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Feb. 1st, 2011 12:29 amChange of plans. Heading to Portland in the morning. Nervous, scared, hopeful.
Things are bad. But I still believe they can be good.
Things are bad. But I still believe they can be good.
Feb. 1st, 2011
Without Fail
Feb. 1st, 2011 10:06 amWhenever I fly alone, there is one guarantee. As soon as I unpack my computer and get it up and running at the one working outlet in the entire terminal, I will be overcome with the most urgent need to use the facilities a human being has ever experienced. 100%. I hit the loo before finding my gate this morning. I literally squeezed my own stomach to make sure I was DONE. I came to the gate, set up my computer, and had to immediately pack it back up lest I mess myself. Seriously, what kind of conditioned response is this?
I'd estimate that 75% of the people at the airport this morning are Mormon missionaries. Young men who can't be out of their teenage years yet all wearing badges that say "Elder Whatshisname." The idea of being an elder, a voice of authority in a spiritual community -- one that takes its spiritual guidance very seriously -- at such a young age is just baffling to me. I know that in centuries past, adulthood really did begin in the teen years, but I wonder how much society affects maturity. I know I wouldn't take advice from the 21-year-old Meg, or even the 25-year-old one, and I'd hardly even recognize the teenage version of myself. I wonder, then, in a community that starts treating you as an adult at a very young age, do you actually mature faster? How much wiser is a 35-year-old Mormon elder than a 19-year-old one? I hope I'm a lot wiser by the time I'm 35. It feels like I'm pretty close to that age, really, but if I change as much in the next eight years as I have in the last, I'll either be living in a commune somewhere with my girlfriend and our three kids or voting Republican.
Today might mark the beginning of the next big turning point in my life. I'm not really sure. Z bought me a plane ticket to Portland last night (I board in 5 min) because he wants to figure out right now if we're going to work together and reconcile or start taking real steps toward divorce. I'm very hopeful that we can decide that it's possible and worthwhile to try to reconcile. I feel ready and that's what I've wanted all along, without wavering. But I'm very nervous that he'll decide he just can't do it. I'm not going there to plead my case or to try to beg my way back into marriage. I fucked up a lot over the last few years, and I have no defense for my actions -- I don't want to try to defend them. I just want him to see the evidence that I'm a very different person now, a much stronger, healthier, and better person, which makes me a better partner. But when shit hit the fan yesterday, I felt myself dealing with my first real meltdown since starting meds, over the notion that divorce may be imminent. It was unlike previous meltdowns, in that I was more in touch with my feelings the whole time, and able to check in with logic even as I felt consumed by hopelessness. It was a different kind of freakout. A scary one, but not a life-threatening one. I wouldn't say I'm okay, but I am...I don't feel good or happy or confident, but I am stable. That's a good baseline, and I can check back into that every time I feel myself losing it, and know that I will eventually level out and feel okay.
So that's the short version of what's going on right now.
I'm scared, but I'm hopeful.
I'd estimate that 75% of the people at the airport this morning are Mormon missionaries. Young men who can't be out of their teenage years yet all wearing badges that say "Elder Whatshisname." The idea of being an elder, a voice of authority in a spiritual community -- one that takes its spiritual guidance very seriously -- at such a young age is just baffling to me. I know that in centuries past, adulthood really did begin in the teen years, but I wonder how much society affects maturity. I know I wouldn't take advice from the 21-year-old Meg, or even the 25-year-old one, and I'd hardly even recognize the teenage version of myself. I wonder, then, in a community that starts treating you as an adult at a very young age, do you actually mature faster? How much wiser is a 35-year-old Mormon elder than a 19-year-old one? I hope I'm a lot wiser by the time I'm 35. It feels like I'm pretty close to that age, really, but if I change as much in the next eight years as I have in the last, I'll either be living in a commune somewhere with my girlfriend and our three kids or voting Republican.
