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

The desire to be known

I have a ridiculous, never-ending whining in my ear, constantly reminding me that something is not right. It cannot be shared with anyone else and no-one but my doctor would want to know about it anyway. The doctor says there is no apparent cause and no remedy.

Whenever I am not active, the wish for someone to hug, like the incessant whining in my ear, invades my consciousness. I am alone in both maddening experiences.

I love so much the feeling of being known. Of not needing to hide. But who wants to know me? Maybe just my mum and God. Why did I marry someone who is the opposite, who wishes for privacy and felt the constant need to protect herself from me rather than open herself to me? And now she’s off on her own journey, no longer even wanting the façade of travelling together.

Regardless of supportive friends, I am totally alone in the ways that are most important to me. Not least of which is the wish that someone was interested in me sexually. I don’t mean someone interested in having sex with me – though that is also an ever-present wish. I mean someone who would actually like to understand how I experience and express sexuality in the broader sense. A female who enjoys my masculinity and who appreciates my converse interest. Someone with whom to discuss desire and with whom to explore passion and pleasure.

At the moment I am neutered sexually, forcing myself to be celibate. Forcing myself to endure alone-ness, hidden-ness, and this ridiculous, never-ending whining in my ear, constantly reminding me that something is not right.

— Nat

Last thing at night

For me, the end of the day is normally the worst time. The quiet after my kids are asleep emphasises my aloneness and emptiness. I put off going to bed as long as I can in the hope of being so exhausted that I'll be able to fall asleep straight away. A friend of mine, divorced many years ago and still single, is a share trader. He said to me a few weeks ago that there are lots of lonely men up late at night watching foreign markets, trying to keep their sadness at bay.

The sadness of lying in bed alone makes me recall other times and reminds me what I am missing. With nothing else to do, my brain focuses on my loss, and I either cry or get angry. I haven't cried myself to sleep for 35 years! On a few occasions I have taken sleeping pills, with limited success. Last night I watched a movie on SBS purely because the introduction claimed it had a sex scene. (It didn't.) What I find more useful is some deliberate relaxation exercises, and a firm resolve not to end the day negatively.

Is it a tough time for you too? Any good strategies you can share?

— 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

Saying goodbye

I have discovered that the real pain of saying goodbye is not the leaving but the sad expectation of returning to nothing.

At times in our marriage I have bemoaned H's lack of excitement when I come home. She normally did not see me off in the morning nor throw herself at me when I returned. But at least she was there and whenever I was away I could look forward to being home again. On business trips, the evenings were always the worst. Being alone. Now home has become merely a house and every departure is a reminder that there is no wife to return to. I return but am still alone.

Juliet was right to say "Parting is such sweet sorrow". For lovers, the sorrow of parting is the seed that promises their re-embrace. Without the parting there can be no joy of returning. The parting creates a delicious glow of anticipation. But for me, goodbyes are now empty of any sweetness.

— Nat.