He Gets

Further
And
Further
Away.

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!

East-Facing Zin

Right now I'm entering the week after being spiritually ill. I say spiritually because on Friday while writing in my journal I stated that I felt I was on the precipice of change/cleansing/processing something, and that I was alarmed at that. But still willing and ready. So, the next morning I woke up sick. And was for the whole weekend. I'm better now, but want to retain my awareness throughout the rest of the week. I don't want to numb out in DVD land. Even books are an escape for me, albeit a healthier one.

This week is busy, but my plan is fifteen minutes of check-in every morning and night for the whole week.

My relationship with Zi is changing daily it seems. And I think we may be on the cusp of change yet again. Maybe an end to our romantic attachment.

Shifting to dear friends that share love and compassion for each other. Dear friends that talk often with each other and share what's happening in our lives with each other. Dear friends that have quietly and gently closed the door (maybe just for now) on a romantic future with each other. Dear friends that, when we see each other, enjoy each others bodies and indulge in fantasies together -- with the caveat that during sex we don't talk about having a baby, or the future with each other.

***

Do I want that? Can I stomach that? Would my heart bleed too much at that?

The reality is my heart bleeds anyway. Like I told Zi earlier in the day, even if we halted our romantic attachment, I'd still love him and miss him and think of him. What would the difference be if we ended our romantic relationship or not?

The truth is, logistically, nothing.
Energetically though, for me anyway, there would be a shifting. An opening of heart space.

Like Allie Moss says, "You can't see anything new until you change where you stand." I'm still here in Eugene, waitressing, writing, editing, parenting, dancing and practicing yoga. But maybe I can be facing a different direction. Maybe East. For new beginnings.

Logistically, my actions, behaviors, and lifestyle with Zi would be the same, and the sex (when we visit with each other) will still happen. BUT, the romantic future door would be closed. The East-facing me wouldn't think of whatifs and ifonlys.

Because the future is unknown, it is possible that the door could be opened again. It wouldn't be slammed shut, just gently closed. There's no lock on it. It could be opened again at anytime, if both of us want it to. But right now it would be closed.

Deep breath.

Our love is still there. Our friendship is still deep. The only thing missing is the future. And that's as it should be. Because it doesn't exist anyway.

fly on the wall cam

masturbated
ate a bagel
looked for writing jobs
texted Zi
played with my Nook (tried to download an update but failed to figure out how)
thought of a book review I wanted to write
opened windows to the Spring morning
thought about making chai, taking the dog for a walk, and doing kriya. but didn't. but will.
listened to starred collection on Spotify while trying again with the Nook.
Success!
looked for more writing jobs
let the dog out
remembered about still undone homework
spent way too much time on my ok cupid iPhone app
promised the dog a walk
took a shower
thought a lot about the futility of dating someone new when I'm still in love with Zi
rested on the couch with my snack and answered a bunch more questions on the aforementioned app
napped
forced myself up
regretted staying up until 3am reading the night before
turned off the Arabic Flamenco music
let the dog out
added two years to my age range on ok cupid
forced myself to do homework
finished my homework and posted it
got dressed
thought how much this year has aged me. in my face and my body. (Funny. I've both been awakened to gloriousness, and my eyes and soul have sparkled in love and devotion to my eternal Man, ... and conversely shrouded myself in widow whites for the depression and scratchiness and raw pain of loving someone you cannot have -- and the kicker is -- he loves me back. Layla and Majnun. Only it is I who feel like Majnun. And my Layla is married to New Jersey, against her will.)
checked emails
drank water
made a to do list
went for promised walk
looked for kurtis online. more expensive than I was hoping for.
ate a banana
read online magazine called Khabar
remembered more homework
made popcorn
super tired thinking of my to do list



This is what depression looked like last weekend. I'm feeling a little better today. Yesterday I was angry with Zi and threw a milk carton at the wall. I've never done that before.

Zi talked me into a better mood. More hopeful. Yesterday was bad. But today will be good.
Inshallah.

Oh. Clarity.

About eleven years and eight men ago, I dated my neighbor. He was the first man I dated after my husband died. I wanted him. He was great. He laughed. At himself and the goofy antics we got up to. He sang, he wore CK, he smiled. I saw a future with him. We sat in the hot tub, he slept over, he feed my baby son, he put my toddler daughter to bed. We watched football on the family room couch in our pajamas. He kissed like a dream. We drank together, did errands together, compared music, and talked talked talked.

