He Gets

Further
And
Further
Away.

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.

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."

Udasi

Dripping
Stretching
Like a Salvador Dali painting
I'm pulling apart.

I don't even know what to do. Where to go.

Maybe I'm taking myself too seriously.
But I can't breathe.
My wooden lungs don't expand anymore.

Mein tum se pyaar karti hoon, Zi.
I don't know how to be anymore.
Without you.

Scalpel

There's nothing more sad than changing your Facebook status from 'in a relationship' to 'it's complicated.'

But then,

I deleted my FB cover photo of our hands intertwined.

And then,

even worse

I changed my blog description from "a mama writer swirls in her fascination with India while balancing five jobs and a long-distance, inter-racial relationship" (which identified and described me so perfectly) to ....  "a Pacific Northwest writer mama swirls in her fascination with India while balancing five jobs."

Deleting "long-distance, inter-racial relationship" felt like throwing away Rob's toothbrush when he died.

A whole half of me is gone.

We dated for a year and a half. Now who am I?

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.

a letter to others like me

Dear Friend-That's-Also-in-a-Long-Distance-Relationship,

I’m sorry you’re having a hard time. I am, too. I have good days and bad days.

Bad Days are where I can’t imagine staying in this relationship because I’m purposefully living without touch, without companionship, without daily help – emotionally, mentally, and physically, and without “gymnastics in the bedroom” during my sexual prime. And that just sounds stupid. Who the fuck would do that to themselves on purpose?

I must be insane.

Good Days are the ones where I feel a part of something bigger. Where I feel taken care of. Strong. Loved. Held. On those days I feel like I could last forever. Especially when I get to visit with him often. To smell him. Touch his skin. Brush our teeth together.

Mostly I try to distract myself.

I haven’t decided if that is a healthy thing to do, or not.

Sometimes it just makes sense to do it. How else could I make it a year without him?

But lots of time I wonder if in the process of trying to distract myself, I’m hiding from the pain. Not processing it. Lying to myself about what I want.

I know I should look at that. To make sure. To at least acknowledge the things I’m avoiding – if I am avoiding them. But not right now. Right now my son is playing video games with noise in them, while he commentates everything he sees, does, or builds. Thoughts too. “Whoa! I forgot that was there. Oh look, a cow. Oh look, a creeper. Explode. Haha. Cow udder cup. Shift. (humming) My shift failed me again. Luckily it wasn’t so I would die. Now let’s fix this. I know for a fact…., Oh look, my little stack of pumpkins.”  It’s exhausting. And not conducive to soul searching.

Over and out.

Until next time.

Zin

When I Think of War Brides

I know, I know. It sucks. Totally. Having your boyfriend live across the country bites. It’s lame. It’s all the shitty adjectives you can think of. Sad, lonely, taxing, exhausting.

            But. There are some not so shitty things, too. Things that he and I’ve acknowledged are maybe not blessings, but are certainly part of our relationship because we live so far apart.

            And we use those things. Use them to carry us to the next visit. Use them to reconcile the pain at our separation, and our love and yearning to stay together.

           

We talk so much more. If we lived in the same house, we’d spend a lot of time snuggling on the couch – which is AWESOME – but we wouldn’t maybe be getting to know each other as much. Now we talk about his past, my past, religion, traditions, culture, language, sexuality, friendship, love, spirituality, healthy lifestyle issues, parenting, finances, music, movies, photography, artistry, and travel.

Strangely enough, our sexual connection is actually stronger. How? Well, I already mentioned the talking. And talking about sex is pretty sexy. We sext, we have Skype sex, we make videos for each other and send them over Skype (the files are too big to email). And when we are together, we video ourselves. Shamelessly. It’s superb. And we watch those videos, over and over. It’s like we have our own porn channel. Whenever we miss each other, or get horny, there we are. In full color. Moaning.

            S.U.P.E.R.B.

There’s room for more personal growth. At least for me. He’s lived on his own for a decade. But this year marks my first year ever of living by myself. I’m at an age where, if I don’t fully understand my own needs and wants now, I might not have another chance to be in the type of relationship I want.

What I mean is, there has been a pattern to a lot of my relationships – not all of them – where I stay in them much longer than is healthy for me. I settle. Well …  he’s not hurting me. He’s nice. I’m in a comfortable place here. And frankly, at 37 (Ok, 38 next month) I don’t want to get involved anymore in long term relationships where there isn’t love and passion and purpose embedded in our souls. “He’s nice” doesn’t do it for me anymore.

