Fire
“And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
I have long been in love with F. Scott Fitzgerald. I’ve read The Great Gatsby so many times, every line of the novel is an old friend. I once found it so romantic, all the angst and longing and tragedy in those pages.
Not so much any more. I’ve had enough angst and longing and tragedy in my real life, thank you very much. I’m glad to have moved on to happier times. And I’ve begun to prefer lighthearted entertainment.
In a post last year, I mentioned how pop music had become my unlikely ally in surviving my divorce. The other day, I was reminded of that as a pop song caught me off guard. I’ve since learned it’s called ‘Fight Song’ by Rachel Platten, and much like Jerry Maguire had whatsherface at hello, this typically-catchy tune had just the right lyrics to make me instantly take notice:
Like a small boat on the ocean
Sending big waves into motion
Like how a single word
Can make a heart open
I might only have one match
But I can make an explosion
It was the boat imagery that got me at first. For whatever reason, it called to my mind that line from Gatsby — only here was an entirely different spin on the concept. Not a boat against the current. Not a craft helpless against forces it can’t control, destined to repeat patterns endlessly. No. In this pop song, the boat is a sturdy little structure effecting change on the world around it.
I liked that.
Then there were the lyrics that brought the lump to my throat:
And all those things I didn’t say
Were wrecking balls inside my brain
I will scream them loud tonight
Can you hear my voice this time?
Man, how the hell did some bubblegum artist cut to the chase of all that plagued me about my failed marriage?
The Ex and I, we were a good pair in many respects. But verbal communication? Nope. No way.
Me, I’m all about words. Speaking them. Writing them. Using them to share with others and (hopefully) improve life.
But The Ex? He seemed to feel words were for dealing with basic needs — what’s for dinner? — and not much more. That we even fell in love without the benefit of open verbal communication seems a curiosity to me now. But it happened, and then we tried to deal with our differences.
It didn’t work.
See, I was raised to be Nice with a capital ‘N.’ A people-pleaser. When The Ex and I first got together, I bent over backwards to do and be everything he expected. It wasn’t inauthentic; it truly made me happy to see him happy. Like any people-pleaser, it made me giddy to meet difficult expectations. The tougher the crowd, the greater the victory.
Over time, though, it seemed nothing I did pleased The Ex. This meant I couldn’t get my fix of my favorite drug: approval. Attempts to speak to him about what was wrong, about what I — or we — could do differently, only seemed to upset him more. So I stopped trying.
And found myself at a loss.
If I couldn’t speak to the person I loved, how could I keep us together?
The unsatisfying answer, of course, was that I couldn’t.
I didn’t.
In recent years I’ve learned many things, not the least of which is that angst may seem romantic in literature, but real life is short, and happiness is best. I don’t doubt that what The Ex and I had was, at its core, real, true love. But a variety of circumstances made it impossible for us to be happy together. I needed to feel heard, loved, trusted, valued. He may have needed me to bite my tongue, but all those things left unsaid nearly strangled me.
For much of the past year-plus, this blog has been a great place for me to reclaim my voice. It’s been a forum for sharing my thoughts and feelings about the process of divorce. But it’s begun to feel like I myself am being borne back ceaselessly into the past. As I drove along the other day — windows down, radio up — I realized something slightly jarring:
The thing that tore my world apart is common enough that it’s in pop songs.
Not just the song I’ve mentioned here, but countless others. Heartbreak and loss happen. The important part is moving on.
This is where the drumroll comes in: in the coming months, I will be contributing posts on love, marriage and divorce to two international blogs I greatly admire. I’m honored to have such an awesome forum to share my imperfect experiences and all those lessons learned the hard way. Links and info coming ASAP.
Meanwhile, with nothing but love for the tale that helped shape me, I bid farewell to Gatsby and all his angst. I’m releasing the burdens of the past. Living in the moment. Savoring new experiences. Letting go.
I’ve pined after the green light at the end of the dock long enough.
It’s far better to be the small boat sending ripples out into the world.
It’s best to save the Nice for those who deserve and appreciate it.
And to bring fire to absolutely everything.
Heck, if Ms. Bubblegum Pop can do it, so can I.
It’s been two years
And I miss my home
But there’s a fire burning in my bones
And I still believe
