Thoughts in Letter Form

Dear Zi,

You are right. Always. About everything. I think I am right about a lot of stuff, too -- when I listen to my body, when I actually feel emotion and energy in my body instead of telling myself stories and pushing my feelings out of my body and into my rational analytical brain.

I let my brain make far too many decisions, instead of my heart and chakras.

Sometimes I think you do that, too. Think with your brain, instead of your body. :)

For instance, you say that you want me to date others, but I just don't believe it. I believe that your visceral body doesn't want me to, even though your brain thinks it's a fine idea. So I get conficting responses from you. And that's why it's hard for me through this transition.

Not trying to blame this on you. I have similar conflicts in me. Parts of me yearn for you FOREVER; the logical part of me recognizes your absence and the reality that if I want a warm body and some companionship, I need to be open to dating here -- and, you know, actually do it.

A part of me says "Yes, it sucks now, but later it probably won't. If you just wait, it'll be better. Distance yourself until then." Part of me says that idea is dumb and will only teach me to detach.

And still another part says, "If you date others, you'll alienate yourself from Zi and be turning your back on him -- and he'll retaliate out of pain and hurt and leave you forever and you'll deserve it."


My fantasies of living with you and having your baby are strong. They are barbed into my flesh and even if I close the door on them, they are still attached, tethering me to a future that doesn't exist and may never.

I'm confused, my love.

I want you. I want my fantasy.

But if I'm not living for that, I need to find a way to keep myself tethered to you (because I want you always in my life somehow, in whatever way the Universe wants us to be), but in a way that allows me to fully experience life over here, with no guilt.

I'm trying.
I really am.

Right now, and only right now, and only because of the painful distance, and to run away from my dreadful feelings of guilt, I want to try letting go of my strong romantic feelings for you and moving on to a place where I can Skype and text and talk with you and be filled with peace and not remorse. "Letting go, moving on, but not."

Maybe you are right. Maybe the only way to do that is to try that "soft dating" you described -- though it sounds treacherous and abhorrent. But maybe that's the first step.

Nothing I'm saying here is different than anything we've said before. I guess I just need to periodically repeat it to solidify it. Mostly I think the guilt is the most debilitating for me.

Guilt for not being loyal and strong enough to wait monogamously across the continent for you for as long as it takes for you to make your way to the NW. Whenever that is.

And the mourning for the loss of the future I so wanted, and believe(d) that you want(ed), too. That's also debilitating.

I feel sick that we aren't together -- that I'm once again staring out of the window and at the tablecloth, my feet stuck to the floor, not wanting to go to work or grocery shopping or talking to anyone. Just sitting. Just waiting. For the rocks of depression to settle on my limbs again.

But that can't happen again.
Our love is too precious; I don't want it to make me sick.

Because then if we ever do end up together, I don't want the past (the sickness of depression) to haunt us -- for me to carry any resentment that I went through that with you (or you for me) -- to taint our love.

I'm reminded a little of P and I. How his computer addiction, though curbed in the last years we were together, made a lasting hurt and impression on our relationship and contributed to our divorce.

What if my depression is like that for us? What if we end up together two years from now, and I hold too high expectations on us because I incorrectly believe that I suffered (we suffered) so much at the beginning that everything should be perfect "now'? (in the future) And thereby sabotage our loving relationship.

And there it is again.
I'm panicky about a future that doesn't exist and I'm telling myself stories.

Deep breath. Stay in my body.
And go to work!

Friends With Benefits

It took 1 hour. 53 minutes and 13 seconds to change everything.
That's how long the Skype conversation took.

Here's to looking up at the little bit of sun
shining through, and
 to making our way through
the forest.

We don't know if we'll like it. We don't know if it'll work. We don't know if we're wrong.

But we do know that it'll hurt.

Decisions Backed By Fear and Desire Breed Uncertainty

I don't want to make any decisions out of fear anymore -- a mask to authenticity.
But here's my dilemma:

I don't want to give up on the dream of marrying Zi -- and all I have to do to attain that dream is wait a year. Maybe even less than a year. And then it's mine. Ours. Mine and Zi's. Together, at last.

