One thing seems to be working

I haven’t felt much like writing since I have felt stuck in the same loop until two days ago. Like I said in a previous post, I am trying everything. I am now medicated, which is helping take the panic away. But I have been learning something about this “condition” where I obsess over making a relationship work because the terror of the person leaving literally feels like I will die.

It’s all linked to the past, of course. This is triggering old stuff, which I knew, but what I didn’t know what the chemical reactions going on in the brain that draw me back to this person and the pain, actually.

Perhaps I will write about this soon, when I figure out a little bit more. It’s a little airy fairy, so I am reluctant to post here until I can make more sense of it. But as I said, I am willing to try ANYTHING to get through this, and so I am. I’ve had reiki, sacral cranial therapy (that stirred up some serious shit), seen a psychologist, a psychiatrist…and now done something call quanta freedom healing which is the only thing that seems to have had ANY effect at all. I’ve done it the last two days, and these two days were the first in two months where I have been able to concentrate on anything at all, and in addition, I’ve had moments where I actually believe I can get through this and over this person. I’m not done, clearly. It’s still really, really a struggle to let go and ridiculous that at this point I am still hanging on after all the rejection. But…whereas I could not even imagine letting go (it made me panic), I can imagine it now, and can believe that I can be emotionally independent at some point.

So there is some light at the end of the tunnel.

Slogging forward

I figured I would start to write my progress here, since the whole blog began with this journey six months after JM died and I escaped my life by moving to Spain.

I am doing everything I can to move through this, I want to get through. I know I cannot go around or run away without it eventually catching me and then hitting me with more intensity than ever. Do not want that! I can’t even handle this much.

My sorrow is so displaced. I panic when I think of letting go of this other relationship even though it is clearly over and probably never really was anything real to begin with. The idea is too frightening. It’s as if I need SOMETHING, anything, to mentally fall back on, however delusional. So I am clinging to the last strands of hope with this other relationship while frantically looking for another (I can’t help myself). This is my distraction. Being all alone with nothing is too frightening and too empty feeling.

I truly want to let this go, I want all these feelings for this other person to end, I want to be done with it completely, I want the indifference that he feels. I want my emotions to be in proportion with what is actually happening in my life. But I can’t force it. Maybe this is the catalyst to move me through these emotions. Maybe I am so far removed that I needed something to trigger them, some loss and rejection that really, really hurts to bring them all to the surface.

I sure wish it wasn’t this guy though. I wish it were someone I cared less about. Someone who would let me down more gently, to let it be in part my decision. Either that, or that he would be clear with me that it is totally over and done, instead of leaving me crumbs, so I can delete every bit of him from my life and let go. Because I totally get his indifference. I have and am acting the exact same way with other lovers in my life. I know how little I really think about them and how at first I gave them lots of attention and thought about future plans with them (albeit with far less intensity than I did with this current obsession). And that is what kills me, because I know exactly how little importance I am to him.

I’ve written sooo many paragraphs of what I want to say to him. How I will tell him that I am saying goodbye and these are the reasons. That helps a little. I have actually sent a few of them and he counters with some crumb of hope and I can’t let go. And the worst is that I know he is not for me. Like it wouldn’t last because of being in different stages of life to be honest. For some damn reason I think this is serving a purpose. A terrible, painfully out of proportion purpose.

I feel no different than yesterday. I am fighting contacting him and feel a stab of panic when I see he is online. I know if I wrote something he would respond, I could have a little jolt of dopamine when he pays me some attention. I could prolong the inevitable a little longer.

I’ll cry over this again today, multiple times. This is what the last month has been like. More than a month, because even when we were in contact every day I still had this panicky feeling that he would leave. Because I knew it was wrong, I chose him for a reason. I just don’t quite understand why I am creating this situation again.

