Friday, August 25, 2006


More notes from the road

Well, I lived through week 1 of the new gig.

Actually, I did a lot better than live through it--This is quite possibly the best decision I've made in ages. Nice people to work with, interesting project. Not only is the work hard enough to be interesting, but the proximity to family and old friends is already paying off in spades. I had dinner with Mike, Julie and the boys on Monday, with Deb on Tuesday, and with George and Olivia on Wednesday. Aside from a few minor logisitical nightmares, the whole living/working setup is damn near perfect. (and I'm working on the logistics.)

One little fly in the ointment, however, is that there's been a deafening silence from one of the key players in my personal drama, and that hurts a little. Ok, that's a lie. It hurts a lot.

I know he's going through a bad time right now and I'm well aware that his M.O. is to clam up and lick his wounds in private when he's hurting. I really don't think he knows how much it hurts when he shuts me out like this. But there's not a freaking thing I can do about the fact that this kind of behavior hurts me ....and, more than that, it dredges up all my old insecurities. And then I go through the worried-sulky-snarky-bitchy-angry-"Fine, you wanna be like that? Just F-off and die" cycle.

The thing is that I do accept that I can't change him any more than he can change me. That means that since I can't control his behaviour, all I can do is try to limit how much I allow it to hurt me.

This isn't the first go-around for this kind of thing with us. It's probably the fifth or sixth. It's probably as unrealistic of me to expect him to suddenly start confiding in me when he's sad or confused or hurt or unsure of himself or of the future as it is of him to expect me to serenely wait and blithely accept that he won't emerge until he's ready to come back out of his cave. (And, if history is any indication, by the time he does, I'll probably have moved from worried and hurt to royally torqued off.)

Sometimes I wonder what we do to boys that makes them turn into guys who think being anything less than the Absolute Master of the Universe every waking moment of their lives is tantamount to failure. (And I hope I managed not to do whatever that is to my sons.)

I'm trying to be patient and understanding, but frankly, I don't see any resolution to this recurring stalemate. Arggh. I'm so much better with software than with relationships.

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