An anchor without a ship ...

Nick Cave recently posted some comments about relationship loss on his amazing site The Red Hand Files. As always, his comments are raw and incisive. In another post he described what led to his ability to be so honest -- because he too got to a point of brokenness and realised there was nothing left to hide and no reason to try to hide. May the tutor of brokenness help us all to learn that lesson.

Anyway, in his recent post, Nick responds to a fan who has asked "If, for decades, an anchor served a ship, which one day decided to cut its chains and sail away, can the drowning anchor grow wings? And if so, will the anchor always be burdened by the weight of having been used?"

Nick notes that "An anchor without a ship is just a useless lump of iron that lies at the bottom of the sea." Maybe you feel like that too -- I certainly did.

I want to echo Nick's wish, for all who have read this blog and find themselves at the bottom of the same ocean ...

My wish for you, my friend — and all the other abandoned anchors that write to me from the ocean floor — is that a time will come when you can reimagine yourself, not as the poor old stalwart anchor rusting on the sea bottom, but as a fucking ship and get back on the surface of the water and do what ships do — venture forth and begin again the strange, dangerous, glorious, storm-tossed voyage of life!

—Nat.

Over a year now

Well it's been over a year now since we were separated and the time to lodge a divorce application draws nigh. It seems inevitable, but still hard to grasp. H is still certain that she does not want to be married, but uncertain whether she wants to divorce. From all I know of her, she will not change that commitment to independence, but she will still feel that I am rushing her into a decision.

Surely I should be able to "move on" as they say. Surely by now I could start writing something positive in this blog, like how I can see that the pain has been worthwhile, or how a return to singleness opens new possibilities. I am extremely blessed with family and friends. There are people who care deeply for me. Some I can honestly share joys or fears with. Some who I know would drop whatever they were doing to help me when I need it. People praying for me.

But regardless of the wonderful people around me I am desperately alone. I get a few hugs, even some kisses from my wonderful children, but they're not the hugs or kisses of a lover. There's no-one to dream with and I am tearfully broken, lost and crumbling inside, constantly aware of a hunger for sex that has no possibility of satisfaction. Fuck you H. Why have you marooned me in this desolate place? And fuck you God. Why did you arrange for her and I to meet in the first place?

How could I possibly start a new relationship in such a state of brokenness? Who would risk falling in love with such a limping man who's still deeply in love with his ex?

—Nat

All options are dead ends

At the moment, my future looks bleak. I know, I know ... I'll work through the grief process and get to a point of acceptance, ... and some new opportunities will open up, ... and God will bring some good out of it. But in the midst of it, they is all useless platitudes. Knowing about the grief process is virtually no use at all when you're in the middle of it. Don't ever tell a grieving person that it will be alright -- we know with a great sense of immediacy that IT IS NOT ALRIGHT.

I can see three equally difficult and unappealing options: work through all the difficult issues to re-establish a relationship with H, take the risk of starting a new relationship with someone else, or becoming a lonely old man. The first doesn't seem at all likely and is out of my control. Could I trust her again anyway? A dead end. The second is almost (but not quite) inconceivable. I have given my heart fully to H. Even if that beaten and broken heart can be repaired, how could I possibly give it again to someone else? I don't want to. I want H. She is irreplaceable. A dead end. The third seems more likely, but unbearable. Can I actually survive without a partner? Without intimacy? Without sex? Another dead end.

— Nat