I’m amazed at your writing ability as you seem like a natural, Derek. I always say, ex’s are ex’s for a reason. Someone told me ‘former’ is a kinder way to put it. But, I think sometimes, x applies because like a scissor, it’s something you cut out. The first love cuts the deepest — or the first cut is the deepest so says Sheryl Crow.
In my own experience, each and every time I was tempted to return to whomever of whatever, in retrospect, I realize it was a test. The desire to be loved unconditionally is a powerful motivator. “What if” I could be “the one” to unlock the door? But, that was the child speaking. I needed to separate what I needed as an adult versus what the child wanted, but did not receive when I was very young. I have mourned long lost love and lost. I know now, in retrospect, that we could never recreate what ‘we had’ because that is a fantasy based upon childhood wish fulfillment. Maturity and sobriety required something else.
I don’t know if you’ve read King, Magician, Warrior, Lover by Robert Moore. There are stages according to Jungians that we all go through as adults in relationships. Similar archetypes may apply to women. I find it helpful. What we desire is not always what we need for our own personal growth.
It’s not our job to give others closure. I used to believe that. I often yearned for others to offer that to me. And, now I’ve realized that the closure is something I need to give myself. If you want to offer a gift — maybe it’s the gift of enabling her to find her own way — her own closure. We’ve all got to walk our own path.
Beauty and light sounds good. I’ll add freedom and serenity to the list. Happy new year.
Thanks, Anna! This post didn't seem to resonate with many folks, but that's ok.
"It’s not our job to give others closure," is a great way to look at it. I always thought closure might be a good gift for both of us if I was ever presented with the opportunity, but I realized I closed that door a long time ago, and there's no reason to reopen it.
I’ll be honest with you. I actually hesitated to make a comment here because I realize what you’re sharing is very personal. I wasn’t sure how to respond as what you shared is obviously a source of deep pain. It’s not my place to offer advice. I can only really offer my compassion as I’ve been in similar places before.
I don’t think you’re the only one that feels overlooked on Substack. We all want to be seen and recognized. I’m surprised by how few likes and comments I see in most of the accounts I follow. There’s a guy here that just posted that he only has 250 subscribers after a year of writing weekly on Substack. But, he said he doesn’t care because he got a book published out of it. He was able to take twelve of his essays to include in a book. I like this idea. I’m planning to write for the purposes of refining ideas for a book. As much as I’d like people to comment and take an interest in my writing, not sure that’s going to happen. When you have a niche topic, it’s not going to appeal to everyone. On Substack there’s a lot of the ‘same ‘ chasing after the ‘same’. It’s about valuing your own writing. How does your writing make you feel?
Closure is a difficult topic for me. Something I might want to journal about in the future. I wonder if there’s any good books on closure. I’ll need to look that one up. I know when I was working with therapist she called it ‘unfinished business’. In one case, EMDR therapy helped which included an imaginary punch in the face to the dude that did me wrong. After that EMDR session I never thought of him again. That was my closure.
Thanks, Anna. I'm not sure I feel overlooked, as I've only recently gained the tools to look at myself with any kind of precision. But I know that whittling to my core takes trial, error, and time, as will finding my audience. And as you mentioned with the newsletter you follow, we all have different definitions of 'success' at different times. I'm seeking my 'sea legs' amidst the stormy seas of life, and I hope you've found (and maintain) yours, too, including with closure.
A confession — I’m not reading any newsletter. Me bad. Lol. You’ll find it. We’ll find it. Where there’s a will there’s a way. You probably said something interesting about various definitions of success. Sea legs is an interesting metaphor. What is a sea leg? What do you mean by that? The road less traveled? Or the leg that doesn’t quit? I’m tired of the survivor gig if that’s says anything. I’m reading Francis Weller’s The Wild Edge of Grief. The last few months have been about remaining still, being quiet. I’m not doing much. And that’s a strange experience.