Living apart enables me to have the space and time to explore my inner-self and discover who I am, what I need, how to feed myself. What are my passions? How can I be in a romantic relationship and keep myself intact and not lose myself?

Also, in my unique case, I have another thing to wonder about. I affectionately refer to myself as an Indophile. I love all things Indian. The food, the music, the language, the colors. (The movies, too, but don’t tell anyone.) Because this is a natural passion for me – some may say obsession – I include this idiosyncrasy in the make-up of who I am. But, it just so happens that my boyfriend is Indian, too. And while I drooled over Bollywood and bhangra music before I met him, being in love with him has definitely fed my, ok, ok, obsession. So … am I losing myself into his world? Or am I reveling in my own interests and passions? Food for thought.

And another piece for my personal growth is discovering those things that move me. I already know that art, photography, writing, and dancing do those for me. But setting boundaries for myself and making space for those things in my life is another thing altogether. 

Our imagination is certainly getting a run for its money. We imagine everything. Him teaching my son cricket, him one day telling his family about me, us living together, us having a baby together, us traveling India, me caring for him when he’s sick … even more sexual positions to try…

We encourage each other to do more. I don’t know if this would actually happen less often if we were living in the same place. But it does make sense that in living together we would eventually trickle into some complacency. Who doesn’t? Routine is a beautiful thing, after all. I imagine cooking together, and folding laundry while we watch a foreign film on Netflix – running errands together. And I even crave that complacency, I truly do. But, I think that because we don’t do those things together now, we encourage each other to do things that sometimes pull us out of our comfort zone.

For instance, he encourages me to apply for online writing jobs, and advertise for my editing services. Things I would never have the focus to do if he wasn’t checking in with me every day to see if I’d done them yet. And I ask him if he’s done his kriya for the day, if he’s written in his blog recently, and what kind of exercise he’s done that week. If we were living together, we’d know none of that stuff was done, we wouldn’t ask about it, and we wouldn’t do it.

Maybe.

There’s more I could add, like we’re working hard on battling this distance and staying strong for each other (and for ourselves), and that creates a resilient energetic bond that we wouldn’t have if we weren’t experiencing this situation now.

And you know how they say that you don’t really know a person until you live with them? Well, I believe that’s true, yes, but I also think there’s something to be said for seeing each other in and under these extreme circumstances.

We’re apart for so long, and our time together is so short, and we have urges and yearnings and disappointments and needs and tantrums. I think we definitely see a part of each other that we wouldn’t if we lived together. And it’s important to see this part. I want to know what my man is going to do under fire. Because, unfortunately – I’m sorry to say – I will at some point (and already have a couple of times) put my baby under fire. And he will reciprocate, I’m sure. Not out of retaliation, of course, but just in the course of our time together. We call each other on our shit. It’s bound to happen.

These are all things I get to experience in this long-distance relationship.

These are things I can be thankful for.

But.

I still would rather have him with me.

And when things get particularly bad, I watch Anne of Green Gables: The Continuing Story where Anne travels to Europe looking for her MIA husband in WWI. She finds him. Like two years later.

Yeah. When I think about war brides … I know I can wait the year it will take for my man to get to me. I remember that I can text him anytime I want during the day, and he’ll answer. I remember I can Skype with him every day and see his face, hear his voice. And I can visit him whenever money and time allow. War brides couldn’t. But I can.

Yeah. When I think about war brides … I know I can wait the year it will take for my man to get to me.

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."

maybe it's not mine after all

despair. a good day turned black fog.
Julia Stone's This Love
brings panic, a scrambling and nostalgia for a time
barely dead.

rising above the smog to the pristine crispness of your face and the firmness of your jaw
I reach for your soul
my own salvation
and turn off the lights to my hope.
maybe it's not mine after all.
maybe I'm hurting us anew.

from dark to light to dark again
my spirit fluctuates
dims and brightens with the sound of your voice
over the miles.

exhaustion is the plain unromantic truth
and sustainability is a mirage.

tsunami and drought
butterflies and grubs
mt. everest and the grand canyon
water and clay.

crushing vascillations,
doubt reproducing like
cell division.

rising above the smog to the pristine crispness of your face and the firmness of your jaw

I reach for your soul

my own salvation

and turn off the lights to my hope.

maybe it's not mine after all.

maybe I'm hurting us anew.

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.

Between

This post will just highlight my ever changing moods and frames of mind. I actually wrote this in my journal last night, but woke feeling different. Not totally, but you know, much-less-dramatic-than-at-night-when-you're-tired different.

