He's Just Not That Into Me

“An analogy for bodhichitta is the rawness of a broken heart. Sometimes this broken heart gives birth to anxiety and panic, sometimes to anger, resentment, and blame. But under the hardness of that armor there is the tenderness of genuine sadness. This is our link with all those who have ever loved. This genuine heart of sadness can teach us great compassion. It can humble us when we’re arrogant and soften us when we are unkind. It awakens us when we prefer to sleep and pierces through our indifference. This continual ache of the heart is a blessing that when accepted fully can be shared with all.”

Pema Chödrön

I came home from work last night. The fog was rolling in already. It was creeping up the canyon through the redwoods off in the distance. Things are cooling down.

I am listening to a set of tapes, whereby I mean cassette tapes that I purchased last week by accident when I meant to purchase the CD version. It's Pema Chödrön's The Places That Scare You: a Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times. Well, certainly now is one of those difficult times and I have been filled with fear. Pema Chödrön also wrote the book When Things Fall Apart. That book should arrive in the next few days because well, things fell apart. Pema Chödrön must have gone through some heavy shit. I do know she was married for a long time. Maybe that was what happened?

First thing when I get home, I am alone except for my howling cat. I put on the tapes and listen because I need something to set me at ease (not booze, not food). The thing I don't want to do is the same thing. I don't want to wallow. I can't just sit and be sad. I have to do something different. This is what I have decided. A few days ago I started cleaning windows (for clarity).

A few minutes into the tape. I decided to get on the elliptical for the second time in one day. I had eaten dinner earlier which consisted of a Skinny Cow ice cream sandwich (yum) and one old oven-baked taquito. I made the taquitos last week and this was the last one.

I ate my vegetables at lunchtime. An entire bag of spinach fresh from the fields of Watsonville. I make myself a smoothie in the morning with two scoops of soy protein. A man had come into our last lymphedema support meeting and declared that the soy protein was a cure for his 'edema.' Well, I guess it helps regular edema but not lymphedema. I am really enjoying making and drinking these weird concoctions though. Yesterday I made one and added frozen mixed berries, a banana, a yogurt and some spinach. It tastes so good and fills me up for hours. I don't think about eating until right about noontime. My lunch is after 1pm, and I use the elliptical during lunchtime. I don't feel like eating anything after I workout. I find that I have to force myself. I am doing things to help save my life and help get me out of a funk though I don't feel particularly funky this minute. This is not because I am upset, though I am occasionally upset. It has something to do with the exercise. Takes the focus completely away from eating.

I'm reading a new book about How to Heal A Broken Heart in 30 Days. You read one chapter per day though I am about seven chapters short so I have to catch up with the rest of the class. The second chapter is called, "Mourning After." (Thought that was cute.) This book is way more kind than the first book I read which was It's Called a Breakup Because it's Broken by the guy who wrote He's Just Not That Into You. I remember reading He's Just Not that Into You for fun after I met Chris. I was laying on his bed early into our relationship, reading and laughing at how funny the book was, and then, periodically getting angry at all the men I had ever had relationships with, and then, getting mad at Chris who tolerated my anger and listened to me rant. Chris has tremendous tolerance or maybe he *did* and doesn't any longer.

Chris has a relationship with his cars, his business, and maybe he should "date" occasionally on the side. He doesn't have the stamina or ability to have a dedicated, solid relationship and all his work at the same time. It's simply too much for him to juggle right now. He doesn't want to interupt his work flow to be with a woman. At least not this woman. He's just not that into me.

When I first arrive home and the house is quiet except for the whining cat, I think I'm going to go out of my mind. Last night I thought I was going to have a panic attack. I wondered what I would do if I were all alone? Well, I was alone so that was a moot point. Even though I did not see Chris but one night during the week when we were still an 'item' -- I felt as if I were part of a bigger family, something greater than just me, or that's how I thought of it. I still know I am part of something though I imagine it's something bigger, better and in the future. In this moment I only want greater understanding, compassion and no anger. Anger is more than I can handle right now.

One of my relationship flaws for lack of a better word, was relying on Chris for help that I could have done myself. Simple, small pleasurable things like having someone else notice the wear on my car tires and insisting I get them looked at or taking my car into the shop, making car appointments for me. One time I had a flat tire and Chris drove across town to fix it for me. I never had a relationship with a man who was so caring. It's difficult to withdraw from the feeling of being cared for, of feeling nurtured by someone who loves you, it's powerful. After my husband died, and I finally got my shit together, I felt powerful by myself. I would do all those things myself. I had become used to my own self- sufficiency. I wonder if Chris and I got lost in our helping one another or was it rescue, and if so, was that wrong or is it love?

At work I am usually distracted though yesterday a few things happened where I just started weeping. My sister tries to console me though sometimes she needs as much consolation as I.

In 2001 when my husband was dying and I was still working in cubicle land, I would sometimes find myself weeping while inside my cubicle. I would feel so overwhelmed with the thought of Greg's suffering that the tears would have to flow. I imagine that must have been so strange for my coworkers. Row after row of cubicles, people working, heads down, concentrating, and here's one cubicle with a woman, who's husband is dying of cancer, crying. Phones ringing, people gathered in conversation, meetings taking place. A woman cries.

I am prone to doing that same kind of weeping lately. It is born out of this tender sensation of genuine sadness.