old man sutton

The adventures through life and spirit of a single father, lover and man.

First off, my apologies all around, it’s been a good long while since I’ve bothered to update. More distressing is, it’s been a while since I’ve even bothered to read anybody else’s blog either. I’ve been more involved with things away from the computer lately, and what time I DO spend in front of the computer, has been for other purposes. I haven’t forgotten about any of you, but I really needed a break from the amount of time I spend in front of the computer. I’ve been very involved in deep cleaning my house in the hopes of finding something about it I can love. It’s functional right now, but that’s about all I can say positive about it. A roof, four walls, and I’m grateful to have it. I appreciate that. But… I NEED something more. My house just doesn’t feel like home. I said this morning to somebody, that home is where you are loved, and love back. Deeply, openly, and fully. I stand by that.

This place was home once, or at least, the closest thing to home I had known. Once upon a time I lived here, married, with children. It wasn’t really fully what I want home to be, but it was a damned sight closer than THIS. And one day, I decided to give that all up for the ideal. Out of a fuller and deeper understanding of what love is, and a realization that I didn’t feel that for my partner. Now here I am, in the between times, lonely and without a home. It’s hard some days to even get out of bed to face that.

Love. This is supposed to be about love. Valentine’s Day approaches, and my thoughts are turned to love this morning. What is love? There are many different kinds of love. The love inside a family, for ones brothers, sisters, parents, children, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. There’s the love of extended family, those people in our lives that are closer than friends. There’s the love of friends. There’s the love of chocolate, of music, of things. There’s the love we have for our pets. There’s the love of Deity. The love of nature. There’s puppy love, and love given but not returned, and love that’s gotten but not felt in the same ways back. There’s lust, there’s romance, there’s holding someone’s hair back when they get sick. There’s changing poopy diapers, and assuming a mantle of responsibility. There’s the love of allowing someone else to care for you, and to care back. There’s types of loves that look more like friendship, love of convenience, and love of security. Love of comfort, and love of safety. There’s love of memories, and love of the future, and love of being present.

Love comes in many shapes and sizes, and every love is different. Even hatred, is itself, a form of love. So what do we mean by love? When I spoke of home, and it being a place to love and be loved in fully, openly, and deeply, what do I mean? I’m here, my children are here, and I love them, and they love me, but still it’s not quite enough for me. The home I had wasn’t enough for me. I didn’t have the kind of love I needed to be truly alive and happy. I spent more time running from the illusion of love I was under, confusing the type of love I DID (and still do) feel for my ex-wife, as the kind I really needed and craved with every ounce of being. I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself it was the right kind, that I just needed to try harder to see it. But, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, is that while there are many kinds of love, not all of them are going to be right for certain things. And while love is compassionate enough not to want to hurt somebody, it should also be honest enough to not hold back the truth either. The love I have for a friend is never going to be enough for a romantic partner, and I’ll never look at a romantic partner as a parent, and I’d never try to make a parent a pet. LOL!

Love. How rare is it to find embodied in one person all the qualities of love that we truly crave and desire? To find not only the friend, the closer than friend, the family, but to find all the aspects of love and romance and lust and … just… all of it. How rare? How many of us have found ourselves in relationships where we’ve had part of what we want, but not all. How many of us have settled on that, and turned around months or years later, shaking our heads that we thought that would be enough? And how many of us made the exact same mistakes the next time. What is it about love that causes us to try to make it into more than what it is? We crave love, thrive on it, need it, but we also are willing to put what we need from it on the back burner to just have a taste of part of it.

