Divorce, Single Parenting, Dating, Sex, & Self-Recovery

Posts tagged “poetry

I Was a Happily Married Man, and Now I’m Not: Tiny Hints of Doom

OFF-firestarter

I’m still happy, but I’m mostly alone. That’s the hard part. I never really thought I would be alone again once I got married. Well, the second marriage, anyway. The first one was a bust from the honeymoon on. But I’m stoic, and I tried to stay in there even when all signs pointed to “get off the fkin boat.” Oh well, we live and live on.

So I was happily married. I had two kids, a boy and then a girl, and things were moving along swimmingly in my life. Well, I’m not saying there weren’t complications, but I’m saying I was working through them as best I could. We both were me and my then-wife. But a couple of things happened over the course of the kids’ first 5 and 7 years respectively, that change the course of all of our lives. I was oblivious to some of the changes, and ignorantly, stubbornly, refused to deal with a few of the others. We were sailing along, not smoothly, but together.

I began to feel the futility of battling this anger demon that I couldn’t do much to influence or control.

There was a moment when our kids were 1 and 3 that I found my then-wife in the bedroom crying. She was listening to a song, and it was hitting her on some deep sad level. I was a little afraid to ask her what was going on. The song didn’t do anything for me at the time. I couldn’t get into the guy’s voice. But the words and meaning were obvious, even if I glossed over the shock I felt at discovering her in such a tender and broken moment. I was afraid, I’m sure, of what it meant. The song was Goodbye My Lover by James Blunt.

Something in the lyrics talked about saying goodbye to someone forever, while still loving them. I knew it meant something deeper than I was willing to explore. And so I kept my distance from the topic. I did ask a couple of times, over the next year or so, but we never really explored what was happening for her in that moment of loneliness and heartbreak. What I knew at that very moment, was that it was her heartbreak, and she was choosing to not share it with me. She was crying alone, and isolated in it, rather than reaching out for me, to call me back in. She was saying goodbye in some abstract way. Maybe she was realizing the end was coming, and she was afraid to broach the subject when our kids were so young. I couldn’t read her mind, and I didn’t try. And the few times I asked about the song, I was met with a blank stare. As if I was looking at a ghost of my then-wife. It was weird. But we sailed along.

Years later, when things were hitting another stressful period we enlisted the support of a wonderful therapist who was helping us learn to communicate with each other on a different level. He wasn’t a marriage counselor, and thus, we meandered over the crisis of the day and the issues of major importance. There was an interesting moment when our counselor and friend asked us how we felt our work was going. He asked for one word to describe how we were feeling.

I went first. “Hopeful.”

you the idea of cynicism that is already defeated. She was saying she was the opposite of hopeful. She was hopeless. I remember even the counselor being a little surprised by the venom in the word. But I would see later, that she was already well into her anger years. The final two years of our marriage when she never really got un-mad at me. I’m not sure I understand the mechanics of it. I’m not sure what she was talking about with her individual therapist, but she appeared to me as if she woke up on the mad side of the bed every morning.

Now, there are resentments and anger issues that can run in any relationship. And as a person matures they begin to take responsibility for their own anger and their own issues. If they don’t, they may continue to blame others for the injustice in their lives. Either you do the work to resolve your issues or you hold on to them and all the righteousness they provide. But it’s false protection. And inside the person who is shaming and blaming knows that they are off.

And during the course of the next year after the cynical comment, my then-wife had three very distinct “fuck you” snaps. Again, I can’t put my finger on what she as so mad about, but I *can* tell you that she believed that somehow I was the cause of her unhappiness. The first time we were eating dinner with another couple and we were joking about work, or politics, or something tangential, and in the course of the little banter, we were flicking each other some grief, sort of tossing around the teasing comments and she just blew up at me. “FUUUUCK YOU.” She said, in a hot and frustrated tone. The conversation stopped. I was blushing. She apologized to our guests. I’m not sure if she ever said she was sorry to me, until later in therapy.

