Loss

Cheerful, aren't I?

I'm not sure why I'm having such a hard time with this Kent situation. I guess it's been a long time since I felt more than frustration after a break-up. Break-up. Is that what happened? I can't really bring myself to say those words or call him my "ex-boyfriend." It's ridiculous. I don't have any illusions that somehow something is going to bring us together. That would take a major life-adjustment on his part and it's not happening. And that's...not fine...but that's the way it is. He is determined about what he wants and how he is going to go about it. I'm not going to argue with him--no point in that--but it's very hard to completely accept it--add that to my feeling that I'm never going to figure out how to get into a lasting relationship and it's a pretty lethal combination. (Combine one part sad break-up with one part self-pity, add liberal amounts of other people's weddings and adorable children, stir vigorously=me.) Anyway.

I haven't regretted the ending of a relationship for a good long while. Sure, some of the break-ups left me sad and wishing things could've been otherwise, but often I felt that I should have avoided the involvement in the first place. I also blamed myself for causing things to go wrong or letting things go on too long.

In this case, no. I don't regret the involvement. I didn't do anything wrong (I didn't drive him away, I didn't impose, bore him or otherwise make a pain of myself--or if I did, he didn't mind). He didn't do anything wrong (other than choose the army over me). He didn't annoy me, ignore me or treat me poorly. I was happy. It was a good relationship--and we were actually friends (and may land there eventually).

He seemed to appreciate me--not that he never teased--but he didn't tease me about things that I cared about. For example, the knitting. When we met, I told him a story about a hat I knit for myself. I followed the pattern exactly, but even though I had the sense that something was wrong, I kept going--when it it was time to decrease towards the brim (this was a beret knitted from the top down), the hat was hilariously wide. It looked like a clown hat. When I told him the story, we both laughed.

Later, when he came to visit, and I showed him the hat. I was chiding myself for not paying closer attention and stopping the knitting before the hat got out of control. I said, "I just got carried away...so stupid."

He said, "Never feel stupid for getting carried away by something you love." (Possibly not his exact words.)

That stuck with me--he appreciated my enthusiasm for knitting and he wasn't going to tease me about it. (I did successfully complete the hat by ripping back to a reasonable circumference.)

In his last email, that kind of concern and appreciation was apparent. He even mentioned the blog readers--and how he and you would agree that I have "interesting insights and observations." I would say the same about him--our different views on politics and other issues lead to many a lively debate--but our fundamental respect for each other and accepting attitude towards the people in our lives gave us plenty in common.

I wonder, should I comfort myself with a list of reasons why it's "just as well" that things didn't work out? Would that be sour grapes? A useful exercise? The problem...the problem is...that's not the problem. Kent was an unlikely candidate for a life partner because he isn't willing to deviate from his plan, not because we have different political views. I wish it were that simple.

I'm going to work on making my single life as happy as possible. Soon. I'll get right to work on that--and stop feeling resentful when I read about new couples and new babies and weddings.

Speaking of which...Pele's wedding is impending but whenever we have a discussion about wedding planning issues, I get the heebie jeebies and a strong itch to elope. At work, we had a little party with cake for co-worker Danielle's recent courthouse wedding (we weren't invited), and a general discussion of weddings ensued. I said, "If my future husband wants to have a big wedding, he is free to plan it to his heart's content, with my full support." I cannot imagine anything I'd rather do less. Pele has reassured me, though, that something on the scale I'd like isn't so onerous as what she has going on (150 attendees!). Yeesh.

So, maybe I don't want a wedding...I never have, actually. But the marriage/partnership part? I've always wanted that. Why is it so dam elusive? There I go again. I sure hope the self-pity is ending soon. It's getting tiresome.

Grateful for: patience.

Failure

It's a shame how negative my thoughts are these days. I need to get back to the blog because the whole gratitude aspect used to cheer me up. Lord knows I need some cheering.

In the meantime, though, I feel like a failure. Well, maybe not a failure so much as a mediocrity. Geez, hard on myself much?

I have failed to be productive at work for days. I haven't even unpacked (much).  Even my sit-and-read-the-funnies-at-work colleague spent a good chunk of today unpacking. I'm not doing real work and I'm not unpacking. What the fuck am I doing?

