1). I do not want to let go of U. If I did, I would have already let go. I was judging myself as being terrible at letting go in general and of her in particular, but realized that I am fairly skilled at loss, grief, realizing the truth of things, and moving on. I have done this many, many times in my life, and I get more and more graceful at it with more practice. So, being good at it, and still feeling attached to U, my guess is that I just don't want to let go. I'm not entirely sure why I do not want to let go of her and move on, but it seems more likely than my not being capable of it.
Instead of having judgment about "not being able" to let go, of course, I have judgment about not wanting to. What kind of a foolish and unrealistic person would want to hang on, given the circumstances? My only answer to this critical voice is to say, well, this kind. I think it frustrates friends of mine. "What are you thinking?" they are thinking. Maybe. I have no good answer.
Brainstorming possible reasons without censoring: I want to be with her again, I feel like if I hang on she'll come back, I am still holding out hope we will be together, I want to communicate with her more, I am afraid she will forget me if I move on, I am afraid that the whole thing was meaningless and a delusion and I'm afraid of the pain that a realization like that would cause, I am so lonely, grinding away at the dissertation, that my feelings of attachment are one way to feel connected to the human race, I don't know though- none of those hit the mark completely, even after I write them down. I guess the one that stands out the most is the magical thinking that, if I just hold on, a relationship will materialize. As if I can manipulate that outcome unilaterally, which is definitely something I have tried in past relationships (and failed at).
Maybe it's a mix of not wanting to let go and not being able to. Not sure. One thing I think happens is that U adjusts her behavior after I disclose my feelings, especially any indication of attachment or desire. I think she might go silent and create distance in an effort to protect me or make it more likely that my feelings will go away, or at least diminish. It could be that she just gets rattled by my attachment and creates distance to protect herself, or I guess both could be true. All I know is that now, whenever I say even just "I miss you," for example, things seem to shut down. I wrote here, maybe a month ago, how I was madly in love with her still, and that led to a huge reduction in our communication. I guess I feel like that pattern of her withdrawal from my expressions of affection or attachment is punitive. It's not a desire on her part to punish me for my emotions, but it's how my raw inner self reacts- that was definitely how I was raised- punished for having feelings.
The thing is, my complex emotional life is not contingent on her behavior one way or the other. Being out of touch doesn't change how I feel and neither does being in touch. It seems like my deal right now is just...my deal.
And it's not linear- I have days where I am loose and free. Then I have days where I can't stop remembering visits to see her, the connection we had, the sense of the rightness of being together, for however long we could. I'm grateful for all of these experiences, of course, but there's a part of me that must get a thrill from delving back, ruminating and recalling. Meditation helps me take refuge in the present, but there are a lot of unmanageable and unconscious things going on for me, and many of the memories and feelings just flood in- unbidden, sudden and raw. I am variously able to "handle" them- some days, I watch them arise and pass away, give thanks and feel amazement at an incredible experience. Others, they are like a rusty dagger in the heart.
I had a dream the other night that I reached out and grabbed a knife blade and held on to it as incredible pain washed over me and blood poured to the floor. A voice connected to this disembodied dagger said "what are you doing, let go, let go," and I said "I have to take it from you first, in order to throw it away." That's the only thing I recall from that dream. But it feels like a plain enough message for how I feel I have to process things that hurt me- to let them hurt me fully, "take it," and only then be able to throw it away. It occurs to me that there are a lot of other ways to interact with that disembodied knife.
My Buddhist friends are always talking about how all of my suffering is due to my thoughts. "If thoughts arise that cause you suffering, train your mind, redirect your thoughts, and create space where there would have been pain." I'm skeptical about this process, as it feels like spiritual bypass to me. But I am also practicing this very thing, especially in meditation. When I remember that *nothing is happening right now* between U and me, there's great freedom in that presence. I am growing out of my old mythology that pain, in and of itself, has healing powers.
2). Someone shared at last night's CoDA meeting, which I love because it is at the LGBTQ recovery center in the city, and I find many LGBTQ people are authentic, connected, aware and interesting, that one of her big blocks in her recovery is fear of freedom.
It seems odd to be afraid of freedom. We habitually think of freedom as something to be greatly desired. But I started reflecting on it and realized I am driven by that fear a lot. I think my procrastination (which thankfully is at a low level right now) on the dissertation is quite simply fear of being done. As much as I long to be fucking done, it amazes me to realize that I am afraid of being done at the same time.
Maybe my wanting to hang on to U is fear of freedom also. It doesn't feel like it is, but one never knows. I never know until I sit with something for a while.
I do know that some of the longer stretches I spent in high school teaching were due to a fear of the freedom to do things that felt more connected to who I am. I think also that my narrative impulse via social media is a fear of being completely free and un-witnessed, so to speak. I used to go on long trips and hardly document them at all, and not even report much about them afterwards. It seems I have developed a feeling of need around documentation. A feeling of everything not being real unless it's reported somehow. And this impulse keeps me less than free- tied to media and to my camera, and, more importantly, to that weird feeling of being lonely as fuck but never completely alone.
There was a woman at the meeting last night I was attracted to and I started having those rescue thoughts toward her. She was sharing about how hard it is for her to be single. How lonely she is. How abusive her ex boyfriend was. These are multiple switches for me, seeing an opening to be a rescuer, make my life better by making hers better, be sure I am "not like that other guy."
I stepped back and something in me said "you know, if anyone in here needs rescuing, it's you buddy. You aren't going to rescue yourself by "helping" her. It doesn't work that way." As soon as I had a few clarifying thoughts along these lines, I looked at her again, and I was not attracted at all. In fact, I just saw trouble and heartache. Then, in the parking lot, I ran into an old friend who is reading a book called Attachment, and she started talking to me about avoidant, anxious and secure attachment styles. I realized that my rescuer impulse sets in motion all kinds of both avoidant and anxious dynamics.
This is new for me.
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