that's a long time....

was eating dinner this evening. a conversation turned to my making a comment about something happening in 2018 at a time when i had moved back to a place i'd lived before. in that moment it occurred to me that that was the last time i'd been truly happy. that's a long time between smiles.

marin mazzie - back to before (ragtime) July 4, 1998

ii was reminded of this performance tonight and wanted to share it here as a tribute to a phenomenal talent who left us way too soon.

what i regret most

a few months ago i wrote an entry in which i referred to a past friendship with parenthetical commentary that there was more to be reflected on about that relationship and that "perhaps" I might do so someday. consider this entry a fulfillment of that "perhaps" (at least partially). this entry, as alluded to by the title, is a brief reflection on one of the statements i made in that previous entry, which was, simply put, that i regret that the dysfunctional dynamics of the relationship did not allow for that person to experience me at my best. 

it is what i regret most as i believe that at my best i can be a pretty great person to know. and at his best i think the same may be able to be said about him. it is indeed regretful that two "great people to know" didn't get to have that great experience with one another. 

i recognize that i am not solely at fault for what went wrong with the friendship as he provided ample fuel to my insecurities by his own duplicities. even so, i am still ultimately accountable for how i reacted and for whatever pain, anxiety, or stress that i may have caused him as a result, i am truly sorry. 

i hope that somehow, someday, by some means, he is able to know that.

the subtext

if a james taylor song is the main theme of this blog, i think it makes sense that given the content of this song and my regard for this particular artist, that this song would most accurately reflect the subtext that has emerged over the years.

a song for easter

a song for easter that expresses all that i've ever really wanted from a life of faith.

the expectation of happiness

i had this friend at one time (at least i think he was a friend; the reflections in the intervening years on the complications involved in and eventual dissolution of that relationship are what have caused me to question that belief). anyway, let's just say then that i knew this guy once, who, whenever we talked about his feelings about life, the universe, and everything, it was quite clear that, from his vantage point, life was something to be gotten through; there might be moments of enjoyment, but for the most part, life was not about trying to be happy. for whatever reason, through whatever experiences,  (which i never really learned much about; the fact, as i learned years later, that much of what he shared with me about his life was a fabrication, may have something to do with that and is a story for another time, perhaps), he had lost the expectation to be happy in life.

his somewhat melancholy outlook always made me a little sad whenever it appeared, and for a time i truly wanted to help with that, but i see now (again, from that time spent in reflection, i guess more like a post-mortem, on that relationship) that our mutual brokenness did not allow for me to be of much help. the fact that he was not honest with me about who he was created all kinds of barriers and misunderstandings that made our ability to have a truly supportive friendship with one another impossible. in fact, i think the dynamic set off so many emotional triggers for me, that he often experienced me at my worst rather than at my best -- again, a reflection for another time, perhaps.

now, as i have recently entered the first year of another decade of my life on this planet, i find myself in exactly the same place he was all those years ago. i, too, have lost my expectation of happiness, and i cannot fathom how it will ever return. or even more concerning, how i will ever be able to navigate whatever remaining years of my life without it.

so much anger, so many complications

the other night i had a dream about my ex-. we were talking about reconciling, and at one point i started crying and then i said, "i always thought you were the one, i just couldn't figure out how to make it work." with that emotional declaration, i immediately work up and thought, "what was that?! that was so not helpful." and the best way to describe my mood in that moment would be i was soooo pissed!

i was reflecting on the dream and the after moment later in the day, and it hit me, after more than a decade since our break-up, that there is still so much anger about that relationship. and let me be clear that anger is predominately with myself, not my ex-.  

and yet, it's not just the anger, but this sense of a great loss. and let me be clear that the loss i refer to is not my relationship with my ex-, it feels i've lost the opportunity to experience the type of enduring loving, supportive relationship that if you were to ask me at an early age what it is that i most hoped for out of life that would have been if not at the very top of the list, in the top three. and now, at my advanced age, it feels that i've squandered my chances on experiences with men that were anything but that type of relationship. and i can't help but wonder if the crappy experiences that i've had subsequently with other men has only fueled that emotion.

and if i were honest, which i do my best to be, i really don't know what to to do with this resulting pain and this feeling of just an empty life. clearly more therapy is in order, and yet, with my life in limbo, when in the foreseeable future do i get to seek out that assistance?

so much anger. so many complications. so little hope.

maybe it's a sign

 https://www.nytimes.com/2024/01/26/style/peter-manning-garth-wingfield-wedding.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare

an equally powerful sadness

 i'm not sure i've ever shared on here that i lost my virginity fairly late in life and certainly significantly later than my peers. as a result, i spent much of my early adult years dealing with this acute longing for physical intimacy. this longing was often accompanied by a deep sadness as I questioned if would ever have that experience in my life. 

i think i have shared before that, for me, sex is something that needs to be experienced in the context of some relationship. i'm not saying it has to be within a strictly, monogamous relationship, but there does need to be some history, connection and a certain kind of commitment that comes with at least a good friendship. i've had one encounter where this was not the case, and the experience was so profoundly empty that i've chosen not to repeat it again.

and now, with some five years since my last relationship i've come to learn that there is an equally powerful sadness to the one i experienced in my virginal 20's, and that is finding oneself wondering if you will ever have the experience of physical intimacy again. with prospects seeming dim as i age and my issues with depression and anxiety causing greater isolation on my part, i find it difficult to believe that the answer to my wondering is an affirmative one. and i know that many people my age will go the rest of their lives without the pleasures that accompany having a lover. i know that to be true. i just  really wish i didn't have to be one of them.

the experience of otherness

when you're visiting home for the holidays and that visit takes place, not where you grew up, but where your  parent retired, you find yourself with a lot of time on your hands. and if you're someone like me, that time is often spent doing a lot of thinking and reflecting on life. during one such reflective moment, I was thinking about how in so many places i've lived, in so many situations, i have been the "other" in that environment. whether by virtue of race or religion or sexual orientation or family dynamics or mental health or point of view or value system, i've always been different from the majority of the individuals around me. and it got me wondering, "what are the cumulative effects of always being the 'different one' -- the one, as the old sesame street song goes, that 'is not like the others'?"

well, i think the short answer is, no matter where you are,  you always feel like you never quite belong; or conversely, you find yourself constantly searching for a place that you do feel a sense of belonging. so many of the reflections in this blog find their root in expressing or exploring this feeling of alienation in the world. and i have to admit, after all of these years, that i am finding myself weary from the experience of otherness. 

now mind you, seeking a place one belongs is entirely different from trying to fit in. i have long since ceased any attempts of doing that (to the degree that i ever really did), recognizing that when so many of your differences are rooted in certain immutable characteristics, the best path is to embrace who you are and hope to find others who will do the same. even so, while it may be the best path, in my experience, it has also tended to be a very lonely one -- a state of being that i'm now fearing that i have lost any hope will ever change.

this

one day during the just passed end of the year holiday season, i found myself on this blog, reading several past entries. doing so rekindled a desire to start writing again (something i unsuccessfully committed to at one point last year), and since that time, i've jotted down ideas for a few entries, but none seemed to be the right one for my re-entry into this space.

tonight, i was in the bathtub, rereading one of the graphic novels in my ever growing collection of yaoi manga (something to reflect on in another entry perhaps), and i read this statement from one of the protagonists,

i've tried not to think about the things i want but can't have. life is just a bunch of events that go nowhere. somewhere, i gave up. i've just been existing.

this. this declaration captures perfectly where i find myself in life at this time. and this is how i will start again to share my experiences here.