Closing Time was playing on the radio yesterday on one of the half-dozen stations I listen to when NPR gets too serious even for me. Originally, the song came out in 1998 – I checked, because I have this half-lucid memory of being young(ish) when I first heard it. It’s true, I was young(ish) – in 1998 I wasn’t even 30 yet. I wasn’t a mom yet. Heck, I wasn’t even pregnant. My relationship sucked, but I thought it was me, so things were actually pretty good as far as I knew and I didn’t need any silly hipster pop songs giving me advice.
Yesterday, though, it felt incredibly deep, in that way that simple things can be when they strike you at just the right moment.
Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end
As far as I can tell, a lot of getting older is really just feeling like the endings are hitting harder than they used to. Maybe they just pile up until you start noticing – deaths of friends and relationships, favorite restaurants and blogs disappearing, a dozen movies in the theater and you don’t recognize any of the stars.
It’s easy to get stuck in the endings. The group that saw this blog through its toddler years is all but gone now, with a few stalwarts continuing on in new configurations, but it’s really not the same. Five, six years ago we were on fire with possibility. We were going to change the world in AMAZING ways, and we did…but we all seem a little aimless right now. Except, it’s not really that – it’s that so many of us found what we were looking for, and so the fire isn’t there in the same way. It’s hard to keep wanting to change the world – that kind of fire takes its toll eventually. Some completely crashed and burned, and others are shooting off in new directions. Some, like me, are sitting here a bit exhausted, wondering if it isn’t better just to sit awhile and think, rather than running off in some random direction just for the sake of running.
You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here
The thing is, when you’re running towards something, you don’t realize how the world is changing underneath you. You have the conceit to believe that you’re the author of all the changes, that you have some little piece of control. It’s not ’til you stand still that you see how much changes without you doing anything. The running is just a distraction – none of us can stay here because here isn’t around for very long.
My ‘here’ was an avalanche of excitement that Theo triggered in my life. Her intensity is hard to put down in words in any way that comes close to describing it. Ironically, she did a pretty good job trying to describe someone similar in her life – when her light shines on you, it’s hotter than the brightest sun…and when it goes away, you crave it like nothing else. Theo is the closest thing to heroin I’ve ever experienced in the way people talk about that first, perfect high. The good is incredible, almost too good, if that makes any sense…but the crash is hard.
Therapists aren’t supposed to express a lot of their own opinions in session, but it’s pretty clear in subtle ways that mine is troubled by both polyamory and BDSM. She’s always supportive of me figuring out what I need, but I know how she feels underneath, and it’s ok, because I also understand her reasons, and I respect and trust that she understands mine. So it was surprising that she ended up almost suggesting I consider poly again, and it made me laugh. (I laugh a lot in both therapy and sex, sometimes for the same reasons.) I’m struggling with the possibility that I might not play again, as long as I’m with Theo. This is actually not as distressing for me as the fact that I’ve lost the courage to even talk about it, and I’m not exactly sure why. (If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time, you might have noticed that I don’t shy away from things, and I’m not that different in person.) My therapist knows how important BDSM has been in my life, and she’s concerned that I would be giving it up…but also is aware of how good Theo has been for me these past two years.
Maybe the feeling of getting older is simply the realization that we really are running in circles. I want to be able to achieve things in life and not have to re-invent the wheel over and over again, but that just doesn’t seem to be the way the world works. Sometimes the end of things isn’t as hard as that next moment when you have to start again. New partners, new jobs, new goals – it can be awfully exhausting when you cynically look forward to the next end/beginning after this. And the one after that.
All we have is this moment, and right now my moment leaves a lot to be desired, but I’m too tired to jump up and chase a new dream. Trouble is, I know the world won’t wait too long for me. Pick a dream, or have one chosen for you – that’s the way it goes.
You can’t. Stay. Here.
