Monday, 3 August 2015
My Heart is a Ghost Town
So here I am, trying to do this sore heart recovery thing again and move on. Already I am able to get through hours of not even thinking about him, and his face is slowly but surely slipping from my mind. Yesterday I landed and already had an Ashley Madison date set up for myself. A companiable walk on the beach and then a happy coffee on the beachfront was a lovely way to begin my Cape Town working few days. The AM boy is a lovely man, and we enjoyed each others' company a lot. But no chemistry at all for me. He was very complimentary about me - was so very pleasantly surprised that I was who I said I was. Told me how beautiful I am, and what a classy lady he perceives me to be. Was good salve for my soul - just to be reminded that I could be considered a good catch by some. He's not really my 'type' I don't think, but I really enjoyed my time with him.
Spent the evening contentedly alone, on my couch, watching TV. And then started today with yet another Cape Town based Ashley Madison coffee date. Ugh. What a contrast. A younger guy. Who bored me from about the 3rd word that came out of his mouth. I was so wishing I could politely get him to leave so I could rather use the time to get some emails done...
And that's when the sadness came at me again. I know I'm about to start another period, so I'm thinking that the hormones are probably to blame for my sad state of mind, but wow - suddenly I'm just sad sad sad.
I'm working with Mark today, and even that isn't enough to clear these cloudy heavy feelings I have. That song, 'My Heart is a Ghost Town' keeps playing through my head. It means something different to me than the original songwriter intended, though. I feel like the ghosts of all the men I've loved keep appearing in front of me. And when they do, I don't feel recovered from my pain at their loss. It's like it's fresh again. Each one, as he appears, makes me feel that wounding again. The sadness of their abandonment. The searing pain of rejection. I rehave my conversations with them in my head - telling them my side of the conversation, explaining to them that they were wrong to go - that I'm perfect for them...they just didn't stay around long enough to realise it.
Red's ghost is freshest: I tell that ghost that I'm not looking for heavy immersion and commitment. That I just want him to be my lover. In a light and connected way. That both of us have families, companies to run, and that I don't expect to be able to see him too much. That he doesn't need to be afraid of my neediness. That I won't be too heavy for him. That I would be a good companion for him while he goes through all of this tough breakup stuff with his wife. That he and I can find some joy together. But the ghost doesn't respond. Doesn't hear me. Doesn't turn to me with his arms open and welcome me into his space. I tell him I'm out here dating again because I want to scare him into coming back to me, not taking me for granted. I want him to be afraid that he is losing me so he will fight for me. I tell him that I'm sad because these two men are not him. That I found what I was wanting in him, and I don't want to start looking afresh. But the ghost looks right through me. Doesn't see me. Has forgotten me already.
I read an astrology chart for myself yesterday. It said I need to remember that all my emotional sadness is about my emotional addiction, not about actual realtionships that are past. I think that is the most spot on assessment I've ever heard. I think it is that. Each of these ghosts are simply embodying this addiction of mine. The pain of being alone always. The sadness and yearning I had for a narcissistic mother and absent father that permeated every waking day of my childhood, now recreated in these ghosts of men past. The danger for me is when I try to deal with that addiction with the actual men themselves rather than their ghosts.
And today, with my heart heavy and sad, and my hormones creating a weight in me, I am more at risk for sending that heartfelt plea and emotional overshare that seems to be what sends them all running for the hills. Today is the day that I must practice just not doing that. Holding myself in all my sadness and not trying to hand over this pain for somebody else to hold. Berlin has told me it's too scary and too much. Mark has told me it's too much. The normal men in the world, the non-narcs, are giving me the feedback that it's just too much.
So the conversations with the ghosts will have to do. Because the live men are gone. The addiction is howling. My heart is sad. And I wander this ghost town alone.