Only Space For What There Is Space For

It's true...there really is only space for what there is space. A car can only hold so many clowns, a home so many people, a conversation so many words. I get that.

I remember my very first encounter with "romance."   I was five. Samantha, the girl with long blonde hair always pulled super taught against her head to form pig-tails,  lived next door. She and I did everything together: We watched cartoons, we ate our lunch outside on her cool kid-sized picnic table,  played with her Barbies, or, with my Barbies (outwardly disguised as GI Joe's). What solidified my undying love was the realization that we could build a tent with her bed linens, one that we occupied all night, along with our flashlights and other important sundry items without a single violation of our "protective shield"

That's why on the day her parents so rudely swept her away to move to another state, I was devastated! I remember frantically running in to my mother (who somehow already knew about the move)  crying.  "Now who am I going to marry."

I tell that story because it makes me look like an adorable five year old.

No seriously, I tell it to remind myself that even with the paradigm of a five year old, there was only room for what there was room for. I, of course, had no idea how my life's journey would look at that age, with one exception: I was certain I would marry Samantha. There was that much space in my mind for how marriage, for me, would look.  

While it's important to consider the  thoughts, ideas and inspirations for which we create and maintain space in our mind, what I'm really exploring is kind of the reverse side of that. What can one do when he, either intentionally or unintentionally makes "space" for something he later regrets, an "allowance" for words or actions that separate and divide, rather than strengthen bonds of affection.

At the beginning of a relationship, loving attentiveness, excitement and passion are the norm. Arguments are often believed to be what those couples do and we can scarcely stand the thoughts of being in conflict with this person. Then it happens-- usually over sex,  money or in-laws--and a space for a slightly higher level of  aggressiveness or hostility, even an unusual emotional shut-down enters the scene. The activating event brings with it beliefs and/or thoughts that are strongly defended by each party.  But, because the feeling of being in love is so vibrant, a make-up occurs quickly and a sense of equilibrium is re-established. 

Strangely, that equilibrium intensives the surprise when the next event occurs. This time, voices are raised a little higher, or, perhaps the tone is more cutting or words more poignant.  Over time, if patterns remain the same, the conflict/hostility "envelope" gets pushed a little farther. Eventually-- without an intervention to enhance communication and empathy skills--the emotional and physical well-being of both individuals are compromised because of the intensity of the conflicts between them.

Like some self-respecting, almost middle-aged, gay couples, Sean and I went on our first date, and, just simply never went back. No, seriously, Sean never slept in his apartment again because we were so happy together. In fact, a few weeks into our co-habitation, my Land Lord , seeing a change in my affect, asked what caused "that glow. I said, proudly, pointing at him, "I've fallen in love."

Almost all of our road trips for floral design were marked with goofy laughter. I have no idea what we were laughing about...we didn't care, really. We had awesome sex a.  Nope, there was absolutely no room in our joint paradigm for hostility in the form of yelling nor violence cleverly disguised as name calling.  When disagreement arose, one talked while the other listened, followed by some variation of reflective listening. We certainly weren't perfect in our use of effective communication skills, but we always tried.

Things are different now.

One year later, anger has become comfortable. Blame-finding has replaced the quick acceptance of responsibility, openness and the desire to understand. Spontaneous acts of affection and kindness seem, on a level, to have been replaced by spontaneous upsets that then take hours, sometimes days, to resolve.Often with a different upset setting in before the first is even close to resolution. I realize how bleak this all sounds. Unfortunately, however, we've found themselves in some trouble; we've fallen into some pretty shitty habits. Or, better stated, we've developed mal-adaptive coping strategies and dysfunctional patterns of behavior that have begun and will continue to erode the affection between us if we don't change. 

What has happened between us? It's pretty simple, I think: we gradually made space for stuff we weren't expecting. We increased the volume of our voices when an argument; we increased the frequency of conflicts; and we increased the intensity of the already emotionally charged energy between us. What happened is this:  our egos developed the notion that being right is more important than being present and before long we we pushing that envelop even further.

