang my head.
David and I spoke on the phone. Yesterday. We chatted about our anniversary among other things. I hung up. I burst into tears. I sobbed. I had to cancel my well-laid plans for the evening.
Why?
I do not even know.
Perhaps it is the last remnants of the purging process.
Or, perhaps it is because true love will never fade.
The first thing I did when I arrived in Santa Cruz was kiss the sand. Literally. There I am, bowing down and thanking all things in the Universe for the beach, for the ocean, for allowing me to just be there one more time.
I keep telling everyone while I'm here that "Utah, it's not so bad..." and I do want to share that I am missing Utah and Salt Lake while I am here. But the beach, well, is where I am most at home. I am a beach girl. I just am. And when my feet hit that sand, when that ocean mist his my nostrils, I started to cry.
My Utah friends all told me that I was going to find myself "looking for the mountains." I didn't believe them, but you know what? It's absolutely true. And I not only find myself looking for them, but MISSING them. Almost as much as I miss my beach and my ocean when I'm living in Salt Lake. Perhaps I'm becoming a Utah girl, after all.
I have some pertinent words of advice to those of you who may be considering divorce.
Do not attempt to file the paperwork while Mercury is retrograde.
I hear you laughing at me. Some of you are laughing at me because I think Mercury being Retrograde actually has anything to do with anything at all. But others of you are laughing at me because you KNOW what hell I experienced on Thursday when David and I attempted to actually file our divorce papers.
I am happy to report that I neither threw up nor had a seizure during any part of the entire process.
I am also happy to report that after nearly seven hours of back and forth and up and down and driving to Watsonville, even, and more back and forth and finding exactly the right forms and contemplating whether or not to actually say we were getting divorced because of INSANITY rather than just the simple irreconcilable differences (turns out I'd have to actually prove David was insane...not just think he is for wanting to divorce me, har!) and convincing David that he should pay all the fees associated with the divorce because this was all his brilliant idea, we were finally able to actually file those papers and as far as I am concerned, according to the mediator, I am now finished. Done.
David still has some paperwork he needs to file, but I am no longer required to appear at a court or show up in Santa Cruz as his married partner for any reason.
I want to share that I actually am glad that I participated in the entire nearly seven hours of back and forth and up and down and driving to Watsonville, even, and more back and forth and finding the right forms and contemplation that it took to eventually end up in the filing of all those papers. Because rather than feeling like the divorce was something that was being done to me, I truly felt like it was something that David and I were doing together. We chose to get married together, it just seemed right that we were ending it together, as well.
And truthfully, I think it was perhaps the most healing moment so far for me in this entire journey of my marriage. I have very recently told David that I think his leaving our marriage was one of the most loving and brave things he could have done. I realize that he was quite unhappy and that finding the courage to actually leave really was showing love for both himself and for me. I do understand that now.
I feel as if on Thursday my head and my heart and my soul became more closely aligned. I know I can have a friendship with David that will not hurt. I can love him and not bang my head.
so, i know this will come as a shock to some of you, but i actually had a very civil and loving conversation with david today. you know, seriously, there is still so much love there between the two of us.
and i'm honestly at a point where i'm not hurting so very much anymore so it is easier for me to not be triggered by him but to just talk to him. as long as his head seems to be in a good space. and, truthfully, mine as well.
today we were both in good places. at least it felt that way. and we were able to sort out a lot of stuff that has been bothering both of us. and reach very concrete agreements about a lot of things that have been just floating about in the wind for far too long.
and yes we did it without big fat mean divorce lawyers.
i honestly don't know if i'll need a big fat mean divorce lawyer. i know that sounds naive, probably. maybe even stupid. it's still possible that i will. but i just want to get this whole thing done.
and done as amicably as possible, honestly.
the truth is, i love david. i always will. do i love what happened to our marriage? no. but i also know, deep down, that i am equally responsible for it. it takes two people to make a marriage. i know that david really does love me. and that he actually loved me enough to walk away from our marriage before he did any more damage to either one of us.
and i have to love him for that, too. yes, it almost killed me in the process. because i wasn't at the same place mentally that he was when he chose to leave. but now? now i realize that we just were not meant to be married. we're great friends. but as marriage partners, we just do not work.
i could be all egotistical and say it is because he's just not cut out to be mr. nakedjen. and there is a modicum of truth to that statement. but in all truthfulness, i'm not cut out to mrs. david sals. i never was! let's remember i remained jennifer neal even after we were married.
and there in, i believe, is the answer to this conundrum.
i am nakedjen. and perhaps i am not meant to be anyone's wife. ever. i can love truly, madly, deeply. i really can. loving david taught me that above all else. but i am so fiercely independent. i actually am quite happy on my own.
but then again i'm quite happy with the attention of the architect, as well.
so who the fuck knows?
it just was nice to be able to talk to david today about so many very important things and not throw up. or even feel like throwing up. and to actually LAUGH with him.
i do miss him. not enough to move back to santa cruz and go to saturn for dinner. but i do miss him.
I think this is pretty self-explanatory. Some things, like a marriage, are hard to undo. Or absolve. Or give up. Or...well...you tell me.
