My last post ended with a Declaration of Ambivalence. Apparently, ambivalence is one of the side effects of addiction. My internet research ( my gratitude for the web is immeasurable)in this was prompted by studying Harm Reduction: an alternative to 12 step programs. However, what I'm finding is that 'ambivalence' is in regards to addressing one's addictive behaviors: nothing more.
That's not knocking the importance of forming and implementing a strategy no sirree. My ambivalence is much more widespread: so much so now that getting high, drunk or otherwise 'out' of myself is boring, and I opt out of getting 'out' more often. Yet, I remain unmotivated to take interest in other activities. This blog and the obligation I have to those who follow it, keeps me from being totally withdrawn. I thank you for reading it.
My ambivalence started years ago. Was it a result of 'waking up' to the fact that I had been done with my old career for some time? I was burned out on co-workers and supervisors who coasted along without passion or authenticity, smiling with 'cold teeth'. I'd accomplished quite a lot and having mastered many games, had no desire to continue to play.
I've not regretted that decision, but my inability to decide if sticking to free-lance work is wise or getting a new career that pays well irritates the hell out of me...and I am very cruel to myself when I don't 'act perfect'. Yet having no one to bounce ideas off of creates a catch-22 of panic for me.
Do I not believe in myself enough to make any new career a success? And, success on whose terms? My old crowd of friends who travel and spend time and money yet still are unhappy? My values have changed there. Peace of mind, freedom of expression without being judged and the ability to be of help to others are most important to me. I feel like I have two of those three down. One remains elusive.
But back to my ambivalence: was it a by-product of my 14 year relationship ending? It needed to end. We had grown apart in so many ways. While I heartily had always supported my ex's dreams and goals, and that he supported mine, dreaming of being a writer, and becoming one are two different matters. As I began writing, selling and seeing books and articles come into existence, something changed. I don't know if my ex ever read one goddamn thing I did. Yet, after our Notary Public witnessed our signatures on paperwork that would dissolve our domestic partnership, I became hysterical.
We had tried to be civil and cordial but devolved into War of the Roses minus the greed for possessions. When my ex moved out he left behind all the pictures of us, all the souvenirs of travel abroad, even the second set of silverware he had bought a month before. I've pondered since then who gets solace? The one who walked away, or the one who went through the pictures (after three years) sorting and throwing away the excess clutter.
But what he left behind was not as bad as what was taken away. Our cat Oscar, was in poor health after a long life. This marvelous cat had been an abandoned and near death kitten when my ex found him while filming at Los Angeles' Ambassador Hotel. The hotel was a landmark I, actress Diane Keaton and hundreds of others had fought valiantly for years to save from demolition with no success.
After still more arguments, I agreed to have Oscar euthanized: not an easy decision. Upon getting my consent, I was told that although I wanted to be with our cat as his vet assisted his transition out of this world, and that I should be there, I was not going to be allowed this closure.
You might guess that news did not set well with me...and ambivalence was no where to be found. Certainly not when I pulled the 50's Sputnik chandelier my ex-partner loved (and I didn't care for)out of the dining room ceiling. In it's place today hangs a 40's era crystal chandelier that belonged to a deceased friend.
Perhaps I am so ambivalent because in a 3 year period, so much changed so fast and so permanently that I'm simply bankrupt of emotion. How do I correct that? That has to change. Somehow. Sure, I get tired of living...but I'm a skeered o' dying,
That's not knocking the importance of forming and implementing a strategy no sirree. My ambivalence is much more widespread: so much so now that getting high, drunk or otherwise 'out' of myself is boring, and I opt out of getting 'out' more often. Yet, I remain unmotivated to take interest in other activities. This blog and the obligation I have to those who follow it, keeps me from being totally withdrawn. I thank you for reading it.
My ambivalence started years ago. Was it a result of 'waking up' to the fact that I had been done with my old career for some time? I was burned out on co-workers and supervisors who coasted along without passion or authenticity, smiling with 'cold teeth'. I'd accomplished quite a lot and having mastered many games, had no desire to continue to play.
I've not regretted that decision, but my inability to decide if sticking to free-lance work is wise or getting a new career that pays well irritates the hell out of me...and I am very cruel to myself when I don't 'act perfect'. Yet having no one to bounce ideas off of creates a catch-22 of panic for me.
Do I not believe in myself enough to make any new career a success? And, success on whose terms? My old crowd of friends who travel and spend time and money yet still are unhappy? My values have changed there. Peace of mind, freedom of expression without being judged and the ability to be of help to others are most important to me. I feel like I have two of those three down. One remains elusive.
But back to my ambivalence: was it a by-product of my 14 year relationship ending? It needed to end. We had grown apart in so many ways. While I heartily had always supported my ex's dreams and goals, and that he supported mine, dreaming of being a writer, and becoming one are two different matters. As I began writing, selling and seeing books and articles come into existence, something changed. I don't know if my ex ever read one goddamn thing I did. Yet, after our Notary Public witnessed our signatures on paperwork that would dissolve our domestic partnership, I became hysterical.
We had tried to be civil and cordial but devolved into War of the Roses minus the greed for possessions. When my ex moved out he left behind all the pictures of us, all the souvenirs of travel abroad, even the second set of silverware he had bought a month before. I've pondered since then who gets solace? The one who walked away, or the one who went through the pictures (after three years) sorting and throwing away the excess clutter.
But what he left behind was not as bad as what was taken away. Our cat Oscar, was in poor health after a long life. This marvelous cat had been an abandoned and near death kitten when my ex found him while filming at Los Angeles' Ambassador Hotel. The hotel was a landmark I, actress Diane Keaton and hundreds of others had fought valiantly for years to save from demolition with no success.
After still more arguments, I agreed to have Oscar euthanized: not an easy decision. Upon getting my consent, I was told that although I wanted to be with our cat as his vet assisted his transition out of this world, and that I should be there, I was not going to be allowed this closure.
You might guess that news did not set well with me...and ambivalence was no where to be found. Certainly not when I pulled the 50's Sputnik chandelier my ex-partner loved (and I didn't care for)out of the dining room ceiling. In it's place today hangs a 40's era crystal chandelier that belonged to a deceased friend.
Perhaps I am so ambivalent because in a 3 year period, so much changed so fast and so permanently that I'm simply bankrupt of emotion. How do I correct that? That has to change. Somehow. Sure, I get tired of living...but I'm a skeered o' dying,
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