08 January 2017

Perspective on Choice and Loss

Meredith.
Lauren.
Jacob.

There are no other reasons.  There is no higher cause.  With the exception of Her, I experienced no greater joy, fulfillment or satisfaction than that which Meredith, Lauren and Jacob gifted me – freely and without expectation of reciprocity.  Their father’s love was all they received, and it was good enough for them.  Individually and collectively, they represent everything I could ever hope and wish for, and any sacrifice or discomfort I might have thought I experienced is infinitely minuscule to their miraculous presence.  Although deserving far more and far better they, along with their mother, are an indistinguishable and inseparable part of my infinite existence.

For some, a life lost is a life lost.  For others, a loss may be considered an act of cowardice.  For others still, loss might be part of the ultimate sacrifice or a demonstration of real love.  Whatever the viewers’ chosen perspective none will likely argue that something wasn’t lost.  The loss is real.  The loss is palpable.  The loss is loss.  But the loss can also be a gain.    

My body has been without its heart for more than 3 years.  My mind, soulless but constantly churning, for just as long.  My body is worn.  My mind is tired.  From one perspective the loss of experiences, events, lessons and the like – from the moment of choice forward – could be considered a loss.  And I feel that loss now, more profoundly and emphatically than words can express and hopefully more than others ever will.  My choice should be my burden to bear – and it is.  But acceptance of such a burden by me cannot possibly prevent others from experiencing a sense of loss as well;  for this I can only express regret.  If it could be otherwise, I would make it so.  From another perspective, with my mind finally at rest and my body giving back what little it has taken from wherever it was taken, the way forward now exists – vastly different and optimistically improved over what likely would have been, for more than just them or me or her.  There are more options.  There is more independence.  There are countless unexpected ways to view this loss with hope, positive expectation and individual fulfillment.  The very hope that emanates from me, and far outshines the shadow of loss, can be infinitely drawn upon and refilled as needed.  Because along with my appreciation of  the contradictory and destructive perspectives of loss and gain, I appreciate more, their cooperative and constructive qualities – and hope that all that results from this loss will be accepted as real and good and right, whatever the viewers’ perspective.

Children should never think ill of their parents.  At least that’s my perspective.  We are all human.  We are each given to temptation and prone to lapses in judgement regardless of what we consider tempting or sound.  We all make mistakes.  And mistakes, like lies, can be big or small – they can impact entire populations or nobody at all.  The vast majority of poor judgments are based on errors of perceived experiences and misinterpretation of circumstances or events.  So are the vast majority of good judgments.  What we choose to call good or bad is determined by nothing more than our individual perspective.  Your good or bad could easily be your sister’s bad or good.  And so it is with everybody you meet – and sometimes even within ourselves.  We may once have run from what we now embrace, or discard on a whim what we once held closely and dear.  My children, while likely come to understand one or another version of the “truth” that closely resembles what their parents actually experienced, should be loved.  They should be encouraged to ask questions – even if no answers for some questions readily exist – for by asking they, like we, demonstrate a willingness to explore and discover.  They should be helped, to the maximum extent possible, to live and grow and become who they wish to become.  Their humanity is the same as yours, mine and hers.  Their humanity is as real and relevant and subject to a myriad of factors beyond anybody’s influence or control – just like yours.  Just like mine.  Just like hers.  Children should never think ill of their parents.  They should accept them.  They should seek to understand them.  They should love them.  Help ours accept, understand and love her.  While I struggle daily to understand her, I accept her without question and lover her without condition or consequence, because she is who she is and we had what we had.  One of the most meaningful aspects or her, of me and of us, is them.  Help them love her.

An optimist is no different than a pessimist, in the sense that both holders of a perspective end in the same way.  The same is with the faithful and faithless; those filled with love and those filled with apathy.  Each of us comes into being in relatively the same way.  And each of us ends being in relatively the same way.  It’s everything between the beginning and the end that is unique, special and individual.  It is the between points that are neither black nor white, good nor bad – they just are.  Your chosen path – the gray area that just is – likely has undergone multiple revisions regardless of the time you’ve spent wandering down that path.  I know mine has.  I know hers has.  We set a course, make decisions based on the chosen course, and then experience circumstances and path-crossings with others over which we have zero control, and are forced to compensate for countless variables and make endless course corrections.  Our individual courses is never truly set by our intentions, nor are we guided down paths that are laid out beyond one step in front of the one we just took.  Control is a fallacy as much in what we choose to wear on a given day as it is in whether or not we get hit by a car, struck by lightning, win the lottery or raise the perfect children.   Control is a mirage we will never reach that promises refreshment we will never experience.  Let it go.

