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drewkittyI have a long-standing policy of not discussing my relationship issues on LJ. This post is not directed at any current relationship issues that may be going on in my life.
Consider this hypothetical. Two people are very much in love with each other, however they have irreconcilable differences. Because they are fairly private people, they try to work things out the best they can in private. It doesn't work out. There is a messy breakup. One person, normally cheerful and open, adopts what appears to be a cold, aloof silence. The other person is publicly, painfully hurting and saying things they would not normally say.
Anyone who assumes a damn thing based on what I've just posted is a fool.
Some people in pain draw inward. Others reach out. Some have learned in the bitter school of hard knocks that to unveil one's heart is to be impaled. Others know that they cannot get what they want unless they ask for it, even if the painful answer must be not merely "No" but "Never."
We're people, all of us. We handle death in different ways, even though it patiently waits for all of us.
The end of a relationship is a little death, a potential that merges back into the background. Just as with the big deaths, there are stages of denial, grief, bargaining, anger, depression and acceptance ... and rarely in that order! "The bigger they are, the harder they fall." It's harder still when you have to let go of the rope with clear eyes and hope that the other does not fall, knowing full well that you are helpless to affect their trajectory now.
My father, as a teenager, found out over breakfast that his beloved uncle had been killed. He continued pouring his cereal. His mother, my grandmother who died before I was born, lashed into him for not having the "correct" response to his uncle's death.
I am divorced. I still have deep and conflicted feelings for my ex. I loved her with a full heart and left her not because I wanted to, but because I knew it would be best for her, and only incidentally for me. She may never forgive me, which is her privilege. I wish her well but she is a part of my past, not of my future. I went through the same round of various people expressing shock, misunderstanding what had happened, blaming me, spreading malicious gossip, making false assumptions and drawing inaccurate conclusions, talking behind my back and other pin-pricks that tore through my tattered self.
One of the few things that comforted me during that awful time was the words of Lois McMaster Bujold. "Guard your honor. Let your reputation fall where it will. And outlive the bastards."
I am very grateful to those friends who were there for me in their own ways. If I seem emotionally attached to certain people for no logical reason, consider carefully: I may very well have a reason, a very good one or several very good ones. Ask if you dare.
A few months ago, I found out five minutes before I was scheduled to teach a class that a very good friend of mine was killed. I taught the class, lurched through my commitments, and then and only then, once safe for the night, did I allow myself to utterly fall apart. In private, except for this.
Anyone who assumes that I am a cold-hearted bastard because I put my work before my emotions is also a fool.
I am a Bast-ard. I am not, however, lacking in emotion or deeper feelings. I simply keep them private.
Please do your friends, whoever they may be, the courtesy of failing to assume. Wish them well and at least do no harm. Blessed be.
Consider this hypothetical. Two people are very much in love with each other, however they have irreconcilable differences. Because they are fairly private people, they try to work things out the best they can in private. It doesn't work out. There is a messy breakup. One person, normally cheerful and open, adopts what appears to be a cold, aloof silence. The other person is publicly, painfully hurting and saying things they would not normally say.
Anyone who assumes a damn thing based on what I've just posted is a fool.
Some people in pain draw inward. Others reach out. Some have learned in the bitter school of hard knocks that to unveil one's heart is to be impaled. Others know that they cannot get what they want unless they ask for it, even if the painful answer must be not merely "No" but "Never."
We're people, all of us. We handle death in different ways, even though it patiently waits for all of us.
The end of a relationship is a little death, a potential that merges back into the background. Just as with the big deaths, there are stages of denial, grief, bargaining, anger, depression and acceptance ... and rarely in that order! "The bigger they are, the harder they fall." It's harder still when you have to let go of the rope with clear eyes and hope that the other does not fall, knowing full well that you are helpless to affect their trajectory now.
My father, as a teenager, found out over breakfast that his beloved uncle had been killed. He continued pouring his cereal. His mother, my grandmother who died before I was born, lashed into him for not having the "correct" response to his uncle's death.
I am divorced. I still have deep and conflicted feelings for my ex. I loved her with a full heart and left her not because I wanted to, but because I knew it would be best for her, and only incidentally for me. She may never forgive me, which is her privilege. I wish her well but she is a part of my past, not of my future. I went through the same round of various people expressing shock, misunderstanding what had happened, blaming me, spreading malicious gossip, making false assumptions and drawing inaccurate conclusions, talking behind my back and other pin-pricks that tore through my tattered self.
One of the few things that comforted me during that awful time was the words of Lois McMaster Bujold. "Guard your honor. Let your reputation fall where it will. And outlive the bastards."
I am very grateful to those friends who were there for me in their own ways. If I seem emotionally attached to certain people for no logical reason, consider carefully: I may very well have a reason, a very good one or several very good ones. Ask if you dare.
A few months ago, I found out five minutes before I was scheduled to teach a class that a very good friend of mine was killed. I taught the class, lurched through my commitments, and then and only then, once safe for the night, did I allow myself to utterly fall apart. In private, except for this.
Anyone who assumes that I am a cold-hearted bastard because I put my work before my emotions is also a fool.
I am a Bast-ard. I am not, however, lacking in emotion or deeper feelings. I simply keep them private.
Please do your friends, whoever they may be, the courtesy of failing to assume. Wish them well and at least do no harm. Blessed be.
