Reconnection time
Sep. 13th, 2003 10:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vaneramosThe Waterloo-Wellington Rainbow Chorus held its first fundraising dance of the new season last night. We have already had two rehearsals this month, but this was our first social event of the fall. Other than at Brenda and Judy's wedding, I missed seeing many of these friends over the summer.
The social texture of my life has changed drastically, and so has the way I feel about myself. Up until two years ago I had no close, abiding friendships in this city. For five years I had been incredibly lonely following ostracism by my old church. But it was partly by choice: isolation as a direct result of clinical depression.
One of the most hopeful indicators of prevailing wellness these recent years has been the growing strength of my friendships. I have chosen to be a friend. I stopped sitting passively at home, waiting for people to reach out to me. I invested myself. When someone I cared about seemed busy or preoccupied, I took the initiative to stay in touch. When I ran into personal conflicts with a couple choir members last season, I didn't quit like in the past, I stuck it out.
Yesterday afternoon Sylvie dropped by unannounced. No one ever used to do that. She had come out to this corner of town to buy some fabric from Len's Mill Store. She showed me her purchases and told me about the quilt she is going to make.
I showed her some of my recent photography. When it was time for her to go, I walked her back through the park partway toward downtown. We haven't had a chance to hang out alone together since the spring because I have been busy with the kids and she has a girlfriend now. But it was a happy visit. More than anyone else, with Sylvie I have no secrets, no holding back.
Because of things that happened with my ex-wife and my mother when my marriage broke down, I had difficulty letting women get close to me again. Sylvie was the first. This is another victory over brokenness.
Since my relationship with Dan broke up (for the first time) in 1998, I have lived alone. For a while I needed it. I had to learn how to look after myself without demands from others. Coming to terms with solitude and becoming my own best friend was the crucial factor that allowed me to experience intimacy with others.
Five years ago I was still out of touch with my feelings. Often when I felt anxious, restless or sad, I wouldn't know why. One of the benefits of living alone has been getting to know myself, understand what I'm feeling and why. Lately, I am increasingly aware that after more than a day of solitude, I start to get restless. My creative endeavours help ameliorate this, and so does LiveJournal. But living alone has begun to gall.
No question, I am an introvert. After spending time with my friends, I like to withdraw into my own time and space. But I need far less that I used to. A few hours is plenty. I want more of people.
This is one of the reasons I have started looking for a part-time job. Interaction would do me good. At one time I couldn't face it on a daily basis, but I'm ready now. I don't have much confidence in my marketability, hardly having worked for eight years. That's why I have registered with a career development office to provide advice and advocacy. The process starts with a resume workshop on Thursday. I am optimistic something will come out of this.
My life feels like it is going back together, piece by piece. Actually, it was never together before. I was dogged by depression all my life until two-and-a-half years ago. Since then I haven't had a bout that lasted more than a week. I must be prepared for it to revisit occasionally. But given recent trends, I know I'm going to be okay.
Last night was reconnection time. Besides seeing all my old acquaintances, I'm pleased that two other friends have joined the choir, Ray and Mo. Mo is a lesbian buddy of somebody I dated casually last winter and has become friends with me and Sylvie over the past few months. Ray and I became good friends when I first joined the choir seven years ago, but drifted apart after we left. I'm glad he's back. The ties are getting stronger.
Mind you, everything about the dance wasn't perfect. I had four drinks, more than I have had in months. One too many, because I'm feeling it this morning more than I would like. Getting too old to party that way.
And the sex I had afterward at my place was disappointing. He was someone I had flirted with once last spring. The chemistry seemed good and it started out exciting enough, but suddenly fizzled. He was so irritated over failing to achieve orgasm that he failed to consider whether I wanted one. Just as well he didn't stay.
What I find most amusing, is how amusing I find this. It wasn't the big letdown it would have been a couple years ago. In the grand scheme of the evening, what mattered was spending time with people I love, not whether the night built up to mind-blowing sex. My good old hand has kept me company for the past two weeks, and it served well enough last night.
What surprises me is how much it makes me look forward to seeing Danny on Friday. We have such good physical rapport, and so much fun. Maybe it shouldn't surprise me, but this is the first time I have experienced missing someone as a pleasant feeling, without desperation and misery as the alternative to his presence.
It is knowing that I am okay on my own, but intimacy with others makes life better than okay. And I am increasingly capable of intimacy.
I believe the best is yet to come.
The social texture of my life has changed drastically, and so has the way I feel about myself. Up until two years ago I had no close, abiding friendships in this city. For five years I had been incredibly lonely following ostracism by my old church. But it was partly by choice: isolation as a direct result of clinical depression.
One of the most hopeful indicators of prevailing wellness these recent years has been the growing strength of my friendships. I have chosen to be a friend. I stopped sitting passively at home, waiting for people to reach out to me. I invested myself. When someone I cared about seemed busy or preoccupied, I took the initiative to stay in touch. When I ran into personal conflicts with a couple choir members last season, I didn't quit like in the past, I stuck it out.
