Though this mnemonic describes the clock adjustments of Daylight Savings Time in the spring and Standard Time come fall, it could also describe the struggle to move forward after my marriage ended abruptly some four months ago.
Losing that precious hour on March 10, 2013 meant only a minor interruption to my schedule; I no longer work and can therefore rise at any hour I choose. But I had spent the weekend with my new lover, who does work, and my time with him was limited.
Working people generally put off doing laundry until Sunday, preferring to have their fun and freedom all day Saturday. Sunday is the Zen day, when the working person wanders around his house, reluctantly pushing away the memory of Saturday’s Bacchanalian revelry. He shapes his lips to breathe out a silent om and braces up for the work week ahead. My lover’s weekend ritual is no exception, and because he lives some distance away from me, he needed to leave before noon.
On Sunday morning, when time had jumped ahead one hour, he rose early and I late. I insisted on making him breakfast, but he felt ill at ease, rushed. We argued about it, which irritated me. He only had a date with a buddy to play pool at noon back home, something he had done regularly with this friend before he met me a month earlier--and so, I thought, why not call him and delay it? I didn't question him or complain, only struggled with these thoughts. We've only seen each other four times since we have met. It isn't a relationship. He isn't wooing me. We’re dating and sleeping together. My marriage broke up only four months ago. I’m trying to move on, but so far I am reminded of how much I've always detested dating, starting over, enduring these gray areas, noting what is missing. What is missing is an emotional bond. After he left, I sat down and cried. I missed my husband.
Oddly, this was not what I had anticipated. My husband ended our marriage because he resented my disease, I couldn't be his activities partner. His retirement dream was to sell everything and take his sailboat across the Mediterranean, visit
Mexico, Ecuador, a
dream I could not share. A few months after I tearfully left him and moved in
with my mother, I registered on several dating sites. Considering why my marriage broke up, I was worried
that my MS would discourage any potential suitors from pursuing an involvement. But my dating experiences have so far proven otherwise. I was surprised that the two men I met didn't frown at the sight of
my cane. Instead, they expressed their admiration for my beauty, intelligence
and wit. They wanted to see me again.
I've taken a big leap forward in terms of confidence and self-esteem, I am no longer worried about MS preventing me from finding romance again. But memory and that enduring bond of love have pulled me back a few steps. Just as I have learned to be patient with the ups and downs of the disease, I must, once again, learn to be patient with the quest for loving and being loved in the ways that I need and desire.