The phantom relationship

This post isn't about my late, nonexistent relationship with Cindy — the girl I'm in love with — though that is definitely a relationship that existed only in my head. No, this is about the strange phenomenon I call the "phantom relationship," when you do things like you were in a relationship. But you're not in a relationship anymore. 

To what can I liken this phenomenon? Let's see. Back in October last year, I had laser eye surgery, which allows me to forego the use of corrective lenses. So, when I applied for a new driver's license this year, I simply had to take a little eye test (which I nervously plodded through), and I got my corrective eyewear designation changed to needing no corrective lenses. That's pretty amazing to a guy who has worn glasses or contacts since he was 12 years old. 

The habits ingrained in me from nearly 30 years of using glasses or contacts are hard to break. After my surgery, when I would go to bed, it felt strange to not leave my glasses on the floor or on the nightstand. The same thing would happen when I'd pop into the shower. It was odd to be able to see my body, the soap, the shampoo, and the water flying at my face. Something must be wrong, my mind told me; you must have forgotten to take off your glasses! But nothing was wrong. My mind was playing tricks on me. 

It's the same thing with the phantom relationship. How many times has my mind thrown a warning light because I did something I wouldn't have done while in a relationship? Or maybe as I was working my way through a thought process, my ex enters the equation for no good reason. Why is she even there? She doesn't get to influence my decisions anymore. 

This isn't about co-parenting — that is about two people who are separated or divorced raising their children as a unit, which is very hard if you ask me. In co-parenting, there has to be an ongoing discussion about how the children are being raised. No, this is about including a person who is no longer in my life in my thoughts and decisions. What would Kate do? What would Kate expect me to do? How can I explain my rationale to Kate? These are all dumb questions, but they've all gone through my head. 

It's really just inertia. It's the phantom limb thing. My brain thinks she's still there, but she isn't. I don't want her to be there. When the thoughts arise, I quash them. It's like when a doctor checks your reflexes and taps your knee just right. Your leg involuntarily jerking doesn't mean anything other than you're a healthy person with good responses. So, too, is it healthy when a longterm relationship ends and a person is left with these involuntary thoughts, these knee-jerk reactions to everyday situations. 

Our minds love history. They dwell on it, but they also use it to inform future decisions. Depending on how much time you spent with someone (for me, more than 20 years), the knee-jerk reactions can go on for years, even though your life has moved in a different direction. When something funny happens and I want to tell someone, who do I tell now? When something reminds me of something we used to enjoy, who do I mention it to? If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Human beings need that interaction, that back-and-forth. When we're used to having that with someone and they're no longer there, it's incredibly stifling. This is why women (traditionally) do better with divorces than men. Men have fewer close relationships to fall back on. Women, with their impressive networking abilities, do much better.

What I'm talking about here is hard. It's hard-wired behavior at this point. But I can feel it changing. So what if I don't have anyone to send my funny stories to? Who cares if she's the only one who would get a reference or joke? I cut those ties for a reason. It was unhealthy.

It's true, most of what I feel is relief that I no longer have to accommodate her in my thought processes, but there are those moments when no one else will get something, and then what do I do? Well, nothing. I'm getting good at that. Maybe the reason the process of letting go has been so easy for me is that I never felt like my ex actually belonged to me (as much as a human can belong to another). In fact, I don't know what a devoted woman feels like, which is a sad thing. It could be a life-changing thing to have a woman give herself to me — and our relationship — completely and "belong" to me (which just means she gives herself to me). What would it be like to have a woman give herself to a relationship as I used to? I've seen women give themselves like that — and even beyond that — but never to me. I guess I'm not the kind of man who inspires love like that.

But what about co-parenting? I try to hew as closely to what our custody agreement states. She gets my son 50% of the time; we switch weeks (starting Monday). That could change in the future, but that's how it is now. His birthday is celebrated by both of us. I do not celebrate his mother's birthday (or mother's day, etc.), but I make sure he gives his mom a card (because he needs to learn to celebrate other people, not just himself). I do not celebrate my birthday with her (actually, I'd rather not celebrate my birthday at all). Everyone does what works for them, and this is what works for me. This process looks different for everyone.

Another thing our custody agreement states is we respect each other's space, which means a call or text alerts us to his being dropped off. She doesn't come in my house, and I don't go in her house unless it has been explicitly allowed beforehand. That's what it says, though we don't always follow through. There is a lot of disrespect of my privacy, in general, and not just from my ex. She comes in my apartment quite often. Of course, my parents stop by relentlessly, too, and often come in without even knocking or forewarning. I rarely go to her house. Some nights, I refuse to answer my phone, sometimes "putting it to bed" before 8 p.m., because I'm worn out by the constant interruptions and intrusions. It's like I live in Grand Central Station. But I digress.

Again, all of these things look different to different people. Co-parenting, as I understand it, is simply trying to stay on the same page raising the kids, even though a couple is separated or divorced. It's trying to have the same rules and expectations. It's trying to keep things stable for the kids. If someone wants to include their ex in their life more than I do for the sake of the kids, I think that's fantastic and should be commended. But I just can't. I already feel remorse because I gave her 50% of my son's life. That's more than enough.

Overwhelmingly, I feel relief and freedom when my mind goes through these phantom thought processes. My ending thought is aways, "Hey, it feels great I don't have to include her in my thought process anymore!" As with any phantom, though, admitting it's not real is the only way to banish it. It may complain, but, eventually, the mind rewires itself and finds a new normal. That's what is happening now — I'm finding a new normal, and someday my life will be phantom-less.

Thanks for reading.