Tag Archives: marriage

Unknown Territory

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Unknown Territory

I am unsure how people repair relationships. I feel like given my path and occupation, I am someone who should know. I can tell people how to do it, via a book and/or my “school learnin” but when it comes to my own, I am not sure. I have always found it relatively easy to remain friends or become friends again with exes; mainly, I believe, because we start out as friends. But I have recently made some decisions that while they have a lot of mitigating circumstances around them, I am feeling regret over most of them. I have written a lot about regret and I work to really not do anything that I will… But, being a human, I fuck up. A lot.

I have been able to reestablish the friendship facet of the relationship in this situation, but after realizing the potential mistake of ending it, understanding the reasons that contributed to the ending of it (I take responsibility for 60+/-% of that ending…), as well as knowing how I feel post-break up and processing, I don’t know how to move forward. I know what I want. I know what I had. I know that it was not how it should have been but it was more than repairable. But of course, me being me, I self-sabotaged. Cause nothing says “Jani” like “Ehhhh this hurts…. RUN AWAY! CUT TIES WITH WHAT YOU CAN CONTROL! DISTRACT! DISTRACT! DESTROY!”

I also find that I make major decisions (that are usually bad in the winter) between December-January. I am not entirely sure this isn’t related to stress at this time of year and/or seasonal depression…perhaps both… but now I sit in a place of limbo and suspended grief. Wanting to fix things but not entirely knowing if I even have the right, to try, to inflict myself upon others…But I also know that couples have gone through much worse and wound up stronger, healthier.

I reflect now on the relationship and see what was missing and how both parties handled it badly, due to both parties not communicating their needs to the other in a timely fashion. It was after the fact that the communication came. And we are in a good place.

But everything else, the future plans, the qualities that we loved about each other, the idiosyncrasies that drove the other crazy but still allowed us to love each other unconditionally, everything else is there, intact. Neither of us are the same, but the core of myself, the core of them, the core of US…the foundation, is there. It’s got a few cracks, but nothing that would be not repairable. We have both forgiven each other. But of course, things are different.

So the question I posit to you, the reader, is when it comes to breakups, if love and abuse are never an issue, can negative things cast positive light on things that need tending? Or is it always an ending? Can you begin again? Not where you left off, because THAT preempted the demise of the relationship, but can a new better relationship be born from the fire and sorrow that was during and post-breakup? Is love enough? Love the verb, not the noun?

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Lens Filter

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Lens Filter

 

 

 

 

By an odd coincidence, this week your tattoo is getting covered up;

Under the ocean it will be.

Reflectively, my time with you was the happiest

I’d been until now, a true peace I have found, it

Eluded you I guess.

Dreamed you hadn’t died, that you were in a caved in hole but watched you climb out on the news…

That reverie, I like to think it was you coming out of your darkest place, crawling toward the light.

Honestly, I learned so much from you, practical and emotional you taught me many things.

Echoes of his six word story come to me late at night

“Bullies are just very sad people…”

Understanding of you came later,

Life and love are funny that way.

Looking back, my own ignorance was bliss…

Even the most negative memories somehow benefit from it;

The lens filter of time.

 

*I doubt they will play this for you, but I know you always wanted it at your service so I will post it for you here.

Love and Light.

Complete with theme song…..

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Complete with theme song…..

I don’t know if I am grandiose or not,

When I first meet people I catch myself making up some sort of recipe;

A fictional psychosocial evaluation on them

which becomes their individual narrative in my mind,

*This is guided of course by what I think I know of people, think i know of social work, think I know of psychology, think that I read on their body language, or learned in life, learned reading a book, learned by being the one that could shut the fuck up; observe & mimic other people in order to blend in like a chameleon, in  new and/or uncomfortable situations for safety)

Meh, I digress…

Anyway, your narrative (and by “your” I mean you who are reading this had I met you or when I met you, not anyone person in particular) that I create in my head is how I related to you until I learn more and start replacing my humble conjecture with relayed facts;

But I admit, sometimes, I feel like a superhuman;

Like I must be psychic or an empath or Dr. Xavier;

e.g. Sookie Stackhouse trying to ignore the thoughts she really does NOT want to hear;

Sometimes, I find out that through many of the facts people share with me;

Actually align pretty well with the totally fictional made up backstory I spun them. It’s very unsocialworky of me.

I mean, what do I have to go on in talking to people for only a few minutes? I can see their eyes, their hands, their voice, their body language, their tone, etc….It’s totally inappropriate for me to create their whole backstory based on a few minutes interaction…

Do other people do that?? They must. I hope they do; otherwise, I probably sound a bit like a loon.

