Oh Baby

Every few days, I find myself rereading all my posts.  There haven't been that many, so it doesn't take much time. It seems narcissistic do keep reading yourself, but I'm not looking for signs of brilliance. Only progress. I'd like a little hard evidence that I'm getting better.  

I suppose I have to admit that I have made progress. The problem is that the grief has not lessened in intensity. Nope, not less intense. But the bouts come less often so I become convinced that I am almost done with it. 

Finding a job would probably help me more than I am willing to admit.  I look half-heartedly. When I think of what I am doing, I see this ridiculous picture of myself sewing. A Pieta-like triptych, only I am not holding some grown man but some other version of myself in tatters. And there's never any angel.  Just a third version of myself watching. Everything I do now is an effort to put myself back together.

My ex, my first love (not to be confused with the newest ex), randomly emailed me yesterday.  It was a cold email.  I wondered why he sent it at all.  My memory of the end of our relationship is not good.  I think he hated me a little by then.  And I desperately wanted him gone. 

He taught me about buildings.  Every time I walk into the Guggenheim, I think of him even though we never went there together.  

So back to the present -- I emailed A (the current ex) and requested a talk.  So talk we did.  It was nice. Sad, loving, funny. It helped in a way.  I remembered what it was that made us good. That makes us still good. He does not mourn the loss of the fetus as I do. But A is a good man.  I wish I could say something else about him, something mean. But I don't think I'm made that way. And neither is he.

So it occurred to me that I blog without having any idea how this all works.  I write key words in "Labels" but I don't know how they help.  I'm not very tech-savvy.