How do I carry around guilt about my divorce?
The divorce I fought against. The two times I got us into couples’ therapy. The effort and growth I went through to stretch and bend toward what I thought my wife wanted. She wanted something, but she had so little personal insight and self-awareness, she imagined getting rid of me, keeping 70% of the kid’s time (though we negotiated 50/50), and even going after me financially with the AG’s office, would result in HER HAPPINESS.
Nope. Sorry.
The joy comes from within. Life has many ups and downs, death, divorce, addiction, mental challenges, financial harships. The joy-filled person will approach the turbulence with optimism, hope, and action. I fired up all of my resources. I became a better housekeeper. I hired a house keeper who also cooked dinner 3 nights a week. All the while, I was driving an hour each way to work for the largest computer manufacturer in the world. I thought I was living the high life. My wife thought she was being held down, held back, prevented from her own happiness because of some part of the life we were orchestrating.
To be fair, she had no models for healthy relationships. Her dad, stoic, remarried her mom TWICE. In the end, when my wife asked for help with college, her dad sent her $200. That’s it. He was a piece of work. As he retired he moved further away from his daughter and her two children. He was a ghost in her life and an iconic mystery to my kids. Her mom, less said the better. She was a successful real estate developer and then she was bed-ridden insane. We had to gate her access to our kids for fear of the wild shit that would come out of her mouth when we were around.
“She’s not taking the kids, alone.” My wife agreed. She allowed me to be the protector from her own mother.
As I feel my aloneness today I rest and relax into this misty grey cold morning after Christmas. I had my fill last night and yesterday of friends, love, and family. My daughter has officially taken over the pumpkin pie legacy. We played Mexican Train and Rummicube. Time with the one’s you love, that’s the goal.
As I continue to grow into myself, into a more mature man, a writer, and a father, I am also learning that my own joy is 100% my responsibility. If I harbor resentment toward my daughter for a slight during her graduation ceremony last weekend, I’m responsible for clearing the issue. I’m carrying around the wound, trying to examine it, learn from it, but sometimes, you just need to let it go.
The part I am still learning to let go of is:
- What happened in the past.
- What is going to happen in the future.
- The choices and actions of other people.
I am trying to explore the *leak.* What hurts? What part of the three items above am I missing? Is my own misdirection causing me pain? If yes, what can I do to correct it, or reset?
I have run for the beach after Christmas and Thanksgiving many times in my past. Today, I want to get in the car and drive. Away.
Where am I going? What will I do there? Who/what am I seeking?
The beach in December. Fewer people. Walks on the cold sand. Solitude. Spiritual release into the waves, the dawning sunrise, the sunsets. All by myself. I used to go with my wife. Then with my wife and kids. Then with my kids, as a single dad. Then with my girlfriend. Now, unknown.
I am comfortable and warm. I have time to write. Perhaps an opportunity for a daughter sighting. Two cats are playing wargames around the house, delighting me. What could I possibly want?
I think the escape is about leaving behind our normal daily lives. Aside from loving the cold and empty beach of the Texas coast, I know in the past I have done the geographic move as a reset. I don’t need a reset. I think about someone in the future to go with me on a road trip. I also do not need that. What dawned on me this morning: wanderlust is a choice.
My mind is trained to explore images on social media, mainly “minimalist photos” and “urban street photography.” But, the impact is the same. This morning as I was letting my mind float into these images, I could feel my consciousness reaching out to the beach trip. The idea of leaving all of this, right this very second. Head for the beach. Put on the good music. Drive away from the misty day, the loss of this Christmas, the loss of my primary relationship.
But, I am not at a loss. I am in a burst.
My mind still likes to dream of Paris, or snow skiing, or the beach in a crappy Texas beach town. Our minds, our hearts, often want to escape.
If you don’t know what you are escaping, that’s going to be a good point of inquirey. If you do know what you are escaping, then perhaps you can examine and work on that. If you’re completely unconscious and simply driven to scroll, like, click, and lust after the escape, you’re in a position (as I am, at this moment) to understand a bit more about how your heart, your soul, your mind and body are all linked together.
This collection that is ME. Here. Today. Dec. 26, 2024. Heading into the dark ages of the next administration, I am content and creatively inspired. I don’t need a geographic move. I don’t need the ocean waves and sandy shore. I don’t need everyone to be great around me. I don’t need to account for anyone else’s experience but my own.
I need to let go. I need to grab a hold of the idea that this is a fleeting moment. This burst is a passing note. This moment is wonderful, complete, and requires no further action.
If we can stop and absorb life with the same high-definition that VR attempts to simulate, then we can tune into our own experience of life. I am training my mind to listen, to watch, to absorb. In little bursts I occasionally clickity clickity on this keyboard, to measure, capture, and reflect.
I don’t have to get it right, I merely need to be open to the experience. As I know, I cannot make my daughter happy, I also cannot make myself happy by demanding she apologize for the slight during her graduation weekend. What’s the point? Is it my pain? Yes. It is her pain? Nope, not if I deal with my own emotional processing. I don’t need to forgive her, she’s 22. She’s a delight. She doesn’t need me giving her pointers. I do still text her on nights I know she’s out with friends, “Dad says, ‘It’s Topo Chico Time!'”
I am alone in this world. We all are. The cats are demonstrating their own self-entertaining capacity. Give me a chuckle along the way. Maybe that’s our role as parents as well. Give opportunities to share experiences. And when things don’t go to plan, offer delight and humor.
As I was separated from my kids for more than 70% of their time on Earth, I had to learn how to grow myself back up. I had to learn what made me joyful. Alone. Joyful.
I continue to do the best I can at engaging and offering love and attention to the two most important people on the planet for me. My son has estranged himself. My daughter is setting her own post-graduation course.
The escape I want is from the liminal moment of now. Before the next relationship, job, award, windfall, vacation, happens. After the carolless Christmas.
In this moment of betweenness, I can relax. Release my daughter and her agenda. In the same way I cannot save my son, I cannot save her from the pain of loneliness. She has her own desire to escape. She’s asking about a ski trip. She’s off in her own world at her mom’s trippy house with her doodle, Lenny.
And I am in mine. Here.
I pause now. Breathe. Change direction, but within this frame of here and now. I am okay. I am complete. I am blooming.
