...And We Keep Movin' On.
After lots of consideration, I decided the best thing to do was to move out...and move on.
Because of who I am, I decided at the last minute when we were leaving and even worse - to pack. I spent my final night in Chicago saying my goodbyes. After 40 years of relationships and roots, the only people I had any desire to say goodbye to were my old boss and co-workers at the job I lost back in August. I grabbed my newly 21-year-old son and went to sit at the bar there for a bit and reminisce. It was awesome.
I got home before 11pm and took a tiny nap only to wake at 2 am to finish backing all I could fit into 4 suitcases and 2 carryon bags to take with us, leaving the other important things behind for my son to put in storage until a date undetermined. At 5 am we hit the road to the Greyhound bus station to take a 9-hour bus ride to Minneapolis, MN.
Jax was amazing for the long ride - I expected him to get cranky and restless but he did great. We laughed and talked a lot, truly enjoying the trip. It wasn't until 4:30 pm that we finally reached our destination and got off the bus to collect our bags.
When we got there, Jax's dad picked us up. This was the first time we had seen each other in a year. We spoke at length on the phone prior to the trip to work out the details and specifics. Needless to say, we were both uncertain about how things would go.
We were together for 7 years and saw each other at our absolute lowest. It got so bad after a while that we couldn't even speak. Awful things were done to one another - hearts and trust were broken badly. But despite the crazy-making, there was always something there -something each of us carried independently in our hearts, refusing to let go.
It was a very emotionally charged 48 hours that followed. I was absolutely shocked by how well things were going. I still kinda am. It's been great.
Remember how I said in a previous blog that the universe gives you hints to guide you into change? Well, if you don't get those hits and refuse to follow the path, it will rock your world and force that change into motion. I am certain that was what happened.
Within 3 days I had a job - I couldn't find one to save my life in Chicago. Everything started falling into place. It seems life is easier when you stop fighting yourself.
Jaxon will be spending Christmas with his dad's side of the family for the first time in years - a family who, by the way, took me back with open arms. I'm happy. Crazy, right?
In the next blog, I'll be discussing the transition pains and the process of repairing a broken marriage. Just because you love someone doesn't mean it's easy. In fact, sometimes it doesn't even mean you should be with them. But it's been a helluva ride since July.
"Of all the sad things I have ever heard, 'I used to be happy' is the most heartbreaking of all."
-Nikita Gill
I don't want to hear those words come out of my mouth ever again.
My Dear Little Girl...
I was given a journal assignment today in a class I'm taking. The assignment was as follows:
"What is the best piece of advice you would give to a young girl about finding her way? Often our life lessons can become her life manual.
"What is the best piece of advice you would give to a young girl about finding her way? Often our life lessons can become her life manual.
Don't be scared to guide, encourage and coach others through difficult times. Just because you aren't perfect, doesn't mean that your advice cannot be healing for someone else."
What poured from my mind to the page amazed me:
Wow. That is huge. I'd say - Don't ever lose sight of you. Don't let them tell you your dreams are stupid - they just can't dream as big and bright as you. YOU ARE NOT UGLY, OR FAT, OR STUPID. You are an amazing bunch of stardust that the heavens put together on purpose to be and do great things.
They say these things because they are afraid to shine as brightly as you do. All the things- all the dumb reasons why the other kids say they don't like you? One day they will be the very things that draw people to you.
You can never be too smart - But you can be too arrogant and judgemental. You can never be too different - but you can be too cold and heartless. Never raise yourself at the risk of another human being. The best thing you will ever be us you. You are enough.
Kids are mean, baby girl. They don't like things that outshine them. Sometimes it's easier to try to dim your light than polish their own. It might not make sense now, love - but it's usually because someone is hurting them too.
Surround yourself with people who are kind; people you want to be like. Eventually, you'll find they want to be like you too. Learn to accept love as easily as you give it. Remember - we teach people how to treat us. Never settle for less than amazing. AND NEVER, EVER, EVER let another person determine your worth.