Meanwhile, I am trying to put one foot in front of the other to make other things happen in my life. It is hard to concentrate but progress is being made in some areas. I closed on my house sale in Rhode Island and got the place partially ready to rent. I got all my paperwork and switched things into my name. All in a fog, and with zero sense of accomplishment or excitement. A year ago all this would have thrilled me. It all feels empty now, but I will benefit from it and someday maybe I can even feel happy or satisfied with this. So I guess in some areas of my life I am slogging forward.

 

 

 

Free falling

It’s been a couple of months now, and the giddy freedom of being single has worn off and, early as it is, I am looking for some kind of relationship. Well, let me correct that: I was never intentionally looking that I was aware of, but I fell very quickly for someone. Someone inappropriate, of course: Single but emotionally unavailable (though he came on very strong at first), very far away, much younger than me…actually, I was starting to cling to someone else of the EXACT same description (though a less exciting person and thus not nearly as intense) until this guy came along. So it was bound to happen, whether it was with this guy or someone else…

Long story short, after meeting and communicating and lots of future talk and dreaming together, I was revved up about a new and exciting future. Ready for it and ready for it to happen TOMORROW. Then of course came his retreat and my chasing him (which was bound to happen for how fast and furious I was going – I would have done the same had the positions been reversed). And then came lots of anxiety and tears on my part. Lots. Like way, way out of proportion.

Cut to: Me turning into a total, complete emotional wreck. Leaving public situations to go cry. Waking myself up sobbing in the middle of the night. Feeling total, complete despair and fear. Like the rug had completely been pulled out from under me and I have nothing to look forward to and no direction. Feeling totally alone and lost. What does this resemble? Oh yeah. This is triggering everything I went through–or perhaps did not go through–eight years ago today…

So the floodgates have been opened. Evidently because six of the last seven years I have been in a safe relationship. Safe, in that I was somewhat emotionally detached and safe in that I knew he would never, ever leave me. And that let me keep all those emotions and feelings of loss in check.

I am here in Rhode Island with my family. Afraid to return to Barcelona and be alone. Feeling like this will never end, will never lessen in intensity. Dealing with my misplaced feelings of loss because they make more sense this way, pining for and crying over someone else. But if I really think about my sadness over the loss of this potential partner, potential future and new exciting life, I am brought back to the core of where this is all coming from.

I am focused on the near future and the current person that I miss, but I see how I am also reliving my loss of JM eight years ago. There are many parallels, it’s like I am recreating the entire situation anew. I’m now suddenly alone and missing someone I can’t have. My future plans are there no longer. There is nothing keeping me in the place I am living, nothing keeping me anywhere and my interest in everything is forced at the moment, to just keep myself doing things, putting one foot in front of the other, even if it is a circle I am going in. Why would I do this? Why would I recreate the same situation? I don’t yet fully understand.

So I will try to focus on the good things that are coming, or will come out of this:

  • I am forced to reach out to my friends and family, who have been responsive and wonderful. Better than wonderful. I am being shown a lot of love and kindness right now.
  • I am feeling things intensely. I am surprised at how strongly I can feel for another person. I had forgotten. It is now extremely painful, but I’m alive.
  • I started therapy again to work through some of these emotions and physical reactions that are happening to me. Perhaps I will come out the other side more whole. Or a better person, or happier, or something. I don’t know what yet but it can’t be worse.
  • I’ve see that I was looking for someone else to fix this for me, to give me direction. Which I always denied but was exactly what I was doing. So maybe I can try to stop that, or at least step back from that a little.

I am still free falling, I have no idea how or where I will land. But I will eventually. I know that logically, but my insides are not yet convinced.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Welcoming the old demons

I am single again, and have been plunged back into all the insecurities of being rejected now that I am dating. My relationship was comfortable and felt safe, for many reasons. Suffice it to say that my abandonment issues were never strummed in my last relationship.

I had not felt those old familiar feelings of abandonment for a long time, and since I began dating/meeting others online, there have been many moments of perceived rejection. All those old insecurities are getting triggered once more, either for legitimate reasons or not so legitimate reasons.

