Homeleaving: Dealing with Loss & Learning to Live Alone

To begin, a poem from Dennis O'Driscoll:

HOME

when all is said and done
what counts is having someone
you can phone at five to ask

for the immersion heater
to be switched to 'bath'
and the pizza taken from the deepfreeze


I am 29 1/2 years old and have been living alone, truly alone, for exactly two days. My mom got married on Saturday and left Sunday to move to her new husband's home in the state of Mississippi. Up until this point in my life I have always lived with either family or roommates. Now it is just me and my kitty in my little apartment in the big city.

All of these changes have gotten me to wonder what the notion of 'home' really is anyways. Is home a place? A physical building? I suppose this is partly so, after all don't we always feel a bit discombobulated when moving to a new dwelling? But, don't we then adapt after a while? And what about when we return to a place that was home, and though it is still familiar, it now feels distinctly different? When we have changed yet 'home' has stayed the same and we are now somehow alienated? No, 'home' cannot be a place. Is 'home' then, a person? This notion certainly has merit, for haven't we all felt that feeling where you haven't arrived 'home' yet from a long journey until you have seen and held a particular person? Or when you are in a place completely foreign to you, yet feel suprisingly comfortable and 'at home' because a certain person is with you? That's how I always felt about my mom. But if this is how we define 'home', then my home just left me.

Perhaps then, 'home' is something entirely less tangible. Being understood? A sense of purpose? Feeling loved? Or a combination of all of these? I suppose it will be a while before I know... Click here to read more...

Infuriating, Stupid BOYS!

I have recently thrown myself back into the deep end of the "dating pool". I set up an eHarmony account last October and have slowly eased into the process. Until only recently I had not come across anyone I was even remotely interested in dating. About two weeks ago, however, I reviewed a rather promising profile. He was intelligent, funny, educated, interesting, kind of nerdy (which I like) and he accepted my invitation to "Fast Track" (i.e. skipping the exchanging of pre-fab multiple choice questions and "must have can't stand" lists). We wrote back and forth for a while and I asked him how he would like to proceed with this exchange. He promptly replied with his phone number. So I called him. We spoke on the phone for over 2 hours, which, in my experience, is quite rare for most guys. Towards the end of the conversation he very nervously asked me if I'd like to meet in person for coffee or a drink. I accepted and we made plans for a couple of days later.

We met at the arranged time (except I was late) and proceeded to have (what I perceived anyways) as a very pleasurable afternoon. The conversation flowed easily, I found him ever more interesting, there was a bit of a spark of some chemistry happening... all very good things. I enjoyed his company so much that I invited him to join me and my friends at a happy hour later that week; an invitation that he accepted. Hence my shock when the next day the following showed up in my inbox:

Leslie, Thanks for your email. I was having a hard time last night b/c, though I think you're a smart, attractive, great person, I don't feel that we are a good fit. I'm sorry for telling you this over email, but it's just easier. I wish you the best in your search. Sincerely, Jake

The gall of him! I was infuriated! Not that he isn't interested, but that he led me on and lied to me. I understand that rejection is a part of the dating world, it just isn't going to work any other way. I get that. But why accept an invitation only to back out of it the next day? The following is the email I felt like sending (but, on the counsel of my mom and good friends, didn't!)

Wow, I'm really surprised to read this considering you had accepted a second date. If you didn’t want to go you should’ve just declined because now I feel incredibly mislead. In the future, I’d recommend honesty upfront, lest you contribute to your gender’s stereotypical bad reputation. Thank you at least for doing me the favor of showing me what a ball-less creep you are this early on before I’d wasted any more of my time on you. And yes, it was really lame of you to tell me this over email, you spineless twit. I’d say good luck to you too, but I’m not really feeling that generous towards you anymore. I hope you choke on the coffee I gave you.

I talked with my friend's boyfriend about this "bad male behavior", and while he was able to empathize with the dirtbag and could somewhat explain his possible motives, I'm still lost. Why do most people have such a hard time being honest with each other (and themselves?) Is it really that hard to just say no instead of feigning interest and making promises that you have no intention of keeping? I am so frustrated right now...
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"So Nice, So Smart"

I've been listening to Kimya Dawson's song "So Nice, So Smart" . There is a line in this piece that has always struck me: "You’re so nice and you’re so smart; you’re such a good friend I have to break your heart. I’ll tell you that ‘I love you’ then I’ll tear your world apart, just pretend I didn’t tear your world apart." On good days, I spend my waking hours with forgiveness and understanding in my heart over having someone I was madly in love with leave me and marry another woman less than six months later. Then on days like today, when I'm feeling lonely and alone, I hear a song like this when I'm on the treadmill at the gym and I want to break down in tears. When I think about what happened, those words could have been spoken by him just as easily as they were sung by Ms. Dawson. He did break my heart and tear my world apart, he told me he loved me after he tore it apart, and yet I still spend time with him. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just torturing myself staying in contact with him. And sometimes I can't imagine my life without him, even though he is someone else's husband and his friendship seems like nothing more than a consolation prize. Click here to read more...

