Resolved:
May 5, 2011
I think of Scotland on this rainy morning of a day I’ve taken off work. It’s a fine day for not working, for taking an hour to drink my coffee, for reading and occasionally looking out at everything getting wet and feeling enwombed on the sofa. I’m working on a tea now as the breeze from the cracked window brushes my knuckles. This would be my last post here but for knowing how to end this tidily. But what does it need of my ending it? It’s over. It’s taken this long to write again because…well, I just don’t know, and I don’t feel inclined to sort it out, anymore than I do to come to neat conclusions. That’s not like me–not like that me, anyway. The transition I sought for Satellite Dance was, in fact, my own, and that transition has, practically and essentially, moved me from this blog. Regrets, hopes, lessons learned–whatever they are, I’ll live with them, not kill them through vivisection. They are a part of me more as vital organs than as tumors.
The rain seems to have let up a little. I hope it doesn’t stop. I don’t want to be tempted outdoors. It would not then, either, be a perfect day for whisky. The traffic is still noisy out. How could there not be a lull at ten in the morning? Is anyone going anwhere? The downspout’s output is down to a trickle, and the puddles are undisturbed. Wipers swish only to dispel the spindrift of the car in front. A tension grows in my shoulder.
I won’t come full-circle. That would put me back where I started. I didn’t book a round trip. I’d like to think–and I have to believe–that I’ve gotten somewhere, and I don’t need to know where I’ve been to know where I am. This satellite dance was not about me going ’round and ’round, but about all us satellites circling one another, hoping for and dreading collision. Satellites don’t get anywhere unless they’re knocked off course. I won’t belabor the metaphor; you already know what I mean.
The site will remain up, but I will do my writing elsewhere. It’s sunny now, and I’m compelled to lay down the pen and get out. That’s just the way it will be.
May 6, 2011 at pm
Good luck, with your writing and with your life. When you settle in elsewhere, will you post a link to it here? I’d like to continue to write what you read, even if you move on from the topics you’ve been circling on this blog.
May 7, 2011 at am
Thank you for reading, feeling, and sharing. I will certainly let you know where elsewhere is when I get there. Take care, and please feel free to continue to comment or write me on the side.
August 15, 2011 at pm
Been checking in once in while. I’m glad to see Book Monkey continues to progress and I hope you are doing well!
August 16, 2011 at am
It’s great hearing from you. I think about you, worrying that you’ve given up on seeing something new from me. I keep meaning to drop you a line. I am writing something new that I call “Crystal Delusions” that I hope to launch in October. I think you’ll like it. I’m glad you like Book Monkey; of all my related projects, I have the most fondness for that one, for its gentleness and unapologetic naivete. I sometimes wish he were me. But for my cynicism, maybe I am. I hope you have come to an understanding with your own situation, either with resolution or acceptance. I will keep you posted on the new project.
August 18, 2011 at am
Glad to hear back from you. I have come to an understanding of my situation, of sorts: I am unhappily married and have been for some time; things seem unlikely to improve; it would be very difficult financially, emotionally, etc. to disentangle even partially from this relationship, and because of kids I could never disentangle fully; I am holding on to an ideal of a wonderful woman I cannot ever have as a solace and a distraction from this situation. The question now is what to do about the situation — I cannot accept living this way for the rest of my life — and there I am at as much of loss as I ever was.
Don’t worry, I’ll keep checking in periodically!
Best regards,
rococo
August 24, 2011 at pm
I divorced nine years ago. My kids were in kindergarten. They didn’t quite understand, but they have had time to come to terms and are now well-adjusted teenagers who have friends whose parents are just now divorcing and to whom it has been devastating. Though I would not call myself a happy person, I am a much happier person for no longer being married. I enjoy my kids much more, too, without the stress of living with their mother, and they, therefore, enjoy my company more than when I lived with them. Just as importantly, my ex-wife is happier, too. Your wife cannot be any happier with you than you are with your life with her. You do not need to disentangle with her fully–you can’t as long as you have kids–but you need to disentangle, for the sake of all of you. Of course, it won’t be easy, but you will never be happy continuing as you are. We all deserve to be happy.