And two more times, this ripping curse came out of her in the same way. The second and third times, since we had discussed it in therapy, she caught herself afterward and apologized for her outburst. But something wasn’t right about it. She was so angry, that she could no longer contain it in the course of everyday banter and play. There was no sarcasm in these outbursts, they were pure poison. And I kept feeling, “Wow, this is really something she needs to work on.” And perhaps she was. Perhaps this was the fuel she was using to psyche herself up to go meet with a divorce attorney and see what her options were. I can’t speculate on her timing or internal dialogue, but her actions towards me continued to vacillate between outward hostility and rage and distancing quiet.

I couldn’t do anything to help her work through her anger issues, except be the best man and husband I knew how to be.

And the counselor we were going to see was not really equipped to handle large emotional outbursts.  It just wasn’t the kind of work we were doing with him. We reoriented and reset several times, but even I began to feel the futility of battling this anger demon that I couldn’t do much to influence or control. I did my best at being a loving and caring husband and father. I did my best at playing the happily married man, but the silence between the outbursts did not provide any closeness.

So for the last year and a half of my marriage, my then-wife was mad at me. How does that work? It’s not like I cheated on her. It’s not like I wasn’t making money, providing for the house, and doing my share of chores, dishes, kid duty, and lawn care. I *was* doing all those things. But I was also getting worn down by the constant unyielding anger. I couldn’t make sense of it. The counselor couldn’t make sense of it. And perhaps even my then-wife was struggling in her individual therapy to understand what was going on, but nothing shifted. Nothing shifted until it broke. And by then she had already met with a lawyer and the deal was half-way to being done in her mind, before she even let me know she was considering a divorce.

In my world, Fuck You was a long way from divorce. But maybe I was being stupid and refusing to see how “off” things were. Maybe. And maybe I could have worked harder at making her happy, each time these little ruptures occurred. Maybe.

But what I do know, is that no one can do the work for you. So I couldn’t do anything to help her work through her anger issues, except be the best man and husband I knew how to be. So that’s what I did. But I was an no-win situation. I didn’t know it, but she was crying about losing her marriage back when our kids were 1 and 3, listening to James Blunt. There wasn’t much that I could have done differently had I understood what she was crying about.

Really, there is nothing you can do to get the other person to change, heal, recover, stop drinking, whatever. I couldn’t make her be happy. And unfortunately she couldn’t, or wasn’t willing to, either.

Sincerely,

The Off Parent
@theoffparent

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reference: Goodbye My Lover by James Blunt.

image: 343/365, morgan, creative commons usage

my father moved through dooms of love 
through sames of am through haves of give, 
singing each morning out of each night 
my father moved through depths of height
-- e e cummings - dooms of love
dooms of love

dark woundings of my own

OFF-dark-mermaid

[from a second wave – poetry]

the precision in a glass of wine
loosening the tongue just enough
to truthfully expose the inner heart
the pumping seething heart
rich red with healthy passion
or black blue with choked off pain
i cannot stand in your way
nor cushion your deep slide this time
my target is moving now
released by your trigger finger
and slippery anger-joke-anger
mad, just kidding, is still mad
and opening the door
date-night door, as well
with “i’m mad” is a sure sign
as sure as the slight slur
almost imperceptible, almost passable
but the message uncoiled and venomous
was unfiltered this time, by feints and jests
and the bile poured on the floor between us
what could’ve caused the flood
releasing pent-up frustrations and …
what
a deathly release from being loved
a striking to keep from feeling
a fear greater than being loved
a fear of loving and losing again

i can’t survive this poison
i’ve seen too clearly the trajectory of loss
disappointment and un. met. expectations.
i survived this song long ago
so long, i no longer want to do the dance
around the venomous tongue
the wounded and striking viper
i won’t go back to charming
starring with glassy eyes, praying
playing the flute
hoping for a long and happy life
i failed my snake charming class
and burned the books
branded with my F
but released from that prison
of dangerous shadows and unknown traps
i am released and recovering
from dark woundings of my own
i won’t take on more
hurt
no matter
what the
love
provided

