Renewal Sixteen : We Don’t Make Truth Or Love

And then again, once again…

Well, I was set up pretty good and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. For once, I went to someone I know and asked for their view. Normally, I just thrash it through, twitch, fall on the ground, and look like an idiot. Fortunately I do this on the earth, far away from the sight of others or I would surely be hospitalized.

My former lady friend showed up at the house, ostensibly to bring by something of mine that I had told her to forget about. She called first and asked my daughter if it was all right, who then verified it with me. Why it was today when I was home, I was not sure–we have not seen each other for nearly a month.

Though nervous–I still have my feelings for her–I tried talking, but this time was different than ever before. With eyes as sure as someone who had had a peak experience, she told me how I had way too much power over her mind, and that just wasn’t good. She had been lost in the power of me and my ability to control her.

That was the same language used by the first two women, especially the second one. My former lady friend explained that in getting to know my second love (they had started hanging out together I later discovered), she realized that she had made a mistake in assessing woman number two. Read that as more evidence of my ability to control her mind.

As I floundered, hooked, I went back over some of the discrepancies of the previous weeks, indeed the previous four years. With those sure-of-herself eyes, she smiled very sympathetically, very peacefully, and told me that I might want to watch what I was making up. It was wrong and had nothing to do with anything.

She was like a healer around a deranged one. Patient, tolerant, smiling knowingly, hoping that I’d be well, but guessing that it just didn’t look good.

I was open mouthed, amazed, dumbfounded. Old feelings from 30 plus years ago of losing all sense of reality came storming back. I was the perfect foil, the perfect accomplice. My frustrated amazement just deepened her knowing smile. That was one peaceful, contented lady that left this afternoon.

I didn’t want to deal with my idle speculations. I didn’t trust my own thoughts–what illusions did they hold? Were they just feeding me and smiling with those same kind of peaceful, knowing eyes?

So, I called a friend I’ve known for over 30 years. I’ve never spoken to my friend like this before, I don’t tend to share myself directly with friends, keeping that for my intimate relationships. And I knew it would be risky, she and her husband are not given to just support someone with kind words when they think otherwise. And both her and her husband had known my previous two loves and had heard me talk about my latest relationship.

My friend laughed. She said I wasn’t crazy, I was hurt. I didn’t choose my women worth a damn, focusing on sex, looks, and types that always wanted something from me. She laughed some more. The idea of me controlling any of these women’s minds was, well, it was just plain funny. They all worked, they all had their own lives. She maintained that the last two had put in time wrapping themselves around me, using sex as a main weapon. Obviously it had worked. But that was not me controlling them, if anything it was an attempt at controlling me.

My friend explained that when I had broken off this last relationship, the woman had been attempting to get me to marry her and for me to help her with her children and her debt, and I would only go so far. So, naturally the woman was hurt and she needed a rationale to cover for that. Hanging out with my second love was a natural, they could feed each other. Each of the three woman had not liked each other in turn, and now they didn’t like me, and they had each other’s support. It was perfect. And perfectly laughable. Just more craziness and I was staying in the line of fire.

Was I crazy then?

No, just not good at choosing women or knowing when to quit trying to get people to understand, my friend offered. I was far too interested in believing that things could be made right, I had too much emotional investment in that belief, and that was not realistic. It was not crazy, it was a nice idea, just not one grounded in the reality that most people didn’t really care.

And she also noted that I wasn’t going to get much support from my children, they were just too young, even at 20, 22, and 30. My children’s inexperience also allowed these last two women to occasionally use my children inappropriately, for their own support. What did I expect? When it came to being parents, they each had more children trouble, and on a regular basis, than I ever seemed to have with my own children, even if I had some close calls.

The same issue held at work, I wasn’t going to get support at school. Administrators mostly do what they want anyway, and trying to make things work right instead of trying to get something personally, or instead of just plain staying out of sight, was simply more idealism on my part.

My friend kindly said that I had accomplished much. I should not overlook all of the things that I had done well. To look at my history, except for my choice of women, was to recognize who I had to be. I was not crazy, I was only too idealistic, and much too vulnerable. My first order of business was always to assume I had not done enough. Sometimes, it is the others who had not done enough.

Besides, imagine what marrying the latest woman would have done? Or staying with any of the three. I would never, ever have been supported, but I would have always been asked to support. And, as was the case anyway, when I asked for and expected equity, I was immediately accused of being less than desirable.

Crazy is a funny thing. It was a tsunami that swept me away this afternoon, it was quiet, and logic, and probabilities, that brought me back again.

I blundered all right and embarrassed myself by trying to achieve understanding. The rocks and the trees and the earth and the stars just wait patiently.

Perhaps in the best cases, one does not alter love, or make love, or forge the truth of a thing. One may just stop being frenetic, so that the love and the truth can be heard and felt over the cacophony of so many caught in the desperate, angst-ridden illusion of separation–a separation that was only meant to add to the joy of experience.

In the midst of my craziness, it was nice to hear from a friend.

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