Actually, Bill, she's quite clear with me in session: She says, Most couples who go to couples therapy do so ultimately as an exit strategy--and, in my case, I need an exit strategy.
I understand. I did it twice with therapists, exiting both times. I’ve never been sure about any decisions, except in physics. Nature is hard to understand, but stays true.
Perhaps it's the bedtrick, but I saw you in this chapter as Helen in All's Well That Ends Well. She is so talented and resourceful, and she uses that talent to win over Bertram. Depending on the performance, it can be possible to see that as a happy ending. But here you have the audience (me anyway) on tenterhooks, wondering what it will mean for all this to end well while desperately hoping it will. A wonderful drama!
I disagree. Your letter to D. speaks well of you, a heartbroken person in pain seeking a way back to love. So many of us have written letters like that in our lives. And, then, as you so often do, you nail the ending with a surprise return of Dorothy's clicked heels. I think we're all feeing ready for that.
Tangling and untangling, changing cities, bumping and not bumping against desires and emotions. The letters stand out in this chapter, for me. Therapy as an exit strategy...
Indeed, Russell: Time to lock and slide that bolt. Did you know that, according to the shrink I was seeing, most couples go into couples therapy to help with a divorce?
omg omg. I am obsessed with this! I'm captivated by this love story, and I'm certain I'll revisit it multiple times. The added significance of having met both of you and spent a little time together makes this narrative, a part of your love story, even more meaningful. The eloquent writing, particularly the letter addressed to D, resonated deeply with me, eliciting a tangible emotional response. Wow. Love you M. xo, deb (the other D.) haha
So much of this story just seems cruel. I wonder at your narrator's ability to remain in love despite what seems like gaslighting to me. There is nothing more painful than continually returning to the well of intimacy and finding it dry. Anger is the proper reaction to invitations to intimacy that turn out to be false. When one partner begins protecting themself against the other, there's no way back.
As usual, I consumed your latest chapter as soon as I saw it!
The epigraph from Howard's End you quote, "Only connect...," can be hard to do when there are so many boundaries in place. In this chapter, you write about connecting with intimacy across the small physical expanse of a bed. But you show that the expanse can be a chasm when two people are not in synch with the intimacy they require and, to editorialize, the intimacy they deserve.
I happen to be in the midst of reading Howard's End! I have zero doubt that Margaret Schlegel would have had a Substack.
The passionate chapter makes me wonder what the ‘shrink’ is suggesting.
Actually, Bill, she's quite clear with me in session: She says, Most couples who go to couples therapy do so ultimately as an exit strategy--and, in my case, I need an exit strategy.
I understand. I did it twice with therapists, exiting both times. I’ve never been sure about any decisions, except in physics. Nature is hard to understand, but stays true.
Fascinating: confirms my lovely shrink, too! big xo to you, empathic, smart reader.
Perhaps it's the bedtrick, but I saw you in this chapter as Helen in All's Well That Ends Well. She is so talented and resourceful, and she uses that talent to win over Bertram. Depending on the performance, it can be possible to see that as a happy ending. But here you have the audience (me anyway) on tenterhooks, wondering what it will mean for all this to end well while desperately hoping it will. A wonderful drama!
Oh, Helen in _All's Well That Ends Well_ -- that's a such a hope, love, ... xo Mary
I disagree. Your letter to D. speaks well of you, a heartbroken person in pain seeking a way back to love. So many of us have written letters like that in our lives. And, then, as you so often do, you nail the ending with a surprise return of Dorothy's clicked heels. I think we're all feeing ready for that.
Such generosity in your heart. You are a find and everyone should be reading YOU!!!!
Tangling and untangling, changing cities, bumping and not bumping against desires and emotions. The letters stand out in this chapter, for me. Therapy as an exit strategy...
Indeed, Russell: Time to lock and slide that bolt. Did you know that, according to the shrink I was seeing, most couples go into couples therapy to help with a divorce?
omg omg. I am obsessed with this! I'm captivated by this love story, and I'm certain I'll revisit it multiple times. The added significance of having met both of you and spent a little time together makes this narrative, a part of your love story, even more meaningful. The eloquent writing, particularly the letter addressed to D, resonated deeply with me, eliciting a tangible emotional response. Wow. Love you M. xo, deb (the other D.) haha
You are such a love, Debbie--and my plan to promo you will happen soon. So glad you are reading and loving this.
So much of this story just seems cruel. I wonder at your narrator's ability to remain in love despite what seems like gaslighting to me. There is nothing more painful than continually returning to the well of intimacy and finding it dry. Anger is the proper reaction to invitations to intimacy that turn out to be false. When one partner begins protecting themself against the other, there's no way back.
Like the bolt, finally! Yep!
As usual, I consumed your latest chapter as soon as I saw it!
The epigraph from Howard's End you quote, "Only connect...," can be hard to do when there are so many boundaries in place. In this chapter, you write about connecting with intimacy across the small physical expanse of a bed. But you show that the expanse can be a chasm when two people are not in synch with the intimacy they require and, to editorialize, the intimacy they deserve.
I happen to be in the midst of reading Howard's End! I have zero doubt that Margaret Schlegel would have had a Substack.
What a marvel you are, David. Such an insightful comment. And, I agree, Margaret Schlegel would be on Substack! You made me laugh with that last line.