And that sounds both easy -- and the hardest thing I'll ever have to do.

In the meantime we can plan a trip to India, long weekend visits from coast to coast, movie parties with my friends, rituals with my kids, ecstatic dance with a new community, energy sessions with B, and building up my massage business. Willamette Writers work and pitching my memoir. After another re-write.

I can definitely keep myself distracted with that.

I can do it.

And then -- other times -- the task seems menacing. And I look at it all askew, like: No touch for a year. (Totally not true, of course. Not with: conjugal visits to NJ and vacations together. Plus snuggle visits with my friends, and healthy professional touch with my massage clients. And nice hugs from the not-quite-snuggable friends.)

Though even still, I'm afraid. And I worry about not being able to sustain it. For reals, what if I have another meltdown in four months? Even knowing at that point I'll only have eight months to wait.

I don't want to put Zi through that pain. Again.

But.

But.

How can I make a decision that separates us and changes the direction of our beautiful relationship based on the fear that I might change my mind later? Isn't us together as a couple worth that risk?


And still at other times, I think of the benefits of moving on ... with the realization (and utter relief) that, no matter what, Zi and I will always be linked. We will always have each other and our rich history.

And without the constant "lack" factor, the loneliness and depression won't plague so much, and there will be lighter spirits and more laughter between us. In the relationship we do have.

We'll both have our physical needs met, and while it probably wouldn't be overly healthy to hold on to this thought: it might just be that in a years time -- if neither of us have found a satisfying relationship to be in -- Zi could move here after all and we could still get together in the end.

It'll be like the movie "A Lot Like Love."

Transition Sounds Better Than Breaking Up

Zi is always reminding me to breathe deeply when I'm in pain or upset. And he's been talking a lot more about fate, kismet, destiny, and The Universe lately. I think it brings him peace. A sort-of explanation for this 'transition' we're now in.

For, on Tuesday, I told him the distance was too much. That it didn't feel healthy for me to be in this relationship like it was anymore. I "broke up" with him. And then the next day, when I cried with him again, he wanted to be clear that in no way was he mad or bitter. That he was even sharing this responsibility with me. He felt that, in a way (totally indirectly and not to blame, of course), he put us in this long-distance situation in the first place with his job loss and subsequent move. And that he ALSO didn't want me to be in an unhealthy place.

He believes then that we both have come to this conclusion -- that he didn't really see it as a break up, but more as a transition. And I, of course, clung to that because I felt better (read: less guilty) with those words. Transition sounded better than breaking up.

Something I told him recently (since our ... transition): "If there's any chance we can still be together I want to wait for you. I don't want to start seeing anyone else. But. I can't wait a year. If you could tell me you were moving here in six months -- I'd wait."

And then I promptly widened that to six months to a year. He said, "Then what was the point of the break-up?"

Hmm.

I don't want to dig myself a hole here. After three and half months of "good days and bad days" oscillating back and forth until it became a daily up and down swing, like I was on some kind of upper/downer drug frenzy, I called it quits. I threw my hands up in surrender (which by the way is why I felt so guilty -- "If I was only stronger" -- wreaking havoc on my work ethic and my idea of loyalty.)


It's not that he's not good for me, or that we're not good for each other. It's that the distance has beaten us down. I was going to say beaten me down, but even Zi wants to have sex with others to tide him over between our visits. And I know the distance is getting to him, too. It's true that he'd keep going in the relationship -- most likely indefinitely -- but he needs the stability of a steady girlfriend in New Jersey as much as I need companionship and touch here.

The truth is we've both been living without crucial human needs being met. For months. And it's taken its toll on us. On our minds, on our hearts, on our bodies. It's hurting us.

And there it is. The stalemate.