Today might mark the beginning of the next big turning point in my life. I'm not really sure. Z bought me a plane ticket to Portland last night (I board in 5 min) because he wants to figure out right now if we're going to work together and reconcile or start taking real steps toward divorce. I'm very hopeful that we can decide that it's possible and worthwhile to try to reconcile. I feel ready and that's what I've wanted all along, without wavering. But I'm very nervous that he'll decide he just can't do it. I'm not going there to plead my case or to try to beg my way back into marriage. I fucked up a lot over the last few years, and I have no defense for my actions -- I don't want to try to defend them. I just want him to see the evidence that I'm a very different person now, a much stronger, healthier, and better person, which makes me a better partner. But when shit hit the fan yesterday, I felt myself dealing with my first real meltdown since starting meds, over the notion that divorce may be imminent. It was unlike previous meltdowns, in that I was more in touch with my feelings the whole time, and able to check in with logic even as I felt consumed by hopelessness. It was a different kind of freakout. A scary one, but not a life-threatening one. I wouldn't say I'm okay, but I am...I don't feel good or happy or confident, but I am stable. That's a good baseline, and I can check back into that every time I feel myself losing it, and know that I will eventually level out and feel okay.
So that's the short version of what's going on right now.
I'm scared, but I'm hopeful.
Checking In
Feb. 1st, 2011 06:33 pmWhen I landed this morning, I texted Z to ask if he was at the airport yet. He'd said he had some morning business to take care of first, and my flight was early, so I was expecting to wait. Anyway, his reply was "Of course. Looking forward to seeing you." I started crying as the plane taxied into the gate, because that wasn't the sentiment I was expecting, and I was extremely relieved. Something came up a couple days ago that was basically a game-changer for us. He was disappointed in me, and rightfully so, and I was worried it would be the breaking point. We've been doing so well lately, making a lot of progress, and both of us have been generally thinking more and more positively about reconciliation. But this put the brakes on that from his end. He decided that we needed to see each other immediately, to figure out if it was worth even trying anymore.
No pressure or anything.
So I was trembling all the way home from Salt Lake City. When I saw him waiting for me in the terminal, I hugged him hard and just cried for a good long time while he held me. He didn't know why I was crying. "What are you feeling right now?" "Shit, I don't know." I thought about it, and I guess it was mostly relief. Happy to see him, but terrified. Afraid that this visit would be my last with him. Freaked out. Unprepared. Dukes down.
We held hands and I talked about things I've been working on in therapy, gave an honest assessment of where I think I am right now -- I've made the mistake of shielding him from any negative feelings or setbacks I experience, for fear that he'll see it as a sign I haven't changed and am too much of a risk for him. And when he witnessed my meltdown yesterday, it was a harsh reality -- I haven't come as far as I have made it seem. But I think both he and I realize that I have made significant progress. I'm better than I was and still working. My meltdown didn't have the same apocalyptic characteristics as previous episodes. This is positive.
Even though I know Z is still skeptical and reeling from the disappointment I dealt him the other night, my reception here has been warm and welcoming, and I'm so grateful. It feels good to be together. It feels good to talk and reflect and be open and honest with each other. We talked about some hard things, and some questions will remain unanswered for a while yet, but I'm pleased with the way this day has gone. I've done plenty more crying, but I'm comfortable with the way I feel. I'm at peace with the unanswered questions. I love my husband and I'm glad to be here.
He had done some major work on our place -- coming home was like seeing the place for the first time -- he put up more artwork around the house, bought some new furniture, cleaned the heck out of the place, and the thing that stopped me dead in my tracks was that he added two specific touches that I had requested long ago. There is a dry erase calendar with his travel schedule by the door (a suggestion I made when we moved in), and the bed was made with a brand new comforter, exactly like the one I'd been saying I wanted for months. The place is beautiful, comfortable, and feels like home. I feel great about being here. I want to live here.
I have a lot of work to catch up on, and I need to figure out what to do about rescheduling my own adventures -- I definitely need to find a time to get down to New Mexico, because I was really looking forward to that visit, and I really can't wait to see Jess again. And hopefully Laura, too. I ran some tentative ideas by Z, but a lot of my future plans depend on where he's going to be and whether he wants to see me. I'm not planning on doing any bridge travel with him at all this year, but when he's not at tournaments, it would be nice to be together. He's not ready to commit to that yet, though, so I'm keeping my schedule open around his free time, and I'm still planning on being in Virginia to keep working with Dr. P for most of the Spring. But I may squeeze some other getaways into that time, too.
