Dark Spaces

Friday, Sept. 09, 2011-4:52 pm

When I looked up at the stars tonight I felt a familiar hollowness.

Here I was, alone, but in a relationship that I couldn't make sense of.

I could sometimes say with confidence: "It isn't that complicated."

An hour later I'd feel overwhelmed and say :"It's unfathomably complicated."

The memories of the very best things we had between us were out of reach again.

I looked up at the sky and said to myself that I WILL reach out , through the darkness , past the stars, and I'll hold on to him , through all the cold dark blank spots in between.

I'll drag him back through the empty spaces of our relationship if I have to .

I cant have any more loss. I'll make it what it was.......

because I cant let go.

I was a relentless tide of optimism since the very beginning. I knew better, yet I let myself hope, that he would always be a perfect partner for me, someone who was open and confident and would love everything about me. He told me he was that man . He told me I could count on him .

We had a history of peace.

Thinking that it would never change was not my first foolish dream.

Being a natural caretaker-type, I have always found it hard to resist someone else;s uncertainty. I'd sweep in with radiant hope saying "just listen to me, the situation is under control". "Everything is going to be fine. You'll see."

I bought it every time, even if the other person did not.

When I was happy, anything was possible.

The problems we have been having were getting overwhelming. The glow was turning to ashes, and I was falling into despair. After each crash, we would make up, and I would forget how bad things had been. I forced myself not to remember feeling let down , or fearful about how things had changed for the worse. Instead I only allowed myself to feel like a "relationship savior" , just like I did when I was a little girl. I would not give up on the impossible dream of making difficult relationships better.

This arc of shining hope followed by stark reality and disappointment has threaded its way though my life and it is present now in our relationship. It is now authored by me, with the help of the negativity he was holding onto.

Some people did not dare to believe in their impossible dreams, for fear of being disappointed. Maybe Jay was one of those. People convince themselves of what they want to believe, and sometimes it is easier to believe the worst. Whether manipulative or benign, it is easier to believe the false illusions of a bruised ego than it is to dream of a perfect union..

Jay sold me with the strongest of all confidence-man approaches: He answered my doubts in a bigger way than I was asking for. He looked like the kind of person who had all the confidence in the world and believed in the kind of love that neither of us had ever known .

Our " castle in the sky" began to crumble , and he was not in control of everything as he had assumed. He was as surprised as I was when he did not know how to handle it.

My response to these crises has never been as graceful as I would have liked. I would get mad at him, and then I would be sad. My sadness turned to fear. I fought the emotion from turning to resentment. I talked myself out of depression. I began anew, believing that this was his last jealous outburst, and that this time, we had worked it out. I pretended not to know that I was starting to sound like the fool who closes her eyes and gasps because she believes in magic. I began to realize that my world was contracting into smaller and smaller circles , like the narrowing end of a fluted shell . And as the time went on I felt contracted into the deepest most narrow space left by those smallest of circles with him in the center. I could not move or turn away .

. I thought about the usual doomed strategies, which are basically:

1. End it? No.

2. Stay with him, but blame him. Not good.

3. Stay with him, take it personally, and blame myself. No way !

Despite our best (worst) efforts, we agreed to stay connected,

But some days it's more than I can handle. I'm sorry. I know I said I wanted him no matter what . I wanted him to talk about everything, I wanted to know everything he felt. But some times I can't handle it.

I took strength in the fact that the disappointments didn't doom our relationship. I decided that we can still start over: Our real relationship began now. In the aftermath of issues, something good had happened: I had not tried t hide my reaction. I didn't have to pretend, as I had in childhood, that the falling bricks from the "dream castle" didn't hurt. I didn't have to create a world where I pretended to feel happier than I really was.

I understand that his primary wish was to make himself and me a happy couple. Hardly a nefarious plot. The man I stay with has good intentions and plenty of love to offer. The disappointments are sad,but not tragic.

I try not to pay too much attention to the negative man he still sometimes becomes. When we work well together as problem solvers, I say , "That's what mature people do."

Being in a relationship doesn't automatically make everything perfect.

But it does make some things perfect.

He still reassures me too easily, that it wont happen again, that he has it all worked out. I am skeptical. I doubt him, but i try not to say that out loud, and he has learned not to promise me the world, at least not automatically.

It's not the story book happy ending we were trying to write . It's inconsistent and deliberate and different from what either of us had in mind.

Meanwhile, we're still hanging in, so maybe the promises weren't all impossible.

I have given up thinking that everything will be wonderful as long as we're together. What's more important, though, is that when disappointments happen . and they do . we are still standing together.

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