Home and Love. I didn’t have the kind of love I needed to be happy long term in my home… for it to feel like home. For it to really even feel like love. I found the rarity, and understood love for the first time, the kind of understanding of love that we dream about, but give up on as time goes by and we’re disappointed over and over and over and over and over again. We keep trying because we crave it, we NEED it, it’s built into us. But it’s so rare to find the real deal. The kind that you not only feel for someone, but they feel back. The all encompassing kind, the kind that reaches deep and hugs your soul, that goes beyond that spark and becomes a consuming flame. The kind where spirit, lust, love, friendship, respect and longing are all wrapped into one tight, indivisible package. Maybe sometimes we fight this kind too, maybe sometimes we run from it. But does that mean we don’t feel it? Does that mean it doesn’t speak to us and call out, that it isn’t real?

Sometimes, it’s once in a lifetime, to find somebody that has all that. If you’ve found that, you’re so very blessed. I applaud anybody who has, whose ever found that person of their dreams, the one who there are no doubts about your feelings for. If it didn’t happen, if it wasn’t real, despite feeling it for myself, I wouldn’t have hope. But it’s real, it happens, and it can and should be that way. And I don’t need any Valentine’s Day to tell me that or remind me of that. This is something I live every day. Between times or no. It’s there.

Happy Valentine’s Day to you all tomorrow.

It has been a pretty hectic day for me here, and I’m not going to get into all of it. Children, love, a blinding headache, heartburn, etc. Today though, is moving day. Not for me. My ex-wife is moving today, into a house with her new flame. You know, the guy that can make her happy where I couldn’t. I’m having a really hard time with this, I’m finding. Yes, even after all the water under the bridge, yes, even after all the acceptance, yes, even though I still agree that our divorcing was necessary. It’s still hard.

Sometimes I feel like, just because I’ve found so much acceptance, that others feel like maybe I don’t get this way still, like maybe I’m just some cold, heartless automaton. Well… I’m not. I still feel the pain. There are days that are still hard. Sometimes that sadness creeps up and sinks it’s fangs into my heart, and I’m left with little choice but to grieve. To feel the sadness again, to relive it all one more time. It’s probably not the last time either. But life moves on, and so… I do my best to move with it.

So yes. It still hurts. But that’s ok. It’s supposed to. I loved her for several years of my life, and I still love her in my own way. It’s another nail in the coffin of us. Another milestone on the road leading away from our marriage, another signpost that reads: “FAIL”. It’s an uncomfortable reminder of what we used to have, and a reminder of why it couldn’t work. It’s a reminder that I do still love her, even if I fell out of love with her long ago, and that’s hard. No it doesn’t mean I wish we were back together, but it IS a headfuck. Today it’s exceptionally hard, because I’m still grasping for the future I saw when I walked away, and I feel further away from it than ever. It doesn’t change why I left, but it sure leaves me wanting someone to hold on to, to hold me back, to love me, to tell me everything is going to be ok. I need some smiles back in my life, some focus on the positive. Today is not one of those days that I’m going to get that. Maybe not even tomorrow. Maybe not in this lifetime. I really don’t know. All I know today, is that I’m in pain, and I’m all alone.

They came by, the parked their vehicle, and I realized they had gone to the back. I had brought the rest of the stuff she still had stored here down to the front. So I went out on to the front porch, and peered around the side of the house to let them know. They were pressed so close together, looking so warm and in love. It shouldn’t, but it hurts. I’m so happy they get to move on and live a new life. I am. They’re very lucky. I know it’s still hard for her sometimes, we do talk, and it comes out from time to time. But they’re getting to move on, to grab onto the future, to start something new, with each other. I’m not jealous of their love, I’m jealous that they’re doing what I wish I was.

The house does however, feel better now. A few more ghosts have been exorcised, and I have more closet space now. Gotta look at the positive right? She’s better off now too, she’s got a bit more financial help, and I don’t feel so responsible for her financial wellbeing. She’s getting her shot to find happiness with someone, and that’s one of the things I really wanted for her … to find someone that could make her happy, that excited her own spark and fire, that deep undying one that I never could. The one that you can’t help but feel everytime, that shines out without effort just by being close. I’m glad she’s found it. I’m still hurting, I’m still sad, but…. at the same time…. it’s time to look to the future, and it’s one I hoped she’d find, and… good. It’s the future she always wanted, and she’s found someone who can bring that to her. This is where I’m glad to be man enough to stand aside and quiet myself, and not impede that. This is where I’m glad that I did what I did, even if it does hurt. This is where I’m glad, that I’m free to find my own future now as well. The fear don’t stop that, the pain doesn’t stop that, the sadness doesn’t stop that … though it does fuck with me. This is where I breathe…. relax, and let go.