I am sure it is merely some sort of experienced/educated projection….some fancy defense mechanism that allowed observant and smart people to reproduce…skills that are not being passed down today because we are so distracted and looking down into a portable rabbit hole…WHOA, speaking of rabbit holes…

Sorry, I’ll spare you the self disparaging rant.

Anyhoo, like…maybe I have this social worker lens,

Seventies television show idea of each new person I meet’s whole life….

If I did, it could be something as follows:’

Complete with theme song *wink*

Baby of large family

The smallest Brady no one mentioned

Grew up wanting a family

Baby sister

Baby brother

Someone to take care of

Someone to have your back

 Just wanted to be someone’s hero

Wanted to be a soldier;

a fireman;

a teacher;

a doctor;

Found a family there

People to look up to you

Someone to share first memories with…

Your substitute hard drive

 Exhausted and rejuvenated finally fell in love

Family wasn’t there

Decided to go back there and then came home

Moved onto another

A Betty Crocker Readymade family to love

To replace the one you didn’t know yet to want

But it just didn’t fit

You internalized the blame 

 Then as you got older

You realized you needed more ways to go back,

So through trial and error,

Sex and beer,

Adrenalin, fighting, racing, speed

Went back in different ways to reestablish:

yourself, your worth

All the familiar roles

Pride and admiration

Understanding of experience

Validation for your work

Found your family

In more than one way.

Who knows.

Maybe I am grandiose and plain ol’ crazy.

I can spin a good back story though.

C’est la vie.

XOXO

Jani

Shifting sands and altered plans…

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Shifting sands and altered plans…

Since about April, I have been really evaluating my life and my potential choices; juxtaposing them with the decisions I have made to satiate other people; from parents to romantic partners to my own children. I guess it actually probably started in December;  once the sadness of that failure became more externalized.

But April is really when I started really looking at myself and what I wanted from my life. It was the beginning of the last quarter of my “academic life,” the beginning of really putting energy into getting a “professional” job and realizing what I wanted and needed and accepting what was coming my way.

It was a very humbling and difficult time, but I found the fire again.

Throughout it all, I was able to realize what I wanted; I have looked back through 20 years worth of  journals full of my wants and dreams and thoughts and relationships…and realized that I have often adopted the dreams of my partners…I can do anything and be anyone…It’s a coping skill I suppose…it’s been my resilience, my survival tool set. My gerber…my tweeker toy…ha.

Meh, I digressed into my own head. Anyhow…

Where was I….

Oh yeah…what I want as compared to what I was willing to accept in return for mediocre bootleg versions of love….

Anyway…I am back to knowing what I want. My plans are further inline with what I have wanted since I was 16; minus the inputs of other people’s ideas of what I should be and do. I am going to start this process now, bits by bits…with an eventual time frame of 2-5 years…

I have 28,378,573,850,347,850,375,041,218 books. I am going to read them all again and sell them or give them away. Even the first editions. Even the 1852 “Life among the lowly”. Yep. As much as I love my books, they do nothing but take up room. I have read them all. I will read them again and pay them forward; perhaps someone else can find solace and distraction in them as I have for 28 years.

I am going to pay down my debt until it’s gone so that eventually, in 2-5 years, all I will have is student loans (which hopefully can be paid off and/or forgiven within ten years…).

I have a list of things that scare(d) the fuck out of me from when I was 18 that I wanted to do before I was 21. I am going to start doing them…from swimming  in the ocean to skydiving to going to South America. I am doing them.

I am learning French. Why? I don’t fucking know. But I have always wanted to, so I am going to finish learning it!

I am writing again. Not just this blog. Not just my poems and songs (which I am even playing my guitar again…crazy) but actually working on my stories. Whoa. That’s been a long time coming and I have finally gotten to the point in my life that most of the people I worried about judging me or being angry at me for writing them are no longer people I give a fuck about.

It’s my truth. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. If you think it’s about you, that’s your shit…not mine.

I am going to finish my tattoos; or at least the ones I know I want now. 😉 Bare skin is precious….I am saving room for the rest of my life….

Anyway, one kid will be on his own in 2 years. The other will be on her own in 4ish years and indicates occasionally she may want to finish that with her other parents. I have been really resistant to that but who knows. Maybe she will change her mind later, maybe not. either way, I will no longer feel the need to provide for anyone but myself, it’s been 18 years since I felt that and it will have been 20 at least by the time I am there again.

I have let go of nostalgic friends that I merely kept to remind me of who I was and kept the ones that still fulfill me…the reciprocal relationships that don’t drain me…I have made new friends and established pretty deep relationships with people who have totally surprised me.

I am finally comfortable in my own skin.

Not the skin I wanted them all to see, but my own ACTUAL skin.