I wanted to marry him.

But, he wanted to be just friends. Which was confusing to me because whenever he'd come over to "watch a movie," we'd end up fucking. And every time we ended up fucking I thought, "Maybe now he'll want to be my boyfriend." He always felt bad after we made love. Not right then, of course, but the day after. He'd call me or email me and explain again that it just wasn't fair to me to keep having sex, because he didn't see a future with me. He just wanted to be my friend. I'd say, "Yeah, yeah, sure, okay." And the next time we'd get together, I'd ply my femininity and use my hands, and he would breathe faster, and we would join again.

One day I said, "I wish you liked me more." He pulled me to him and pulled off my clothes. "I like you too much. If I didn't like you as much as I do, I would have sex with you, no problem." Somehow his didn't seem contradictory to us making love right then.

"Let's just try it. Please. I know I could make you a good girlfriend. You know you already like me, you know you already like what I do to you...."

So he finally caved.
For two weeks.

Then he said, No. No more. I just want to be friends. Period.

We stopped having sex. He didn't visit much anymore. We started dating other people.

One day my boyfriend at the time broke up with me -- by sending me a letter in the mail! It felt like such a loser way to break up with someone that it spilled over to me. Now I felt like a loser. I didn't love him, but I was still despondent over being dumped, and I wasn't even worth a verbal dumping. He'd sent the US Postal Service to do his dumping.

I called my neighbor over. He cuddled me. He made me laugh. He took my mind off the other guy. And, we ended up fucking. It was glorious. Inevitably the thought came back, "Maybe now he'll want to be my boyfriend."

I smiled all next morning. I smiled all next afternoon. I smiled all evening. Then I went out to my car and drove out my driveway. On the way out of my cul-de-sac, I saw him driving back in. We stopped and rolled down our windows to talk. I don't remember what was said now, but whatever it was -- ordinary enough I'm sure -- I had a true to god Epiphany. So true, in fact, that it didn't hurt. I even smiled when it hit me, strictly because of its Truth.

He didn't want to be my boyfriend.
It was a pity fuck.

He assured me years later that it was not, in fact, a pity fuck. He'd wanted to do it, for him, too. Not just me. It wasn't because he felt sorry for me. But regardless of the reason he fucked me, the reality was still the same.

He didn't want to be my boyfriend.

And I finally believed him. That was the kicker. Somehow I'd tricked my mind into thinking, if I just could convince him with the right words, the right moves, he'd see me. But no. The realization was sweet and simple, and there wasn't any heartache afterward. It was just simply the truth. He didn't want to be my boyfriend.

So now. Current time. 2012. I find myself in a strangely parallel storyline. Though the backstory is much different.

Zi is in NJ, I am in OR. We love each. I'm totally certain of his passion and soul-shattering love for me. But he is without a greencard. And the only reason that he is in this country legally is because he is working for a company that is getting him a greencard. Once he's gone far enough into the process, he can move to OR and we can be together.

"We could get married! We know we love each other. We've even briefly lived with each other. We KNOW we're great in bed. I could get you the greencard. Quit your job and move. We can be together now," I said many many times.

His answer was never yes.
His answer was never no.

It was always a mix of ego and fear, and wait-just-a-minute-that's-not-how-it's-done.

I kept thinking that if I just said it in the right way, with the right words, with the right moves, he would see me. (Sound familiar?) See what I'm offering. See the life we can have. The life he even wants. I know he wants it. He says he wants stability. He says he wants roots, and to come home from work to the woman he loves. He imagines our future together -- even though he says it brings him pain and anxiety to do so. He sees us in Bangalore on the top floor of his parents' house, he sees teaching cricket to us, he sees having a baby with me, he sees telling his parents about me, he sees us living together, and having my pussy around his cock every day.


But I guess I wasn't saying it hard enough. So we've stayed alone, on opposite sides of the country from each other, and repeated -- like a mantra for the broken-hearted -- "the universe just has other plans for us right now." We've been waiting for this un-ending greencard process to continue continue continue.


But it is taking so long, and there is still months and months and months and months to go, that we are both breaking. The distance has proven too much for us.

