This post took several attempts to write over the past two months. I think it’s time I just posted it and got it out there.This post will very likely wander, mainly because this day (two months ago!) has also wandered, bordering on the surreal at times. A friend from ‘before’ got in touch today, and was “glad to read the move went well”. There’s not much written here so far. Not much as far as the details go, some of which are incredibly unpleasant and difficult to resolve. I’m not trying to give the impression here that everything is sweetness and light; some things are, quite simply, altogether overwhelmingly difficult. Yes, by far, the balance of things is definitely in the positive; I live, I love. I enjoy my new home, the delights of this new place to live. I am always thoroughly amazed at the partner I have now found; one that has taught me so much about what I have settled for in the past, and as to what it feels like to be genuinely coupled with another human being. But these things came at a cost. Yes, the move went well – but it was never as easy as those words might make it sound. There’s still plenty of work to do and things to finish up, and that’s always going to mean dealing with a fair share of human ugliness.
Most of us have a desire to be loved; of course, but looking back in retrospect, it appears that isn’t most people’s daily, overriding concern. Most of us simply strive to get by, to make it through the day, to keep our head down in our jobs, in our relationships, to stay out of trouble, to take the rough with the smooth (as smoothly as we can make it) and barely achieve more than just survive. For a lot of us, that’s enough. It gives us plenty to keep us busy, and takes more than enough of our energy, A desire to be loved is quite secondary compared to the desperate need to avoid being disliked. Several months ago, a dear friend of ours told us something which underlined the conclusion that we’d already come to; that non-confrontational philosophy wasn’t enough for us. I have learned not to worry about love, she told us, but to honor its coming and going with all my heart. Where there is love, there is life and when life ends, love remains. Those words, put together, were delivered in the middle of a particularly tumultuous time of instability and uncertainly. They resounded very deeply with me, exceptionally profoundly. They pointed out to me something which, up until that point, I’d never been able to fully experience. To love and to be loved is remarkable enough; however, to live in a way that honors that completely is an entirely different matter.
I would hope almost everybody reading this has – more than likely, more than once – experienced an emotion which they would, for want of a better name,. call “love”. Whether for a partner, for family, for a friend, even for a pet, it comes in many shapes and forms. It’s not necessarily the stuff of romantic tragedies; we can’t all be Romeo and Juliet, and let’s not forget, it didn’t turn out too well for them. A lot of us are fortunate; it can be rather convenient. My parents’ mothers lived two doors apart; it was only a matter of time before they met. For some of us, it can be more than tough; often enough, it’s tough on others. In many, many ways, the story that C and I have to tell is one of those markedly different ones. We have jested, time and time again, how our story is unique; how it would make a thundering novel, a blockbuster movie, how we must make sure that we keep the casting privileges, how we want control over who gets to play each of us. We nervously joke about it because the truth doesn’t slip by us; actually sitting down, actually getting to write our story, is going to be one of the most difficult experiences we will face. We’ll end up having to face some of the most agonizingly painful, darkest moments we went through, all over again. I’ve wanted to start trying to do that in this blog, and already, I’m discovering how difficult it is going to be. Blogging here, about this new life and these new experiences, certainly isn’t an activity fueled with confidence. There is plenty of support for us, but there are plenty of reservations as well. There will be some who will find some aspects of our story difficult to handle. There will be some who will have deep-seated predispositions about the subjects we’ll encounter. We’ve already both lost touch with close friends who knew a little of what we were going through, and seemingly drew their own conclusions. We’ve heard nothing from them since. For every dear friend who is cheering us on with the difficulties we face, there are likely to be several who’ll disapprove. None of this inspires confidence. It’s making writing this blog very, very difficult indeed. I’ve been deliberately vague about everything so far; there are perhaps a few readers out there who can fill in the blanks; who can read between the lines. But finding the confidence to speak out and say it, and write it, without a vast support group, without a huge readership sharing our experiences, and possibly with considerable opposition, is going to be difficult. At some point I’m going to have to bite the bullet; stop beating around the bush; and say what needs to be said. it won’t go down well with everybody. We’re not going to have a huge supply of confidence to tap. It’s been a difficult restart, this blog. I’ve been thinking back to where things were, about a year ago. It seemed back then, everything was rapidly accelerating. I was able to sit down and write blog posts, shooting from the hip; I felt comfortable with them, I felt they were well-written. They included those qualities that distinguished my own writing; they were a reflection of me. I thought they were worth posting; which hopefully translates into the thought that someone else thought they were worth reading. This time around, it seems things haven’t been so easy.
We have each other, though.