I am a failure at romantic relationships. I'm thinking I should just give up and assume I'm never getting married and I'm never having kids. Maybe if I could just accept those things, I'd be happier. See, I always assumed that I would get married and that I would have children, in that order. Marriage isn't essential but the partnership is. While I think I'm competent enough to raise a child on my own, I just can't see going to the doctor to get knocked up. It feels supremely selfish. (Oddly, I think it's fine when lesbian couples do this. I'm not sure why I have this double standard.) I want my child to know her parents and not grow up with a lot of unanswered questions and possible resentment about her sperm donor father.

I have to ask, how did it come to this? How am I the single one? It's damn depressing and I have no idea what to do about it.

I'm sure I'll have another boyfriend, eventually. The evidence would support this. But there is no reason to think that the next one, or the one after, or any of the ones to follow will be the one I marry.

Right. I am feeling sorry for myself. But don't you dare feel sorry for me or send any pity my way. Please! It's bad enough, truly.

I have decided that things are over with Kent, though, of course, for practical purposes it's been over for a while. But I did was write and tell him that I don't have the heart for regular (or even irregular) correspondence...at least for a while. It makes me so, so sad. (This is the sad email I mentioned previously.)

He responded about five days after I sent the message. He was very kind, saying that of course he wanted to stay in touch and a bunch of other sweet things that actually made me even sadder because, well, it wasn't a fantasy, it was a real relationship and I don't want it to be over. But if I don't start putting it to bed, I may never move on and moving on seems to be required.

Dammit.

Oh, and I am getting interviewed tomorrow for my potential promotion. This may seem like success (or pre-success) and I suppose it is. I'm moderately successful in a job that I hate and I may get to promoted to another job that I may or may not like. Go me.

Grateful for: potential.

Nothing

Yesterday, I took a sick day. I stayed home all day. Notice a theme here?

I didn't feel well. It may have been more a mental health day than anything else--so I felt vaguely guilty--but boy oh boy was I happy that I stayed home.

I worked, on and off, on the sweater I'm knitting for myself. I'm perhaps a little less than a quarter of the way done. That's amazing. It looks nothing like a sweater yet...and by the end of the evening, I ran into a conceptual roadblock. I couldn't figure out what the next part of the instructions meant.

Never one to do things the easy way, I'm not strictly following a pattern. I bought myself a lovely knitting book that specializes in top-down, circular construction. What that means is, instead of knitting the sweater in pieces (a front (or two fronts for a cardigan), a back, two sleeves and then seaming them together) everything is knit "in the round" (or back and forth for a cardigan). It's how socks are done--essentially in a circle--and there's no reason not to do larger garments this way.

If you go from the bottom up, it's pretty easy to conceptualize. You go round and round until you hit the bottom of the armholes. Then you split the sweater in two and continue the front and back separately. When you get to the shoulders, you seam them together. The neck and armholes are finished by picking up stitches and doing what ever finish is appropriate.

Now, what I am doing is more complicated since I'm starting from the top and working down. Also, I'm not following a pattern. I have something very specific in mind and I cannot find a pattern that meets my needs--even though all I want to make is a very simple cardigan (modeled on my favorite sweater). I'm using the "design your own" instructions from the back of the book and comparing them to one of the patterns that is very close to what I want. I'm flipping back and forth between the general directions and the pattern. Mentally, it's a challenge. I finally had to force myself to stop last night because it stopped making sense.

This morning, I knew I would go to work. My malaise had lessened. But I made myself about 15 minutes late by going back to the sweater, reading the directions again and, finally, getting it. I knew what I had to do and I got started.

So, where am I on the sweater? I have the back finished from the shoulders to the bottom of the armholes. The shoulders are already joined, which is the beauty of this method--so there will be NO SEAMING at all. I am working around to the fronts now, which are about halfway down to the armholes. When the fronts get to the right length, I'll join them to the back and I'll work back and forth (since it's a cardigan) until I get to the right length. I'll be able to try it on as I go so the fit will be customized. When the body is finished, I'll go back and add the sleeves (which will be challenging), finish the "button bands" along the front of the sweater and the neck. I still have quite a lot of work but it's going much faster than I expected. I wonder how much trouble I'm in now that I'm starting to learn that it's not that difficult (famous last words) to make a sweater.

