My life as a failure (update)

Last night I was in the company of people who have all been married to the same person for over twenty years. At one point, for some reason that is obscure to me, I volunteered information about my many previous marriages. I think it might have been because I wanted them to know who I am and how I came to be me. That is one of the ways I get around feeling anonymous in a new town trying to make new friends.

Before long I found myself being questioned as the one and only representative of serial monogamy. All eyes were on me ("Could that be why I volunteered the information?" I wonder) as the interrogation proceeded:

So, I've always wondered why people marry so many times ... just like Elizabeth Taylor ... ("Oh God," I thought in a panic, "Am I like Elizabeth Taylor?) ... why do they do it? Is it because they believe in marriage? ("Oh God," more panic, "Quick, think, Tamar! Why did I marry so many times? What is wrong with me? What do I do, what do I say? ... quick!"). I mean after they burn out each marriage do they hope the next one will work out or something? What is that? ("Burn out!?" I shrieked to myself, face definitely turning bright red - or is it purple? - "Did I burn out all those marriages? Oh God, oh God, what are they all thinking of me? Why did I say anything in the first place? What do I do? What do I say now?")

Thinking quickly I began defending my actions, desperately trying to explain the oddity that is me, the mess, failure, minority that is me. I was looking intently at the wall of morality and purity, those eyes staring back at me in judgment and wonder while my new friends leaned securely towards their life partners of so many more years than I could ever manage now, even if I wanted to, at age 57. I just do not have the time to belong to the LMCC (long-married-couple-club) any longer. Yes indeed, I could now safely declare to myself once and for all:

I am, and forever will be, a failure at life.

So, first I tried to pin the blame on my childhood:

"Well, you see," I explained, "I have to say, and please excuse the expression, I come from such a fxxcked-up family system that I have absolutely no idea what marriage is. I have no model of how it looks, what to do to make it work. I have no expectations or tools to get it right."

Okay. This worked. Everyone was nodding now. Sympathetic and understanding looks in their eyes. So I continued trying to show what a good soul I really am (after all I needed to try and get into their good graces after so foolishly letting them know the ghastly truth about me in the first place. "I mean," I thought to myself, "What was I thinking?"):

"I guess I was just hopeful each time that it could work out."

More nodding. So I talked more about my fxxcked-up family system and even more about how hard I always tried to make things work and finally, by some miracle, someone changed the damn subject.

I spent the rest of the evening in silence. Discomfort and sadness welled up inside me and a general sense of worthlessness. With great relief it was time for me to go. I could not get over how tired I had become.

After a restless sleep of wild and troubling dreams I awoke early this morning, head pounding and eyes burning. "What was that all about?" I asked myself. "All that panic and fear about my past." I realized that in my desperation to make new friends I forgot to wait, take time, and learn where and when it was safe to divulge the complexity of my life experiences and personal, such deeply personal, facts about myself.

Will my desperate-for-love-and-acceptance-and-acknowledgment-inner-child forever rise up and out to expose and hurt herself impulsively like that over and over again?

As I sat staring out at my huge oak tree, peace began to return to me again. It's old, quiet strength seeped into my soul and I sighed deeply.

My burning eyes become healed with soft, gentle and self-forgiving tears, as I write to myself with relief and understanding. Head starts to stop aching and my breathing becomes even again.

What better way for me to comfort that sad little yearning child within, than to sit at my blog and just write it out ... simply write it out ...

And for you all to just read and listen ... simply listen and read ...

Update

Quote of the day:

There should be room for all of us, whether it's the one person for a lifetime folks or those who've entered deeply into relationships a few times or those who've chosen to go the path alone. From Brenda's comment.

Comments

[Sherry]

Tamarika, who could not identify with your self consciousness, in all honesty, everyone has at some time felt pressed to make some explanation for themselves, and truly, none should ever be necessary.
I know what it feels like to talk myself into a corner,and feel excluded, and so your honest story is very heartfelt and beautiful.
I believe you speak for us all. Thank you!
Love, Sherry

[tamarika]

MB, I graciously accept your hug. By the way, your CD arrived two days ago and I shall be listening to it soon! So, hugs to you too!

[MB]

You strike me as a singularly brave and resilient person, Tamar. And their comments strike me as bewilderingly insensitive. They, who've been together 20 years or more, should know as well as anybody what hard work it can be to stay married.

May I offer you a hug?

[tamarika]

MaryB,
Thanks for sharing your ramblings about this. By the way - can you e-mail me the details of how I could purchase your book? It sounds grand! My e-mail address is in my "about" page in the upper left column. If and when I come to that big Apple - I will be sure to let you know - you better believe it!

Ah, Richard - I happily and graciously accept hugs from you - you know that!

[Richard Lawrence Cohen]

How lucky you are, Tamarika, to have friends who've said as wise and compassionate things as the commenters above! They leave me with nothing to add of my own except a hug.