Always have. Don’t know if it’s something I’m doing or just the way I am––or the way most people are––but if I can change it I want to.”
She nodded.
“It’s not all the time, but it’s too much of the time. And it’s particularly acute right now.”
“So you suffer from acute loneliness?”
“I do.”
“I want us to come back to that. It’s something we need to explore. There are probably lots of reasons you feel that way, and we’ll look at them all, but just know this: Part of the reason you experience the isolation you do is your desire for true connection––to have authentic interactions and real intimacy. Small talk and surface distractions are never gonna do it for you, but we’ll come back to that. For now, let’s stick with your divorce.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe your holding back—or the way you are versus the way she is—
did
contribute to your breakup. Perhaps Susan sided with her dad as a way to get back at you. If she felt you were holding back—and I’m sure she did, even if on a subconscious level—perhaps she decided to do the same. Or maybe she really didn’t think she had a choice. She might have felt she couldn’t make the leap required to be with you because she knew you weren’t really there and her father was.”
I thought about it. She was probably right.
When Susan ended our relationship the last time, she refused to even take my calls. Eventually, I stopped calling, stopped all attempts at making contact. Now I wondered how hard I had really tried. Was I guilty of just making a few half-hearted attempts and then quickly giving up, relieved she was so unresponsive? Maybe Sister was right. Maybe Susan only held back because she knew I had been—knew I always would. I needed to call her, not in an attempt to reconcile our marriage, but our relationship, to accept responsibility, ask for forgiveness, seek peace, give healing a chance to begin.
“You may be right,” I said. “Probably are. But I honestly felt at the time I had gone all in, given her everything, given our marriage every chance. Saying goodbye to Anna was a big part of that. So maybe you’re right or maybe she had a sick dynamic with her dad.”
“Or,” she said, “possibly both.”
“Who do you think killed Tammy?” I asked, attempting to turn her abrupt transition ploy on her.
Her eyes grew wide and her head snapped back slightly. “What?”
“You said you’re convinced it’s not Father Thomas. And I take it you don’t believe the devil did it.”
“No,” she said, “I don’t think the devil did it. I’m not sure I even believe in the devil.”
I nodded. “But is that just a product of misguided modern thinking?”
“Well, obviously, if I thought it was, I wouldn’t think it,” she said.
“Kathryn said something to that effect to me earlier and I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve always seen myself as a postmodern thinker. I certainly don’t think science has or will ever have an answer for everything. I know existence is profoundly mysterious and there are forces we can’t even fathom, but…”
“You can’t really believe the devil did it.”
“Is that just ignorance or arrogance? It’d be ironic for someone who hates dogma as much as I do to be just as dogmatic as the religious right—just about different things.”
“Something else for you to think about.”
“I wonder if that’s part of the problem,” I said. “I spend so much time in my head. I think things through, even though I know the limitations of reason and logic. Maybe Kathryn’s right and I need to be more intuitive in my approach to both types of work I do—and to life.”
“Something for you to feel your way around,” she said with a wry smile.
I nodded.
“Just remain open. Question everything. Including yourself, your beliefs and assumptions.”
“If you don’t think it was a demon, you’ve probably got someone in mind.”
She shrugged. “Not really. Apart from
She nodded.
“It’s not all the time, but it’s too much of the time. And it’s particularly acute right now.”
“So you suffer from acute loneliness?”
“I do.”
“I want us to come back to that. It’s something we need to explore. There are probably lots of reasons you feel that way, and we’ll look at them all, but just know this: Part of the reason you experience the isolation you do is your desire for true connection––to have authentic interactions and real intimacy. Small talk and surface distractions are never gonna do it for you, but we’ll come back to that. For now, let’s stick with your divorce.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe your holding back—or the way you are versus the way she is—
did
contribute to your breakup. Perhaps Susan sided with her dad as a way to get back at you. If she felt you were holding back—and I’m sure she did, even if on a subconscious level—perhaps she decided to do the same. Or maybe she really didn’t think she had a choice. She might have felt she couldn’t make the leap required to be with you because she knew you weren’t really there and her father was.”
I thought about it. She was probably right.
When Susan ended our relationship the last time, she refused to even take my calls. Eventually, I stopped calling, stopped all attempts at making contact. Now I wondered how hard I had really tried. Was I guilty of just making a few half-hearted attempts and then quickly giving up, relieved she was so unresponsive? Maybe Sister was right. Maybe Susan only held back because she knew I had been—knew I always would. I needed to call her, not in an attempt to reconcile our marriage, but our relationship, to accept responsibility, ask for forgiveness, seek peace, give healing a chance to begin.
“You may be right,” I said. “Probably are. But I honestly felt at the time I had gone all in, given her everything, given our marriage every chance. Saying goodbye to Anna was a big part of that. So maybe you’re right or maybe she had a sick dynamic with her dad.”
“Or,” she said, “possibly both.”
“Who do you think killed Tammy?” I asked, attempting to turn her abrupt transition ploy on her.
Her eyes grew wide and her head snapped back slightly. “What?”
“You said you’re convinced it’s not Father Thomas. And I take it you don’t believe the devil did it.”
“No,” she said, “I don’t think the devil did it. I’m not sure I even believe in the devil.”
I nodded. “But is that just a product of misguided modern thinking?”
“Well, obviously, if I thought it was, I wouldn’t think it,” she said.
“Kathryn said something to that effect to me earlier and I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve always seen myself as a postmodern thinker. I certainly don’t think science has or will ever have an answer for everything. I know existence is profoundly mysterious and there are forces we can’t even fathom, but…”
“You can’t really believe the devil did it.”
“Is that just ignorance or arrogance? It’d be ironic for someone who hates dogma as much as I do to be just as dogmatic as the religious right—just about different things.”
“Something else for you to think about.”
“I wonder if that’s part of the problem,” I said. “I spend so much time in my head. I think things through, even though I know the limitations of reason and logic. Maybe Kathryn’s right and I need to be more intuitive in my approach to both types of work I do—and to life.”
“Something for you to feel your way around,” she said with a wry smile.
I nodded.
“Just remain open. Question everything. Including yourself, your beliefs and assumptions.”
“If you don’t think it was a demon, you’ve probably got someone in mind.”
She shrugged. “Not really. Apart from
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