There will always be time to acknowledge the pain and the sadness, to take the time to listen to my grief, and there will always be time to embrace the positive and happy in my life as well. If I ever get to where I want to be, that’s something I’m sure my mate will understand. That even though I’m devoted to her, that there is still pain and grief and sadness left in this. Most days are good, some days are bad. Less and less bad the more water under the bridge, but still there and surprising sometimes in their intensity. But it’s those days where there’s so much love and affection and happiness with who I’ve found, my flame, that make it all worthwhile. I still got a lot of work to do on me. And that’s ok. I still have a lot of pain left to feel. And that’s ok. And there’s a whole lot of life left to live and sink my teeth into, a whole lot of joy left to be found. And that’s ok. The sadness helps me realize how happy the happy times are, and the happiness helpes me realize the depths of my sadness. It all just IS. This is my life. Unemployed, single, penniless, with more responsibility than I can handle and maintain my sanity, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. This is ME. And I love being me.

I have a few more serious posts rattling around in my head lately, but anytime I go to write them down I can’t get the words to flow out. I’m working on it. I’m still here though.

Look here soon too for a guest post from Lyon at The Wandering Hearth, as a further exploration of my Divine Masculinity thoughts. Looking forward to her views, which I respect quite a bit.

Today is my last wednesday at my job, my last day is Friday. I’m just ready for it to happen now. The job front is looking grim, but I’m looking forward to cleaning my house, thoroughly, and make it mine again.

All for now!

I’m having a really rough weekend.  Too many surprises being thrown at me.  Too much sudden doubt.  So I thought I’d take the time to reassess what *I* want out of life.  Been giving this a lot of thought today.  Here goes.

I want to be a good father to my kids.  I want to be a provider.  I want to have enough financial security that I can pay my bills without living in fear of the next shutoff.  I realize right now I’m “lucky” to even have a job, let alone one that pays so well, but with child support and all, it still never seems like I have enough.  I manage, but I still stress a lot.  I want to move out of the city.  I want to move out onto twenty or more acres of land, preferably with a large pond or a stream running through it.  I want a cozy little geodesic dome.  I want a warm house, a cozy house, something with hardwood floors, soft plushy or fuzzy rugs, overstuffed furniture, and lots of pillows and blankets.  I want a kitchen that serves as the heart of the home, I want to be able to cook and bake.  I want to have fun grocery shopping, laughing the whole time.  I want lots of houseplants, and interesting art.  I want a space for books, for reading on a cold winter night, a fireplace, a small cat.  I want a collection of blank leatherbound books, and interesting pens.  I want somebody to share all this with.  I want to love freely, from the heart and not the head.  I want to have somebody that I can’t get close enough too, who I want to share my feelings with without having to be prompted by them first.  I want to make love every night, every morning, and every afternoon.  I want the freedom to explore my sexuality with somebody that feels the same way.  I want to spend my evenings crafting, reading a book, taking a walk, or chatting with that certain someone… I don’t care if it’s about nothing at all, idle chatter or deeply intelligent debates.  I want to travel and see Ireland, Australia, England, EVERYWHERE.  I want to have a place to come back to when my wanderlust wanes.  I want to be challenged to grow more every day.  I don’t want to settle for mediocrity.  I want to live my life freely, and not out of obligation.  I want a space to be quiet in, to share a communion with the gods.  I want to grow spiritually on my own and with my family.  I want a partner that can look at the positive, and not only at the negative, like I used to have.  I want to always make my partner feel beautiful and loved.  I want to give myself fully to her.  I want to have that returned, freely, because she loves me that much, and not because she thinks that’s what I want.  I want to kiss her with all my love and passion no matter who’s watching, no matter where we are.  I want to be greeted after work with love and excitement that I’m home.  I want somebody with passion, with interests, who wants to share mine out of a desire to be close, and not just because “that’s what you do”.  I don’t want to have to drag somebody along with me, having to convince them to come.  I want to be taken care of when I’m sick, built up when I’m sad.  I want to be a rock for somebody, and have them be one for me in return.  I want a real partner, a twin flame, a soulmate, in EVERY sense of the word.  I want to be equals with somebody, and not just trying to make them happy.  I don’t want to be with somebody because that’s what I should do, but because I WANT to be with them, because of how I feel for them and because of how they make me feel.  I want to hold somebody close every night as we drift off to sleep, and I want to wake up every morning gazing into a pair of gorgeous, lovely green eyes.  I want the uncertainty of the future, the happy of the present.  I want the strength to use my memories as a pleasant way to grow, instead of dragging me into depression.  I want to be happy.  I want to love,  I want to live, I want to laugh.  I want my family to be complete.  I want good coffee, good food, and great sex.  I want it all.  I want to grab life by the hand and run with it.  I want to run naked through the fields with my soulmate.  I want the true love I have seen, and that I believe in.  I want … I want the completeness I’ve seen, but haven’t gotten to embrace yet.  I want that.  I want my hopes and dreams and beliefs, I want what I have spent over the past year and a half building and working towards. 

