Israel

My travelogues are usually a ridiculous combination of information and misadventures, but not this time. In fact, I deliberately chose not to do any research because I just wanted to be open to the experience.

That's not entirely true: I had been reading up on the history of Israel. For a country that is constantly in the news, I was surprisingly ignorant about it. In addition, 17 years in the Anglican church had taught me almost nothing about the Holy Land besides a few place names: Bethlehem, Nazareth, Jerusalem.

I won't go into the history of the Middle East issues--other than to say it was Britain's fault--but suffice it to say, I wasn't there to solve them. I was there for a wedding, which was bringing together 40 of Jessica's relatives, most of whom she'd grown up with in South Africa. (And that's still only a small part of her family; by comparison, I have a grand total of 24 relatives, half of whom I hardly know, and only once have I seen more than ten of them under the same roof.) Her entire family, though, is incredible: they are all open and loving, gracious, and still very close, even though they've scattered across four continents.

Plus, Israel itself is achingly beautiful, and a stunning collection of contrasts. My stereotypical view of a crowded market in the desert represents only one small aspect of the country: I saw suburbs, meadows, forests, mountains, metropolises, communes, ancient ruins, brand new resorts, coral reefs and bird sanctuaries. I even swam in the triumvirate of seas: Dead, Red, and Med. (I didn't go to the Galilee, but it doesn't rhyme, anyway.)

We also went into Jordan to see Petra and Wadi Rum, which were completely beyond my expectations, and absolutely stunning. My pictures are a terrible injustice, but that doesn't mean I won't subject you to them anyway. (Rough order is Masada, Cesarea, Jerusalem, Petra at night, Petra by day, Wadi Rum, and Eilat. I didn't get any photos of the wedding—I left that to the professionals.)

However, it didn't really matter how wonderful the people were or how incredible the land was, because I was having a bit of a breakdown.

In retrospect, I should have seen coming. I've been quite depressed over the job search, of course--not just the money, but the fruitless efforts, the lack of direction, and the stream of rejection--and then in January I had to dip into my retirement savings, which had a large financial penalty and a huge emotional penalty as well. Then in February I had to move, and I ended up staying with Jessica, which was the last thing I wanted to do.

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely wanted to live with her, but I didn't want it to feel like I needed a place to live. (In fact, I had been planning on going back to the hotel, but the day before I moved they had a pipe burst and had to shut the hotel for two weeks!) Jessica actually did find us a two-bedroom place to rent on Eel Pie Island, and talked to an agent about renting out her place, but the day before leaving for Israel, we went sign the paperwork and the owner threw in some surprises, so we ended up not taking it. (It's a long story that involves a boat yard, an asbestos hazard, another agent with a different price, and some really awful cabinetry.)

So, as my uncle would say, I was feeling mighty puny—withdrawn, antisocial, and vulnerable. That probably wasn't the best time to go on a 10-day trip with Jessica's family, feeling out of control and dependent on others, and spending a bunch of money. And on top of that, I had no time to myself--we were even staying with family--so I couldn't even recharge my batteries. My fears and insecurities overwhelmed me, I only saw the negatives, I blew everything out of proportion, and I got caught in a vicious spiral: fearing rejection, I pushed Jessica away, which ensured that I was rejected. Every time Jessica tried to resolve an issue, I felt like she was attacking me, and I pulled away further. She kept trying to reassure me, but I couldn't deal with any of it, and at one point I told her I had nothing left to give.

It doesn't really matter what happened or what my reasons were; the fact is I really hurt her, so when we got back to London she asked me to move out. I'm now back at the hotel, trying to get everything straightened out in my head. I'm seeing a doctor next week to see what else can be done, because I need to resolve this. Jessica is, without a doubt, the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me, and I can't believe that just a few days ago I tried to throw that all away. But, for the first time in my life, I'm trying to deal with my emotions instead of just running away. Unfortunately, I'm not very good at it, and I may have done irreparable harm in the process.