Yesterday afternoon Sylvie dropped by unannounced. No one ever used to do that. She had come out to this corner of town to buy some fabric from Len's Mill Store. She showed me her purchases and told me about the quilt she is going to make.
I showed her some of my recent photography. When it was time for her to go, I walked her back through the park partway toward downtown. We haven't had a chance to hang out alone together since the spring because I have been busy with the kids and she has a girlfriend now. But it was a happy visit. More than anyone else, with Sylvie I have no secrets, no holding back.
Because of things that happened with my ex-wife and my mother when my marriage broke down, I had difficulty letting women get close to me again. Sylvie was the first. This is another victory over brokenness.
Since my relationship with Dan broke up (for the first time) in 1998, I have lived alone. For a while I needed it. I had to learn how to look after myself without demands from others. Coming to terms with solitude and becoming my own best friend was the crucial factor that allowed me to experience intimacy with others.
Five years ago I was still out of touch with my feelings. Often when I felt anxious, restless or sad, I wouldn't know why. One of the benefits of living alone has been getting to know myself, understand what I'm feeling and why. Lately, I am increasingly aware that after more than a day of solitude, I start to get restless. My creative endeavours help ameliorate this, and so does LiveJournal. But living alone has begun to gall.
No question, I am an introvert. After spending time with my friends, I like to withdraw into my own time and space. But I need far less that I used to. A few hours is plenty. I want more of people.
This is one of the reasons I have started looking for a part-time job. Interaction would do me good. At one time I couldn't face it on a daily basis, but I'm ready now. I don't have much confidence in my marketability, hardly having worked for eight years. That's why I have registered with a career development office to provide advice and advocacy. The process starts with a resume workshop on Thursday. I am optimistic something will come out of this.
My life feels like it is going back together, piece by piece. Actually, it was never together before. I was dogged by depression all my life until two-and-a-half years ago. Since then I haven't had a bout that lasted more than a week. I must be prepared for it to revisit occasionally. But given recent trends, I know I'm going to be okay.
Last night was reconnection time. Besides seeing all my old acquaintances, I'm pleased that two other friends have joined the choir, Ray and Mo. Mo is a lesbian buddy of somebody I dated casually last winter and has become friends with me and Sylvie over the past few months. Ray and I became good friends when I first joined the choir seven years ago, but drifted apart after we left. I'm glad he's back. The ties are getting stronger.
Mind you, everything about the dance wasn't perfect. I had four drinks, more than I have had in months. One too many, because I'm feeling it this morning more than I would like. Getting too old to party that way.
And the sex I had afterward at my place was disappointing. He was someone I had flirted with once last spring. The chemistry seemed good and it started out exciting enough, but suddenly fizzled. He was so irritated over failing to achieve orgasm that he failed to consider whether I wanted one. Just as well he didn't stay.
What I find most amusing, is how amusing I find this. It wasn't the big letdown it would have been a couple years ago. In the grand scheme of the evening, what mattered was spending time with people I love, not whether the night built up to mind-blowing sex. My good old hand has kept me company for the past two weeks, and it served well enough last night.
What surprises me is how much it makes me look forward to seeing Danny on Friday. We have such good physical rapport, and so much fun. Maybe it shouldn't surprise me, but this is the first time I have experienced missing someone as a pleasant feeling, without desperation and misery as the alternative to his presence.
It is knowing that I am okay on my own, but intimacy with others makes life better than okay. And I am increasingly capable of intimacy.
I believe the best is yet to come.
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no subject
Date: 2003-09-13 07:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-14 07:55 am (UTC)Gay people do it because they don't take it for granted. They are often denied access to family and community while still young. They might be present in their families and communities while not experiencing the sense of belonging that is so vital. The ones from earlier generations that didn't commit suicide or suffer through lives of repression went out and created their own communities.
Nowadays many people grow up and leave their communities for school, career or marriage. They don't appreciate what they're leaving behind. They don't get what gay youth already know, that we all need to feel connected.
What you say is interesting because I have often noted how difficult it is for me, as a parent, to stay socially connected. I go back and forth between the life of a fulltime single father, and the life of a bachelor. I get the best of both worlds. If I was a busy parent all the time, I wouldn't realize what I was missing, but childless adults don't know what they're missing either.
I haven't had a community and my time with my children has suffered for it. The day my friends Sylvie and Sarah took the girls out for a movie this summer was the first time something like that has happened. It was a refreshing change of pace for everyone involved, and an enriching experience for the girls and the women. The same was true when my friends Mark and Bob came to the cottage for a couple days while the girls were there.
Three pairs of my lesbian friends have recently become parents. It will be interesting to see how they evolve as families. Sarah and Laurie, who adopted one-year-old Richie last winter, are deeply integrated into the community, and their son already moves easily among his mothers' adult friends, treating them like aunts and uncles.