You are a star shining brightly in the galaxy. Try to remember that the galaxy is huge. There's plenty of room for the other stars who are learning how to shine. Never purposely eclipse them. Whenever you can, help them learn how to shine. It will only make you shine brighter.
Go with love, my girl. Be your destiny.
Hmmm. How about that? It's never too late to tell that little girl.
Love you all.
Goodbye, My Friend - Fare Thee Well
Tomorrow ties up the final loose end - the checking account. Should have been done a year ago, but it wasn't, so here we are. I really want it civil - kind even - he was my best friend. Funny - two innately good people meet and absolutely destroy each other... That is exactly what we did, we emotionally destroyed one another. I guess that's what abuse can do to people. It was one hell of a ride though...
When we first met, it was electric. The moment I looked at him I knew it was going to end badly - that's why I blew him off. I'm glad he was so persistent though. We forever changed each other. I wonder if either of us fully understood the path it would take if we still would have gotten on board...
I used to think of it as a 'right person, wrong time' thing. It wasn't. There will never be a right time for the two of us - but I can't say he wasn't the right person. When two people like he and I get together it goes one of two ways: they eventually take over or destroy the world together... or they destroy each other. Maybe our past experiences damaged us so much that when we collided, we didn't know how to operate the damn thing. I'll never know. I can say he is a good person and have it carry weight because I'd wager no one had ever loved him as much or ever been so totally hurt by him as I was - and I still believe he's good.
I knew it would go badly - I just never thought it would be so final. I always thought there would be some ties - family, friends... but there are none. I will never speak to him or see him again.
I want - no, I need - it to be on good terms. The last memory needs to be positive. I want to tell him I'm glad to have had this experience with him. I want to thank him for loving me.
I cannot offer things like I may in other situations. I can't say "I'll always be your friend" or "If you ever need me, all you have to do is call" because it would be a lie.The best I could offer up is "If you ever need me, look for the brightest star in the sky. Smile and I will be with you in your heart" and I won't say that either... because it sounds stupid as all fuck.
It will be strange. Sad even - but I won't cry. I've cried over him, over us enough. I'm too tired to do it again and there is no point.
I want to say - I'm really sorry we destroyed each other. I'm sorry we let it get so viciously nasty when we always swore we would never be those people. I'm sorry geography and life circumstance separated us so detrimentally. Most of all, I want to say I'm sorry that two of the strongest people I've ever known couldn't be strong enough to see it through.
But still, I do not regret any of it. I do not wish for a different ending or another chance. Every force in the damn universe screamed that we could not stay in that place together - that the end was in fact inevitable - we should be grateful that it was only this harsh... to try again would surely have meant bloodshed at the next stop. This one will do nicely, thank you.
Neither would it have served either of us any better to have broken it off any sooner. We tried that before and it left such a bitter aftertaste of longing and regret - so many what if's and somedays... At this point, there is no question. We were what we wanted; we gave what we gave - until there was nothing left. We now can finally move on unhindered. We can now peacefully let go.
Life will beat the shit out of you if you don't have a sound battle plan or the ability to truly roll with the punches and accept what comes unequivocally. I know this to be true because for a time, I had the best battle partner and we still lost.
I guess this is what they mean by people being in your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. Although we may never know what the reason was - or even what fucking season it was -it is for certain it was not meant for a lifetime. But we were clearly neither a mistake nor an accident. The sun and moon do not suddenly collide one day by chance, taking the world by surprise all because some idiot forgot to lock the front door. There is a trajectory there apparent to everyone except maybe the sun and the moon themselves. The rest of the world saw that shit coming - scientists accurately predicted the outcome - but the moon was too distracted by the brilliant light and the heat of the sun to see it coming - just as the sun was to busy marveling over the mystery and cold comfort of the moon to pay attention to much else.
We could have been perfect, but not in this world.
