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This is Not a Suicide Note

8/24/2016

12 Comments

 
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Since T left I hurt sometimes. More profoundly and deeply and hopelessly than I ever have in my life. When this hurt comes on, sidling slowly up to me, whispering slyly at first and then shouting and finally screaming, it’s from someplace I can’t name. Some primal place, where everything I am and all I will be lives. I think of my brother, whose death this anguish encompasses but is not limited to, and I wonder if he is waiting somewhere for me. I think about what it might mean to join him. When and how I might join him.

I hurt sometimes, you see. The force of it may be my birthright, a result of rowdy brain chemistry and an unkempt personality structure passed on to me through generations on both sides of my bloodline. I’m emotional, upon occasion intensely so, and this latest heartbreak, on top of all the others of the past few years means that every once in a while I feel for a bit like someone set fire to my soul. Like I’m burning to death from within. It’s awful. But it passes. It always passes.

And I’m strong. Everyone tells me that and I suppose it’s true. T told me I was a strong woman right before he left, as if to say, “I know I’m gutting you, but you’ll be alright. You’ll be just fine.” This casual reassurance – one of the few declarations he made before leaving with no explanation other than “Didn’t you see this coming?” – was perhaps the cruelest thing he ever said to me. But here’s the thing…he’s right. I will be alright, eventually. I’m far too stubborn and way too prideful to let any man, not matter how great my love for him, wound me permanently. All this vulnerability I’m showing, the soft, surrendering white of my belly I’ve displayed to all? I’m able to do it because I know I will emerge from the nightmare of the past few years someplace amazing. Like the roof of the world. 

This is not a suicide note. Hell, no. 

I’ve been accused lately of bravado, specifically I believe for a Facebook post I made bemoaning the forgotten push-up bras I’d neglected to pack for my Acapulco trip. Or maybe it was my last blog piece, the list of lovers I in no way regret. Is it bravado or is it simply a piece of me, submerged by anguish and loving a man who despised that piece as much as he desired it, fighting its way to the surface? 

There is a part of me, always has been, which yearns to live fast and big and hard. That loves push-up bras and loud laughter, flirting and dancing and blazing down the Cross Bronx Expressway hellbent for Queens in a Mini Cooper I can handle like I was born with a stick shift in my right hand and a steering wheel in my left. That drive, which I undertook for the first time in my life Monday – solo, with only a stressed GPS spitting out mind-bending directions every 20 seconds – brought me back to myself like nothing else since T left. 

I had forgotten in the years I lived with him that I am a capable woman. I can drive. I can write. I can travel the world. I can fuck. And I can climb mountains. I think I spent so long downplaying my power, diluting my charisma, listening to innuendo, subtle and not, that I was difficult, dangerous, a mess, unworthy –  all true to some degree but the last – that I began to believe it. I am a lesson, I suppose. A cautionary tale, that even a woman who is capable, who is strong, might attempt to subvert the deepest part of herself to suit her lover. 

I knew a week, maybe two, after I moved in with T what would be required of me. We were staying at a very tony resort in Georgia. It was a press trip he’d arranged, one I tagged along on as a guest. We were having dinner with the PR representative, as well as an editor at Travel Weekly and his wife. Everyone was getting drunk on good wine except for me. I didn’t feel much like drinking though I was having fun chatting with the editor, who was intrigued by me and my column. We were in no way flirting, just discussing my work, and at the end of the night he handed me his card, asking me to contact him. He just might be interested, he’d said, in publishing my column.

When T and I returned to our suite he wouldn’t touch me. I forced myself into his arms, trying to charm him, to make him smile, telling him about the amazing life we had ahead of us. After all, we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, traveling, writing, loving each other madly, weren’t we?

“Maybe,” he’d said.

Stunned and hurt I told him, “That was mean. Really mean.”
 
“I’m sorry,” he’d replied, not looking at me. “I’m just not used to the women I’m with outshining me.”

And I’d answered in a comment I still regret, that was perhaps the last full gasp of the woman I would soon no longer be, “Get used to it.” 
12 Comments
Sarah Bullion
8/24/2016 08:37:41 pm

Fantastic.

Reply
Karen
8/24/2016 09:26:31 pm

Damn right the whole world better get used to your shine.
What a petty man. Unfortunately like so many we ended up loving.
You shine woman. Like a supernova.
Like bright chrome in the moonlight.
Like a rockstar on stage.

Reply
Rebecca
8/24/2016 09:23:48 pm

You probably know this one, by Marianne Williamson:
It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other

people won't feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of
God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

Reply
fivecats link
8/24/2016 09:29:14 pm

"And I’d answered in a comment I still regret, that was perhaps the last full gasp of the woman I would soon no longer be, “Get used to it.”"

That you still regret this statement says that you still don't get it, dear.

HE. COULDN'T. DEAL. WITH. YOU. He wanted to be The Everything -- to you, to people you both knew, to strangers on the street, to Any and Everyone. He wanted to Dazzle with... what? Bulll$hi†? Certainly not his own charm and personality. Clearly not his Intellect, Wit, and Experience.

No, he wanted to be The Center of Attention and had no way of dealing with someone -- ANYONE -- who could outshine him.

