Really, Facebook?!!

I am no longer married. I have fully accepted this fact. It took me awhile to feel, well, “unmarried,” but I’m there now. I’ve taken off the outward symbols and the idea of (one day) forming a new romantic attachment is something I can now tentatively entertain. So WHY, when I go to change my relationship status on Facebook from “married” to something else, do I come to a screeching, grinding halt in my tracks every time?!

Under the “relationship” pull-down menu, “widowed” is an option.  Ok, great. Um…except that it actually changes the status to “single.” Ok…bit of a bullshit bait and switch, but I can handle that. It’s the truth, right? Except….

“Your relationship with Alex Karan will be canceled upon saving.” Wait. What the FUCK?!

Canceled? You can’t cancel my relationship with Alex Karan! We were together for 16 years. We got married. We bought property. We combined our genes into two brilliant, amazing, gorgeous she-children! Nobody left voluntarily! CANCELED?!! Cancel you, MF!

AND WHY THE HELL DOES THIS BOTHER ME SO MUCH?! It’s just a pre-set message some programmer typed in because they had to write something and never dreamed that it could have such a paralyzing effect on little ol’ me.

(Breathe in…breathe out.)

I’ve come to the conclusion that this statement bothers me profoundly for this reason: I am a writer. I’m a musician, a reader of literature, a teacher, a marketing professional. In all aspects of my life, words (even in limited quantity) have a great deal of meaning. I’ve spent most of my life squeezing as much meaning as possible into just a few sentences. Words have the ability to alter opinions and even moods…to effect great change or inflict pain. (Forget that “sticks and stones” crap. If hurled at the right angle, by the right person, at the right time, it hurts.)

So I’ve come back to this threshold several times now and haven’t been able to make the leap. Some day, soon, I’ll just have to close my eyes and hit the “save” button. It’s starting to feel like an important step in living authentically in the “now.” Until then, however, my gut reaction will reign over my rational mind and I have to let it stand a little longer.

I’ll keep you posted.

Precious Metals

I have (rather unceremoniously) stopped wearing my wedding set.  After taking it off one day to clean something, I decided it felt weird to put it back on and I no longer feel naked without it.

I do still wear the first and last rings Alex gave me. The first is my half of the pair of Hebrew-inscribed rings we gave each other when we decided to get married.  Neither one of us is/was literate in the language, but they are supposedly inscribed with what translates into, “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.” Song of Solomon. You know the one. (I can only hope it doesn’t actually say, “Schmuck! You should have stayed in Hebrew school! You only THINK it’s sterling silver.”)

Alex occasionally expressed the belief that he had gotten me too few gifts over the years, that he should have presented me with more nice jewelry, etc. Of course, he also knew that I am the girl that wears the same diamond and pearl studs everywhere and other than my rings and an occasional bracelet, hardly wears jewelry. I suggested a simple diamond and platinum eternity band as a 10th anniversary gift and he was pleased with the idea. This last ring, unfortunately, became a “Sorry I’m croaking on you early, but here’s to eight and a half years” gift. — “Happy Holidays! I’ll be dead in two months.” Ugh.

I still wear these two rings, but on my right hand. I can give up the idea of being married to him. We were together for seven years before we got married. What has been most difficult is losing his friendship. He was my touchstone, my shelter. He was always the first person I wanted to share a new thought or idea or song or joke with. Even after 16 years together, we still had so much to say to each other.

So I keep our story alive for myself with these two little metal circles. Day to day, I have to shelve it all in the back of my mind and just grind along at going forward. I can’t sit around and think about what I’ve lost all day. That’s nothing but a set of blue prints labeled “Self-Destruct.” But when I’m lost in thought and find myself twisting these rings around my finger, I can still hear his voice in my head.

My own (head)space

I thought, originally, that I would keep Alex’s blog going in order to keep our loyal followers, friends and family apprised of the state of our newly reorganized (read: completely capsized) family. So, for five months, I’ve been thinking about what to write. How do I follow up my “final” post over there? Aaaannnndddd…..I’ve had nothing. Nada, zip, bubkes. I just couldn’t get started. What I’ve realized is that I can’t follow that act. It’s too big, too heavy. After 13 months, it had it’s closing night.

That was the story of his losing battle. It was well-fought, but the ending was crap. There is no rewriting it, no postscript that could improve it. So I close it and put it on the shelf and eye it from across the room, while I put a new piece of paper in my metaphorical typewriter.

Now, I begin anew. My own space. My story. Our story, told my way. I’m gathering up the pieces of wreckage and finding a way to fit them together in a newly designed vessel so I can sail on. This is one part of the project of rediscovering what I want from this life…what I like…what I’ve been missing out on. Perhaps, someday, there will be compromises to be made again. But until then, I’m gonna listen to some country music.