We decided six weeks ago to start dating other people. I'm not sure what we hoped to accomplish -- dating unsuspecting honest people while we were still madly in love with each other. A recipe for disaster is what that looks like.

The message in my brain keeps saying the same thing over and over and over. It's two messages actually. Looping around each other, like the rounds my daughter's friends sing at her school functions.

The first one is the marriage message. If he would just consent to marriage, we'd be together.

Logistically it really could work! It's not illegal if you love each other, and you were going to do it anyway -- just later. I'd even figured out a way around the timing of the leaving of the job (which is keeping him in status) to the marriage and subsequent paperwork. We could be engaged while he looks for work over here. I could go over to NJ and we'd have the wedding there so he could still be employed. The family greencard paperwork would start and once it was final, he'd move to OR. Or even sooner if he'd secured employment over here. I'm convinced that would be faster than waiting for the employment greencard.

The second message looping in my brain is: If you love someone ... really truly love someone ... then you make it work no matter what.

Why is he really saying no to getting married? Yes, it's not the way he/we envisioned it happening. It's not as organic as we though it would be. It's got some legal red tape wrapped around a couple of the edges. But it would still get us in the same state. In the same city. With the same future ahead of us. Marriage and Family and Foreverness. If he is repeatedly saying 'no' (or more accurately 'not yet') that must mean he doesn't love me as much as I love him. It must mean, on some level, he's just not ready for marriage. Or maybe he's not ready for marriage with me.

Yesterday, I was out of town without internet access, so we were texting a fairly serious conversation. We both prefer to have those in person (which means Skype) so we can hear voice inflection and facial expression. Less chance for misunderstanding.

Nevertheless, here was our conversation via text:

"The only reason I'm not right there beside you is because I think it's not the best place for my kids. It would hurt people if I went there. But I often wonder who it would hurt if you came here? Why aren't you here for me, my aashikji?"

"Because of a cluster fuck."

"When you explain it to me on Skype, or in person, I mostly understand. But here, all my myself, I don't. Doubts creep in and I get confused and feel like there just must not be enough love, if you are in NJ. Why do I feel that? Do I not understand because I don't want to?

"It is because you love me and you want me very much."

"Those things are true, but what does that have to do with me not comprehending how you could stay away from me, by choice. I need my man. I don't just want and love you. I need you. You are my blood and oxygen."

"I understand. I am struggling with this situation."

"I have fantasies about you showing up on my doorstep or outside my work, saying, 'I'm here now. Forever. You said to come, so I did.' And then actually staying."

"I am sorry. We both have to accept our current situation. You know my visa situation."

"This is the part where the hearbreak and not understanding come in. I know you need a greencard to stay in this country and I know I could get you that greencard, but for some reason you don't want it. :( I don't mean to sound naggy or bitchy; it's the tape that's playing over and over in my head though."

"What tape, baby?"

"The recording in my head that repeats and repeats that you don't want me enough to marry me and get the greencard that will allow us to be together."

[EDITOR'S NOTE: This is where I would have expected him to jump in and contradict me. Something akin to, "No no. I do love you! It's just that ...." Instead, this was my response.]

"Do you have the heart to accept our current situation and live with it?"

[Wow. But maybe it was the impersonal method of texting. In Skype I could see his eyes while he said it. Maybe it was said with compassion and angst. So I try again. Telling it like it is from my heart.]

"What else is there to do, Zi? Except convince you otherwise. Sometimes I feel like I'm just not making my wishes and love known well enough to you. Like if I try harder you'll suddenly say 'OH, how foolish I've been.' And then you'll come to me in my dreams AND in my reality."

[Again, I need some reassurance here that he really does love me and that this separation is terrible for him and he dreams of marrying me and that the only reason he's not doing it is .... etc. Instead, he responds with:]

"What is preventing you from accepting our situation and being happy with it?"

[Smack. Maybe that's still the text medium not allowing his lovely voice to caress me with his honest curiosity and concern for me, but that sentence just hurt.]

"Because it's not what I want. It's what I'm begrudgingly settling for. I want you to be a part of my life everyday. Not four times a year."

My battery died at this point, and I was frantic to know his response. I couldn't get to my car to charge up my phone and hear his answer. I took a few deep breaths and let go of knowing for awhile. And what came to me was this: my neighbor.

Zi doesn't want to be married to me.

That's it. It's simple. The Truth. Simple and clean.

