{"id":7059,"date":"2019-05-05T07:30:54","date_gmt":"2019-05-05T14:30:54","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.alicecarbone.com\/?p=7059"},"modified":"2020-04-14T12:55:02","modified_gmt":"2020-04-14T19:55:02","slug":"thread-married-single-life-dilemma","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/alicecarbone.com\/staging\/2381\/thread-married-single-life-dilemma\/","title":{"rendered":"The Thread Between Married and Single Life. Can We Want Both? Can We Have Both?"},"content":{"rendered":"

Have you ever loved someone deeply and, at the same time, missed your life before them?\u00a0<\/span><\/h2>\n

Have you ever found yourself in a long-term relationship, or a marriage, in love with your partner, but also having a need \u2014 not a desire \u2014 for the freedom you had before committing? And I am not talking about having an open relationship, I am talking about the abandon and the spontaneity within, the independence, and the lightness of being that came with single-portioned meals, with long evening walks without a companion, and with the fearless attitude of someone who has to make it on their own. I used to walk around the Hollywood Reservoir\u2026<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

\u201cHad Ben reacted differently,\u201d I told Cei and Diane during therapy, \u201cI wouldn\u2019t still be angry.\u201d Ben and I had had a fight that I dragged on for days. Distance grew between us, and with every day I felt more comfortable not being touched, not being kissed, being alone.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat should have Ben said?\u201d they asked.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

But nothing came to mind; it was as if, all of a sudden, I couldn\u2019t even remember why we had fought. An uncomfortable silence fell. Why was I angry? Why was I distant?<\/p>\n

\u201cThe truth is that there was nothing he could have said or done that would have made a difference,\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I said.<\/p>\n

The problem wasn\u2019t neither the object of our disagreement nor how Ben had reacted to my anger about it. We<\/em> were the problem. In that moment, when we had fought, I just didn\u2019t want to be with him; I wanted to be by myself, without a man, without a husband, without a daughter, without our life. I think that even the fight wasn\u2019t really about what we were fighting about; it was the only way I knew to get rid of all that I didn\u2019t want at that point in time.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The lack of myself was the problem. And by keeping the argument alive for days I had created the space I needed to breathe.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am suffocating,\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I whispered, almost in tears.<\/p>\n

\u201cI feel so heavy\u2026\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

As the words came out the room seemed to have changed in temperature: too cold, at first, and then too hot. I scratched my arms nervously, and even though I wanted to, I couldn\u2019t cry. I was scared.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I sat on Diane’s couch and I din\u2019t move. Why didn\u2019t I want Ben? I loved him\u2026.it didn\u2019t make any sense.<\/p>\n

Diane sat next to me, and she didn\u2019t speak; Cei, with whom we were talking on Skype, looked at me through the screen and allowed me the time to feel. She motioned her head in sign of understanding, almost as if she could feel my pain, but an unusual veil of severity seemed to have fallen over her face. A part of me wanted her to hold me tight, but another part of me was angry at her for bringing up all that pain, for bringing up a truth I wasn\u2019t sure I was ready to face.<\/p>\n

When the session ended I left the room and didn\u2019t hug Diane as per usual. I was angry at her, too, for not preventing the truth from coming out. I was scared.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

On the fourth floor, where I was, I waited for the elevator almost in a trance. And in a trance I walked to my car, on the second level of the parking structure adjacent to Diane’s office. Parking was free; I usually celebrate in my car when that happens, but that day I didn\u2019t care.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span>I drove home as if suspended on a cloud, so distant from everything around me that I wondered whether it had all been a nightmare, and I\u2019d soon wake up next to Ben. The 405 North seemed a cemetery of barely moving cars; mine was trapped without escape.<\/p>\n

What the hell had just happened? Why did I feel guilty? I wasn\u2019t leaving my husband and my daughter, I hadn\u2019t cheated on Ben, so why did I feel as if I had committed a crime?<\/h3>\n

Traffic moved slow. I didn\u2019t fight the deadweight of my body and the forceful grip of my hand on the steering wheel. I felt emptied, hangover, and nauseous.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Half and hour passed, I left the 405 and merged onto the Ventura Freeway. I looked outside and saw Sherman Oaks to my right. I envied the cars that were getting off at the Ventura Blvd. exit \u2014 I had a long way to go. The radio played Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers’\u00a0Into The Great Wide Open<\/a>:\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Eddie waited till he finished high school<\/em><\/p>\n

