The Long Road Out

Now that my 30 year marriage is long over, I realize that I was told every single day that I was a sexual failure.   To some degree, we were simply mismatched.  Normal couples sort these things out without blowing up.  We always blew up.   The core issues were:   Tempo…my wife wanted sex five times a week and I was more in the 2 times range.  So, every morning was a dreaded uncertainty and we started most days with a sense of rejection Purpose…I don't know why my wife had or liked sex.  She seemed so angry at the process.  I saw sex as the fastest route toward intimacy. I require a lot of safety around sex.   These two differences are enough, I learned, to generate hourly messages of hurt and disappointment.  I became increasingly hesitant and moody, and did everything I could to avoid the topic since the only outcome was a relationship meltdown and days of separate bedrooms or whatever.       ...

 I didn't realize that I was clinically depressed at first.  I believe my trauma-induced anxiety disguised my underlying problems. So in the year or so while I could not get off the couch, and my self-critical nature went out of control, I got significantly sicker.  By the end of the first 12 months, I was barely functioning.  I was addicted to my anxiety mess...not working, sleeping 16 hours a day, and withdrawing from the last of my community. I didn't expect to be alone, afraid, and angry.  I didn't understand the increasing self-hate.  I consumed a lot of cannibis edibles, which helped by masking and relaxing the manic tension I felt every moment.  Edibles don't necessarily create a desire or ability to connect with others.  They don't reduce that instinct...they just don't magnify it! So, there I was, on the couch, alone, for days on end. I used to have a life partner.  She was absent through all this, of course.  She doesn't want t...

My impression of my fellow men and women has declined significantly. I now have my own experience with the idea that blood is thicker than water, but both flow downhill at the same speed. Changes my politics. Life is not that valuable, I've discovered. Israel bombing refugee camps and designated safe spots and hospitals is the norm. The equation "an eye for an eye" continues to work, even with random number generators on both sides of the equal sign. To stay alive, healthy, and vital Is quite a marvel. I didnt know until now that it's a statistical aberration. My ex-wife taught me this. What does this have to do with fairness and divorce? Simply that no one cares in the end. Certainly no one cares about how or when I die. I'm wishing better for you, despite the long odds.

I'm selling the $5 million home I've lived in for 30 years.  It's probably a good idea--the place is too big and costly for one person, and I'm 69. I pay $60,000 a year in real estate taxes to the City of New York.   The reason I'm selling, unfortunately, is my divorce, which makes the experience very very sad, even when I try to convince myself it's the right thing for me. Because we're co-owners, my ex has had to correspond on group emails with our realtor.  So, for the first time in several years, her name is popping up inbox (she's not a communicator with those who disappoint her:  I'm talking about four messages over two weeks.  None, as is her style, longer than two sentences). I'm happy to discover that, finally, seeing her name doesn't infuriate me.  I ascribe that to my recent ketamine treatments, which gave me some alternatives to the manic anxiety I suffer from.   (Thank you to the medicine...though, without the PTSD, I'm now l...

Here's my list of very special places in Paris I love and recommend to all my friends.  Cultural stuff and a summary at the bottom of this list. Frenchies Vin et Bar …Rue du Nil, 2eme.   We like the wine bar over the full restaurant across the street, but ate at both places and would go back whenever we can. This is our number 1 favorite go to restaurant...crowded and worth it. Pink Mamma --Italian 9e--no reservations so you end up wandering around Pigalle before having amazing cheeses, pizza, etc.   Cafe Ineko  13, rue des gravilliers,75003--ideal lunch spot La Terrasse …Hotel Terrasse, 18eme Montmartre.  Best view of the City I know of and fantastic food Liza , 14, Rue de la Banque--Lebanese...world class, for lunch, dinner, and particularly for brunch on weekends...you can't surpass the middle eastern flavors Bespoke …3, Rue Oberkampf, 11eme.   Also great selection of tapas and fun bar scene.   This is the restaurant we were at the night of ...

I'm sitting in a Bond Street coffee shop, reading the FT this morning.    Dozens of women and children will die today in refugee camps US college students are getting beaten by cops (and the NY Times is blaming it all on a 63-year old career civil disobedience trainer—those gullible kids who are swayed by peace signs!). Shame on you, trustees! Your job is to protect education, unless you're on the Columbia University Investment Committee.  In which case you probably think the FT is worth reading while you're flying to Omaha.  Yes, I'm talking to YOU in seat 3A. The five major arms exporting countries are adding eternal debt to the balance sheets of the other 177 countries—debt that won't be paid off for nearly 100 years, if ever. Citizens of the globe: You are working for the rest of your lives to pay for weapons…in South America, Africa, South Asia, Baltimore. Trump is money laundering right in our faces—using the NYC market and the IPO liquidity sc...

I am increasingly like my grandfather—reduced over time (in my case because of trauma) to 10 oft-repeated stories.  Then six.  Then three. Then one (a late night drive on the Merritt Parkway the week before it officially opened—he was CDOT's Director of Safety at the time).  I have one story: how PTSD led to clinical depression.  I know there are other neural pathways in my head but I can't locate them.   I am also increasingly like my father—he who found "the one" and stayed with her til her death (in my case, divorce).  He carried on for another eight years, remarrying a loving second wife who was my indefatigable ally at his hospital bedside the final six weeks.  But, my father and I share the realization that the best of our lives had past. I share with my dad the body shaking awareness that there's not reason to make the most of every breath left.  No one matters like our life partner once did to the two of us.   I'm also...