I've been begging him to marry me for almost a year. I've asked him, like, eight times. I've figured out legal angles and pleaded with him. I've started losing self-respect -- how many times do you throw yourself at someone before you see yourself?

And just like that day in our cars when I smiled with the Truth of my neighbor, 'He doesn't want to be my boyfriend,' I sat in the country meadow watching my son in a relay race and smiled with the Truth of Zi.

He doesn't want to marry me.





No heartbreak. Just the truth. He's my lover. We have love for each other. We are in love with each other. We fuck like we invented it. We have luscious memories. We have mad travel and porn adventures planned for the future -- if it ever comes -- but we aren't getting married. And I'll stop asking. And he'll stop hedging.

:)




But one more thing.
I'm really worried about Zi.
I'm sad for him.

Because what I see is this. My gut feeling for the future is this story:  I will start dating other men. I will fall for one of them and we'll start getting serious. Zi will be sad (as will I) because it's not him, and he'll start seeing someone, because it's time. I'll get even more serious with this other man, maybe we'll even move in together, and Zi will suddenly, and quite seriously, REALIZE.

He will see, in hindsight, that he should've gotten married to me when he had the chance. Just like he wished that he hadn't moved to NJ when he did. He's told me he wished he'd stayed with me while he was looking for work. Or that he wished he'd just concentrated his job search in Portland and Seattle, instead of all over the U.S. Or just like he wished that he'd never asked me to date other men last May. Or when he wished that he'd just stayed with me for a month last summer while he was waiting for his job to start.

He told me once that he used to be a planner. He meticulously planned ages in advance, until he realized that nothing he every planned worked out. So he stopped. He began an era of just going with the flow. Which is nice for lessening anxiety, but ... I wonder if this is now the consequence of that 'not planning.'

Always wishing you'd done something different.


When I finally got my cell charged up, the long awaited text response was this:

"So you don't want to be a part of this relationship where I am your lover?"

I never responded. I was still thinking. Processing this parallel Zi/neighbor thing.

But here's my response now.

"Of course I do. I love you, and will for a long time. Probably forever. You are an amazing part of my life. You've taught me so much about myself. And your cock is to die for. I want to fuck you for as long as can.

It might be ... and I think I'll be able to tell this summer when I visit in July ... that continuing the physical connection may be too hard for me to distance myself emotionally enough to date other men successfully. Sex is sex, yes, but with you it is so much more.

And it might be that if I continue having sex with you, I may find it hard to have a normal life in OR; my heart will still be in NJ. But I don't know that for sure.

And I'm willing to wait and see.

I do love you. So so much, Zi.

You are almost everything I want.

:)

It's ok that you don't want to do what it takes to be together.
I forgive you.
I forgive myself.
I love you and I love me.

No bitterness.

As it always will be.

As far as this transition goes, I no longer sob myself to sleep every night. I've stopped starring at your picture and listening to Julia Stone's This Love or Allie Moss's Something To Hold Onto. But there are tearful moments in the day -- as many as 5 days a week if I'm honest -- and I still see you everywhere I look. And I have activated my OKCupid account.

But that's all the progress I've made so far.

Well, and the moment of Truth I smiled at yesterday in the meadow.

I love you, Zi.

Forever.

Even if we never marry.

And I'll fuck you for as long as I can."

Self-honesty and Letting Go

I don't know where to go to write anymore. I took this platform class that has streamlined my blogs and website to make it more "professional," but then ... I don't have anywhere else to write write. Write write my heart. But maybe. Maybe maybe I should just write write anyway. Platform be damned. There is something, after all, to be said about writing as you are -- showing up on the page -- and whosoever gels with the message will stay to read. Will feel the resonation. Will soak up my words, like rain, and plant their own seeds because of what I've said. That's who I want reading my stuff anyway.

The other ones -- the ones that take umbrage with my phrases, my pictures of story -- those ones, they can just not read. They can put the book down. They can click away. They can unfriend me. Not with any haste or malice. Just. Because they don't find what I say interesting. It doesn't make them bleed or cry or say Yes. And that's ok. I am not writing for those people.


I've been dancing lately. Unpeeling myself and looking inside. Sometimes I'm amazed at the beauty, other times I'm startled at the dishonesty and ignorance. The blindness. The self-defeating practices.