But the interesting thing is, while I dread them and they are uncomfortable, I found myself welcoming them. It was as if I had missed them, because they are so familiar to me. They were gone for 6 years and now suddenly they are back and I feel like myself again. It’s a strange sensation, but I realized that I like them on some level.

That’s a new realization for me. I understand more fully why we hang onto addictions and destructive behavior. Logically I understood that yes, we recreate our past traumas to try to solve them (which doesn’t work, in case you were wondering) and that we seek what is similar to what was imprinted onto our psyches as children, no matter how destructive or violent. We seek it because there is comfort with what we know. But this was the first time in my life I have really consciously felt it from all sides, the bad and the good and the missing it and everything.

Here’s to our old familiar demons.

 

Kitty

The following is a frequent occurrence in this house: I enter the bedroom where the boyfriend is visiting with the cat.  He is putting his face close enough that she can bump her head up against his face.

He’s speaking softly in Italian to her, it sounds like he is cooing nice things into kitty’s ears, but upon listening closer, I hear he is speaking insults – calling her a stronza (a piece – as in piece of sh*t), fat, a rufiana (manipulator, like a flirt). Kitty has her eyes half closed. She doesn’t care one bit about the insults – she knows they are true.

She has a visitor who comes to see her every few days, a young male cat who makes his way through the fences and walls in the interior square the many apartment complexes surround. The terraces (patios) are partitioned off to the lower floor apartments in a strange puzzle; some owners have long, skinny terraces (like 100 feet long and 20 feet wide), some have L shaped terraces that the hooked end part is so impractical, people never use it, while others have tiny postage stamp size terraces no more than 8 feet by 4 feet, like us. It seems unfair but it’s been 100 years of negotiation for the interior spaces, so who knows the deals that were arranged.

We have some chicken wire-like stuff up against the 100 year old spiked iron fence that arises from the hip high, crumbling wall surrounding our tiny terrace from the vast expanse of the neighbor’s unused terrace. The visitor–I call him Mr. Cat–jumps up onto the wall and meows for Kitty. She’ll casually make her way over and jump up to sniff him. I’ve cut a hole in the chicken wire so I can feed Mr. Cat, even though I know he has an owner, because he showed up with stitches near his ear one day. The two of them can touch noses though the hole in the fence, though Kitty usually takes swings at him with her paw.

Kitty has no tail–none at all, not even a stump–and this not only leaves her butt exposes but evidently affects her ability to…well, get it all out. Sometimes she leaves presents the size of a Tootsie Roll, or even larger, around the house. But even more charming is that she will ask to get her butt wiped. Yes. She has a certain meow that is not “Feed me”, “Play with me” or “Pet me”, but is “My ass needs attending to”.  When this cry is administered, usually when I am at my desk trying to concentrate, I’ll find a tissue near my desk or  head to the bathroom (Kitty follows, she knows what she needs) and wipe off her business. It’s never bad, she is a clean cat, but sometimes she needs help. So she asks me.

The bedroom door must remain closed at night.  Kitty loves food and is an indoor cat, so doesn’t get as much exercise as she probably needs. Oh, there are forays into the stairwell, practically daily, and she runs up and down the hall (nearly always with the hope of me going to her dish or the refrigerator). But if the bedroom door is left open, she will wake at dawn, find her food dish empty, and head straight for the bedroom where she will alight upon the bed and bat my face until I rise to put food in her dish. Kitty is now too fat, so the bedroom door remains closed.

Sorry Kitty, we need to add ‘maiale‘ to your list of names.

 

Getting out of the comfort zone

I’ll never understand those who travel only to spend their time and energy looking for the familiar. I recall when living in Heidelberg, Germany, another American student girl complaining how difficult it was to, and I quote, “find a good burger”. I was 21 and thought to myself “seriously? Is that why you are here?”

