Friday, February 3, 2012

Getting Better(?) I Think...

Writing in the back room study, Ty rolled up and covered near me, fire in the wood stove, Mak out on the couch. Came home tonight feeling isolated and lonely. The night at work went alright but at one point by the end of the evening I was surprised by the return of suicidal thoughts. It was a sharp, very focused feeling like an ice pick inserting itself in my brain: I can end my unhappiness. Then I thought of my dogs and realized I wasn't really at risk. I've got enough resiliency now, think I'm out of the woods. It's been almost a month since my last suicidal impulse and since those struck when home alone they were considerably more dangerous. Not much chance of me offing myself at work, after all, but I was amazed at the rapidity with which the thoughts came on.  Again there was a sensation of downward motion but it was subtle.  Last month the feeling of sinking was literal and profound.  But that was a worse place and time.

Coincidentally a coworker told me tonight that "the old friend he'd formerly known and liked" (me) had at least partially returned. This in response to me realizing I'm smiling again, at least once in a while, and my old sense of humor reasserts itself.

Yet when I call my home phone and hear “You have no new messages,” a hopelessness creeps in, okay more than creeps in. Sometimes it washes in.  When emails also come up empty the hopelessness deepens. Too many repetitions of no connection and I begin to question why I prolong futile existence. But the dogs, always the dogs. Mak, I'm quite sure, will be my “once in a lifetime dog” of which so many life-long dog owners speak.  He is the most affectionate and cuddly pooch I've yet had the privilege of knowing.

I was raised in a loving family with parents who stayed together. We were Christians with the idea that an all-powerful benevolent being was watching over us, making sure things were right. My brother moved away, and we struggle to understand one another in any event. My folks are “getting up there” and live an hour away. So by and large it's just me and the dogs.

And life has taught me truth is atheism/agnosticism so the benevolent being vanished. There's no one making sure my life goes “right.” Just me. And quite clearly, I haven't yet been successful in establishing a family or full time social tribe, haven't found a partner despite years of seeking. My huge extended family lives across the Atlantic - virtual strangers now.

No wonder I joked about sealing a pact with Satan a few posts back. He is influential enough to get my ex to return.  He sweeps into the room about 6'8” in tailor cut suit, perhaps with an aroma of molten metal mixed with a certain soul searing allure, a je ne sais quoi. His brow is dark without frowning while eyes sparkle and burn as he slings his smoking briefcase on the desk and opens the clasps.  A brilliant light reflects off him as he opens the lid but no matter, soon my ex will love me again...

But this too is just fantasy.  No, my ex will NOT love me again.  So I continue to sleep cuddled with another species and, month after month, for years seek a partner of my own kind.  If history is any indication, I will fail.  I will go to my grave as alone as I've lived.  A couple of false starts, marriages in which I broke my teeth, slammed my head against the wall yet couldn't stop the dissolution.  This last was particularly tough because of it's lack of conflict, because of our perpetual continued good will.  I went from utterly happy to abandoned in a couple short days.  No wonder the ice pick returns and I sink.  But, and this is a big but, I AM getting better or at least hurting less intensely.  But I'm decidedly NOT getting happier.  And without my ex I cannot imagine finding any emotion resembling happiness.