Nostalgia in Book Seven: Reconstruction 2020

Perhaps this is a weird time to feel this but…

I am at my parents house, sleeping in what was at one time my bedroom. It doesn’t look the same, of course. All new furniture, new paint, even new orientation for how the bed is laid out. Totally different. But this is still the room I had for some of my High School encounters and the room I would return to when visiting from college.

And as I struggle to go to sleep, my thoughts turn to my situation.
I cannot express enough the lightness I feel. Martha even still being in my life… the fact that I bear NO responsibility for her or to her? There is a powerful and legitimate feeling of relief… as a large and oppressive weight has been lifted from me.

And yet… the freedom from that weight is not truly 100% positive. The crushing weight and unhappiness became a suitable excuse. My desires and needs were being ignored and no matter what I did… I couldn’t seem to fix the marriage in any way that resulted in my wants and needs being met. So my wants and needs not being met became Martha’s fault.

Obviously, I don’t have that now. My emotional/sexual/relationship wants, needs, and desires continue to be unmet… but that isn’t Martha’s fault. Ultimately I can only blame myself and fate. And neither of those feel substantial or solvable.

I’m not (and the world is not) in any position for me to randomly find/approach some woman and start flirting or hanging out or making out or anything. And apparently I can swipe until there is a groove in my phone and the dating apps will continue to be silent.

So I’m left to consider… maybe my wants/needs/desires are just… not meant to matter. Which sounds dramatic and melancholy and I don’t intend it to. I’m just left to think… my spouse didn’t care and I can’t even get so much as a “hey, sup” on any of these apps so… I’m just left kind of standing around with a handful of seeds and no where to plant them.