I get it, we were young and it was some of our first experiences outside of our comfort zones (age 21, but already on my 5th year away from home, so perhaps this is why I was so annoyed) and perhaps a burger satisfied a kind of home sickness. And we weren’t exactly traveling; we were living there for our studies. I always ate in the student cafeteria, the kind where you shuffled along in line, pushing a metal partitioned tray along the food line while you pointed to the selections you wished the large person behind the counter to ladle into a specific rectangle. I can’t recall what these dishes were, which might be for the best, because I do remember that they were not exactly delicious and I always left feeling heavy. But it was very cheap, I think we even paid with tickets that came from somewhere (the school?), and all the university students in town frequented this place for lunch and sometimes dinner. So perhaps this fellow student had her reasons and maybe I’m being too harsh – but I do remember being annoyed.

So a more appropriate and actually travel related example is: A few months ago, while dining with my BF in a funky French/Spanish/Asian restaurant (it’s called Ménage a Trois in reference to the strange mix of 3 cuisines), next to us was a table full of a visiting Italian family. Mom, dad, older daughter, teenage sons. Perhaps a random aunt. The waiter spoke to them in Italian because they couldn’t manage a word of Spanish. I eavesdropped, bewildered, as the man asked the waiter if the restaurant could make a pasta dish, as there were none on the menu – which you would likely expect in a French/Thai/Spanish fusion restaurant. None of the three are renown for their farfalle or tagliatelle dishes (though the Catalans do have a paella like dish with tiny short noodles instead of rice called Fideuà).

So why, whyyyyy, would you travel however many miles to visit a place only to eat the exact same thing you eat every day of your life at home? I wanted to lean over and say to him, sotto voce: “You’re doing it wrong”.

I’ll give you one more annoying example that, unfortunately, is not uncommon as I am witness to varying degrees of it all the time. But this one particularly stands out. The setting is one of the few American cuisine restaurants here in Barcelona that are not trying to be some kind of 50s diner. A nice place with kind of hipster food and great decor in a trendy part of town. I am actually sitting at the same table as some Irish visitors, who are friends of friends. As they receive their orders of burger and fries, one lass of approximately 35 years of age, calls the waiter over to question what was wrong with the ‘chips’. When the waiter informs her that they are thick cut potato fries, as indicated on the menu, she loudly whines that she wants (and this is a direct quote) “normal chips”.

The confused waiter wanders off after being tongue lashed for a while, and I bear witness to this miserable girl moaning over the appearance and size of her ‘chips’ throughout the entire meal. Is that all you can focus on in this beautiful city at a table full of friends? Your effing ‘chips’ that, by the way, weren’t even on the menu? I can understand if he served you fried chicken feet instead, but these where cut and cooked potatoes that happened to be a different SIZE than you were used too. Girl, please.

Part of traveling is being open to new experiences, especially culinary experiences. If the lass can only consume chips that are identical to those she gets in her chip shop in Hackney, then perhaps she should have told her host she preferred to dine in one of the many, many British pubs in the center of town. Italian Joe maybe should have chosen one of the many, many Italian restaurants all over Barcelona if his pasta levels were running dangerously low. Kudos for getting out of your country to see the world, but try to experience the culinary side of it a little bit too.

 

2014 New Year resolution Part Two/Conclusion

I guess I should have titled this my New Year anti-resolution check-in/conclusion. Anyway, the original post is here, check-in part one is here, and this is part two, and actually the conclusion since it is now 2015 and there can be no more check ins.

In June we went to Aragon. A weekend riding little bikes and supermoto at the Motorland track and some site seeing around the old city of Alcañiz, which is a fascinating city. It’s worth reading about.

alcañizgarage2

Little bike in the garage

In July we went to the South of France to catch a few stages of Le Tour (that’s the Tour de France for the uniformed), plus Montpelier beforehand. I’ll admit, I was disappointed in Montpelier. Overall, I found it to be shoddier and dirtier than I expected, and the city relies entirely too much on cars for my taste, despite its overground tram system. It had some interesting historical monuments and relics though, including an enormous aqueduct built in the 1700s.