Happy New Year!

A quiet evening at home with a cup of tea is how I am spending this NYE. I will soon be in bed, no "Rockin' New Year's Eve" for this gal. Instead, I am choosing to spend a little quality time with my thoughts and be well rested for my patients tomorrow.

As much as I try to avoid becoming too nostalgic at this time of year, I can't help but think back on what a tumultuous year it has been. It has been a year of tremendous challenges, life changes, more ups and downs that the world's biggest rollercoaster, and yet, also a time of incredible growth. I am proud to say that as despite everything, or because of it, I feel I have become more self-aware, intuitive and open to learning about myself and those around me. I am looking forward to a 2009 that builds on the foundations I have begun to lay for myself and the life I am building for myself takes shape. Click here to read more...

Feeling Inspired tonight

Tonight I had the great pleasure of sharing my ideas about Health Care Reform with diverse group of individuals at a Planned Parenthood forum. It was an unprecedented opportunity to speak up about the health care issues that matter and help shape the Obama administration’s health care policies. As you may know, President-elect Obama’s nominee for Secretary of Health and Human Services, Tom Daschle, has asked Planned Parenthood and its supporters to participate in a nationwide discussion on the future of health care reform.

And so, this afternoon, over coffee and cookies, I was in a board room at the Lagoon Planned Parenthood clinic where a group of supporters and I had the opportunity to meet with State Senator John Marty, Chair of the Health, Housing, and Family Security Committee, Speaker of the Minnesota House Margaret Anderson-Kelliher, and Representitive Frank Hornstein. The Obama administration has called out to the citizens of this nation for stories and experiences with the health care system and most importantly, what we think health care reform should look like. Boy did we answer that call this afternoon! I thoroughly enjoyed the lively discussion that ensued and making the acquaintance of other dynamic individuals with a passion for women's health care isues. It gives me hope that the President-Elect of this great, albeit very messed-up, nation, has asked the people for their input. Now that's democracy at its core. This meeting was a small part of what truly is a grass roots effort on a very large scale, put forth by our "Organizer in Chief" as some have called Obama. With the people behind him in a manner that has not been seen in a long time, and more pro-choice and pro-family planning people elected to Congress than ever before, 2009 is bursting with potential for Obama and I, for one, can't wait to see what's going to happen. Click here to read more...

Away for Holidays

I will be out of town and away from any sort of reliable internet access until Monday December 29th. Will continue writing and post when I return. Happy Holidays and safe travels to all! Click here to read more...

Becoming Unshamed

While being able to say "I was raped" is a gigantic feat and one to be recognized and even celebrated, perhaps even more important is that I have begun to unravel the tangle of damage that was done to my psyche as a result of it. Was the rape the cause of my emotional damage, or was it a symptom of a deeper problem? It is fascinating and heartbreaking how the tiny seed of that one night has become a powerful vine that has wrapped its way around my heart and spirit almost entirely.

An unwanted precedent was set when I was raped. From that moment forward, I believed (mostly unconsciously) that my body was something to be used, both by myself and others. Did I believe this before the rape, and thus "allowed" Ed to violate me? Possibly. I've never been entirely comfortable in my own skin, never quite knew what to do with my physical self.

I've had much too much sex that I did not want to have (and that wasn't even that good) that I've dug myself into a very deep hole of shame. Somewhere along the way I unlearned how to relate to men in a healthy, mutually respectful way, in a manner where sex and "sexual tension" were not part of the equation. Every relationship I've ever had somehow or another eventually came to revolve around sex. Whether it was the fiery love affair that I tried to turn into an actual relationship, the tepid romance that I hung onto too long because the sex was pretty decent, or the incident in the Caribbean involving a guy I know only as "Island Boy", somehow sex was the main ingredient every time. Even relationships I have with men that are not lovers- coworkers, friends, bosses- often carry an inappropriate air of sexuality.

This all changed with one amazing guy that I met in July 2006. For the first time I knew in my heart that this man wanted me for me, and that whether or not we had sex when we were together did not dictate if we had a good time or not. We loved each other's minds, the cerebral discourse we had, our goofiness, the fact that we understood each other's dreams, hopes, fears and could share our hearts with each other-- we were lovers on a level deeper than anywhere I'd ever been before. For reasons outside the scope of this post, we broke up last February, but have been able to keep in touch. He said to me not too long ago when we met up for coffee that "the sex was fantastic, but it was secondary."