~

I want to write a little about inspiration and -- NaBlPoMo. Which is strangely fun to say. I feel like I'm in sore need of some artistic influence -- enter NapBloPoMo. NaBloPoMo's (National Blog Posting Month's) theme this month is "Between." When I read that I knew I needed to play along. For realsies.



I am soooo in the in between spaces right now. Which is interesting because of Samhain, the Celtic New Year. (Halloween to many.) We are fast approaching this day of seasonal change. We're (I'm) on the cusp of a new year and new intentions and re-newed energy and letting go of stagnant air and sluggish energy.

I feel a recent desire to connect with estranged friends -- specifically one that I felt I'd abandoned without much closure -- and a restless, rustling energy to start life again after being dead. Which is also strange.

How can I be re-born in the dead of winter? When the days are still steadily getting shorter and shorter and suffocating in the dimming of the sun?

Why do I always feel like autumn is a time for new beginnings? Maybe it's nesting. Maybe it's in preparation for the cold dark months ahead. Maybe it's because I know I'll be depressed in the bleakness of February, so I'm rallying now.

But at any rate, I feel between right now. So this blogging exercise will be right up my alley.

I'm between.
In between.
Out of one thing,
Into another.
Hazy.

My divorce is final,
but I'm not feeling fully engaged with my long distance boyfriend.
"One day at a time" feels like walking,
which is lovely,
but not like we're going anywhere yet.
Like we're taking a fabulous walk in the countryside crisp with leaves and fields of grass where dogs can run for miles with lolling tongues. We're talking and laughing and sharing an ice cream cone, but we're just walking in circles.

And I want us to explore over there,
by those trees
and by that creek
where the water laughs over rocks.

I know we'll get there eventually,
but right now we're still in these circles.
Around and around
On an invisible track.

The walk is energizing and just what I want, but I keep looking up wanting us to walk over there.
But it's not time yet.
The circle is where we live right now.
Yet ...
What if we walked a little faster maybe?
Or -- Let's try backwards.
Or what if we skipped in these circles?

~

And then this morning, I wake with all smiles.
I have a brilliant (BRILLIANT) conversation with Zi, and we are planning our next visit.
I will hopefully see him in three weeks. He finally has his own apartment.
THREE WEEKS!
This changes ... well ... not much actually. Lol. But still! Three weeks!
I'm full of spices and romance and fantasies and love.

And

I hope your day is too.

See Name Of This Blog

Zi and I named this blog Bare And Raw because that's how we want to be with each other. Bare and raw. In everything from sex to emotions. And I *love* that concept. I expect nothing less from Zi, and I know he expects bare honesty from me, too. But here's the hard part. I'm a chicken shit.

And that's so stupid coming from an artist.

If I paint something, or sculpt something, or write something, I am laying naked on a stage. Vulnerable. Letting my insides leak out. People can see everything.

And it's the same for me with sharing emotions. If I let my 'all' outside my skin, who will like me? Will I be driving away the very people I love and need right then?

My therapist said that if I act in a certain way in order to make someone else feel/do/say something, I am 1) being manipulative (ouch), and 2) I'm not showing up and being authentic. And if I don't show up as who I am, flaws and all, then how can I expect others to love the real me -- if I don't show them that.

So here's me saying something I've been afraid of saying:
I'm confused.

I'm starting to feel different about this long-distance relationship. But I don't know what that means. Or if it means anything. And lots of times I'm afraid to look at it, for fear of it showing me something I don't want to see.

I used to find joy in imagining Zi with me during the day. I'd be sitting on the couch typing, and imagine him in the kitchen making me tea, and I'd smile. I'd be driving in the van doing errands and imagine him sitting next to me, talking. I'd go to sleep and pull a pillow close, or wad the comforter up and throw my leg across it, imagining they were Zi. My Aashik. And I'd smile. I'd wear his clothes, his cologne, drink his brand of tea. Drink coffee in the morning even when I didn't want to, because I knew where he was, he was doing it, too. I'd do it all with a smile.

I'd Skype with him every day. Look forward to it. Run to the computer with a smile. Talk to him on his lunch hour and text him frequently. All with joy in my heart. I felt close to him. Sharing our love together. Feeding off of each other.

But lately...

I don't feel joy in any of that.
It's depressing now.

I used to find joy in coming up with exciting new sexy videos to send him; now even masturbating seems depressing.

Why is that?

Not about the masturbating, but the rest of it.

Why would something that once brought me joy, now fill me with black clouds?