now

or

then

8-1-2014

image: models dive 25 meters, bejamin von wong, creative commons usage


some distant storm

cj-rain

[from a second wave – poetry]

i know you do not understand
and i have resigned to that knowledge
there is no concrete image or metaphor now
that will bring things back around
to set the world on its proper path again
once we have tasted love, heat, desire, unlimited
we are hungry forever
unafraid in the quest for breast and bone beneath
i cannot take away your joy
or smooth out the creases of this life
but the days can move easier in my arms
we walk alone down this new dusty path
and rain clouds seem always on the horizon
things are different now
fractures and scars they say are stronger
but a ghost of the pain remains
no matter how tough we appear
how confident this voice you think i sing
each love song for you
even before we’ve met
i knew you’d arrive
eventually
as long as i kept singing
but as this night falls
again with some storms between us
i cannot help but feel the rise of the hair
on the back of my neck
warning of the storm
the flashes of brilliance
followed by clusters of noise
it is no easy task loving another person
there is no sudden unlocking
but as we uncover each new inch of skin
and listen to the complaints and joys
hearing deeply for the resonance
we begin to open
fall
grasp again at some dream
of what we had
what we would become
how things might still
this one time
work
out

7-24-14

image: rain? set, cj romberger (cjromb), creative commons usage


an infinite goodbye

[from a second wave – poetry]

the next time I saw her
i was unable to look in her eyes
too much had passed
words that should’ve never been spoken
and i didn’t want to see
the smile, the body, the hair eyes breasts and skin
that i adored for years and years
now stripped from my grasp
from beneath my fingers
i no longer had beauty beside me
and in my loneliness
i found
how we’d never been quite honest with one another
she’d not told me of her trespasses
and I had taken the path of non-resistance
and left her alone
in the bed
trying to sleep
rather than make love
we were tired
she deserved her rest
but
i fell
through the cracks
and let my energy dissipate
with every night i did not demand
that she love me back
that she receive my touch
that she reclaim her own joy
the part I had fallen in love with
it was not my part to recover her
so i fiddled
and complained
but did not demand
my fully empowered wife
to reignite
perhaps it was …
no it was both of us
it was nobody’s fault
but mine

7-18-14

infinitegoodbyes

image: Olivia Arezzolo by Gervin Puse, creative commons usage


a little love poem

OFF- a little love poem

[from a second wave – poetry]

it is simple
and nothing
a poem
about loving someone
you, in particular

but it is something
a nudge
a prayer and promise
in the direction
of

becoming
a song
a dance
a time we share

7-2-14

image: seaside woman with piano, artur mashnich, creative commons usage


the hunger and the beauty

OFF-runner

[from a second wave – poetry]

gazelle and zebra
dash and zip by
and i am tempted
by the hunger and the beauty
and the chase

but it is you i want

all the pretty women
in bright shorts and bra tops
are delicious
to my eyes
and something inside

but it is you i really want

i cannot have everything i want
and i know this very well
i have learned to dial it back
to be a bit quieter
reserved

but it is not youth i want

we run we jump we play
as older beasts in the herd
and find our desire in similarities
and contrasts of all kinds
that fascinate me

still it is you i want

if you see my eye flashing
as the athlete runs by
base instinct ready for the hunt
and you see my heart quicken
just for a second

know, it is you i want

beautiful women are all around
we too were young and sleek
god continues to amaze
and we continue to worship
and learn new prayers

still, it is you

6-30-14


no dream

OFF-stars

[from a second wave – poetry]

we are both waking up
to what could be
not yet what is

what waking up together
might be

testing tendernesses
and embracing
now

days without you
even they build
more fascination

longing that i know
and someone that i’m meeting
again and again
at the edge of what i’ve known

you are the unknown
and the future is
unknowable
you are the risk
i want to take
to fly
release
fall

