Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Calm Blue Ocean

We are halfway to Madeira, the sea is a glass table with an impossibly beautiful view to the horizon; we’ve spotted humpback whales, sea turtles, and birds and it couldn’t be more lovely. So why can’t I just be happy? Heartbreak sucks. The current theory from my friends, male of course and by vast majority gay, that’s my comfort zone, is that the universe and my mother are working together to strip away all the ties I have accumulated over the years to hold me down and hold me back. My gays include Heath in the mix though I didn’t view him as a distraction. I saw him as a new path, though I think my fear was that he was another distraction and therefore I sabotaged it all. Boy do I wish I had a time machine, a recall button (for my email) and well, while I’m wishing, I’d also like a puppy.

But wishing isn’t going to change the past, the present or the future. I can only act and hope that things will work out as they should. I just hope they work out with me being happy and at some point, maybe not alone. For now though, I suppose I shall just have to muscle through until things start to feel better.

So I was staring out at the beautiful, calm blue ocean (not a cliché, it really has been a calm blue ocean) and thinking that I really needed my mom. I kept wishing she would come, would give me a sign that she could hear me, that she understood and that everything was going to be alright…and I saw dolphins, three dolphins. They weren’t breaching or dancing or signing autographs but they were there and that was enough. I stood at that window for thirty minutes willing my heart to open, willing it to unravel and release all the hurt and shame and pain of the past few months. Willing it to start to heal and forgive from the inside out. And I felt…something. It wasn’t a voice from beyond or some bright light of knowledge, but warmth and a loosening of all that tightness in my chest; deep breaths that filled my lungs and cleared my head, a softening of the crinkles which have taken residence on my forehead.

I don’t know why this is so much harder than before. You know, I was with Mr. Darcy for ten years and yes, it took a year to get over him, but it was still different. I saw all the signs, I knew where it was going and in the end, though it hurt like a b*tch, I knew it was over, definitively and there was a part of me that was relieved. And with my husband, it was similar. I knew our marriage was not really salvageable in its current state and I was just biding my time asking for a divorce so that it wouldn’t be ugly or awful and though I am scared and sad, I’m also still cautiously optimistic at the possibilities that lay before me. But with Heath, everything just feels wrong. You know how sometimes you have someone in your life where it feels like things aren’t done or they resolved themselves wrong, well, that’s how it feels. And maybe it is just wishful thinking but it just feels wrong trying to move on when I’ve no desire to and when I already know I’ll spend the next part of my life wondering what could have been. I have to trust that what is meant to be will be so I’m focusing a little on happy memories until I can make some new ones.

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