It breaks my heart, really. I love Sean, and I want him as my partner, my friend, my confidant. I want to feel the joy I felt simply being together. I want to experience the unrestrained laughter and silliness we enjoyed while just driving to an event. I want to feel the affection of breakfast in bed or a hot bath and candles or a goofy card that reads with the simple sentiment  "I love you...you're my best friend."

So, not having the ability to turn back time, how can we "reset" the level to which we are willing-to push the envelop? How can we go back to the times when an argument was just that: a discussion between two individuals? Like usual, I want these answers, and I want them now, but alas, the answers, I believe,  will come, when I'm ready to receive them.  I fucking hope so!

I'll keep you posted.

*Yes it's true! I ended this sentence with a preposition. To my high school teacher, my apologies.

Remember? A Neurotic Little Free-Flow of Thouthts

Remember when I did that horrible thing, that absolutely devastatingly heart breaking thing? And remember how angry you were and how much you yelled and screamed and cried and withheld affection. For at least a month, I think,  there was nothing but  "discussion" between us We talked and fought and cried and sulked and deliberated about it so much that eventually I believed I would surely have a stroke, or, a mental breakdown of one sort or another. You resented me so badly I could almost smell it on your skin and you held "forgiveness" in front of me like a precious, dangling carrot, taunting me with the promise of relief from the heaviness. You knew how badly I wanted your forgiveness, how badly I wanted the hurting in your heart to stop and the agonizing discomfort between us to soften. Over the weeks that followed,  I began to feel  tolerated. You gradually mustered up the ability to be in the same room with me without shooting nerve gas out your blankly staring eyes. Ok...I know that's a hyperbolic use of drama, but that's how it felt to me.

Remember how heart broken I was, knowing that I had hurt the man I had been in love with for years? Remember how scared I was to come home and how I had walked around in sub-zero weather for at least five hours, not knowing what I could do or say that would somehow make it less painful for you? I wanted so badly the ability to reach my arm back through time to one seemingly insignificant moment when I could have made one choice differently than the one I made. I couldn't though. I had to accept that I had fucked up in the worst way and that our lives would never be the same and that you may never love me again like you had and that I was all alone--completely alone with my self-defeating thoughts that screamed horribly hopeless messages that made any reasonable attempt at reasonable-ness seem absolutely ridiculous, and....of course, unreasonable. I totally understand why you left that morning. I feel like I should repeat myself: I totally understand why you left that morning, but, I was left with a lot of pain to manage by myself. Loneliness had never felt so tangible before, as it I could sense it on the skin of my face and weighing down attempts to lift my head and arms. It felt suffocating, like a wet blanket had been thrown over me and that the only way out was to somehow find a way to relax into breathlessness.

Remember when I watched you pack your bags and prepare for escape to that short, kinda cute chick with inviting dimples and how I pleaded with you not to leave, but to stay home with me so we could work things out and so that I could show you how much I loved you from the deepest part of my soul? You just kind of did one of those "herhumpf" with your throat and said very stoically, "I'm going to Peppers." That's when I felt even more ashamed. If I had had a tail, that fucker would have definitely been hid between my legs. My quiet leave I could not have taken too soon. But, where would I have gone? Reality, with all its wound-opening bitterness would have surely followed me where ever I went. So...I sat on the sofa and cried. I cried a lot for a long time, until finally it came time to go to that stupid AA meeting. I did not want to go! Embarrassment in front of a bunch of drunks?  No way! But, because you asked me to go--actually I believe you made the subtle, yet deafening suggestion that anyone with any desire to save his relationship would be going to the meeting--I went. In fact, I not only went, I chaired the meeting. "Hi, I'm Shawn. I'll be your chairperson for today's meeting, and, um....I relapsed yesterday." I half expected some of them to laugh so hard they spit their burning coffee in my face.

But, as people are fond of saying now days, what's done is done and nothing could be changed that had already been done, despite any doing on my part. So, I want you to know, even though it sounds completely neurotic and narcissistic and maybe even a little creepy...
for leaving me there alone that morning, although you did the right thing, I forgive you.

More importantly...I'm really sorry. And, I love you.