Choice however, is ours – mostly.  Whether we chose to wear a red shirt, are struck by a blue car are hit by white lightning or win a billion dollars and actually raise perfect kids – each of us possesses a degree of influence in how we respond to any particular event.  This past week alone has provided multiple examples of individuals and families struck by worst-case scenario circumstances to which the receivers chose to respond with hope, faith and optimism.  Even in the face of a known inevitability that was overwhelmingly undesirable and tragic, there was laughter, tenderness and peace.  Laughter, tenderness and peace were the chosen responses to what others could justifiably respond with anger, accusations and despondence.  Our personal existence, our individuality – regardless of circumstances, judgments or perceptions of others or “common sense” or “good” or “bad” – are ours and ours alone, because we can choose, with varying degrees of success and influence, how we respond to what goes on around us.  And we can certainly influence the existence and choices of others.  This is why teachers teach.  This is why parents love.  And this is why I chose what I chose.  I chose to rest my tired mind and release my empty body as freely and willingly as every other choice I’ve ever made.  Was it difficult?  YES!  Did I feel stuck by circumstance and trapped by others’ choices?  YES!  But did any external factors or influences take from me my freedom to choose?  NO!  And, as with past choices – good or bad, right or wrong, uplifting or crushing - consequences will certainly follow.  Most of these consequences will be far beyond any single person’s to control, manage or even influence – For life is nothing more than existing and experiencing – choosing – in the midst of endless chaos.  Each of us, regardless of the source of any consequences – ourselves or others – remains free to choose every moment of every day.  I chose what I chose, albeit from what I perceived as a limited list of options, hoping that she and they would be able to choose without the peripheral noise of a sleepless mind and with a freedom and a sense of individuality far beyond my ability to create.  She is free to choose.  They are free to choose.
All that “is” is all that matters.  Don’t worry about what “could have been”.   Don’t’ lose sleep over what “was”.  All you have is what is, where you are and who you are with.  Embrace it – all of it.  It won’t all feel good, and it won’t all work as planned.  The chaos of being unavoidably brings sadness with joy, pain with pleasure and despair with hope.  Accept this as your reality and choose to press on with a perspective of love.

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31 December 2016

24 November 2016

I Miss Her

Movies, music, and professional sports; they’re all painful to experience.  They all remind me of Her and of Them.  WE had them - and everything else - in common for 15 years, and loved them together.  WE were One.  We loved being out - seeing, tasting and experiencing together all that was fun and enriching and exciting.  Now these activities, events and places, which also include restaurants, sounds and smells and sights while walking around cities and malls – or even seeing photos of places we’ve been – just bring pain, sadness, heartache and shame.  We had it so good!!!   We were the BEST together!!!  She chose to throw it all away.  She deliberately ran from US to Him and Them – knowing how much it would hurt because I had already shared with Her how much I was already hurting when what I thought She had done She actually hadn’t…yet.  Which begs the ever-present question to which an answer will never come – WHY?!?!

As much as it physically hurts and mentally torments me to admit, I think I know that WE could never be US again;  even though I've asked multiple times over the past 6 months.  I think I know it couldn't work because the trust and loyalty and fidelity could never be rebuilt to what We had.  From the suspicion about the marks on our bedroom wall – for which I was chided and mocked, but ended up being well-founded based on Her journal postings and admissions of intimacy with Matt and Tyler – to the feelings of humiliation and shame that plague every minute of every day I’m awake, and even my dreams while I’m not, WE could never be what We were


But I miss Her nonetheless.  I miss Her terribly.  I miss Her more than any words or reminiscing or what she might call “rants” could ever adequately express.  SHE was my reason for waking every day! SHE was why I wanted to be in bed every night. SHE was my light and my energy and everything that gave me meaning and purpose and soul!!!

Now – a dark and empty shadow of my former self – I feel and exist as a soulless, heartless, meaningless shell, born on 21 JUN 2013 when who I was died with Her betrayal of the real Me with the real Matt.  The subsequent revelations of increasingly intimate betrayals – of both mind and body, the years of lies, lies and more lies heaped upon the first lies of 2013, and the reminders of what We had and were – and what We could have had and would have been if WE BOTH had been truly committed to healing and forgiving – are but floggings of a dead-man-walking, the physical pain of which is more relief than pain when compared to the sadness, loneliness, betrayal, humiliation, shame, sorrow, regret and longing for HER that lead to daily tears and nightly horrors whose images only end with waking in a pile of knotted, sweat-drenched bedsheets.

I am sad every day.  I am tormented every night.  Not by choice, but by consequence; for who, even given "power to choose" would choose such an existence as I now have?  I don’t choose to be sad any more than the sky chooses to be blue!  I don’t choose to live every night with terror and restlessness any more than fire chooses to be hot.  (And I don't blame Her for who, what and where I am.  She, They and I all share in the creation of what we now are - I accept that.  Consequences are just consequences.)  What is is, and what I am, I am.  Therapy, medication, religion, diversion, addiction – pick any source(s) of consolation, change or self-redirection, and I have tried all of them over the course of the last 42 months.  All have failed to change who I am, because I am me.  I was US.  When WE died, I died, and now I am this.

I miss Her so much.
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