This man taught me a tremendous lesson for which I am grateful. He taught me that I have value as a human being above and beyond sex and sexuality. I am a good person worthy of love because of who I am, not because I am willing to go to bed. Recognizing this is only one step in the long process of becoming unshamed, and the challenge as I go forth in my journey searching for a partner will be to keep this lesson in the forefront of my mind. When I feel insecure or unsure of myself, my first instinct is to use my sexuality. It will be difficult to learn new tools to use when relating to men, but I want to do it differently. Practice makes perfect? Click here to read more...

Emotional Catharsis

I had no idea how much the burden I had been carrying around for the past 8 1/2 years had been weighing me down. Once I began writing Monday's post, I found myself unable to pull myself away from the keyboard, as if an emotional floodgate had been opened and would not be stopped until it had run its course. I went to bed feeling physically lighter. I slept better than I have in months. When I awoke the next morning, I had a spring in my step and an energy that I haven't felt in a long time. I think I am finally beginning to feel unshamed. Click here to read more...

The Reality of Rape, Eight Years Later

I have been raped. I say this not as I might have before I became the person I am today; not as a declaration, firing up my fighting spirit; not as a confession of my feelings of guilt, wishing I could make it all go away but trying in vain to make the feminist in me "own it"; not as an announcement seeking attention and inviting drama. No, at this point, it is simply a statement of fact of events that transpired when I was a sophomore in college. Naming an evil, calling it what it is, is, I've discovered, a part of the healing process.

It wasn't until recently that I began to call what happened to me rape. I used to refer to that night as a "drunken one night stand" and blew it off. Ed was an upperclass physics tutor that I'd had a crush on. I was drinking in my dorm room with friends after finals were over when I ran into him in the hallway, I proceeded to flirt heavily, he invited me back to his dorm room where we continued drinking and he wooed me with his guitar playing, we started kissing and before I even knew what was happening, he was on top of me and his penis was inside of me. The worst part of all of this is that before this night, I'd never had intercourse before. Although a lot of that night is an alcohol-induced blur, I distinctly remember thinking to myself in a panicked moment of lucidity, "Holy crap, what am I doing? Am I having SEX?!?!?!?" But, at that point, he'd already stolen a part of my innocence, so I just laid there and let him finish. When he was through, I walked my first "walk of shame" back to my room, and proceeded to go on a very long, and sore, run.

Why, before now, had I never thought of this night as rape? Had someone else written the preceeding paragraph I would agree in a moment that the situation described was indeed rape. As Laura Sessions Stepp describes in "Unhooked" so many of these situations fall into what young women have come to perceive as the "gray area", that insidious "if I hadn't gone to that party" place, that "if I hadn't kissed him" place; the mistaken belief that when both partners have been drinking heavily, responsibility for what happened falls to no one, because "it just happens." In gray rape, as Stepps says, "the girl who may have come on like a hunter becomes the hunted." Young women are so eager to own their sexuality, to express themselves and take no shame for enjoying their bodies, that they are also so reluctant to see themselves as powerless. Most college codes of conduct, as well as criminal law, define rape as when a person penetrates the anus or vulva of another person without that person's freely given consent, and that the one giving consent must be coherent, i.e., if she or he is too drunk to make a choice, consent cannot be assumed. Despite this rather clear definition, I think young women, including myself, are reluctant to wear the label of "rape" because so often what follows is "victim", and a victim is the last thing I want to be.

As I said earlier though, I do think there is some value to be found in naming this evil and calling it what it is. I don't want retribution, I am not seeking legal reprocussions, in fact, if Ed never knows he raped me, it wouldn't make much difference to me. I do know this: being able to say out loud "I was raped", being able to recognize that all these years I had been chastizing myself for carelessly throwing away my virginity when in fact it was taken from me, and beginning to understand how all of the shame that I've carried with me since that one night has shaped the relationship I have with my sexuality today, has brought me a peace I have not yet known. And at this moment on my journey, I do hope that this bit of clarity will lead to a more loving and respectful attitude towards my own body, sexual being, and person as a whole. Click here to read more...

Back at it

I've been thoroughly immersed in the chaos that is moving and am *finally* more or less settled in, just in time for the holidays :) I was also teaching last semester, which was one of the most challenging, yet also rewarding, things that I have ever done. Forgive me, dear readers, (do I have any?) for my absence. I have two posts brewing in my brain already, hopefully they will come to fruition shortly. In the meantime, amuse yourselves with this. And read Hugo, one of my all-time favorite bloggers. Click here to read more...

I got stuck at #8

My therapist thinks it would do me good to start dating again. After all, Eric and I have been broken up for over 7 months, and he's already married for over a month already, for crying out loud. Isn't it time to "get back out there"? I suppose; easier said than done, however. She suggested I take a look at eHarmony. She's had other clients use the web service successfully and prefers it over others she's reviewed. I, on the other hand, am not too keen on the notion of a dating service. I find it all so contrived. Maybe it's an unrealistic notion in today's society, but I prefer to meet men the old-fashioned way, actually meeting them in the course of my everyday life. Think of it, if you have a mutual friend, the guy's already "pre-screened" in a way. You trust your friend's judgement, so you know the guy they are recommending to you is an inherently good person, even if the dating doesn't work out. If you meet someone while participating in a favorite hobby or activity of yours, at least you have somewhere to start. Nancy has never led me astray before, so I went ahead and logged on.

