posted January 24, 2012 11:29 PM
I feel like I've been hit by a truck. As if life just stopped making sense a few weeks ago. It's been an almost nonstop cavalcade of experience - ranging from total emotional breakdown to emotional shutdown to catharsis to numbness to intellectualisation to nothing.I've learnt I'm quite the chameleon. I guess somewhere I figured a Geminian would be able to handle (and even appreciate) that. Maybe not a Sun-Saturn, though. And coupled with my Sun-Pluto, we seem from different worlds.
I hid a lot of myself in order to be what he wanted. I hadn't even realised that's what I was doing, (stupid 12H Virgo Venus) because it's been my MO since childhood. Be what they want you to be, and I can play the part well with my Uranus-Moon. My Sun opposite Pallas from the 8H (also exact) has helped me (exactly trine Neptune) to transform myself however was necessary to gain approval. I could, practically literally, be everything to everyone. My resume is especially bizarre, given how many career changes, and ways I was able to dominate the industry in a short while, encounter some kind of corporate corruption, have my ideals crushed, and move on - until I just stopped and became self-employed.
I love my husband. If I didn't, I never would have married him. When we married, just a short year-and-month ago, we did so for practical reasons - but we engaged the year prior to that because we knew how much we wanted to spend our lives together. The fact that I would be gaining a stepdaughter was an especially wonderful benefit. It made me feel complete and needed and happy.
Wife? I can play that. Stepmom? I can do that, too.
But intense, obsessive, creative professional who has the tendency to get lost in her head while chasing down the latest inspiration is what I AM. And very, very few people can actually grok that - no less, appreciate it.
We had that strange conversation I sort of felt was on the tip of our tongues but wouldn't realise, and could only hope might turn out a bit like it does in those movies where there's no hard feelings, and a genuine desire for happiness on both behalves. You know; the I-love-you-but-I'm-not-IN-love-with-you conversation no one WANTS to have, but everybody MUST, if they find themselves there.
(What's a Scorpio Moon-Uranus like me even doing married to begin with? Sun-Pluto in Libra, maybe? Eh. Who knows.)
It must have hit him later. I was surprisingly airy (hah! Imagine that - airy) and breezy and light and logical and organised about it all. No messy emotional display. Just ... here's the facts. 'I don't like them, either, but I'm tired of being unhappy, and you already told me that you were unhappy, too, so let's take it from there'. He responded in kind. I felt ... hopeful. We were being realistic, and yet, I felt hopeful. Like maybe -just maybe- we could get somewhere, to some better place, with this. Together.
Oh, Libran fantasy dies hard. Even harder with 4H Neptune trine that 2H Sun-Pluto.
We did it all wrong. He realises it, too, I just think we both hoped that we could sort it all out in the aftermath. 'Fix it in post', as they say here in the filmmaking industry. But there's too much to fix that easily. It'll cost a lot.
We had sex, but no romance. We were best friends, but that never carried to the bedroom. Then when we were lovers, we were more like sexy strangers, or had rare, intense bonding experiences which FELT whole and spiritual and total.
But ... just to me.
When I later realised that was the kind of sex that makes me feel alive and nothing but - we stopped having sex altogether. That was a year-and-a-half ago. I never understood how couples could stop having sex for THAT long, and I used to do couples' therapy. I stopped, when I realised my own marriage was in danger. Nobody wants to take advice from a hypocrite - nor should it be given.
It seems, now that I've sadly taken the masque of My Husband's Wife off, and placed it within my psychological chest-of-drawers for safekeeping, who I am underneath hardly matches. Quite exhausting, trying to maintain that appearance. I only wish I'd known I was doing it - and THAT's why I was so bloody exhausted.
'To thine own self be true.' The Bard had it right.
Last night ... understanding, grokking, hope. Tonight ... quiet sadness, resignation, unspoken despair. He IS a Venus-in-Cancer / Mars-in-Pisces, after all. But the Sag Moon was what always made me feel ... well, as if I wouldn't unintentionally lord over him. He wasn't so fragile as if to be broken carelessly. No, no. Sag just makes it LOOK that way.
Silly Libran. Tricks are for tramps. What the hell was I doing keeping up these appearances for SO long? What did I hope to gain? Was I trying to fake it until I'd made it? Did I give up on MYSELF?
I don't know if he really thought we were 'soulmates', as it's more commonly known, rather than 'twins'. I hoped we were, but I'd always suspected we were companion souls here for a purpose - and that purpose was to raise my stepdaughter. Well, hurrah! We'd get to do so in love and companionship with all the great stuff life has to offer, so that she'd grow to understand the real value of love and devotion.
