Exposing myself to social situations lately has seemed to be having the same effect on my mood as taking acid or smoking pot. Though I never cared for marijuana, I was very fond of acid in my younger days. Coming down off either, however, left me in a profound depression for days. Now, the same thing seems to happen everytime I go outside my front door. Going out for just a few hours cripples me for days. Something bad always seems to happen, and the only way to escape is usually to drink myself into a stupor. I tried abstaining from alcohol for a while, but that made no difference. The problem seems to be the pervasive malevolence of the world.
As I wrote in my last post, Friday was no exception. The news with which I was confronted hit me with an impotent rage - that quiet kind of anger that seeps in between your muscles and your skin, burns you, and paralyzes you.
I spent the rest of the weekend in bed.
Today is my wife's birthday. I know I should say "ex-wife," since she did leave me ten years ago, but to do so would not only be a concession to a legal status that I do not recognize, even less so than all other dictates of law that I defy, it would violate the oaths of marriage to which I swore with my whole heart, and my neglect to honour those oaths is exactly what got me in this mess to begin with. A marriage cannot be dissolved any more than the love that inspired it.
Anyway, I could go on and on about that. Today is my wife's birthday. Normally, this day and our anniversary make me very melancholy. However, this year, today was different. Needless to say, everyone's opinion seems to be that I should forget my wife and move on to the next relationship. If I met someone with all the perfection of my wife, someone who showed interest in me, perhaps I would move on to a certain extent, living a new love, while never forgetting or disrespecting the loves I have had in the past. Unfortunately, this has not happenned up to this point and is less likely to happen with each passing year. The spark of a new love is a quality of youth, and I am no longer young. Mature love is something that is forged, link by link, with the passing years, and I shattered the chain that connected me to my love. The superficial attempts I have made in romantic relationships since my wife left were so unsatisfactory because I could not accept these facts. However, I have finally realized that I will never find myself in a place anything like that where I fell in love with my wife. For the rest of my natural life, I will be alone, and that is not so bad. I spent five years in total bliss, and that is more than many people get, and I will always have some memory of those times, no matter how faint they become.
So, today I went to the florist and bought a gerbera daisy, her favorite flower, just as I do every birthday and anniversary when I can find one. I picked out a card and signed it, "With love!" just as I always do. I placed it on my night table next to my pictures of her. There it will sit until it wilts and dies, then I will throw it away and put the card in the drawer with all the rest. And I sit here in my warm bed with my chilly kitty snuggling in the blankets by my feet. I am happy.
As I wrote in my last post, Friday was no exception. The news with which I was confronted hit me with an impotent rage - that quiet kind of anger that seeps in between your muscles and your skin, burns you, and paralyzes you.
I spent the rest of the weekend in bed.
Today is my wife's birthday. I know I should say "ex-wife," since she did leave me ten years ago, but to do so would not only be a concession to a legal status that I do not recognize, even less so than all other dictates of law that I defy, it would violate the oaths of marriage to which I swore with my whole heart, and my neglect to honour those oaths is exactly what got me in this mess to begin with. A marriage cannot be dissolved any more than the love that inspired it.
Anyway, I could go on and on about that. Today is my wife's birthday. Normally, this day and our anniversary make me very melancholy. However, this year, today was different. Needless to say, everyone's opinion seems to be that I should forget my wife and move on to the next relationship. If I met someone with all the perfection of my wife, someone who showed interest in me, perhaps I would move on to a certain extent, living a new love, while never forgetting or disrespecting the loves I have had in the past. Unfortunately, this has not happenned up to this point and is less likely to happen with each passing year. The spark of a new love is a quality of youth, and I am no longer young. Mature love is something that is forged, link by link, with the passing years, and I shattered the chain that connected me to my love. The superficial attempts I have made in romantic relationships since my wife left were so unsatisfactory because I could not accept these facts. However, I have finally realized that I will never find myself in a place anything like that where I fell in love with my wife. For the rest of my natural life, I will be alone, and that is not so bad. I spent five years in total bliss, and that is more than many people get, and I will always have some memory of those times, no matter how faint they become.
So, today I went to the florist and bought a gerbera daisy, her favorite flower, just as I do every birthday and anniversary when I can find one. I picked out a card and signed it, "With love!" just as I always do. I placed it on my night table next to my pictures of her. There it will sit until it wilts and dies, then I will throw it away and put the card in the drawer with all the rest. And I sit here in my warm bed with my chilly kitty snuggling in the blankets by my feet. I am happy.