Ah, I also finished the tub caulking job yesterday. I really didn't want to do it. The hard part was getting rid of the old caulk. Yet I avoided the easy part, putting in the new caulk, for as long as possible. What I did certainly looks better than the job that was done previously but I don't know how good it is. Well, worst case, I'll have to redo it--but it will be much easier to remove my caulking job than what was there before.

The other problem is that now I can see all the other places in the bathroom that need re-caulking: along the back of the sink, along the floor where the tub meets the tile. Sigh. None of that is as pressing--but now that I know how, I expect I'll get to it in the next few weeks. The kitchen sink probably needs some help too but for that I'll have to buy the "clear" caulk. Times like these, I sure miss being a renter.

Other than that, I have to acknowledge that I'm in a pretty serious funk. I'm in funky town. Heh. However, I'm hope that this is just a temporary visit and I'll be back to everything-is-ok-ville soon enough.

Grateful for: knitting.

My weekend

1. Planned to go to a movie after work on Friday. Instead came home early to wait for the cable guy. Never left the house again.
2. Saturday had an 8:30am soccer game. Arrived on time, played in the rain. Didn't die from exhaustion. Played poorly.
   
3. After the game, went to my favorite coffee shop (yes, I was sweaty and soaked--what's your point?). Had very good coffee and a bagel with cream cheese and lox.
   
4. Next stop: grocery store. Bought a lot of "real" food and a little bit of irresistible Easter candy.
5. Went home and never left the house. I had two very desirable Saturday night options but I declined both and stayed home. I knit, watched tv, and played with the cat (but mostly ignored her). I accidentally started de-caulking the tub. Oy.
   
6. On Sunday, I got up early and went to my second favorite coffee shop. Had very good coffee and a pain au chocolat. Chatted with virtual friends on the computer.
7. Went to the hardware store to buy de-caulking supplies and new caulk. The hardware store was closed. Drat Easter Sunday. I went next door to the paint store. Opened the door and walked in. The fellow there told me they were closed. Then he sold me what I needed. Praise Jesus.
8. Went home and decaulked. What a pain.
9. Also cast on for the sweater I'm knitting myself.
10. IM'd with a stranger/virtual friend who wanted to take me out to dinner...a movie...anything. I said, no, no, no because I had to knit and decaulk and never leave the house again.
11. Sent sad email to Kent. Felt a little relieved. Realized I'm transitioning him to the happy memory category. Don't feel as sad.
12. Monday morning, woke up around 7:30 am and continued de-caulking. Hope it's good enough because I'd like to get this sucker done tonight.
13. Work. Bah.

Grateful for: lists.

Listing

Where has my blogging mojo gone? Writing used to be something I looked forward to. It was an essential part of my day. It was fulfilling and a release. Now it’s just…eh. Thus, lists.

1. I have more Israel stories to tell. See above as to why they’re not forthcoming.
2. Some of the stories: going to court with Spesh. He was to be sentenced for a political action he participated in FIVE years ago. He wasn’t sentenced.
3. Having Spesh mention that several things I said were “blog worthy.”
4. Blog worthy item #1: God points.
5. Blog worth item #2: saying my American brother was “praying to his iPhone.”
6. Blog worthy item #3: amending the phrase “hurry up and wait” (given how my family and the entire population of Israel always seems to be running late) to “hurry up and pray.”

On a completely different subject—Kent.

1. I think it’s over. At least the romance.
2. Ok, I don’t think, I know.
3. I am sad, sad, sad, SAD.
4. We didn’t ever formally break up or not break up, but I need a little formality.
5. I had to prod him with a one line email to get him to write to me after about 10 days of silence.
6. He sent a normal, friendly email in response about five days ago.
7. I still haven’t written back.
8. Instead I wrote a “break up” letter. I say that I really like him and don’t want things to be over. Yet I know it’s over and I am sad. That I still want to know what’s up with him but that I have to take a break from the emailing. He is still free to email me but I won’t necessarily be answering for a while.
9. I haven’t sent it yet.
10. Should I send it?
11. Sigh.