The funny thing is the “me” I am finding, is the “me” people have always described; which is ironic…I always thought I had them fooled! I mean, c’mon, Billy? How could you know and I didn’t? Send me a memo next time, I mean shit.

I started out my wanderlusting adolescence with a guitar, a book of poems and a backpack of clothes that weren’t always mine.

I think I might start my neo-wanderlusting midlife that way too.

Huzzah.

xoxo

P.S. Hey Lisa, thanks for reminding me of who I am. ❤

Freedom

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Freedom

I have officially finished the severing of all ties….insurance and cell phone are in my name alone and connected to my bank account, again.

No one can demand information about things associated with my phone/phone bill, no one can guilt me about paying for those things while I am “just” finishing grad school.

Saturn retrograde be damned.

  • I have a state job, ergo I can pay all my own damn bills again.
  • I have an MSW, ergo I never ever, ever have to think about homework again.
  • I again have complete responsibility and autonomy over my life again, ergo there is only myself to consider when feeling guilt, if I so choose to.

Fuck yes.

I am not saying it is bad for people to put themselves in situations where they trust and depend on other people, per se…..

It’s just not a place I like to live.

And it will NOT take me 5 times to figure that shit out.

To paraphrase the words of good ol’ scapegoat Dubya….”Fool me once, shame on you…fool me 4 times….well you know….I won’t get fooled again!”

Welcome back, Just Jani!

Say hey there….

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Say hey there….

 

You are welcome.

 

I just needed to remind my dumbass.

What it is supposed to look like:

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What it is supposed to look like:

It was never Disney.

It was never my parents.

It was never, well…mostly never movies….damn you the notebook!….

THIS is the standard I have always sought to attain:

Particularly around 2:30-2:45…..

Yes.

That is the good stuff.

Too bad we know how the story ends.

C’est La Vie.

But for what it is worth, Lindsey Buckingham is by far one of the most underrated guitarists ever….*swoon*

Growth and movement

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Growth and movement

Yesterday was a magical day of acceptance, evolution, good juju and I am pretty sure my personal atomic energy vibration went up a few steps. The following song has been kind of a friend the last couple years and I think I can finally let it go. So I share it with you for closure.

*tip of the hat, wag of the finger*

XOXO

Jani

The Girlchild is officially a Womanchild.

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The Girlchild is officially a Womanchild.

My Girlchild turned 13 recently and boy is she proving to be quite the little wise woman. We went on a mini-road trip this weekend and the Manchild went to a pal’s house after it, leaving she and I to amuse ourselves, and each other. We watched a movie, dyed her hair, cut her hair, got me a new outfit eventually for my impending interview(s), went yard sale-ing (which allowed me to check something off of my list of things I want to do from age nineteen…I bought a typewriter), etc.

But late at night, we talked. She asked questions about my previous life as a Girlchild which led to discussions around my previous life as a Childmother and my evolution out of that into Grownass Womanmother. In my infinite wisdom, I found it helpful to share journals that I have had for what feels like millenia. I wish I had my diaries from when I was her age, but I burned them in an act of rebellion against particular patriarchy. So what we have to work with is journals from age 19 on and poetry from age 12 on. It is a blessing, I never realized.

Mind you some passages involving her father we decided to skip as to not traumatize her 🙂 There are just some things you don’t want to think of your parents thinking.

I was even able to inspire her to start journaling in the hopes that she could share them with her own child or even me someday.

The most amazing part was the wisdom she shared with me at the end of the evening.

She told me, (slightly paraphrasing of course, as I didn’t transcribe her exactly…)

“You seem like you are always doing amazing things when you are single and then you get with these people and then you start trying to fix them, instead of fixing you and following your path. You always take care of other people instead of you. Why do you do that? Why don’t you just fix you and do the amazing things that you start when you don’t have men to fix?”

That is a good question, Womanchild, that is a good damn question.

Out of the mouths of babes, I guess.

 

 

This is the part that I hate…

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This is the part that I hate…

So I have this bad habit of starting sentences with adverbs. Oh well. 🙂

Anyway, I had company this weekend who asked me why I have pictures hanging everywhere of my ex-partner….They wondered if it was an indication that I am still holding out hope to get back together or I am not over them or whatnot. I said no, I just really haven’t had the time to deal with it considering grad school and blah blah blah….

But since they said that, now all I can think of is the task. My eyes go to the pictures of them immediately as I walk by my framed pictures and mosaics…. It’s a pain in the ass. It requires an emotional dissonance and dissociation I am not totally prepared for and yet, I know it needs to be done.

It’s not like I am doing anything better today.

Facebook and Pinterest and homework and the last episode of Spartacus can wait I suppose.

I hate endings.

But I love beginnings. It’s a balance I suppose.