6-28-14

image: stars, robb north, creative commons usage


in between

[from a second wave – poetry]

the moments in between
in pauses
i imagine you
you
beside me
saying something exotic
and promising
a glint in your glance
warms the cockles
sets the deepest bones
aglow
this in between time
is ours

6-24-14

Screen Shot 2014-06-24 at 6.57.46 PM

image: because your lips are the light of my world…, courtney carmody, creative commons usage


arriving at now

[from a second wave – poetry]

we don’t have to get it right
or know what we pretend to know
ease and comfort
and staying present
is the joy of your skin
the tilt of your laugh
the smile you bring
as i imagine
how you feel
to me
now
that’s the important bit
now

6-16-14

Screen Shot 2014-06-18 at 8.41.44 AM

image: jackie martinez, mark j sebastian, creative commons usage


the green bike girl

girl on a green bike

[from a second wave – poetry]

the green bicycle flashed by
and i caught a glimpse of tan smooth legs
and white sneakers pumping away
as she swerved into traffic
away from me

it was enough to make me want to follow
to turn into the incoming traffic
i have a thing for cute legs
i guess
or cute women
or… something more insidious
just “cute”

the rest of the story is made up in my head
she
the she i see
has little to do with the woman riding the bike

her choice of shampoo
or what color the sheets are on her bed
are all part of my imagination
long after the flash of desire
the brilliant green outline of her bike
the contrast of her strong legs and bright shoes

and the flash inside my brain
a synapse that fires with regular abandon
nothing to be done about it
but say “ah yes” a pretty woman
a pretty young girl on a bike
and this amazingly hungry heart of mine
and head full of poetic imaginings
some might call it obsessive or compulsive
but i prefer artistic
romantic
prolific
these words that frame my desire
in something other than reality
because how much of what we fall in love with
is reality?
are we in love with the chores and mundane beats of life
do we thrive at our desks
far away from the objects of our affection

without the poetic mind
my life would be quite boring
i would be afraid more often than i am
i would love less deeply
i would stay on the surface when my heart says dive
i would never see more than the flash of leg
and the turning away of a young soul

but i see more
i love more
i derive pleasure from things that are not real
ideas that are never expressed
loves that are never culminated
and it’s okay
it’s how i want to be

i want her too
but she’s not here anymore

and until then
sometimes a green bike
holds a key to unlock
hopefulness
in beauty
and time
and
most importantly

love

again

6-12-14

image: schwinn racer, richard masoner, creative commons usage


no longer feel her

girl in dress - poetry

[from a second wave – poetry]

in the moment i could no longer feel or smell her
but her glow was still around me
though her breasts and mind were elsewhere
she was all i could think about
it’s not healthy, i know
it’s not obsession either
it’s…
well, love is a pretty strong word
lust?
i don’t think i know what any of that means anymore
oh, i know the energy she gives
i know the pleasure
and the secrets
i can’t wait any longer
and yet
waiting is the name of the game
it can’t be all the time
balls to the wall
all in
all    all     all
it’s just now
it
is
her

5/3/14

image: touch, bhumica bhatia, creative commons usage


the song i sing

the song i sing

[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

i can see the song i sing because you are in my life
i follow the horizon and know we will get there
here in this moment, i can be safe, home, loved
here in this moment, my expectations can take a rest

even in your absence i feel nourished
held in a warm pocket
and in awe of this feeling you have reminded me of
an energy so pure and addictive
that we have to measure it out
pace ourselves
relax

no hurry, my dear
the world awaits
and it never rests
but in your arms
i can put it off
for the afternoon