On the one hand, we love each other. And have for a year. Deep love that grows in our marrow. And despite staggering challenges: first my marriage, then my search and quest within to determine whether I was monogamous or polyamorous, Zi's job loss, his moving away, the whole J thing, and all the months apart. Not to mention the "little" things like: I'm not Indian or Muslim, that he's more conservative than I am, that I'm divorced twice, (and widowed for God's sake), have two half-grown children, and am ambivalent about having more. (Though at times I am completely and utterly obsessed by the idea.)

And despite all that -- there is love and worship and obsession and sex and play and laughter and culture and language and trust. There is tenderness and protectiveness. There is nurturing and comfort. There is pride and -- Sweet Jesus -- a rocking awesome brown cock.

I love the exotic, I love the differences between us, I love his accent and the way he laughs and pushes his glasses up on his nose. The way he wiggles his foot unconsciously, and wears the same outfit every day when he's not at work or going out. Blue sweatshirt, blue hat, white tee-shirt, pajama pants, black slippers.

I love his tongue and his hands. I love his words and the sound of his voice -- calming and grounding. Even when we're disagreeing.

That's all on the one hand.

On the other, we're in pain. Sometimes it rages like a slashing cut at our core, and other times a dull ache, like a low-grade headache that won't go away. We're not alive right now. We're living a shadow life. One where we only come alive when we sext each other, or when we see each other on Skype, or talk on the phone. Or plan our next visits and watch our porn videos. At those times we are manically high. Euphoric. Stronger than the Earth's gravitational pull.

But the worst part? Is sometimes, even those very things that make me feel alive -- the Skyping, the phone calls -- Don't. They make me feel worse. Because it's not happening here in body. It's only real in cyber-world.

So where does that leave us?

And, actually, I should be saying 'me.' Where does that leave me? Because these are my thoughts. My feelings. My pain. I need to own them and not project them onto Zi. He has his own and I hope he'll write them down here, too. So I can witness them, as he is witnessing mine. And then this space can be what we intended: Bare And Raw, both of us.

In conclusion (as if this were some college essay), we are in this weird transitional space. We love each other. We aren't bitter about this new place -- whatever it turns out to be. And we'll always be in each other's lives -- whatever those turn out to be. We don't know how our relationship will change -- but I think it must -- unless a miracle happens and Zi moves to Eugene within the next year.

And by year I mean closer to eight months.

And by eight months I mean a scenario like this: he thinks for a couple months on how it can work, and then has a move-in date I can write on the calendar for six or so months after that. Or gets a job in the NW in next couple months. Maybe he'll find out that his green card process will be far enough along by, say, July, that he could move to Eugene and look for work around here without any marriage. Then we could just live together. No pressure.

I could wait until July.

If I had that month to focus on. An ending to this.
"I can wait. I can handle this distance. It's only for a few more months. And then I can be relaxed and happy and have my man back."

Yes. I could wait until the end of summer, if I was actively planning and preparing for his arrival. It's the not knowing and the indefinite-which-literally-feels-like-forever that I can't last through anymore.

And I still feel sorry for that. Like I've let us down. Let Zi down.

But it seems I've hit my limit. I didn't know I had one. I've never been good at boundaries -- but here is one erected almost all by itself.

Zi says this is an ultimatum -- but that it's fine that I've placed one on him.

But I don't think of this as an ultimatum. It's just a limitation that I've discovered I have.

I can only wait for something (even if it's the most important thing in my world) for a really long time, if I have an end date. Some idea of when it'll arrive. Otherwise, I simply can't fathom it happening. Ever.

I love you, Zi.
I'm still getting that tattoo.

I Miss Zi so much I Feel Insane.

I'm feeling beat up today. My head hurts from crying ... and probably not drinking enough water. And stress. And too much on my plate right now. And not having a regular schedule in which to do anything. I feel like I'm behind on everything -- making hotel reservations in Sunriver, now one for Portland, making flight reservations for Massachusetts, signing up for the Willamette Writers Conference (and the hotel reservations for that, too) and and and and and and. It goes on and on.

