Week 29 - From a desert to a flood
Welcome to my weekly email, where I give a life update, discuss something I'm reading, and share a photograph. Enjoy!
Life update
Perhaps it’s fitting that I went from having a week where I didn’t cry to a week where I’ve made the most eye water yet.
Mandy and I had a conversation last Tuesday where we discussed our needs during this separation. And when it comes down to it, they just don’t align. She can’t give me the security I need to maintain things as they are, and I can’t give her the space and freedom she needs to work through what she’s working through.
At least, that’s how I’d put it. She might phrase it differently, and the truth is probably somewhere in the middle.
That moves us from the “let’s see if this is something we can work on” to “let’s start separating our lives.”
I think there’s a measure of relief for both of us in this situation. All the pressure of having to make a decision and all the anxiety of the surrounding uncertainty are gone. But there’s also this big hole.
Most of the crying I’ve done over the past couple of months has been a release of that anxiety: the fear of things not working, the jealousy around the idea of being replaced, the frustration around trying to make life work out how you want it to.
All of that fear, jealousy, and frustration are just in my head. But, it seems to me that that’s most of where a relationship exists.
But now, the tears are just grief. I find myself thinking back to the good days. The early days.
There’s this one line from an old Feist song that’s always stuck in my head:
“The saddest part
of a broken heart,
isn’t the ending,
so much as the start.”
Boy, do I feel that. It’s so easy for me to remember the love. To go back to the vivid memories I have of our first date. To think of the massive text strings we would send each other after just meeting. To recall the adventures, like our canoe camping trips, and our trips to Ireland, Mexico, Cuba, and France. Buying motorcycles together and touring around Alberta. Smiles, funny faces, and laughter.
It’s still all there, and right now, those memories cut at me so deeply.
I suppose the lesson is to remember that line: “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”
Well, someday, I hope to do that. But it’s pretty hard right now.
I do think we lost ourselves to being parents. Because when I try to remember all the happy memories that Mandy and I shared, the times when the two of us were actually connecting and having fun as a couple, they stop around the time we had kids.
We were always doing things as a family. Always together. Always all hands on deck. Always go go go until we fell asleep with the kids and then got up the next morning to do it all over again.
And, of course, I have loads of great memories of us as a family. Shared laughter about the kids. Swapping stories about what they’d done. Pride in watching them grow up.
But we didn’t make time for our relationship in the middle of all that. And we’d say, “It’s just hard right now.” “We just have to get through this tough part where the kids are young.”
But people drift. Relationships take work, and if you don’t put any in, you stop feeling like you’re getting anything out of it. You become less attached, and it’s harder and harder to see anything but the bad. The frustration. The disconnect.
There I go with my perspective again.
When I was talking to Mandy this past week, she told me that a lot of her friends who read these emails have expressed the sentiment, “Eli’s really struggling.” or “Is he going to be okay?”
I find it funny because, from my perspective, I’ve been handling this well. Or, I should say, I’ve been handling it exactly how I’d want to handle it.
I’m not holding any of my emotions back. I’m not feeling afraid or ashamed of expressing them. I’m not crying alone in my bedroom and wiping my eyes before everyone sees me in an attempt to show the world: “I’m fine. I’m bigger than this. Don’t worry about me.”
I’m just being honest. And honestly, it hurts. It hurts bad and it hurts often. But I think that’s normal.
My relationships, my romantic relationships, have always been the most meaningful things in my life. They’re the element that gives me the greatest sense of purpose, belonging, and, probably, identity. Some people might feel like their job is an expression of who they are, or the house they keep, or their kids. But for me, it was always my partner.
Realistically, I don’t think we should hang our identity on any one element of our lives. Especially if that ‘element’ is another person. That’s too much to put on someone else, too much pressure for a relationship to hold, and it sets a person up for a lot of pain if it doesn’t work out.
But that’s where I’m at right now. I’m dealing with a hole not only in my heart but also in my identity. I have to come to terms with the fact that I need to find and foster intrinsic meaning in my life, but I have to do it without the foundation I’d built my identity on. It feels very precarious.
You know you have to grow, but you don’t even feel like your feet are on solid ground to allow you to do that.
But, that’s when you lean on people. And there have been so many who have helped to hold me up, build me up, and show me that there’s still so much love around me.
Life’s a journey, and it’s not always going to feel good. But, I do believe that there are always better days ahead, and I’m trying to remain open to all the possibilities that life has to offer.
What I'm Reading
Nothing
I didn’t really read anything this past week. Or listened to anything. Well, other than my own thoughts, which have been saying the same things over and over and over.
What a week.
A Moment of Life
My nephew. I took this while visiting my brother and sister-in-law on a work trip I made to Calgary this past week.
My other nephew.
Getting ready to bike out from my sisters for my first patio beer of the season.
Thanks for reading. I'll see you next week.
Eli
❤️