Tangled Up in Blue
Jul 1, 08- (by JunkysWife)
- one response
- Sobriety Salon
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Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century
And every one of them words rang true
And glowed like burning coal
Pouring off of every page
Like it was written in my soul from me to you
Tangled up in blue
-Bob Dylan, “Tangled Up In Blue”
I heard this song not long ago in the car with my husband. It made me cry. I’m not sure why.
It was these lines, specifically, the ones about finding just the right words. It wasn’t so long ago when I felt like a love poet when I thought about my husband. Even when I first started blogging about my experiences with his addiction, I was still so smitten by him.
I’m not now. I still think he’s handsome, and I still think he’s got potential to do wonderful things…but he’s no longer magic to me. I don’t look around for glowing words like coals pouring from pages. Love songs don’t appeal to me. Love poems don’t move me.
What moves me now is different…stories of healing, recovery, self-discovery. The love poet in me is dying, and I guess I’m glad. She was an interesting woman, but she was very unhappy much of the time. I like this new me…
So I guess I do know why it made me cry. I’m mourning the old me, the old him. I’m mourning my vision of who we were together, who we were separately, or who I understood for us to be.
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I do know that feeling. I thought of my SO and me as having something magical. But I’ve found that alcoholism combined with my unreal expectations caused the magic to wane. There are still moments of magic but I’m not as trusting as I once was, not as vulnerable. I’m more guarded now. I don’t know whether that is sad or not, but it is very different than when the relationship started.