Aqueduct in Montpellier

Aqueduct in Montpelier

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Next stop was Nîmes, where we spent a day visiting all of the intact Roman structures all over the city. An entire, intact Roman amphitheater stands in the center of town and is used regularly–weekly–for events.

Nimes amphitheatre

GP riding toward his roots in Nimes

The Spanish influence is evident in this city, where local ferias, flamenco and Camargue bullfights (where the bulls are not harmed unlike the bloodthirsty Spanish version) are a regular part of life.

Nimes symbol - a croc leashed to a palm

Symbol of Nimes – a croc leashed to a palm

The ancient amphitheater, built in the the 4th century AD, is still in regular and frequent use. Here they hold the many, many bullfights held in Nimes, and also concerts, recreations of Roman games, city festivals and other big sho

Tour du France juxtaposition

Le Tour juxtaposition

Roman structures in Nimes

Riding around Roman ruins

Nimes river

Downtown Nimes river

Le Tour finish

Le Tour finish

After watching the Tour finish from Nimes, we took the train to Carcassonne, another historically significant city, this time for its intact Medieval city center. We stayed just outside the newer part of town, along with plenty of media and press people, and rode our bikes into town and up to the walled in city for a look around. It was a rest day for the tour and we actually saw a couple of riders touring around the tiny, ancient walled-in city.

epo_carcassonne

EPO, it’s what’s for breakfast.

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Pushing my bike through the slippery cobblestones of Carcassonne

The next day we saw the start of the Tour stage, then rode along the old horse trails lining the Canal du Midi. These are rooty, tree covered paths built for the horses that pulled the merchant barges from town to town. The trails are now bike and walking paths and the canals, that cover France, are now primarily used by pleasure boaters who like to see the country via the canals. Not a bad idea, actually.

lock_carcassonne

A boat waits for the water to rise at the lock

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Crossing a canal bridge

The next jaunt was to see the final of the big three bicycle races, the Vuelta de España in August. Taking our bikes by train to Pamplona was our first stop, where we had a day to ride around and found ourselves riding along the Camino de Santiago trail unintentionally but to our great satisfaction.

Camino de Santiago marker

Camino de Santiago marker, the shell

Bike trails just outside Pamplona

Bike trails just outside Pamplona

We had drinks with our neighbor in Barcelona who happened to be in Pamplona for work, then the next day we caught the stage start in a park at the edge of town. The city celebrated everywhere with decorations (though nothing like the Italians decorate for the Giro), including a display of Miguel Indurian’s time trail bike hanging in the Santander bank arches.

Indurian's timetrial bike

Indurian’s timetrial bike on display in the central Plaza of Pamplona for the stage start.

vuelta stage start

GP’s stage start selfie

Alberto Contador Pamplona

The Vuelta leader and eventual winner, Contador

We then headed to Logroño, where the next stage actually started and finished. We stayed in town and hit the famous Laurel street for some serious tapas and pincho eating two nights in a row, and got up close and personal with the riders at the stage finish.

peter sagan

Everyone’s favorite personality, ex-mountain biker Peter Sagan.

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In September I flew out to Rhode Island for a week to see my brother on his historical farm he is renovating, along with my father who met me there. I went to a dance performance on the grounds of one of the mansions out there, and crashed the after party. I had a nice long chat with the wife of the proprietor, a woman from Serbia, about Nikola Tesla, with whom she claimed to be related. I’m not sure I buy it but it was interesting none the less.

I then started to get quite busy with work so the traveling stopped until the years end (and yes, more or less broke my resolution to not ‘work hard’). We also moved and the new placed needed a LOT of work so that took precedence.

But for the last trip of the year, on December 25th we headed to New York. I had a real haircut in SoHo, visited museums, ate street food, finally saw the 911 memorial, paid way too much for a hotel room for six nights but didn’t am at peace with it because it was planned. (Next time I’ll stay at an AirBnB for half the price, and not in the theater district either!) New Years Eve we boarded a plane to Southern California for a week or two of sun (and dental appointments).

And that, my friends, concludes the 2014 New Year’s resolution updates.