Blog three-year anniversary (Jan. 28, 2018 — 2021)

This is the time and space where I'm supposed to talk about what I learned in the three years running this blog. I'm supposed to say how much I've grown (groan) or whatever. So, I guess we'll do that. I'd like to say a lot changed, but that never seems to be the case. I should have moved quickly in any given direction, but I felt God was telling me to wait. Instead, I got bogged down in a morass of self-pity. Maybe it was necessary to stand still and heal, but with blood in the water, it was an open invitation to the sharks that swam around me. Unfortunately, I learned how cruel, pathetic, and unsympathetic people can be when one is trying to heal. I also learned they will blame you for something you didn't do just because. It makes me wonder if it does any good to try to live an upright life if I'm just going to be treated like a criminal. But that's not me. That's my disillusionment talking. Prepare for a long read. 

This blog is pedagogical in nature, and the pupil is me, though anyone looking in may gain some insight, too. Most likely, onlookers will just wonder what the hell I'm doing. I'm working here, man! 

As expected, 2021 is remarkably like 2020 and may even be worse. I guess it depends on where you live and how much God protects you, but it looks to be a rerun of 2020 with even more nonsense. (I feel God is telling His people to move to places of relative safety, away from the new world order hotspots.) The sequels are never as good as the original, right? Well, I think this year has some surprises in store. But I'm supposed to be doing a retrospective, so let's do that. Still, this guy:

I started this blog to understand and process my grief, which mostly revolved around leaving a 20-plus-year relationship (Kate). The twin grief was the end of a short friendship (Cindy) that bloomed during my separation. How I dealt with those disappointments is embedded in these 450-plus posts. The hows and whys eventually became apparent. The answer to why my relationships must end in heartbreak is because I am programmed through repeated trauma and abuse in childhood, which continued into adulthood (I am remarkably naive). How my childhood abuse/trauma disfigured my personal growth and programmed me to act in self-defeating ways was the biggest revelation, which I never would have seen had not God revealed it. The conclusion: childhood abuse was (to a great extent) to blame for my relationship problems and divorce.

There were no other major revelations. I learned a lot of little things. I dabbled in online dating, which anyone could have predicted was a disaster. Not only that, I tried international dating, which did nothing but rid me of hard-earned money. I quickly gave up on that, deciding being alone was better than near-constant rejection. The whole point was to try to get over the girl I was in love with, but that clearly didn't work. (It may have actually made it worse because I could compare them to her, and they never measured up.) But, I did learn to love from a distance and not pester the one I loved. Don't pester, Joshua, you creep sandwich. (A clarification: when I mention a woman rejecting me, that is from my perspective. I cannot write from any other perspective, so I have to say I was rejected, but I know no one intended to hurt me. I don't hold it against anyone and understand why they did it.)

Some of the women I met were interesting.  Some were pretty cool. Some were downright batshit crazy, and even blocked one. Some were mean as hell for no reason. Some just wanted to use me. Some weren't remotely serious, while some were way too serious. One was about the nicest girl I've ever met, but, unfortunately, she lives in Russia, and I wasn't in love with her, nor she with me. I wasn't in love with any of them. I was in love with only one. A strange thing I noticed was I used a lot of the same send-offs with some of those girls as Cindy did with me. I'm still in awe of that girl's patience with me and am very sorry I dragged things out. Live and learn. Still, I need to do better. 

Another thing I learned is when a girl is silent, that means no. She's just saying no — politely. Respect that. No one should be in a relationship they don't want to be in. (Also, God doesn't tell a woman to be in a relationship she doesn't want, which hits close to home.) Don't try to make love "bloom" in a desert. As Christian men, we are supposed to respect women and treat them as sisters in Christ. When a woman tells you no, leave her alone. Sure, you can be friends if you want, if you want to do that to yourself, but she isn't interested. It doesn't matter how much you think you love her or how much you want to be with her or whatever you imagine your future with her being; if she says no, the answer is no. And, if you truly care about her, you want her to be happy, even if that happiness doesn't come from you. My advice: Find a girl who returns your affection. Leave pining for a girl you can't have to sad, dumpy, over-the-hill hacks like me. We've got that shit covered.

I also learned I have a unique trust process, which often works very slowly. I had to develop a new process because the original failed. Others misunderstand this trust process because it is abnormal and takes time to bear out the underlying work. They don't understand I'm simply protecting myself and am learning how to trust. Unfortunately, after so many years of betrayal and blame, I became paralyzed, which affected all my relationships, including with God. I'm only now learning how to move forward. It is a slow process, and sometimes I backslide, but I'm committed to learning and growing, as I believe that is intrinsic to my relationship with God. As always, I strive to be faithful. 

Too late, but I learned to keep certain things to myself, even on this blog, where readership is anonymous. Some things I was very wrong about, and, in the future, will keep more to myself. I cannot risk embarrassing myself further. If it is found to be true, after all is said and done, then I can expound upon it, but not before. While it wasn't meant to appear so, I don't want to look like I am trying to manipulate situations (certainly never my intention). I was recording what I thought God told me. That is all. I won't put that out there anymore. Lesson learned. I repented of my mistake to write about certain things. I pray those affected by that mistake forgive me. 

I started journaling in earnest the first time Kate, my ex, cheated on me more than 20 years ago. I took my notebook and a pack of Winstons and roamed all over town looking for a peaceful place to journal, trying to rid myself of my feelings. I should have just rid myself of her. She was the cancer. She was the constant rejection. It took me 20 years to realize why I needed people in my life like that — people who literally had to hurt me — like it was their job — and it was only God who revealed why. (My family was the original template for that.) Though my journaling was helpful, it didn't reveal nearly as much as my conversations with God. Looking back on my life, most of the rejections from women are remarkably similar. I do not blame any of them. I understand why they did it and know they didn't want to hurt me. People just do what they do. This brings me to the next point. 