5-8-14

image: notes of a rock song, Bùi LInh Ngân, creative commons usage


i knew

breakup poetry - the off parent

 [from The Black Pages – poetry]

one night, I was confused
i had a moment when
i thought that you were leaving
imagined you were gone

and when I felt afraid
i told you how i loved you
you looked at me so strange
that’s when I knew,

i knew
that is was true
that you were already gone
that it was you
and you were already gone

so now I count my blessings
i wonder what it’s for
so many broken angels
and other closing doors

but i knew
that is was true
that you were already gone
that it was you
and you were already gone

any time you looked distant
were you thinking of the other side
and the moment you decided
to change both our lives…

there’s no repair between us
there’s nothing left to fight
i’ve fallen in the darkness
and you’ve left in the night

and i knew

4-28-14

image: goodbye for awhile, Merra Marie, creative commons usage


awaiting (a poem)

creative commons usage: peter burge, atlantic ave

creative commons usage: peter burge, atlantic ave

[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]

i have waited for her for so long
i am beginning to make up stories
tell myself lies
that when she arrives
i will be sure to wipe clean the slate
there are no known roads ahead
we have never been here before
and have no maps for what’s next
best to stay in the touch and now
in the shine and slick of skin
and not let our hearts get ahead
of what we cannot comprehend
nor predict

4-17-14

image: atlanic ave, peter burge, creative commons usage

 


it’s just desire

[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

dusky-walking-smthis cloud this haze this drugged moment
as if the dark air of loneliness
was escaping with a hiss
around the edges of my heart
breaking the fourth wall of reason
for something more dangerous
intoxicating
deep
pulling

an ache
that before was theory
that before involved maps and strategies
there is no strategy for this feeling
no point in burning maps
they are all you know of the shore
the stars above twinkle
as the path winds into darker nights
knowing now what was missing
how
when
and if

aiming away from solitude
towards some idea
of risk and feeling
where the wild things are
what hungers
and leaps
in the spaces between touch
and touching
and anticipation of touch
wrestling to pull back the sail
before capsizing the journey
diving into a course
before the destination is shared

it is delirious and delicious
this ambrosia of moments
dreaming you into being
even as your strong signals
say yes
say slow
say hello

a part of our souls
have set sail
even in this imaginary boat together
we’re calling out subtle directions
affirming the small lines we have begun to trace
in the flickering light
of the map room

11-19-13


ember

[from a coffee love letter – poetry]

ember - a coffee love letter - poemsi want to see what you see
when the joy lights up your eyes
i want to know that it was me
who caused this wonderous moment
i want to feel how your skin
goes from chilled to flaming
i want to break off a piece
of this fire i know of
and place it inside you
so you too are warm
as we part for days
i want the glow to remain
so you know
i am still
beside
you

11-14-13


no longer vivid

[from a coffee love letter – poetry]

lady in black - coffee love letters - poetryif i had her breast for a pillow
i would never get out of bed
if her hair were in my eyes
i’d cry and arc with joy
if some sound was still in my ears
from her joyous moans
i would remember to not be lonely
but the images are no longer vivid
the ache now from emptiness
rather than friction and fire

11-10-13


outside edges

[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]

lite-bright-heart

i walk the outside edges tonight
seeking a warmth
stars are hidden by smoke or clouds
with the hazy coming of winter here
and you have still not arrived
though my prayers are swift
true and pure
it is me that still needs tending
in the burning desire
that turns in on itself

11-6-13

image: creative commons usage – lite-bright art


and you are alight

you are alight - poetry - the off parent[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]

i am holding an open door
without demands or expectations
there is joy inside and music
an easy repose and repartee
to adjust your daily muse
and moods of blue and red and black
all find voice
and comfort
it is a symphony i seek
where the orchestrations are by choice
and desire
and hope
you are invited
to begin a journey
to join in with harmonies and melody
to sing with your own voice
i listen
i have grown tired of my own solos
even as I work to keep the wind vigorous
i am ready to throw open the windows too
and let the weather change everything
push the papers, sheets, and past around
and reconfigure magic
into madness of spirit
higher and brighter
and towards a still point
of such balance
where striving stops again
you have known this peace
where ambition is paired with contentment
as best of friends
and the flex and stretch
comes from energy and joy
and you are alight
accompanied
and
easy