Faerieworlds Festival is this weekend. The Summer Solstice. Something to celebrate. But I don't feel much like celebrating.

I'm tired.

Probably not a great time to write. When I'm tired. Everything seems bigger and more dramatic when I'm tired.

Zi and I have been talking A LOT about our relationship these past two days. I feel like I have monumentally let him down. Why did I fall in love with a monogamous man? This is so painful for him, and consequently painful for me as well. Empathically I feel his pain. And frustration. And disappointment.

We both want to be together. We both love each other. We both feel an immense physical connection.
But.
He's not here.
So now what do we do?
What kind of relationship can we create with our distance that will allow us both to feel ok?

I told Zi today that one of my bottom lines in any relationship I was in right now was the freedom to connect with other men if I felt called to it. I may not. I may be monogamous in lifestyle (if not in heart) for *years* before running into someone I felt a connection with and wanted to follow it where it lead. But I needed to freedom to be able to go there. I think things happen for reasons and we meet people for those same reasons. If I meet you on my life path, it's for a reason, and I want to get to know you long enough so that I can figure out the why of that.

Zi says we hadn't talked about this before (but I know we have). Maybe it was another case of me saying and meaning one thing and him hearing it a different way than I meant. Connotations of words has suddenly become a big deal for us. We have resolved to be very clear with each other about what the meanings of our words means.

For instance,
I emailed Zi earlier today about changing my Facebook profile picture. Zi is very careful about his appearance on the internet and never shares anything personal online. He's uncomfortable with me putting up pictures of him, tagging his name on anything, or even on me writing on his Wall. He wants all communication to be private. Ok. (I'm am not a private person at all, so the concept has taken some getting used to :) but it's one that I honor because it is important to him.)

So, a couple of the pictures I took of him this past weekend were so beautiful of us, I altered them so that just partial face shots of him were there. I emailed them to him and asked which one I could put up (a couple days ago, he had said I could ... I just wanted to give him an option of which one looked better to him). And here was his emailed reply:

These pictures are good. But in light of some of the recent developments in your personal life, I am not comfortable with you posting these pics.

We  always talked about our relationship and how we had agreed to keep your other relationships invisible. But now, with our circumstances changing...let me be the "invisible man" in your life.

Will always love you


I don't even know what that means. :( "In light of some of the recent developments in your personal life"? Does he mean that because I have listed J, on FB, as someone I'm in a relationship with now, Zi doesn't want to be acknowledged as my boyfriend at all? To anyone? He wants to be "invisible" now?
Why?


And the reference to keeping my other relationships invisible, that was a very specific scenario. That referred only to if Zi and I were married and if I found someone I wanted to connect with on the side (once or twice a week), it would have to be kept from our mutual circle of friends and his family. My friends could know though. But only the closest, most discretionary ones. Like T. So his reference in the email doesn't apply to us right now at all. (I wonder why he brought it up.)


So, does the fact that J and I are publicly dating mean that Zi is embarrassed to be with me? Like he's the "other man" or something? I'm proud of Zi. He's amazing and awesome and I want the world to know how much in love I am with him! And he wants to be my secret? I don't understand that. I hope that I'm wrong and have misunderstood his email. It's too late (time difference) to call and talk to him about it. So I am forced to wait and worry tonight until he can respond to this posting tomorrow.


I love Zi. So much!


He calls me "my queen." He washes my hair and my feet and looks into my soul with eyes that burn through my flesh, and drips into me like molasses. He curves his skinny legs around mine and cups his fingers around my ass, lingering, and bites me.


His energy sinks into my aura when we hug and he rubs his face into mine when I cry.


When we spend time together, his scent changes -- mingles with mine, reacts to mine. He alternately says he can't live without me and we have to figure out how to live and love long-distance so it can stay passionate and real and fulfilling ..... and then trips into the dank hole of giving up and says he fears he'll never see me again.