I didn't get very far though; In fact, I barely made it past the first page. Question #8: "Would you be willing to accept a person who has child(ren) under age 18 living with him full-time? yes or no." What happened to "maybe?" How can such a complicated question have such definitive answer options? Is he a widower? Yes, of course I would be ok with children. Is he a man-whore whose exes have dumped the children on him and ran off with their new rock-n-roll lovers? Absolutely not. What about a divorced man? I don't know about that one, what were the circumstances of the divorce? How is the relationship with the ex now (because you know you will always have her in the relationship)? Maybe I'm thinking too hard.

Or maybe I'm too scared and looking for excuses to not do this. Sometimes the thought of dating again terrifies me. I have plenty of excuses for not dating, and while they are true (I am in the midst of moving and I really have recently started a new job which is exhausting) I think a lot of that is rationalization.

So, we'll see. Maybe I'll just have to sit down with a good friend and trudge through the questions together. And maybe something good will come of it, not necessarily in the form of an elegible bachelor, but a little less fear of the big bad dating world. Click here to read more...

Sunday Mourning

I never knew mourning to be like this.
An everyday act of missing, wishing, wanting

(you)

Dreaming that things were different

A dull ache of sadness
That never goes away
(And you never get used to.)

You're lost to me now
(And I'm lost without you.)

Please come back
(hurry) Click here to read more...

Nothing left to say... or feel

I met up with Eric after work today for a few brews at one of my favorite pubs. The oddest thing about our time together was how much it felt like a "non-event". No pulling of heart strings, no yearnings, no strong feelings whatsoever. In fact, earlier that day, I almost didn't even feel like going, not in the sense that I wanted to avoid him, just that it had been a long day at work and I felt more like going home and relaxing. I used to anticipate with such giddiness any opportunity to spend time with him that this was an entirely new experience for me. It makes me wonder if this is progress towards resolution, or just a new phase. Who knows? Maybe I'm just putting up walls around my heart to avoid the inevitable heart break, again. Click here to read more...

A Wedding to Break my Heart

As if Eric and Jennifer being together wasn't the cause of enough heartache (see previous entry, "Of Love and Consternation"), adding to our (Eric's and mine) already strained friendship is the news that they are getting married. In five weeks. Fuck, I certainly was not prepared for that. Any inkling of happiness I may have been able to muster for them over the course of months is overpowered by this stabbing pain shooting through my heart. I am relatively certain that had I had the time to adjust to their being together, to meet Jennifer slowly and "get used to" her being a part of Eric's life, that I could have come to terms with these new circumstances. Their choosing to get married on August 15th robs me of that option. It robs me of the ability to get through this slowly, to take care of my heart and listen to my feelings along the way, and go step-by-baby step. I feel forced into making a decision I never wanted to have to make. He's asked for my mailing address so I am fairly certain an invitation will be arriving shortly in my "real" mail in-box. What on Earth am I to do? Set aside my feelings and go anyways, knowing there is a good chance my heart will be breaking the entire time? Or risk ostracizing myself and not show up to save my own sanity? Weddings are celebrations, but what would I be celebrating? The fact that less than six months after we broke up, he's walking down the aisle with another woman? I find it very difficult to celebrate an event that feels like tangible reminder of how very little I ever meant to Eric romantically. I am literally in an emotional tail spin over this, and I just wish I knew what to do. Click here to read more...

Communities built based on the assumption of cheap gasoline

A recently published Garrison Keillor editorial piece really articulated what I've been thinking about a lot lately. Upon the sale of my mom's house, I will soon be leaving Surburbia (aka BFE according to many of my friends), for "the big city" and the change couldn't come sooner. In the past months, I have grown weary of the big-box retailers, cookie-cutter McMansions, and chain restaurants that define the surburban landscape. I am fed up with a community laid out in such a way as to make cars the most practical form of transportation- lack of sidewalks and bike lanes, highways dividing neighborhoods, and buses that stop at 6:30 pm and don't run at all on weekends. I yearn for the kind of life that Garrison Keillor speaks of, the kind where neighbors get to know each other by passing each other while walking home from the bus stop, or biking to a concert at the lake nearby. A life unhindered by cars, where using an automobile for transportation is the exception, rather than the rule. So as I further my search for my own place, I have very specific criteria with regard to location relative to work, access to public transit and proximity to bike trails and entertainment. My only hope is that I can find something that satisfies these criteria without breaking my budget!

Click here to read more...