Anyway, that's the latest. Thanks for all the well-wishing. As I suspect is common with depression, I have a really hard time appreciating the love and support I get in the moments I'm at my lowest, but it's definitely helpful and important to me, and in my saner moments (most of the time, thankfully), I'm so grateful for the folks who stick by me in those darker times. I've worked hard and come a long way, but I couldn't have done it without incredible support from the folks who love me -- and I'm going to need that support for the rest of my life, so I guess I'm trying to say thanks for putting up with me, for being there, for the hugs and e-hugs, the crying shoulders, and I hope you know you're appreciated, even if the last time you saw me all I did was cry and naysay.
Peace.
No pressure or anything.
So I was trembling all the way home from Salt Lake City. When I saw him waiting for me in the terminal, I hugged him hard and just cried for a good long time while he held me. He didn't know why I was crying. "What are you feeling right now?" "Shit, I don't know." I thought about it, and I guess it was mostly relief. Happy to see him, but terrified. Afraid that this visit would be my last with him. Freaked out. Unprepared. Dukes down.
We held hands and I talked about things I've been working on in therapy, gave an honest assessment of where I think I am right now -- I've made the mistake of shielding him from any negative feelings or setbacks I experience, for fear that he'll see it as a sign I haven't changed and am too much of a risk for him. And when he witnessed my meltdown yesterday, it was a harsh reality -- I haven't come as far as I have made it seem. But I think both he and I realize that I have made significant progress. I'm better than I was and still working. My meltdown didn't have the same apocalyptic characteristics as previous episodes. This is positive.
Even though I know Z is still skeptical and reeling from the disappointment I dealt him the other night, my reception here has been warm and welcoming, and I'm so grateful. It feels good to be together. It feels good to talk and reflect and be open and honest with each other. We talked about some hard things, and some questions will remain unanswered for a while yet, but I'm pleased with the way this day has gone. I've done plenty more crying, but I'm comfortable with the way I feel. I'm at peace with the unanswered questions. I love my husband and I'm glad to be here.
He had done some major work on our place -- coming home was like seeing the place for the first time -- he put up more artwork around the house, bought some new furniture, cleaned the heck out of the place, and the thing that stopped me dead in my tracks was that he added two specific touches that I had requested long ago. There is a dry erase calendar with his travel schedule by the door (a suggestion I made when we moved in), and the bed was made with a brand new comforter, exactly like the one I'd been saying I wanted for months. The place is beautiful, comfortable, and feels like home. I feel great about being here. I want to live here.
I have a lot of work to catch up on, and I need to figure out what to do about rescheduling my own adventures -- I definitely need to find a time to get down to New Mexico, because I was really looking forward to that visit, and I really can't wait to see Jess again. And hopefully Laura, too. I ran some tentative ideas by Z, but a lot of my future plans depend on where he's going to be and whether he wants to see me. I'm not planning on doing any bridge travel with him at all this year, but when he's not at tournaments, it would be nice to be together. He's not ready to commit to that yet, though, so I'm keeping my schedule open around his free time, and I'm still planning on being in Virginia to keep working with Dr. P for most of the Spring. But I may squeeze some other getaways into that time, too.
Anyway, that's the latest. Thanks for all the well-wishing. As I suspect is common with depression, I have a really hard time appreciating the love and support I get in the moments I'm at my lowest, but it's definitely helpful and important to me, and in my saner moments (most of the time, thankfully), I'm so grateful for the folks who stick by me in those darker times. I've worked hard and come a long way, but I couldn't have done it without incredible support from the folks who love me -- and I'm going to need that support for the rest of my life, so I guess I'm trying to say thanks for putting up with me, for being there, for the hugs and e-hugs, the crying shoulders, and I hope you know you're appreciated, even if the last time you saw me all I did was cry and naysay.
Peace.