He pays attention to me. He thinks of me when we aren't together. He is sexually attractive to me and me to him. SO MUCH. Our sex is amazing. The best I've ever had -- and I've had sex with *many* men.


He gets me.
He knows me.
Inside and out.
He loves me.
He cooks for me and treats me like a precious commodity.
I'm fascinated by him: he's foreign, exotic, has a beautiful soul, and he speaks to me in Urdu.
He stands up to me. He's dominant. *And* submissive. 
He accepts that I'm poly (tho I'm saddened to think that this is changing for him as I type this).
He aches for me.
He misses me when I'm not there.
He loves my body and my smell.


I'm so in love with him.


And I'm so afraid for us.
I'm watching him crack.
Via Skype.


When Zi is here, he is all I think about. He is all I want. Forever. That's what I feel in the moment. In that moment. Like I could drown in him forever. Only him. In my head, I know that this can't be true. Even if we were married and saw each other every blessed day, I know that eventually (maybe not for seven years, or maybe seven weeks) I will run into someone that I want to know more about and it might turn into something romantic. But in my soul and heart, while I am with Zi, he's all I want. It's so beautiful.
It's a drug. And I want more and more of it. His skin and mine. Together. Every day.


But he's not here. :( And I ache for him.
Terribly. 
Especially when we are both going through such difficult times (with the distance and my new relationship with J) and I want to hold Zi tight and stroke his forehead and touch his skin that I miss so so much. I miss Zi so much I feel insane.


What's going to happen to us? Will our relationship be relegated to chatting online everyday and only seeing each other twice a year? I can't be sustained on that as my primary relationship. And neither can Zi. 


I entertain thoughts of 'maybe I am monogamous'. But is that just me trying to be something that Zi wants me to be? And not me being authentic? 


Whatever I am, I think it is safe to say that: I mostly prefer to expend my emotional and romantic energy on one person, but right now I'm allowing myself to display affection, sex, and love to more than one.


I'm willing to do this because I'm sad. And lonely. And I need skin to touch. 
I want to trace the contours of a man's face. A soul to hold. Affection from a man.
Since Zi isn't here, I wish to do them with J.


And I hope hope hope that Zi is really ok with that, and that we can get past this storminess.


I talked to J on the phone tonight, and cried about Zi to him. I asked J if it hurt him when I was feeling so sad for Zi. J said that it didn't. At all. That he was surprisingly ok with my heart being big enough to love more than one. :) So sweet. So understanding. He said, "Pain is the tariff we owe for having big hearts." And for me to never feel guilty for feeling. Because, he said, he would much rather know someone who felt deeply (including pain), than someone who didn't feel at all because they'd stuffed it.


We also talked about us not wanting to get emotionally attached to one another because of his eventual move for (wait for it ...) a job. But. It's a little too late. The emotions are there. And they are rapidly attaching. Sigh. (What is the universe trying to tell me with having me fall for monogamous men who are,  or will be moving, out of state?)(*head smack*)


J said he thinks about that everyday (his job search that could take him out of state) and sometimes even panics about it. But he is determined to not get stuck in the places where he doesn't have any control, but to stay and say, "You know what? Right now, in this moment, I have joy and love and a great new person in my life. I have no idea where it will go, but for right now I'll just be with her. And live. And laugh. And Process."


I think those are wise words.


So I'd like to say that to both Zi and J. 


"Right now, in this moment, I have joy and love. I have no idea where it will go, but for right now, I'll just be with you."


Sweet Dreams.

Uncertainty

Zi keeps making sounds like he's leaving. He gave thirty days notice at his apartment, with no future plans. I keep holding out hope that he's not leaving, and that he'll stay with me while he looks for work. He can't leave. I need him. I want him.

He asked me.
He did.
He asked me to come to India with him.
He said I'd live like a queen. Literally.
He'd take care of me and cook for me everyday and make me tea.
He wants me.
He loves me.

I want to go with him. To follow him.
But I can't leave the kids.

Zi and I cried together.
He doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to leave me behind.
He said so.