Even now I'm struggling. Struggling to write these few words, because I've been blocked again. Blocked by my own arrogance. My own denial. My own ... unhealthy practices. Who knew that not eating enough calories, or subsisting on restaurant food and instant oatmeal, or not going to bed by 10pm (11 at the latest!) could interfere with my writing?

But there it is.

So I'm forcing it through.
Sucking the stories and truths out of my bone marrow to look at them.
Thinking.
Trying not to think.
Feeling.
Trying not to feel.

And then realizing I have to.


I have a man on my floor. My hardwood floor. He is humming his symphony and reading The Handmaid's Tale. He is my friend. My platonic brother. He stays with me when I am lonely. He stays with me when he is lonely. And we talk.

We dance. We eat. We cook for each other. And we take walks.

We ask questions and make observations. About each other.

And sometimes they are ... not what we want to hear.
I'm being self-serving here. Actually, he says things to me that ring true, but that I don't want to be. And I mostly strive to contribute to our stimulating conversation in a way that won't bore him. He loves me unconditionally; we're soul-family. But most times I think I don't intellectually stimulate him, so I feel bad. Like the friendship is lopsided.

But it can't be too bad. :) We keep leaning on each other.


I'm working on two things these days.
One, letting go gracefully.

My brotherfriend says that I can't grow with fear stopping me every time I look in a particular direction. But isn't fear a natural reaction to change? Isn't fear a necessary emotion during transition? One that helps you slow down your impulse to sprint through the grieving process? Because that's my inclination. Hurry up and grieve. And in doing so I would miss the lessons and gratitude my life situations have gifted me. So no. I want to meander, not sprint. Even as my fear is slightly paralyzing, isn't that better than the alternative?

Ultimately I know that the fear will subside with time, and I will begin to move again. Look at the light again. Foster hope again. And actually, I think that will happen probably sooner than I think, but the safety of fear and paralysis is comforting.

If even a little annoying.

Two -- the other thing I'm working on -- being honest with myself.

Remember J from last year? He's back. Not in a romantic dating sort of way, but in a we travel in the same circles sort of way. He dances at the same center as I do. And a couple of times we've danced together. And once or twice I've gone out in a group after dance, and he's been one of the people there. Eventually a friendship may just evolve.

Tonight in my conversation with my brotherfriend, I started thinking, or rather feeling, that maybe there is some unfinished business with J. I feel like I've had closure with him, so of what sort of unfinished business, I don't know. Maybe we're meant to mutually inspire the spillage of words. Maybe we're meant to support each other through lonely rough times, like my brotherfriend and I do. I don't know.

But here's the thing.
I'm afraid to look at it.
Not because I'm afraid of what I'll find.
But because I'm afraid it'll hurt Zi.

He's said he's not jealous of J, that it just triggers old feelings of confusion and irritation for Zi. It reminds him of an unpleasant time. And I don't want to be the bringer of bad feelings. Especially when I can't hold his hand through it.

So is this me being dishonest with myself? My not looking at this curiosity? This friendship that might be, with J? Am I being dishonest with myself by saying that I don't want to befriend him at all, out of respect to Zi?

Or is that actually a horrible arrogance? The arrogance of believing myself responsible for Zi's feelings. As if I had control over them. As if I could manipulate him having only positive experiences on this planet. It's true he is an adult, and capable of having his own experiences. It's also true that it's not my responsibility (with all the respect in me) to make sure he's happy all the time.

But still.

I do feel responsible. I love him. I don't want to ever do anything that could create any feelings of distress for him.

But that's impossible.

I've already failed at that many times. Every time I cry. Every time I say, "No," every time I say, "I don't know," every time I change my mind, every time I say, "I can't," I fail him.

I remind myself that if I'd just been honest with myself, I wouldn't have stayed in a nine year relationship that should've ended sooner. If I'd just been honest with myself, I maybe would've captured Zi's heart earlier and he wouldn't have left Oregon, and we would still be together now -- and not in a place where I'm forced to practice my letting go skills.

A powerful stimulus for self-honesty indeed.

Survival

In a small shelter
Not of earth
But of my own flesh

Huddled in the corner
Of my psyche
I shiver
And shake
And bleed.

Survival means
Holding my breath
Until sleep comes,

Or until you reach for me
And I hold out a trembling finger
For you to touch.