He went to Hollywood, got a tattoo<\/em><\/p>\n

He met a girl out there with a tattoo too<\/em><\/p>\n

The future was wide open<\/em><\/p>\n

\"threadIt was a live version of the song from the band\u2019s show at Fenway Park in the summer of 2014.<\/p>\n

Ben and I had just started dating.<\/p>\n

Oh, how I missed being backstage before the show! Oh, how much I missed the tours, the long waits, the food in catering (that I didn\u2019t always like), the excitement, the lights, the music, loud. But by the time the song was over I realized that what I missed was Ben and I, in the summer 2014.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

While pursuing my writing, in those days I worked at my friend George\u2019s medical practice, and I felt at the top of the world. I was independent and adventurous; I was free, and I was in the mood for love.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I hurt at the thought that we had gotten lost. I hurt at the thought that I<\/i> had gotten lost.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cToday was horrible. I feel really sad, scared, and guilty.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t actually know how I feel.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I wrote Cei and Diane in an email later that evening.<\/p>\n

I had made dinner for me and Ben while he had put Catherine down, but we had not talked. We had silently eaten, quickly, and I had retired in our bedroom soon after.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI love Ben with all my heart.\u201d I also wrote. \u201cI love him deeply. What we talked about today shattered me all over the place. I feel awful. I feel horrible. I don\u2019t understand what happened. I just needed to to tell you, because I feel hanging from a thin thread that can break anytime\u2026\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Cei and Diane wrote me back, and Cei pointed out that knowing that my love for Ben was stronger than my \u2018not knowing what I wanted\u2019 was a valuable opportunity:<\/p>\n

\u201cA \u2018thread\u2019 is\u00a0 <\/span>a connection,\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

she wrote,<\/p>\n

\u201cit\u2019s what allows us to find our way; be a part of something and unique.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

She also suggested that, perhaps, the alone part could have a connection \u2014 a thread \u2014 to what was in the present, and not only to what was in the past.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The following day I began to read about threads in mythology and literature, and I also talked to Ben about what had happened the day before. I had been cold and distant, and I owed him an explanation; I also owed myself some peace, some relief.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\"threadAfter we talked, even thought I hadn’t solved the problem, the week got a little better: we spent the weekend in Malibu with friends, we ate fish tacos looking at the ocean, played with Catherine in the sand and watched Double Indemnity with Tony and Christy munching on popcorn and drinking black tea. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Monday came.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The day had begun cold and gloomy just like most of the weekend had been, and Los Angeles looked like London without the charm of England.<\/p>\n

Beverly Hills, however, where therapy is, seemed to be glowing a little brighter than the rest of town.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I parked my car on the terrace of the same parking lot; the sky looked like a watercolor, and the gold domes of the Good Shepherd church on Santa Monica Boulevard glimmered and shone for miles.<\/p>\n

\u201cI read about threads,\u201d I told Cei and Diane, \u201cand I began to think that, instead of hanging from a thread, I can see myself connected to one.\u201d I had, in fact, researched the meaning of thread, and I had learned the difference between a labyrinth and a maze. Could the thread be a guide instead of a chain? Could I adventure into the labyrinth \u2014 life \u2014 knowing I can always come home? I had read the story of Ariadne and Theseus several times, but I had never been able to apply to my own life.<\/p>\n

Cei agreed and pointed out that the change in perspective was the key. What felt fragile and a point of weakness the week before could be actually seen as the stronghold moving on.\u00a0<\/span><\/h3>\n

***<\/p>\n

My wound is open and I hurt. I have a lot of work to do.<\/p>\n

A part of me would like to go back in time and un-feel my needs. But that would only be a temporary fix, and I know it. I have a long experience with instant, and temporary fixes, and they never work.<\/p>\n

Some wounds must stay open before they can heal, there is no shortcut and no secret door. All we have is a thread.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Have you ever loved someone deeply and, at the same time, missed your life before them?\u00a0 Have you ever found yourself in a long-term relationship, or a marriage, in love with your partner, but also having a need \u2014 not a desire \u2014 for the freedom you had before committing? And I am not talking about having an open relationship, I am talking about the… <\/p>\n

Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":7072,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[3052],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7059","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-essays"],"yoast_head":"\nThe thread between married and single life? 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