Jan 242015

A long (long) time reader wrote me a kind note about a month ago.

Hi D, I was beginning to wonder how your life was going following J’s departure. With the extended time between your post about Jian Gomeshi and your most recent posts, I was beginning to think you were either completing a very big project at work or holed up in a seedy motel room with several empty bottles of vodka to your credit. But with today’s post [contemplating the divine] my answer came – introspection.

Big work project? Yes (always).

Seedy motel room? No (never). If I’m going to be alone and drink myself silly, I prefer to do it in the comfort and safety of my own home. And about that…Pessimist: Glass half empty. Optimist: Glass half full. Me: YAY! There's room to add vodka!

Several empty bottles of vodka? Yes (on occasion). But that’s not much of a departure for me. It’s no surprise to readers and twitter friends that I like a few or twelve vodka tonics at the end of a work day (a work day that’s never really over). What might be surprising (to you, not to me) is that I went almost completely dry for nearly two months after J left (save for a drink or two at social events and the last of the vodka J and I shared). That decision was a strategic one — while a few drinks is the best and quickest way to quiet down my noisy brain, it’s also the best (worst?) and quickest way to amplify otherwise manageable emotions. I know myself well enough to know when it’s best to keep my wits about me and keep my emotions actual size.

Introspection? Sure (but not because J’s gone). I’m introspective, but no more or less than before J left, or even before we even met.

How life is going? Well. Really well. :) Things are going well at work, and my work is my life, so I’m good. I’m still teetering a bit on that knifes edge between success and failure (there is no middle ground for me), but so far, so good. *fingers crossed*

Life… following J’s departure? That’s more difficult.

Although it’s been months since he left, I feel like J and I are in some sort of suspended animation. The dust hasn’t settled between us yet, so I can’t yet see what the terrain looks like. I’m not sure what’s been damaged and what’s still intact. Maybe J knows…? But I’m not sure.

I haven’t been slow to process things (I’m not sure what there is to process?), but it has taken some time to get used to J being gone (that’s different, right?). What’s taking FAR longer than expected is reaching some peace about what things were and how we left it (and what we are from this point forward).

That makes some sense, I guess, as always thought our relationship progressed slower than what might be expected of “normal” relationships. It’s not surprising that our relationship is dissolving (evolving?) slowly too.

I keep moving to write about it (more accurately, I keep returning to drafts I’ve already written), but each time I tiptoe up to the edge of that cliff, I find myself backing away. In part, it’s because I’ve had thoughts and reached conclusions I haven’t yet shared with J. They aren’t fair to share because there’s nothing he can do to make it better. The only thing he can do is react, and he won’t react well, and that will make things worse. But I want to share… so I’m stuck in suspended animation, and he’s stuck there with me, whether he knows it or not.

In part, I’m hesitant to return to the issue here (on the blog) because it’s been so long. While it’s absolutely ridiculous, I fucking hate that the story is unfinished and fragmented. It’s a disconnected narrative that poorly represents thoughts and feelings still very much intact. (There’s something there with detachment, or the perception of detachment, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is or why it matters.)

And in (final) part, I haven’t shared much about my thoughts post-J’s-departure because I’m getting progressively more ridiculous (meticulous? careful?) about how and what I write. It’s not purposeful, but it’s absolutely happening and I can’t seem to get past it. Believe it or not, while the frequency of my posts has decreased (slightly) in the past few months, I’ve spent more time writing here than I did a year ago. It’s incredibly rare for me to sit down and write, revise, and hit publish on the same day. I can think of exactly two posts since J left that I wrote and published in the same day (and I do mean “exactly” — I know which ones they are).

So… I’m here (not in a motel), and I’m having a cocktail (but not emptying bottles). And all things considered, I’m doing great (I have sad days, but everyone has sad days). And sure, I’m introspective, but that’s my default. While I’m well, I’m not sure about J and I. I’m hopeful, but terribly slow, and I can’t expect J to sit around forever for me to make peace with things. At some point (soon), he’ll be well within his rights to close the door on what was a beautiful time together (and on what is, currently, little more than an uneasy friendship).

As for what and when I’ll write more about the last days we spent together, how we said goodbye, and what’s happened since… I have no idea. This isn’t the first time I’ve written such a post with the intention of following up soon.

  8 Responses to “beginning to wonder (so much left unsaid)”

  1. Looking over there, at the glass on the right, and irrespective of its being either half empty or half full. I hope that there is already vodka in it… Or at least a proper mixer of some sort. From the illustration, it appears to be a clear liquid so if it’s water, you would probably want to add scotch and if it’s gin, I’d go with tonic, or grapefruit juice.

    Also, that brass ring you’re hopi g to grab ahold of… May you grab ahold of it soon.

    • Pre-existing vodka is irrelevant to the fact there’s room for (more) vodka. This speaks to the principle that no matter what you have, you should always add vodka. Dude… we should write a book… Chicken Soup for the Drunken Soul (*where “chicken” = “cocktail”), or The Zen of Heavy Drinking

  2. some things take more time then others. we get to things as we need to. Your doing OK ans will be fine.
    Sometimes we just over think things. You shall move on when the time is right. Mean time try to enjoy life.

  3. A life without things left unsaid is a life spent.

    Never regret being unfinished.

    Srsly. (Seriously).

    • So… keep secrets… live forever? Srsly?


      • None of us can live live forever … unless we’re frozen like Walt Disney’s racist and and sexist head.

        (I’m sure there’s a worthwhile analogy / lesson in there somewhere, but I’ll leave it to people smarter than me to find it).

        Life is too big to be able to see everything, and too short to be able to say all the things we can want to say and share.

        If nothing is left unsaid, then you didn’t’ have enough to say.

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