Fix This Wagon, Damnit–I Keep Falling Off

I had a relapse; I fell off the wagon.

Tomorrow would have been 4 weeks since I last saw the Fex. But this was a hard week, on many levels, and while I did not seek her out, I didn’t do as much as I could have to avoid seeing her, because…because I guess at some level, no matter how much I know it’s over and friends and therapists tell me I will be better off without her and increasingly I believe it and I look forward to the “other side” – with all that, I still hope that when we are in the same room and talking and maybe even relating on a human level, on the level of two people who once loved each other and pledged lifelong commitment, that something will happen. I’m not sure what. Something real. Emotional. Connective. And when it doesn’t happen, like it didn’t happen – again – today, I think, “Man, you are so dumb.”

So all those weeks of feeling like I was getting better, that I had started to rein in this addiction – gone, poof. The effort to have no real human contact, nothing beyond the logistics of divorce, to feel like I was putting things behind me and moving on; it all feels like a mirage today. No, that’s not true: I know I am better. I am putting emotional distance between us. But our simple conversation today (the Red Sox, work, family, food processors, for god’s sake) felt like the opening of a window into what once was – and that I guess a part of me still wishes could be. In my conversations with the people trying to keep me on the wagon and progressing beyond this pointless clutching to history and emotional ties, I nod and understand all their reasonable arguments about why I am better off. But a day like today reminds me of her intelligence, the values and interests we share, that pledge I made and meant more than 10 years ago on a too-hot May day when Bushnell Park exploded with pink blossoms and the cries of pre-pubescent Scouts ( you had to have been there…). Add some of the lowlights of this week (physical, mechanical, emotional) that left me vulnerable, and there I was, off that damn wagon and on my ass on a rutted street.

Time is my ally, my friends say. The divorce will come and go. The house will sell – eventually. And you can climb back up on that wagon of disconnection – right now! Yes, I can. Until the next time I have to see her. Or I make a comment via email like I did a few days ago, a compliment that went far beyond the nuts-and-bolts correspondence I’m supposed to be limited to. The problem is, I get thoughts. I get feelings. And in that no-boundaries way of a writer (see last post), I spew them all out. To my detriment alone. Because it feels, as it has for so long, that nothing in her mind keeps a link between us. She has moved on. I need to get to that same place. I will. But not soon. I think there are more falls off that wagon ahead. Keep the band aids handy.


~ by mburgan on October 4, 2010.

One Response to “Fix This Wagon, Damnit–I Keep Falling Off”

  1. Hi Michael, I just read your last post on your blog, here’s my response.I know there will be many fall offs ahead of you, my friend, but that’s ok because pain & hurt is not always a bad thing. If it were not for the pain how could you feel joy, how could you measure your love. There’s no way that the pain will go away anytime soon – it may never go away – but that’s ok too. Once you find peace within yourself, the healing process really begins. The wonders of love: sometimes you don’t see it coming, sometimes you don’t see it leaving. Some people never see it at all – that’s the worst. My wheel fell off once and it took me a long time to find one that fit right again, but I did. Funny thing though, sometime you just can’t force an old wheel back on once it’s broken. It may be time to replace it with a new one that brings you a much smoother journey down future roads. I’m glad I waited it out. I see much clearer now, some things just aren’t meant to be and some things are. Hey Michael, your writing is awesome, what a great blog you have! Let’s have a cold one sometime soon.


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