*shrugs*

So, in an effort to deviate from this being merely another photoblog, especially given how many batteries I go through just trying to get decent pictures, I’ve decided to start updating with thoughts that plague/grace my mind. Lucky you! Who knows, maybe my own site will motivate me better than LiveJournal has. It’s worth a shot.

In my life lately, there has been much talk of “home”. What’s home? In a post-divorce world, I’m struggling with the concept of what exactly home means to me. I’ve managed to end up with the house, minus pretty much all my ex-wife and I owned in the terms of material posessions, dishes, furniture, etc… all the things that made this house feel “homey”. No matter the things I’ve done to try to change the feel of this house, whether it be redecorating, repositioning furniture, incorporating some of the old I’ve managed to hold on to, cleansing the negative energy, having the kids over, etc, it just … doesn’t feel like home.

What does home feel like to me? Home is comfortable and safe, a place I can let down my guard. A place where I feel loved, and where I can love freely back. Where I can be myself, and be appreciated for that. A place that I look forward to coming back to over and over, no matter how bad my wanderlust may get, or how busy I might be at work. Home is more than the posessions I have, more than what is familiar to me. Even more so than what I’m familiar with, home is a feeling. It’s more the sum totality of what I own, what I feel, and ultimately, to quote the cliche, it’s where my heart is.

I happened to stop by the ex-wive’s apartment yesterday evening to talk to my kids. You see, I’m getting ready to spend a couple days visiting with somebody very special to me who I am completely and totally in love with. It’s been far too long, and in my haste and anticipation of this event, I had forgotten to let my kids know that I wouldn’t be there to pick them up from daycare on Friday. That they’d be spending the night at grandma and grandpa’s house for a few days. In the interests of not disappointing my childrens’ expectations of their daddy, I stopped over there to let them know what they COULD expect, ahead of time.

It’s always hard going over there for me. She got to keep everything, it was a concession I had made for being the one who wanted to get a divorce. Going over there, I see all the bits of what home used to be… certain pictures and objects of art, all the movies we had collected over the years, the furniture, the pristine living conditions, the dishes we had aquired over the years. The kids, and the ex-wife, and myself, all sharing the same space. Granted, home back then still wasn’t the happy place that ideally I want home to be, but it was the closest thing I had found. It was better than living alone anyways. Funny that… I always figured I’d be better off alone. But I’m digressing.