I’m amazed at your writing ability as you seem like a natural, Derek. I always say, ex’s are ex’s for a reason. Someone told me ‘former’ is a kinder way to put it. But, I think sometimes, x applies because like a scissor, it’s something you cut out. The first love cuts the deepest — or the first cut is the deepest so says Sheryl Crow.
In my own experience, each and every time I was tempted to return to whomever of whatever, in retrospect, I realize it was a test. The desire to be loved unconditionally is a powerful motivator. “What if” I could be “the one” to unlock the door? But, that was the child speaking. I needed to separate what I needed as an adult versus what the child wanted, but did not receive when I was very young. I have mourned long lost love and lost. I know now, in retrospect, that we could never recreate what ‘we had’ because that is a fantasy based upon childhood wish fulfillment. Maturity and sobriety required something else.
I don’t know if you’ve read King, Magician, Warrior, Lover by Robert Moore. There are stages according to Jungians that we all go through as adults in relationships. Similar archetypes may apply to women. I find it helpful. What we desire is not always what we need for our own personal growth.
It’s not our job to give others closure. I used to believe that. I often yearned for others to offer that to me. And, now I’ve realized that the closure is something I need to give myself. If you want to offer a gift — maybe it’s the gift of enabling her to find her own way — her own closure. We’ve all got to walk our own path.
Beauty and light sounds good. I’ll add freedom and serenity to the list. Happy new year.
Thanks, Anna! This post didn't seem to resonate with many folks, but that's ok.
"It’s not our job to give others closure," is a great way to look at it. I always thought closure might be a good gift for both of us if I was ever presented with the opportunity, but I realized I closed that door a long time ago, and there's no reason to reopen it.
I’ll be honest with you. I actually hesitated to make a comment here because I realize what you’re sharing is very personal. I wasn’t sure how to respond as what you shared is obviously a source of deep pain. It’s not my place to offer advice. I can only really offer my compassion as I’ve been in similar places before.
I don’t think you’re the only one that feels overlooked on Substack. We all want to be seen and recognized. I’m surprised by how few likes and comments I see in most of the accounts I follow. There’s a guy here that just posted that he only has 250 subscribers after a year of writing weekly on Substack. But, he said he doesn’t care because he got a book published out of it. He was able to take twelve of his essays to include in a book. I like this idea. I’m planning to write for the purposes of refining ideas for a book. As much as I’d like people to comment and take an interest in my writing, not sure that’s going to happen. When you have a niche topic, it’s not going to appeal to everyone. On Substack there’s a lot of the ‘same ‘ chasing after the ‘same’. It’s about valuing your own writing. How does your writing make you feel?
Closure is a difficult topic for me. Something I might want to journal about in the future. I wonder if there’s any good books on closure. I’ll need to look that one up. I know when I was working with therapist she called it ‘unfinished business’. In one case, EMDR therapy helped which included an imaginary punch in the face to the dude that did me wrong. After that EMDR session I never thought of him again. That was my closure.
Thanks, Anna. I'm not sure I feel overlooked, as I've only recently gained the tools to look at myself with any kind of precision. But I know that whittling to my core takes trial, error, and time, as will finding my audience. And as you mentioned with the newsletter you follow, we all have different definitions of 'success' at different times. I'm seeking my 'sea legs' amidst the stormy seas of life, and I hope you've found (and maintain) yours, too, including with closure.
A confession — I’m not reading any newsletter. Me bad. Lol. You’ll find it. We’ll find it. Where there’s a will there’s a way. You probably said something interesting about various definitions of success. Sea legs is an interesting metaphor. What is a sea leg? What do you mean by that? The road less traveled? Or the leg that doesn’t quit? I’m tired of the survivor gig if that’s says anything. I’m reading Francis Weller’s The Wild Edge of Grief. The last few months have been about remaining still, being quiet. I’m not doing much. And that’s a strange experience.
Happy New Year, Anna! 'Sea legs' refers to maintaining balance during challenging situations (e.g., while a boat is tossed about during rough seas).