Time to heal.

2:53 pm - Private
I've previously mentioned that I left Duane and I left California. I did not go into much detail of how I was affected, and what I am left with in its wake.
It was a four-year relationship: a year prior to moving in with Duane, two years living together, and the year in my own place, prior to returning to Portland. We thought we might repair things, but the damage was irreparable: I was simply unable to love him anymore.
So where did it all go?
I came to realize that, aside from the bedroom, this man seldom expressed emotional affection.
I spent the majority of four years in a rather sterile situation.
I think I speak for most women when I say that we need an mental connection with our partner to foster one that is sexual.
Metaphor: a plant must have water and sunshine to grow; if there is none, it will eventually wither and die.
Numerous attempts were made communicate this to no avail.
Over time, my sexuality fell into a coma.
This made Duane indignant and angry.
It was a vicious circle.
When he was angry with me, he would speak or write to me in such a way that it felt more like an indictment than an expression of hurt. To complicate things, the responsibility (blame) was assigned to me.
Sure, there were times when I was furious. I am not proud of things I said out of sheer frustration. I've always worn my heart on my sleeve. I know this can be good and bad. At the risk of seeming as if I am rationalizing everything, I still must say that my mercurial response to our never-resolved problems...well, it just seemed more "natural" (not necessarily "better") than the sort of response I received:cold, sharp, expressionless scrutiny intended to shame me.
I did not want to have a romantic relationship with a Principal. The lover became more of a disciplinarian.
He possessed a "blunted affect" (lack of vocal inflection, facial expression).
He was extremely intelligent: he couldn't have become a noted astrophysicist otherwise. There are, however, plenty of geniuses who are also emotional dummies.
I used to wonder if he was affected by a mild form of autism. I went as far as to research that subject, and the parallels were uncanny. At least one of his siblings demonstrated similar traits.
He'd never attended counseling in his previous marriage nor with me. He never had a psychological evaluation to confirm or deny my concerns.
On one hand, he he was a man who was just so...clinical...yet, at the same time, he was also jealous and insecure. At times he was practically obsessed with the idea that I must have some dark and hidden reason for supposedly shunning him. When I learned he had gotten into my computer and searched all over the hard drive as well as scouting around the internet, sniffing out my trail in the form of my blogs and other posts...well, that was an eye-opener.
It froze me out. The love I once felt just iced over.
Had I been able to predict what was in store when I made that fateful move to California...well, I never would have gone there. It turned out to be a demoralizing experience. Too many things went wrong. I know I deserved something better. I should have been appreciated. I don't say this out of some self-righteous sense of entitlement. I poured so much of my heart into my home life and work that I little left over for myself.
I still bear wounds from that time. I am trying to heal, making efforts to fill that empty place. Thank God for my children. I am grateful to have my friends. It is soothing to be among the trees and the mountains and the rivers.
I am slowly reconnecting with those parts of my life that were severed when I left Oregon. My confidence is still in shards, however, and this is a serious problem. It affects my professional life and creates fear and anxiety at the thought of future romantic involvement.
I am torn between feelings of loss and despair and the small glimmer of hope that I will get myself back.
I know what is healthy and what is not.
I can only hope for hope.
I'm a survivor, though. I've made it this far.
I don't want to simply "survive". I want to Live.
I think it will just take time.
I'm patient, anyway.
it's a start.