Thoughts on life, marriage and other bullshit.

I've been reading (and just finished) Elizabeth Gilbert's newest book, Committed.  She's been an author for awhile, but her best known book to date is Eat, Pray, Love which will shortly come out as a movie starring Julia Roberts.

My Sister picked this up at Half-Price Books in Indy (sigh, I miss HPB).  She read it, told me about it and told me that I would like it.  She sent it to me a few weeks ago in the mail and I've just gotten around to finishing it.

I generally read pretty fast -- but this one, I wanted to absorb.  In Eat, Pray, Love, she spoke of her marriage that had ended and how those emotional ties/physical longing were affecting her health and sense of self.  I related -- and not just kinda -- to those feelings.

It will be ten years this fall since Hex and I met.  I think about him more here than I ever did after we split in Indy -- and perhaps the best and only reason is that I feel less constrained, concerned and convinced that I will see him at every turn when he is 1200 miles away.  It isn't that I think we couldn't be friends, in fact, that is what we were from the start ... and then it was more.  I just know in my heart of hearts that Hex would always want more (all of his emails since the divorce [and they are numerous] have all said the same thing) and I, after finishing more than a year and some months of counseling both inside and outside of the marriage, am loathe to offer even meeting for coffee at this point.  So perhaps friends is too strong of a term and acquaintances is too distant.   I only know that I wish him happiness and hope he wishes the same for me. 

In Committed, she discusses her study of marriage in the Western tradition and how it has evolved from a civil contract to a religious contract and now a odd combination of the two in American culture.  As I see marriage as much more a civil event (taxes, inheritance and children's well-being all lead to that conclusion) than a religious one, I enjoyed her discussion.  The book, overall, was a good read.  For the married, to the want-to-be-married, to the never married, and the never-want-to-be-married-again, it offers a view of marriage through the eyes of a woman that had been married, did not want to be married again and who eventually, through circumstances surrounding her love for a man from Brazil, needed to be married again in order for both of them to reside in the U.S.

**********
A conversation that Scully and I had a few weeks ago still rings in my head.  She asked me if I was still thinking about having children at some point.  Yes, I told her, I'd love to have kids.  Things aren't in line for that now and I don't want to go it alone.  Being raised by a single mom (both prior to and after the divorce, thanks to Dad's alcoholism) definitely colored my perception of raising children alone, as I see how she struggled to make sure we had what we needed.  Also, having been married before, and a stepmom to one, I got a taste of parenthood.   Reminds me of a childhood rhyme Mom used to repeat to me: " ... when (it) was good (it) was very very good and when (it) was bad (it) was horrid." 

Then there are the times I spend with Mary and her four stepkids, all of whom are great.  I feel that ache, that twinge of wanting to be a part of a child's life each and every time I'm with them.   I am reminded when I see Mary and Lee together, making a life for all six of them, that it CAN work, it CAN be done, even with a crazy-ass ex-wife in the mix.  That brings me peace.

I know my own fears about marriage are rooted in my non-relationship with my Dad for most of my first 25 years.  Those "in the know" are aware that my Dad was an alcoholic until nearly my 26th birthday.  It was shortly before then that he dried out and hasn't had a drink since.  While I hate the term "alcoholic" to describe him now, I use the term "non-practicing alcoholic" to describe it best.  I know those years of not having a Dad in the truest sense of the word affected me more than I will probably ever comprehend.  I sought father figures in others, and one of those was my Uncle Wayne.  When he passed nearly 7 years ago, I was devastated.  This was the Dad I had when my own Dad would not be one.  When I think back to his generosity, kindness and loving nature, I know why I've allowed myself to trust men. 

There was something that struck me a few weeks ago.  I met someone that has a couple of kids.  He's a single dad of sorts, getting a divorce.  His youngest child is a daughter.  When I met him, his toes were painted pink.  His daughter wanted to play beauty shop and he let her paint his toes. 

I was then, and I am now, jealous of the relationship she will have with her Dad. 

I know that sounds ridiculous. I know it is just plain silly.  I know all of these things.  But what I also know is that this girl will have a nuanced and confident approach to men because of the kindness shown to her by her Dad.  This was the kind of relationship I wish *I'd* have had with my Dad. 

What would have happened if I would have actually had a relationship with my Dad for all of these 36 almost 37 years?  Would I be who I am today?  Would I be as hesitant of love?  Would I freak out over commitment for fear it would end? 

Like I said -- thoughts on life, marriage and other bullshit.