I used to find joy in planning our future out, and imagining our visits together. Now thinking about the future is depressing. Aashik has said this is true for him, too, though, and so he just doesn't think about it.  Maybe what's happening is I'm trying that tactic, and my result is .... a distancing.

If I try not to have such constant contact with him (which previously helped me breathe and make it so I could get through the day), because now it reminds me that we live three thousand miles apart from each other, then what happens is: a distance between his soul and mine. A cooling. In an effort to protect my heart, am I pushing away my Zi?

He says that he's been feeling something different between us lately. Is it this? Is it depression (mine or his)? Or is it me pms-ing and I'll feel totally different in two weeks? Relieved. Full of imagery again. Planning for our next visit again.

These are the things I don't like sharing with anyone ... *especially* Zi, because what if pms is really all it is? What if this is just a different kind of missing him? What if this is just a blue day? And what if it is just one of those things, but Zi takes it to heart and panics and breaks up with me?

But what if it's not?
What if it's not one of those things, but something else entirely?
The thing I don't want to look at.

What if I've met the One, the best guy in the world for me, but it's just not the right time? What if I just can't handle this distance? I'm so lonely.

I go out with my girlfriends. I plan, organize and hold a Divorced Ladies Support Group once or twice a month where I laugh; talk about boobs, porn and dating; eat cupcakes and drink vodka. I'm reading all the time. I watch movies all the time. I'm a mom, which means I'm just doing stuff, all the time. I work part time at a restaurant. I'm trying to write/edit/promote. I'm exercising. I'm trying to learn a new language. I'm dancing now. Just signed my divorce papers. And I'm stupidly looking for a new apartment that will take dogs. And trying to get a hold on to my finances.

The point is: I fill my days. And my nights. And my weekends.
I have hobbies.
And I have love.
And I still feel lonely.

So what do I do?

Do I ignore the loneliness? What if that causes it to fester and rot into something even uglier?

Do I talk about it to my friends? While my friends love me and want the best for me, sometimes that doesn't translate to encouraging my long-distance relationship. So, it's ... non-productive at times to talk about me and Zi to them.

Seriously. What do I do?

Do I ride it out in this half-dead, auto-pilot existence? Hmm. If I'm only half-dead now, a year or two of this will finish me off.

Do I cut down on my contact with Zi? If I dive into my hobbies and interests and try to feel like not-a-boring person, I'll be more interested in myself. I might get excited about things again. And I'll have things to talk about with Zi again (instead of same old 'picked up kids from school/hard day at work/did you find a job yet' conversations.) Maybe I'll find *me* again. Maybe I've pulled this relationship with Zi up so far past my shoulders that it's covering me completely. Maybe I'm lost. Maybe I'm not real anymore.

Am I here?

What's real?

Is it my loneliness?
Is it feeling like I'm going to throw up when I think of living even the next four *months* without Zi -- let alone the one year that I'm telling myself that it will be, even though I know underneath it'll be closer to two years?
Is it wanting this relationship with Zi so much that I'm falling apart at the seams and then wondering if I want it because it's real, or because it's what I have right now?
Is it wanting to meet Jimmy for a cup of coffee, not because I want to start dating him again, but because he and I once loved each other (sort-of), and if I'm around him, maybe I'll get some of that love vibe in the airwaves and I can feel like a human again?
Or is it wanting my totally-platonic-like-a-brother-that-snuggles friend to come over and hold me so I *don't* contact Jimmy for that cup of coffee and find out I *do* miss him?

What is real?

Is it that I have a beautiful Indian lover in NJ that loves me and wants me, for me, no matter the cost, the challenges, the distance, the hardships, the taboo? Is it that he'll care for me always and worship me and make all my dreams come true?
Is it that I have a deep and penetrating connection to him that I fear living without?
Is he The One?

I don't want to look inside me to know the answers to these questions.
I want to just know.

Is this depression?
Is this missing Aashik?
Is this serious?
Is this something to just ride through?
Is is PMS?
Is it that I just haven't seem him in going on three months now? Without an end in sight. Sure. "When he gets his apartment." But (head shake) if he gets his apartment, that means he isn't coming to the NW any time soon. So I'm not really wishing for that either -- even though it means I'll get to see him.

And here's one last thing. When I'm with Zi in the present, I *never* *never* *never* have these thoughts. Ever. So, this is not me having seconds thoughts about Zi. This is me wondering how to be in relationship with him and still be fully alive. Not on auto-pilot. Auto-pilot hurts too much.

Maybe this is just my spirit's way of telling me that I need to see him every two months, no matter the cost, or I can't survive this.

I love you so much, Zi.
I want you.