For me, the point of the above quote is you have to find one worth suffering for, cus they are all going to hurt you. Some more than others. If you want to be in a relationship, bad stuff goes down. You know that. Everybody knows. It shouldn't always be that way, but it happens. Just don't make a habit of it, right? No one really wants to hurt another person. That's not how it happens. We all just do what we do, and sometimes people get hurt. Live with someone long enough, and they will hurt you. If they continue to hurt you and know it is a problem, then maybe protect yourself or seek help for the relationship. But who am I to offer relationship advice? I haven't had a single one work. I strive not to hurt others. Perhaps that makes me different. I want those around me to feel happy and safe. That is important, as our environment impacts how we grow. What I miss: what I can't give, which is love, a sense of security, and well-being. What most people seem concerned about is what they have, or can have. Me, I just miss giving, and knowing someone I care about feels loved and safe.

One could say my lost-love story is a cliche. I suppose some could consider themselves right to say such a thing, but they hold too dearly to their prejudice and fail to see something truly special hidden in the cliche. And that is fine, of course, because it allows me to keep something close which most will not understand. I am not Jay Gatsby, though the resemblance is unmistakable. My story is mine. My love is unique. The object of my love is even more unique. Worth suffering for? I certainly thought so. Worth waiting for? I did wait, so clearly I thought so. If waiting was all I had to do, I would have gladly done so, and more, and I did. I realized I'm one of the most patient people I know, but patience doesn't solve anything. 

 

It was a temporary madness, how we felt about each other, a madness from which she quickly recovered. But I have been mad for her all along, going back farther than I care to discuss. When I was a boy, I recall gently teasing her. I should have known I was in trouble then. But the madness grew unchecked, and in spite of so many times she told me she simply couldn't. She moved on all those years ago, but I didn't. A part of me stayed mad for her, and always will be. 

 

I also realized I'm really not a bad person. This is the only area where I talk about myself this much. It may look like I'm a narcissist, but this is my therapy. I'm supposed to talk about myself and my problems. I don't have anyone else to talk to. Anyway, I have some good qualities. It is sad I cannot share those things with anyone, but maybe someday. Speaking of Someday, that was the title of one of my original posts on Jan. 28, 2018. It came from an email I wrote to the girl I was in love with, this months after she broke things off with me and months before I started this blog (all the love letters were written after we were no longer). I was still so enamored with her. And she was so sad. I wanted to give her something to look forward to. It was poorly written, but it was heartfelt, like much of what I wrote over the last three years. Keeping love alive in my heart was necessary because I think my inner core would have died otherwise. I was going through so much pain, it was crushing. Allowing myself to feel something life-affirming was critical in ensuring I made it out the other side alive. And I could not have picked a finer woman to love. 

When I started this blog, I thought I would be with a certain woman, certainly by now. Though that didn't happen, and while waiting, presumably, for that to happen, I was allowed a rare glimpse at something I may have missed otherwise, which is just how special a woman she is. And that knowledge seeped into me until I simply could not shake it. That experience, though it meant I didn't get the girl, changed me. For that, I am grateful. I never would have seen her as I did — and never would have admired her so wholly — if I had either made one last, mad dash for her or walked sulkily away. There is no other woman like her, that much I know. We could have made each other very happy. I'm used to defeat, failure, and disappointment, so I can look back fondly on my time pining for a very special woman and feel only a twinge of sadness, for I saw something I never would have seen otherwise. And now I am a different man because of her. 

And then there is the question of would I do it all again and try to get the girl I love? I like to imagine myself not doing that for various reasons, but I know that is a fantasy. I would do the same thing as before, perhaps not the same way, but I would express the same expressions and exude the same exudations. The same words would pour forth. Because that girl never left my heart and knowing that and acting on that makes me honest and honestly feels good to my soul. Dishonesty of the heart is a deep betrayal worse than death. Knowing this, and knowing the outcome would be the same nonetheless, I would still do the same. I realize this makes me a tragic character, but so be it. 

But maybe I wouldn't tell her all of that. Maybe I wouldn't try to pick that prettiest of flowers for myself. Maybe it is enough to know such a flower exists. Maybe. 

To those who followed this blog, why? Haha, I'm kidding. Some of it was compelling. Much of it was cringe-worthy. Some of it was beautiful, in a way. And some still haunts me. I thank everyone who stopped by. As of today, the blog has over 12,000 hits, which is pretty cool and unexpected. If anyone followed since the beginning, you get a special thanks. And another why. Haha. I have a handful of posts planned, then after that, we'll see. I probably have some love letters left in me. 

 

Before I go, about the girl: I wrote a lot about her, but was I trying to woo her back? Perhaps, in the beginning, but I stopped, it seems (I largely left her alone, as that is what she wanted), and simply recorded my heart. It spoke volumes. It seems I wrote about her simply because I wanted to. I was in love, after all, but I was also struck by how completely I loved her, which was rare for me — and revealing. I have no doubts about loving her or how much. In this space, I freely expressed all of that, and maybe because it was the only space I had. Like grapevines that struggle on harsh, dry soil, my writing produced very concentrated and sweet fruit. My life was hard — and still is — but hardships sometimes create something beautiful, though not so much what I wrote, but how I felt. That was beautiful, at least to me. Watching love grow under such harsh conditions and over such poor soil was like witnessing a miracle. Thank God for miracles because I don't think I would have survived the last three years without that one.

Thank you for reading. I promise my next post will be shorter and, perhaps, not as sad.  

My new blog is here.