Today marks one year since my wife and I separated. Twelve months, three hundred and sixty five days.
That's a lot of time to contemplate and heal.
I've lost a lot in the past year
(a wife, shitloads of money, my cat Sebastian...)
But I've also gained a new perspective on life. I now have the ability to appreciate the little things, the day by day things.
I've shed my share of tears, and at times when discussing or thinking about my past relationship, I have to catch my breath and bite my cheek in attempt not to shed more.
I miss her daily. But more for the little things now. Those things I fell in love with that made all the bad things happening toward the end seem worth the pain. But sadly, a relationship isn't made up of just little things. Somewhere she lost respect, unconditional love, and patience with me. I could blame it on the depression or her being bipolar, but in the end it doesn't really matter. I lost my wife, the person I fell in love with. All I can hope in the future is that , perhaps, she will feel that I was the one she let get away.
Selfish, I know. That's what I get for being a romantic, and watching the movie Love Actually once a year. (I blame my upbringing without a father figure until I got older).
I definitely have baggage. And although my suitcase is a little worn and torn, the contents are intact. Thanks to my last journey I now know how to pack. So the next time I take a trip down the road of love, the baggage will contain enough content for vacation, business and emergency. And perhaps a bottle of Clamato. I so miss drinking Caesars.
I honestly don't know what I want at the moment. Love, sex, more money, sex on top of a bed of money... But I'm okay with not having any of those things. I have great friends in two countries, family I've never felt closer to, a stress free job, and residence in what I believe is a little bit of paradise.
Of all the wonderful words of support and advice I received from friends and total strangers, one stood out from the rest, because it sums up my emotional state and optimistic outlook, and I'm hoping my journey leads to a comparable, wonderful, life that this person now lives:
"I thought my life was over in terms of finding love again. I had heard divorced men talk of finding love again, and it always came across like they were fooling themselves, that they had settled for a moderated form of happiness that they would think back on ruefully at their death bed.
But I had an irrational faith in myself (thank god!) and my gifts and had this feeling that I'd find love again. I didn't know how, but I did know it would involve NOT SETTLING EVER.
Since the divorce, I've dated several women, making mistakes with all of them, being a douche and receiving douchiness. But even at the time, I knew it was all preparation and training for THE ONE who would come (if I was lucky enough to be available when we would meet). You know how before you were a black belt, a part of you was wondering how different would it be from your purple belt? (Yes, this is a stupid analogy, but bear with me.) But once you got it, all that hard work and dedication to ONE VISION suddenly coalesced into a strong sense of who you had become.
I've found relationships with women to be that way. I kept dating, dating, while working on myself and putting one thing ahead of everything else: my own happiness, for that is the only thing under my own control.
Then, one day five years ago, my best friend introduced me to (*****). The rest is history. Not guaranteeing it will last, since there are no guarantees, but we're both pretty confident that it will. It took patience and work and dedication to our vision, but we've never been happier. And this is true when I say this is way better than I had ever envisioned for myself. I've done nothing to deserve it, yet here it is: happiness.
You have so many gifts and so many options and so many people who love you. You know all this. I'm sure of it. But from what I recall, there will be several nights when sadness and regret will come raining down on you like a sack of bricks and you'll cry like a baby. Many nights. And it's necessary.
You're going to thank your lucky stars for all of this suffering many years from now.
And, if the case is that you and ****** are, indeed, working this all out to keep trying, well, fuck me."
I am the King of my Destiny.
And so it is.
Jimmy