Instead, I'm living out the sins of the mother - my mother. And her mother. And, I hope, not her mother. See, something bars us from being with our twin, and we marry a companion. And then we just ... go into a kind of vapid denial about it, pretending that life is grand, while our emotions secretly die a horrible death. Family curse, I suppose. I thought, my Juno being -just- enough out of orb of Vindemiatrix, I had escaped it.
Natch.
So, I've got a sham of a marriage just like my parents. Best I can hope for is that we can pull it together like they did - by our fifties. Two decades. Oh, well. It'll fly by ....
Now to learn how to deal with the sadness; the pervasive feeling of resignation and loss. Taking your dreams, folding them with care, and locking them away in a hope chest, to be opened by the next generation, who you can only pray to God doesn't somehow bugger it like you did.
My last boyfriend, the most abusive relationship of my life, actually refrained from telling me he loved me for the remaining 3.5 of our 4-year relationship, his justification being that it became habitual. He wanted to show me in his actions that he loved me, rather than use something like words. (Rip my Scorpio Mercury to pieces, why don't you!) He certainly showed me something with his actions, but it wasn't love. Especially that night he hit me with the heel of his hand and scratched my cornea. I'd tried so hard to cover it with makeup, since we were going to a party. Amazing, the frequency with which women run into doors. We're a clumsy gender.
No, I don't stay with my husband because he's 'safe'. He's human, but he's also a good person. I do fear the habit of 'I love you'. It gets to be like breathing. Punctuation. You touch, even briefly; squeeze a part of them, they look at you; it happens. 'I love you.'
But it used to be with a myriad of other actions. Things he'd say. Do. I'd just shake my head and think to myself, 'I love you.' Now, it's when we touch. Curled up in bed, reading. Turning out the light. 'I love you.'
... But why?
I love you for turning out the light? I love you - because it's dark? I love you - because we've made physical contact while reaching for the cereal? I love you - because the conversation's at a lull and I'm leaving the room? I love you - because we're disconnecting? Because you're leaving for work? Because we're ... married?
Perhaps, I'm really saying, 'I love you, because you're my husband.' But is that enough to bring back the 'I love you' moments in regard to EVERY other thing our beloved does that we foolishly adore because it resonates so deeply with us on some powerful level?
And, more than anything, how do I stop myself from having those very moments when it comes to my twin? 'I love you for that silly Facebook post you just made'. 'I love you for the brilliant ideas you had today.' 'I love you for your sardonic humour.' 'I love you ... for appreciating me.' For finding a moment to get to a computer and explain via Facebook Messenger that your phone's dead and you left your charger at home, and that's why you dropped off an hour ago, and you'll be unavailable the rest of the day because of it, but back home by the evening, and we can talk then.
That's what hurts the most right now, as I blink at where the hell my marriage went, and scour to find SOME evidence of it having all been a progression.
But it wasn't. Oh, sure, we had all the right progressions for when a couple comes together out of love and that relationship resolves in marriage. We even have all those markings of being companion soulmates.
But then I've heard something very interesting and rather disturbing about that. The sudden, nearly overnight, disintegration of a companion relationship once the twin is found - or a new relationship of some sort is formed between you. Faster than you can blink - you stop being inauthentic - no matter how authentic you thought you were! - and the illusions fall away, like the worst possible Neptune square Venus transit ever.
Eve, after having had the most blissful night of her life with Adam, awakens, naked, confused, and ashamed. She never knew the concept of 'naked' before. Her skin is blemished by the thorns of the once-beautiful roses laid upon the bed where they made so much perfect love, in a perfect world, as imperfect people.
She's naked, and damaged, and afraid. Adam doesn't even recognise her anymore; he hadn't understood his own experience of all he knew being laid bare. He thought it was always this way. The fact that she contests it means that she didn't really know him at all.
'Who did I marry?' He asks, confused. But Eve is gone - too overwhelmed with the truth of her own deception - especially as she wasn't even aware she had been such a willing participant in her own saboutage.
'I love you,' she says. And she means it. Not because he's Adam, the only man her heart has ever known to be true to her, to celebrate her in a garden of enchantment, separate from the distress of harsher realities. But because he is her husband, and just as naked as she.
' ... And the questions of heaven, for a sinner like me .... though, the pressure's hard to take; it's the only way I can escape .... ' For a sinner released.
Ah, well. Maybe it's time to 'let go and let God' or something. Whatever that means. Seems little else works.
Thank you for allowing me to wax pathetic. We'll all get through our trials on this big blue ball - and we'll all be better for it. Someday.
------------------
Stargazing in Hollyweird,
-AMP
Lindaland
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posted January 24, 2012 11:29 PM
posted January 24, 2012 11:55 PM
IndigoDirae 
lol 
posted January 25, 2012 12:14 PM
