April 22, 2008

This week is a difficult one and my thoughts are kind of all over the place and I feel detached from my inner self. Jaded is a word that keeps running ’round my head.

What does it mean to be jaded?

Merriam Webster’s online dictionary defines it as:

1. fatigued by overwork: exhausted

2. made dull, apathetic, or cynical by experience or by surfeit

Yep…and yep. That’s me. Should I end the post here? Nah, you know me better than that. I have lots more to say on the issue.

Love in all it’s many painful and beautiful complications has presented itself to me over the last twelve months. It has been a cornucopia of emotional distress. The ending of my marriage, which I haven’t written a whole lot about yet, started the past year off right. It was mixed with emotions for Logan that then became it’s own story and on the heels of Logan came Jonathan. Even before the paint was dried on the Logan and Marissa Exit sign, Jonathan was hanging is Open sign for me to come on in. One right after another. So yes, I’m emotionally exhausted…definition number one.

I have noticed a lessening of my usual emotional intensity lately. I’m not excited about anything. Brody came into my life and it’s nice but I am not overly optimistic or starry-eyed as I would usually be with a new man in my life. I’m dulled and apathetic about things now, definition number two.

I feel so out of my element. This is not me. I am the girl that falls for a look, a smile, the slightest touch of skin on skin or kisses that buckle my knees. I dream. I fantasize. I’m an idealistic fool. I’ve joked about being jaded before after a particulary difficult break-up but now I really am. This is a totally different set of internal mechanisms of thought and feeling. I just don’t know how to be this new me.

Poor Brody.

He’s so young, so full of optimism and able to believe in the myth of true love. Why, oh why, does he want to be involved with someone like me? I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I feel. I don’t even believe I am capable of loving anyone. I don’t want to ever get married again or to even cohabitate with someone. And yet, I let him hold me and kiss me. It feels good to have arms around me. I look into his eyes and I feel pained by all his supposed expectations, his hopes, his needs, his dreams and yet I feel comforted, too.

Is it selfish of me to let him hold me when I’m so totally closed off?

I love, don’t get me wrong. I love the wrong men. I love Logan and I love Jonathan…still. It’s like living with ghosts. I can’t love another man right now. I just can’t. I won’t be able to love again until I excorcise these ghosts. They keep flitting in and out of my life. I’m going to see Jonathan today. Logan called me last night. They are a constant reminder of what could have been and I’m frozen. They call or come see me and my heart warms a little, but just a little before it freezes over again.

I wrote a short story recently about my feet dangling in a river. That’s a fitting metaphor for how I feel about love. I can dip my toes in the pool but that’s it, feet dangling, always just a breath away from retreat. My ghosts have a warming presence but love is a cool pool, refreshing yet chilling. Being a Pisces, water is my home. Will it ever feel like home again or always a tank I’m trapped in?

Sorry for the crap post today…I just can’t seem to write anything good. Too many metaphors, too much confusion. What’s new eh?

Just me…Marissa