10-29-13

image: used via creative commons, Doorway in Muslim district in Ajmer


the beat and beat and pause

they are flowers, they are pens

[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]

perhaps all this fire just beneath the surface
presents me as a dangerous poet
a romantic with ocd
i can’t seem to stop the words
when i’m happy
or high
an intoxicating sheen
i try to infuse
even when i speak
i listen to the cadence
the beat and beat and pause
the heart of the words
i am trying to connect to her heart
linking us
to pull her closer
all with pause
and patience
and silence enforced
while the words pour on
i give her a rest
because
obsession is not pretty
rich romantic notions
can be unhealthy
overwhelm the fragile stability
i know
i am aware
of my own raging fires
i have learned
this venting process

10-20-13


fall and falling and me

burning leaves - poetry

[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]

tonight the burning leaves
bring mysterious memories to mind
of women, rough blankets, hard kisses
in this cold turning of dark
i am alone
and walking
remembering

is this exquisite longing
this curating of desire
an escape for jumping back in
into the pile of leaves
and dirt and chaos
and scraped knees
am i enjoying my musing
more than i would a good kissing

or something rarer perhaps
at play
at rest with myself
i am not longing with my soul
i am longing with my heart
refinding center
at peace
as me

i love the falling
i would love to fall
i have a fear of falling
an error could set me back 11 years

i miss falling
i won’t settle for hopping
or hoping
i need full flight
breathless abandon

without that
the fall is scented with imaginings
again of who or where she might be

i don’t want all right
i don’t crave steady, or solid, or sure
i don’t fall for youth or red lips
i see them, i see potentials everywhere
but they can’t hear me
there is not much to see at the moment
i am reforming
recalculating
calibrating
re
me

10-17-13

image used via creative commons: heat


accidental angels

accidental angels - the off parent

 [from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]

accidental angels have landed in my life
only a few times
each had a message
usually about sex
sometimes about hope

imagine my surprise at 21 years-old
to find an angel in my car with me
taking her clothes off as we speed towards the lake
it’s too cold to get out of the car or swim
she is naked
says she’s a virgin, but I can’t believe that
and i remember the music
and kissing and
driving her back to her cousin’s house
she was visiting
i guess angels have cousins too

the second angel came with flower tattoo on her shoulder
and a smile that lit up the selfie network
unlike any before or since
and she spoke of rain and cure songs
as the chorus of mutually assured flight was determined
she liked tequila and sappy love songs
on her second return flight she hit a dense fog
and never arrived
though her smiling selfies and empty coffee cups
still flutter by occasionally

the most recent flyby was more dangerous
she was still encumbered in the process
in the leaving
and i must’ve seemed like a perch of pause
but i became a leaping off point
and she has since flown away
though her whispers are also still echoing
across the cellular airways

i’m not ready for another angel
i’d prefer a woman
and even then, i’m not sure i’m ready
but perhaps you never are
they are all angels
after all

10-17-13

image is used courtesy of ricardo acevedo and model sera


eyes to the bottom of the pool

a poem of missing someone before we even met

[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]

i’m not waiting for her to make the first move
kiss first
ask for the 2nd date
but I am anticipating that she will provide
some sign
an indication
that will fuel or foul my flames
and she did
and it was a no
and now I can move on
i may never know what why or how
and she will most likely not offer
so we drift
back to our lanes
eyes to the bottom of the pool
and swim on

10-13-13

image: hockney inspired photo


in the coils

in the coils of her dark wet hair

[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]

in the coils of her dark wet hair
i could lose a lifetime
willingly
slipping into something more comfortable
i would give up oxygen
if it meant i could stay safe
in the fresh deep smell
of a woman
so clean
so completely
open

10-9-13

image: untitled used by creative commons license