I ended up hanging out with the ex for a while after I talked with the kids and we had put them to bed, just chilling and talking about nothing at all, enjoying the newer bonds of just having the great friendship we were always so much better at, now that the romantic relationship and bonds of marriage aren’t standing in the way of that. She is coupon crazy, and is somehow managing to get groceries for pennies on the dollar, or in some cases free, or even having the store OWE her money for buying a product. Despite myself, I was incredibly impressed. She provided me with some rolls of paper towels and tubes of toothpaste that she had in bulk, that she had gotten for free. I gave her some of the homemade bread I had made. It was a nice, casual time, with none of the headaches and arguments that normally mark our times together. And against all odds, it made me homesick.

I’m not going to lie. Sometimes I miss the life I had with her. I’m able to forget about the majority of nights spent not talking, sleeping in seperate beds, the days spent arguing, the neglect we both showed each other, the lack of any sort of physical intimacy that wasn’t planned out, and more often than not ended in being either unsatisfied or emotionally hurt. It’s easier now to only remember the good times, the times when it was almost perfect.  Times where we could just relax and “be” together.  Times like last night.  More often than not, I would come home to nagging, to being harped at for not doing this or that, to feeling like I was never good enough for her, to feeling inadequate. I always saw home as a place where I’d come back to, and the people in it would be HAPPY to see me, would greet me with a smile, a kiss, a warm “I love you”. It’s not to say that never happened, but it was rare. Increasingly rare as time went on. It didn’t mean she WASN’T glad to see me, it just… wasn’t quite the same as really feeling truly loved. Of feeling wanted, needed, loved, accepted, of feeling like I was home. It felt more and more like a prison.

So here we are, she’s showing me how far she’s making her money stretch, showing my her stocked refrigerator, her brimming pantry, her medicine cabinet full of toiletries (who gets 5 sticks of deoderant for free? I want in on that train). I’m surrounded by examples of where my life used to be, actually enjoying being with Jamie in this new role, co-parents and grudging friends, but little else. And yes, the homesickness washed over me, because it was a reminder of the GOOD times we USED to have. I left shortly thereafter, and had to take a few moments in the parking lot, sitting in the car with the engine off, alone in the dark, fighting back the tears.

Yet… as I started the car, I realized more and more, that although I miss a lot of that life, I wasn’t really, truly HAPPY there. It was familiar, and the taste of that familiar again from time to time, after living alone for so long now, can still tug at my heartstrings… but even then, it wasn’t TRULY home. Yes, it’s where I hung my hat, and yes, it was REALLY close. In fact, sometimes it DID feel like home to me. But what it really, truly lacked was somebody I could connect with on all those levels that I needed, it lacked feeling freely loved. How many times did we try to “make it work”.  At the back of the mind always ate that knowledge that even though things were going good “for now,” she had to WORK to make herself feel that way, to really show me what I needed to see. And, fair’s fair, so did I. We’d always end up reverting right back to our standard roles, her the queen of the harpies, me sarcastic and hurt… both of us distant, neglectful, and unaffectionate, even when we were interacting together. The best times we shared were the ones where we were just friends. I think it’s better this way, now that we’ve had the time to come to accept that.

I’m writing this so soon before I go to visit the woman I love now because  realized something on the way home last night.  I love her in such a way that all loves before fail to even come close to it, this woman who I share everything with, who lights me up and I, as amazing as it seems, by being just myself, find her loving me back just as intensely. On my drive home last night, I heard a song, and it explained how strongly I felt in a way that I hadn’t really appreciated for a while now. And it became clear to me, why this past week I’ve been happier, more buoyant, more productive, and why I’m looking forward so much to seeing her.  Why the spring in my step, why my head has been held high, why I feel so warm, loved and contented within myself.

For the first time in a long while, I feel like I’m going home.