Navel Gazing

Relationships

All relationships begin with an attraction. Why are we attracted to some and not to others? Looks and personality play their part, of course, but why the predisposition to certain other traits? As best recalled, with every prior relationship, something familiar clicked into place that just felt right. This familiarity is recognizable to me as connected to the relationship shared with my Mom in my youth. Something about Nina and the pattern of her behavior, although unsettling, also seemed oddly soothing. There was something familiar in the arc of her emotion—waiting out the storm with anticipation. Craving the calm period that always followed.

No other relationship since, or before, has led to violence. I've shared my thoughts and done my best to recreate what has occurred. I'm not looking to blame others, as I'm long past the age of pointing fingers. I'm just trying to understand what happened. The bottom line however, there is no excuse to make that behavior acceptable.

Never again did I allow the level of intensity to reach the elevation of that night. The guilt and shame from my loss of control, and the desire to never repeat, gave me strength. I came to see that Nina had no control over her reactions; consequently, I learned to gain control over my own. I avoided the circumstances that triggered her, and when not avoidable, I would simply stay quiet or leave. Either way, I evaded her attempts to bait me into conflict. She would taunt me, calling me weak and pathetic, but I knew how weak and pathetic really felt, and I wasn't going there again.

Nina and I tried to make it work. We continued our counseling sessions. She experimented with different therapy and medications, but didn't like the foggy numbness that followed with the latter. I witnessed firsthand the loving and bubbly person she was capable of being and the dulling effect that medication had on her. Her energy level for life nearly disappeared. She performed for her daughters, but afterward, when they were gone, she'd spend hours lying on the couch watching television. Some nights she never made it back to our room. I'd find her asleep on the couch, and would cover her with a blanket before returning alone to bed. Although more stable with medication, she would eventually stop taking the prescription.

Our relationship continued to be fleeting stages of feast and famine. Her disorder and my desperate need not to fail again created a codependency between us. I gorged during times of sustenance, aware of the length of unrequited affection to follow. The periods of drought were, at best, lonesome, and at worst, intensely emotional and insanely chaotic. These poetic verses mask the ugly detail, now revealed, of our erratic relationship. It was a three-year, turbulent ride that at times ascended the heavens, but, with increased frequency, crashed and resided at a depth much further south.

I felt like I lost my first love, and along the way, my dream. Nina didn't own the title or deserve all credit for this realization, and to grant her such might be considered a slight by my ex-wife. I imagine Samantha secretly cheered the end of the relationship that, although wasn't the sole reason for the death of our marriage, served as the catalyst.

Too sensitive — no other combination of words can succinctly describe better my own struggles. Her disparaging remarks still sting, as the words weak and pathetic echo in my mind. The words though, resonate with events from my past.