One side of my side of the one sided side, disc one, side one, track one

I am doing something different regarding the end of the affair with the loml, which is keeping one of the channels of communication open, namely texting. Maybe a little bit of phone as well. By default, this blog, which she sometimes reads. My usual MO after a break up is to completely cut off all channels, at least for a time. In the past I think this approach has been a combination of anger, petulance, an attempt at self protection and a desperate play for simplicity and clarity. Of course, I reserve the right to ask for breaks or to close the channels if I need it, and I may still decide I need that. But it feels good to not be so absolutist and dramatic about things, at least for the time being. 

I really ought to have a fainting couch. I tease myself, but the fact remains that I feel things intensely. It's a legit part of who I am. I let other people make fun of it at the risk of my self esteem. Especially people who take as a point of pride being as cold as ice. 

However, the vague sense of something that has long bothered me finally came into real focus in the context of ending the romance but remaining in contact. The loml was nearly 100% in control of communications, at all times. She determined what type of communication, how often, when and for how long, every time we were in contact. I haven't ever been friends with anyone who maintained such strict control over their communication life. I would guess it is a side effect of being a nurse full time, being married, mothering small children. But it's interesting to note. I think there are other issues related to this total control over every aspect of communication. It seems to me her tightening of control would increase in direct proportion to her fear and/or guilt and shame. There's an inherent deep inequity in it that I guess at some point in the past I just resigned myself to. 

Control panel

It's partly a reflection of how available I am at all times, while I work on the PhD-- connected to phone, computer, etc. So that when she messaged, I was almost always right there. But it's not just these practical things. It's also a dynamic of control that extends beyond the practical. It's also my own feeling that when I have outright asked for communication or tried to initiate it, a lot of the time, it is taken as a burden or imposition, or ignored for long stretches of time. She mentioned in an email that she was thinking about the two of us being together in the Twin Cities in the future, and I replied with an email expressing my willingness to try that, without asking her to change anything about her situation, and she never replied. As was more and more the case recently, my communication seemed to fall into a bottomless void of silence. 

     The trigger for her ending the affair on the 20th was after I had "given her space" (an exercise in futility where I was actually just acknowledging reality) and then expressed my unhappiness with her total disappearance (space does not equal many light years?)-- but in connection with one of the truly rattling and crazy-making dynamics of our long distance affair, where she would be totally ignoring me but active on Facebook. It was often the case that the fucking green dot was a source of queasy vertigo for me. Talk about modern day problems, right? Anyway, I expressed my unhappiness about it and she ended the affair. End of story. That's my perception anyway. I didn't clearly realize until this morning how much resentment I feel around the nearly total inequity of our communication with each other, whether in the affair or in friendship. It's funny too, because people have accused me of the exact same behavior over the years. Controlling the timing, type, extent and frequency of communication. I've lost friends and lovers over it. 

Anyway, back into dissertation writing for me. The best Xmas prezzie I could give myself would be to be fucking done with this draft, finally. The goal is to have it in the can by New Year's, a month "late." My committee chair is in no hurry to read and offer feedback anyway. I sent him the draft of the first chapter two months ago and it's been crickets since then. He and I are going to have to have a talk, because he seems to be operating under some strange assumptions. I didn't get a swanky post doc I had applied for, and I didn't get the completion fellowships from (worthless fucking) ASU that I had applied for, so I'll be teaching anatomy again. Fine by me, as I love teaching anatomy and having that commitment will put some spine into my week, haha, get it. But it adds a little more pressure to the dissertation process. So be it. I'm done, and every molecule is directed to being done, pretty much with every motherfucking thing that does not serve me, no matter how ardently cherished and deeply desired. I have a big fork I am sticking into everything. It's time.