“What crawled up your ass and died?” Samuel muttered walking away from me.
I wake at 5am and he around 8am, having read my emails, fed the cat and sometimes also having puttered in the studio. When he comes out I try to bite my ever active tongue because I’m a morning person and he is not.
This morning my pity party was getting away from me and I went in for solace. Once again my ability to solicit support and empathy brought back instead a man who left the fire beside me to sit at the table behind me. And once again, too often the occurrence, I’m talking to a partner who’d rather not talk. Either I have this gift of driving others away or he lacks gifts, or both.
He has always been like this. And as I walk the meadow I remind myself of this fact that I knew the first time we sat across from each other at a lovely restaurant with the a linen covered table, candles and a wine bottle sitting on ice in the canister beside it.
There, a lovely dinner for two I thought, now some conversation and intense loving eye gazing..
It wasn’t to happen and even though forty years ago, I can still remember the missile I was hit with. This man doesn’t talk. Head down, quiet, I looked at him but no look was returned. And so it was and still is.
To rid myself of the winter despair drowning me, I pushed myself out on a zero degree day; brilliant, no wind, still, brisk, sunny, bright, overly beautiful, but I was missing it all while lost in thought. I’m with a man who won’t talk. He can, and sometimes will. He does have depth, but seems to prefer keeping it to himself. Remember, Raymond mentioned this to you back in the 90’s while going through therapy. So what made me stay.?
I reminded myself that at the time so long ago, not talking was fine by me. Just perfect. I didn’t have to relate either. We could lead our separate lives together. Build a home, raise a family, but never relate or really know each other. I could rage at him because I had much to rage about, and he could hate me and show it in many subversive ways…never outright. He had rage from his youth too. Oh, quite the pair!
But now we need to. And for probably the first time we are learning about each other and what makes us tick. It is a hard process and sometimes hurtful, a stretch.
After the ‘what crawled up your ass and died’ comment was muttered as I headed into the bedroom to meditate, laying down setting the half hour timer, I yelled out, “Fuck you!” …hoping he didn’t really hear it because Buddha wouldn’t say that, and am I not Buddha-like with all this gentle meditating and insight brought on by it?
While setting up for the little Valentine’s Day Party Samuel escaped into the bedroom, a rarity as it’s dam cold in there this time of year. It was a lot colder around his wife.
Once people gathered warming my spirit I warmed to Samuel too and he became un-iced. We are alright and have weathered another storm. It is hard to have a partner who won’t talk about the things I need to talk about. Especially when I become so confused and lose my way. Though it served me well so long ago, I need it now especially during the dregs of winter when my brain chemicals become loopy. He tries. I try.