Grateful for: knowing that this will pass.

Lost again

Today, I had a plan to meet a friend of a friend for lunch in “downtown” Jerusalem. Shall I count the ways in which the plan went wrong? To start at the end, I didn’t meet her.

Last night, I spent the night at my brother’s house and Dad and Susan went to a hotel. I was comfortable enough and even had my own room. I slept until around 8am. In the morning, I had a light breakfast and my sister-in-law offered to cut my hair (awesome!). I ate and read and knit until around 9:30 when I got my haircut—it came out very well. My sister-in-law is talented indeed.

Around 11am, she suggested that I accompany my youngest niece on a visit to my oldest niece and her baby. Her exact words, “What are you doing with you life…for the rest of the day?” Heh. We didn’t get to the eldest niece’s house until 11:20 so I called the friend of a friend and rescheduled our noon lunch to 12:30.

At noon, younger niece took me to the bus stop and a man tried to chat me up after overhearing us speaking English. He said, “You speak English?” Yes. “You are Jewish?” Yes. (But why are you asking?) Then he wanted to know my name but I declined to answer. He stopped talking to us for a while but started up again. “You have a boyfriend?” Yes. (No, not really, not anymore, but yes is usually the right answer in this situation.) He asked my name a few more times and I still didn’t answer. Then he said, “You lied. It’s not nice to lie.”

“Pardon me?”

“I asked you the name of your boyfriend and you didn’t say. You don’t have a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t hear that. I do have a boyfriend. His name is Kent.”

“No. I don’t believe you.”

I said, “It’s true. But if I’m such a big liar why do you want to talk to me anyway?”

He got up and left our bench for good after that. My niece laughed. She said, “What does he want?”

I said, “I know what he wants. He’s not nice.”

She said, “There’s something wrong with him maybe?”

I said, “Maybe.” It’s possible. He was oddly confrontational for a pick up artist.

The bus came soon after. He got on too.

A word about the bus—it is segregated. Not officially but informally. The men sit in the front and the women in the back. It’s been many years since I took a city bus in Jerusalem and I don’t remember the segregation but maybe it was like that then too.

The crazy, rude guy, against convention, went right to the back of the bus along with another secular guy. The mostly religious passengers ignored him and he didn’t talk to anyone. I sat next to a young woman most as an act of self-protection, but he didn’t talk to me again.

Since I didn’t know where to get off to transfer to another bus, I stayed on way too long. I had to backtrack quite a bit but I did eventually find the place where I was supposed to meet my friend (of a friend). I was almost an hour late and the place was closed.

It would have been a fun adventure since I do enjoy getting lost. Unfortunately, I had the pressure of feeling like I was letting someone down, which reduced my enjoyment.

I found a place to eat and grabbed a bite. It wasn’t far from the little café I’ve gone to several times so far on this trip and that’s where I am now. I had an email from the friend (of a friend) and she was quite gracious about our missed connection. I wrote back and explained it was all my fault.

It’s funny, I’m such an intrepid traveler most of the time. I get maps, I find hard to find places, I roam and wander and explore. But not in Israel. Here, I’m taken in hand by Spesh or the family and driven hither and yon (though I’ve done the driving at times) and I haven’t tried very hard to learn the place. Lazy, I’m very lazy. Well, at least I had a little adventure today and that was good.

Now, I’ll try and find the slightly distant place where my father and brother are meeting so I can catch a ride home with them. Odds are I’ll find it…but I may get lost or be very late. It’s ok, it’ll work out one way or another.

Grateful for: adventure.

Not so bad

I kind of lost it the other day. Got angry at Dad and was on the verge of tears all day. What is up with that? Dad decided it was on account of Kent (who I haven't heard from in over a week--but I haven't discussed that with Dad), which made me furious. Is it really unimaginable that you, Dad, could have done something to upset me?

But, as such things go, my bad mood passed, I regained my equilibrium and I'm back to my normal basically even keel.

