Love in the time COVID Chapter 2 of 19: Adieu to absence: Separating while sheltered
I don’t suspect she’ll ever believe I was not lying. That day, three years ago, before God and Man and whatnot, I spoke with honesty. Heart laid bare to my best friend, favorite lover, partner in crime. She said six months earlier — in a time of frustration no doubt. “Are we doing this? or are we just screwing around?”
We’re doing this. I scooted out of my lease. Packed up my cat. We bought a new fridge and reupholstered her couch. Made up routines, shopped for gowns, hand designed invitations, saw a financial planner, and took a vacation.
No project easy for a full time bartender and Kindergarten teacher. But we did it. We are paying off our debt and planning for tomorrow. Until — two weeks ago.
I lost my job in an instant. I was coaching my regulars through uncertainty, then locked out before I could empty my locker. She is working 14 hours a day studying remote teaching platforms for students that can barely read. I am drinking too much. She, not enough. Our house smells like our sweat. My cat bit her.
We are bored and angry, and the problems are NOT viral. They are long standing, avoided in the flurry of to-dos and schedules and brunches and binges, now free of distractions they bounce forth. She is not funny. I am not tidy. Her mother calls too much, I don’t ask enough about her day. I want too much, she is too busy. I am too lazy, she is too selfish.
Where is my ambition? Where is her fun?
The great ideas had left before the hospitals were filled. We played pretend. Petted through the misunderstandings. No one is leaving the house. We are breaking up.
As families hunker down in this time of resilience, ours and many others are breaking down. Mis-compatibility cannot hide in quarantine. Couples counselling — remotely delivered — holds no agenda. In that our therapist is no more committed to our maintenance than either of us. Rather, like any good clinician — and a good clinician is what our therapist is — our doc focused on communication, shared and individual goals, and emotional autonomy. The more we learn about “us”, the cleaner and clearer the inevitable becomes.
The heartbreak is worse in the closeness. There is no wound licking or long walk taking. Resentment and loss, the mourning is interrupted as we hear each other’s every breath. I have no work to distract. She, no breaks from obligations.
Domestic violence, child abuse, animal neglect and miscare, all the ills of domesticity are going down in the same City Blocks as babies are made and puppy eyes made over Zoom. Diversity, indeed.
The feelings on one side, the logistics on the other. Both of us are young enough that our parents are present. However, even if we did run out of state — we would have to wait. Getting away from your ex (in a non-abusive situation) is pretty much non-essential, you know, legally. That said, I am beyond taking my lumps at the bosom of my mother; I made this bed after all.
My ex is no monster, and the suburban unremarkableness of all this requires maturity, not avoidance. Yes, another reason to “grow” as we quarantine — a refrain we all are likely sick of — call me wrong?!
The above circumstance is shared less to inspire empathy, but rather to offer an instance respectful and representative of the stories of many — like mine, but different too. Unique and so unremarkable in a more remarkable time. Humanity continues — our best and our most noxious. Hearts break in grocery line waits — the hours we spend there — from lack of kale chips and life long partnership. As I sit looking at my beloved, her back to me as she grades papers on her IPad, I wonder if we both are pulling back less because we love less, but more because to do so is to execute the only power we have left. I can’t punish a virus, but I can cripple her heart. She can disrupt my aspirations, leave me naked.
We are unique and not. Tonight is Thursday, and we have plans. Have dinner and discuss separating the dinnerware and bedding. No date for moving out as of yet, but in this small and civil way we are trying to move on while staying in.I don’t suspect she’ll ever believe I was not lying. That day, three years ago, before God and Man and whatnot, I spoke with honesty. Heart laid bare to my best friend, favorite lover, partner in crime. She said six months earlier — in a time of frustration no doubt. “Are we doing this? or are we just screwing around?”
We’re doing this. I scooted out of my lease. Packed up my cat. We bought a new fridge and reupholstered her couch. Made up routines, shopped for gowns, hand designed invitations, saw a financial planner, and took a vacation.
No project easy for a full time bartender and Kindergarten teacher. But we did it. We are paying off our debt and planning for tomorrow. Until — two weeks ago.
I lost my job in an instant. I was coaching my regulars through uncertainty, then locked out before I could empty my locker. She is working 14 hours a day studying remote teaching platforms for students that can barely read. I am drinking too much. She, not enough. Our house smells like our sweat. My cat bit her.
We are bored and angry, and the problems are NOT viral. They are long standing, avoided in the flurry of to-dos and schedules and brunches and binges, now free of distractions they bounce forth. She is not funny. I am not tidy. Her mother calls too much, I don’t ask enough about her day. I want too much, she is too busy. I am too lazy, she is too selfish.
Where is my ambition? Where is her fun?
The great ideas had left before the hospitals were filled. We played pretend. Petted through the misunderstandings. No one is leaving the house. We are breaking up.
As families hunker down in this time of resilience, ours and many others are breaking down. Mis-compatibility cannot hide in quarantine. Couples counselling — remotely delivered — holds no agenda. In that our therapist is no more committed to our maintenance than either of us. Rather, like any good clinician — and a good clinician is what our therapist is — our doc focused on communication, shared and individual goals, and emotional autonomy. The more we learn about “us”, the cleaner and clearer the inevitable becomes.
The heartbreak is worse in the closeness. There is no wound licking or long walk taking. Resentment and loss, the mourning is interrupted as we hear each other’s every breath. I have no work to distract. She, no breaks from obligations.
Domestic violence, child abuse, animal neglect and miscare, all the ills of domesticity are going down in the same City Blocks as babies are made and puppy eyes made over Zoom. Diversity, indeed.
The feelings on one side, the logistics on the other. Both of us are young enough that our parents are present. However, even if we did run out of state — we would have to wait. Getting away from your ex (in a non-abusive situation) is pretty much non-essential, you know, legally. That said, I am beyond taking my lumps at the bosom of my mother; I made this bed after all.
My ex is no monster, and the suburban unremarkableness of all this requires maturity, not avoidance. Yes, another reason to “grow” as we quarantine — a refrain we all are likely sick of — call me wrong?!
The above circumstance is shared less to inspire empathy, but rather to offer an instance respectful and representative of the stories of many — like mine, but different too. Unique and so unremarkable in a more remarkable time. Humanity continues — our best and our most noxious. Hearts break in grocery line waits — the hours we spend there — from lack of kale chips and life long partnership. As I sit looking at my beloved, her back to me as she grades papers on her IPad, I wonder if we both are pulling back less because we love less, but more because to do so is to execute the only power we have left. I can’t punish a virus, but I can cripple her heart. She can disrupt my aspirations, leave me naked.
We are unique and not. Tonight is Thursday, and we have plans. Have dinner and discuss separating the dinnerware and bedding. No date for moving out as of yet, but in this small and civil way we are trying to move on while staying in.