And here's the thing: You. Weren't. Trying. To. You were just being yourself, working (so you thought) in tandem with Your Partner.

The catch is, he didn't want a Partner. He just wanted a brilliant shining light to acknowledge his superior shining light and bow down to it, submitting and praising the light that he knew to be inferior to yours.

The gut-wrenching Truth of it all is that you are not missing T. You are missing the Illusion of T that you had built up in your mind -- the one that was so divorced from the reality of T that his statement of “Didn’t you see this coming?” took you completely by surprise. It didn't take him by surprise and, if you'd not been in T Dreamworld, it wouldn't have taken you by surprise, either.

The pain you're feeling -- and the reason your therapist so wisely says you should avoid any and all relationships right now -- is the stripping away of all of the Illusions you've comforted yourself with, all of the lies you've been trying to convince yourself of that say You don't count, You don't matter. It's other people that matter. You're just the Supporting Actress in their movie.

The end credits have rolled, my dear. The houselights have come up. Time to shuffle down the aisle, past the popcorn on the sticky floor and wander out into the daylight of the Real World.

Your completely fvcking, amazing life is waiting for you -- you know, the one you placed on Indefinite Hold a while back -- and in order to get yourself back into it you need to be Disciplined and Train Hard.

And it's exactly what you know you need to do.

Which is why you're doing it.

And why the rest of us are cheering you on.

(Now go continue being amazing, okay?)

...

Reply
Deverie link
8/24/2016 10:43:00 pm

Sister, I sooo believe our soul egg divided. I stand by what I wrote a spell ago. When we finally meet face to face, churches will burn and buildings will crumble. And now I know we'll be dancing, toasting the chaos, breasts pushed to the sky and wearing too much eyeliner for "women our age." OK, maybe the eyeliner is my Chrissie Hynde thing. You can totally borrow one of my handcuff belts though.

As far as the bravado nonsense, you're in Mexico, let's feminize that to bravada and break it down. Bra va da...bra comes, gives. Ain't that the way of the woman? And hell, you know I love men too but if they could find a way to heft their junk up to eye level, no one would say anything about it even though we'd all have to whiff sweaty balls from May to September.

Plug your ears to the haters, chest up and out, say hola to Juan for me. ;) Mwuuaah!!!

Reply
Angela
8/25/2016 02:45:15 am

I would like to slow clap to you for that last couple bits. My ex once told me that I was being disobedient. I scoffed at him and responded, "Yeah." in a tone that might as well have said, "Well, duh. Have you met me?" I read that and I cheered.

As for bravado, so what? Who the fuck cares? And what's wrong with that? What's wrong with having a life worth living? For being proud of yourself and your frankly ridiculously awesome life? Fuck the haters. I think you're spectacular.

This part gutted me. God, that feeling. Why do we do this to ourselves?

"I am a lesson, I suppose. A cautionary tale, that even a woman who is capable, who is strong, might attempt to subvert the deepest part of herself to suit her lover."

I can't say 'no more'. I wish could, but I try not to lie and to never make promises that I can't keep. But oh, how much we've learned, my dear. Hopefully, never again. Hopefully. Definitely using you to vet any new applicants. That's for damn sure. Lol. I want to hear all about Acapulco. Pics or it didn't happen.

Reply
Brenda Hagmeier
8/25/2016 09:16:07 am

Brilliant!! He just couldn't deal with your shine! See ya later sucka!! :)

Reply
Alysen
8/25/2016 09:27:37 am

Your posts continue to touch my heart and remind me of the lessons my own life is showing me. It is so much easier to see the patterns in someone else's telling of it.
I'm finally figuring out for myself...I am not for everyone. And I would rather be alone, than be with someone who enables me to turn down my volume for their comfort.

Your posts help.
Thanks for the enlightenment. :)

Reply
Amber Kleid
8/25/2016 10:59:28 am

God dammit Jill...I believe you've had a break though.This is not who I left last week and I'm so VERY thrilled. Keep it coming, keep it coming..... XXOO

Reply
Shelley Seale
8/25/2016 11:06:16 am

“I’m just not used to the women I’m with outshining me.” Wow. That says so much. To me that screams, "I'm an insecure man, weak, who will tear down anything you try to do because of it." I would have ran, ran, ran. And he didn't get used to it, did he? Be true to yourself Jill! Never let someone tear you down again!

Reply
Maya
8/25/2016 09:51:15 pm

fivecats said everything I'd like to say, only better. I do hope there will be a day - and I hope soon - when you will think about your "get used to it" and you will not regret it - ONE BIT.
BTW - what the fuck is wrong with having bravado?!

Reply
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    Jill Gleeson

    Jill Gleeson is a journalist based in the hills of western Pennsylvania. She is a current contributor to The Pioneer Woman, Country Living, Group Travel Leader, Select Traveler, Going on Faith, Wander With Wonder, Enchanted Living and State College Magazine, where her column, Rebooted, is featured monthly.  Other clients have included
    Woman's Day, Gothamist, Washingtonian, EDGE Media Network, Canadian Traveller, Country and  Country Woman. 

    Email me! 

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