I still don't want to be here and wish my trip were over (or that I could actually spend the time with Spesh, as anticipated) but I think the rest will be ok. I don't anticipate further mood black holes...but I guess you never know. I'm grateful for feeling better even if it's only "for now."

Grateful for: calm.

Argh

I have to say, I’m not handling things particularly well. But, but…am I completely wrong?

Here I am, in Israel, to attend my niece’s wedding. She and her family are ultra-orthodox, frum, haredi, extremely religious—however you want to put it. I love them but it’s not easy. Their customs are not just alien and anachronistic but many are downright offensive to women. So, it’s hard.

And yet, I seem to be angrier at my father than anyone else. Maybe because I think that he could do something about it.

For example, my eldest brother (B1) decided that it would be a good idea to keep his kids on New York time. I’m sleeping in the same room with the two girls. Meaning that for the nights I’ve spent with them, I’m on New York time. Did it not occur to my brother that I would be inconvenienced? That, perhaps, this wasn’t my preference? No.

But, did I yell at my brother about this? No. I did say something to Dad this morning. Not a yell but a grumble. Dad’s response, “Well, it’s all over now.” (Because we’re going to spend Friday night with the Israeli family and the NY family will be gone when we get back to the apartment we’ve shared with them.)

Would it have killed him to say something sympathetic? Does he not think B1 is slightly insane—and tremendously inconsiderate? And, I don’t know, could Dad not have advocated for me? Say something about how B1’s decisions affects the rest of us—especially ME?

No, I guess not. What gets to me is that when I show up here (“here” meaning anywhere surrounded by the family), I’m always low person. My needs count the least. Only if I yell and scream do I have the slightest chance of being heard and probably not even then.

I was pretty outraged when at the first party after the wedding, my father gave a little speech in which he said that we were “converted” to believing in arranged marriages. Speak for yourself. Later, I told him I was offended and he started to explain how no one was forced into these marriages, etc., etc.…yes I KNOW. I spend so much time explaining this to my friends. The couples get to meet, they can say no, they do have choice. However, that isn’t the problem. The problem is that they live in culture where my niece was rejected once because she wasn’t pretty enough, a second time because of her “background” (a convert father and adopted mother—who is also a convert!), and finally accepted by a family where the parents are divorced.

Now, having met the groom, I’m sure she picked the right one. He’s sweet and shy (and cute!) and a lot like her. I like him and his family who, even though they are also super religious, were much easier to relate to than some of the other families we’ve met in Israel. It helps that his mother is American and that he speaks English.

But, really, Dad, you think this is all “ok”? That you have four granddaughters whose main role in life will be to support their scholarly husbands? Husbands, who may be sweet as pie, but bring in little or no income? Four granddaughters who will have 6, 7, 8, or 12 babies and keep working the whole time and STILL have the main childcare responsibility? Do you really think that’s all just fine? I know you were pissed that your grandson wasn’t prepared for anything other than the scholarly life.  and who is now floating free, depressed, with two little kids (1 &2), at age 24. Looking to join the army as a last resort for some kind of steady work. Why aren’t you as angry about your granddaughters who, while accepted in the community in which they were raised (unlike their brother), will live incredibly constrained lives?

I see no acknowledgement that there’s a problem here. It’s all just “choice.” And if you think it’s ok to keep me up all night, try to get me in the pictures with all the cousins (I had to remind him that I’m the aunt!), suggest that I look into an arranged marriage (jokingly, but still), then what the hell am I doing here?

I did let Dad reimburse me for the cost of my plane ticket and he is paying for the apartment but maybe I should have refused. Yet, I’m here, ultimately, because it’s important to him. It’s important to me too…the kids seem to care. My brother, maybe, though he gave a long speech in Hebrew the other night and didn’t bother to translate. I could have socked him! Argh.

This whole thing is an exercise in frustration.

I did get to see Spesh and he even came to the wedding. He pointed out that it was a rather unusual date, 1) because we didn’t get to sit together and 2) because he has a girlfriend. But, hey, I guess I’ll take what I can get. At least I have one friend here…who is now off to Paris with his girlfriend. I want to be off too. Home would be excellent right about now.

Grateful for: an hour alone.