I smile as I say "Thank you for loving me - goodbye my friend. You'll find what you are looking for one day. I will too."
When we first met, it was electric. The moment I looked at him I knew it was going to end badly - that's why I blew him off. I'm glad he was so persistent though. We forever changed each other. I wonder if either of us fully understood the path it would take if we still would have gotten on board...
I used to think of it as a 'right person, wrong time' thing. It wasn't. There will never be a right time for the two of us - but I can't say he wasn't the right person. When two people like he and I get together it goes one of two ways: they eventually take over or destroy the world together... or they destroy each other. Maybe our past experiences damaged us so much that when we collided, we didn't know how to operate the damn thing. I'll never know. I can say he is a good person and have it carry weight because I'd wager no one had ever loved him as much or ever been so totally hurt by him as I was - and I still believe he's good.
I knew it would go badly - I just never thought it would be so final. I always thought there would be some ties - family, friends... but there are none. I will never speak to him or see him again.
I want - no, I need - it to be on good terms. The last memory needs to be positive. I want to tell him I'm glad to have had this experience with him. I want to thank him for loving me.
I cannot offer things like I may in other situations. I can't say "I'll always be your friend" or "If you ever need me, all you have to do is call" because it would be a lie.The best I could offer up is "If you ever need me, look for the brightest star in the sky. Smile and I will be with you in your heart" and I won't say that either... because it sounds stupid as all fuck.
It will be strange. Sad even - but I won't cry. I've cried over him, over us enough. I'm too tired to do it again and there is no point.
I want to say - I'm really sorry we destroyed each other. I'm sorry we let it get so viciously nasty when we always swore we would never be those people. I'm sorry geography and life circumstance separated us so detrimentally. Most of all, I want to say I'm sorry that two of the strongest people I've ever known couldn't be strong enough to see it through.
But still, I do not regret any of it. I do not wish for a different ending or another chance. Every force in the damn universe screamed that we could not stay in that place together - that the end was in fact inevitable - we should be grateful that it was only this harsh... to try again would surely have meant bloodshed at the next stop. This one will do nicely, thank you.
Neither would it have served either of us any better to have broken it off any sooner. We tried that before and it left such a bitter aftertaste of longing and regret - so many what if's and somedays... At this point, there is no question. We were what we wanted; we gave what we gave - until there was nothing left. We now can finally move on unhindered. We can now peacefully let go.
Life will beat the shit out of you if you don't have a sound battle plan or the ability to truly roll with the punches and accept what comes unequivocally. I know this to be true because for a time, I had the best battle partner and we still lost.
I guess this is what they mean by people being in your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. Although we may never know what the reason was - or even what fucking season it was -it is for certain it was not meant for a lifetime. But we were clearly neither a mistake nor an accident. The sun and moon do not suddenly collide one day by chance, taking the world by surprise all because some idiot forgot to lock the front door. There is a trajectory there apparent to everyone except maybe the sun and the moon themselves. The rest of the world saw that shit coming - scientists accurately predicted the outcome - but the moon was too distracted by the brilliant light and the heat of the sun to see it coming - just as the sun was to busy marveling over the mystery and cold comfort of the moon to pay attention to much else.
We could have been perfect, but not in this world.
I smile as I say "Thank you for loving me - goodbye my friend. You'll find what you are looking for one day. I will too."
I Hope You're Happy...
I remember once that the thought of not being able to share my day with you was more than I could bare. It's been nearly two months now since we've even had a conversation. I haven't replaced you as my confidant - I keep to myself.
Two months - so many things I've wanted to tell you - so many times I've had to stop myself from sending a text. Two months since I've heard your voice.
Four years, several hundred miles - and this is the longest we've ever one without talking. The impossible has become possible - manageable even.
So strange when I think about it. While a few thins have changed, most have stayed the same, you just don't know. The house is a little more empty without your presence in it. We still laugh, just not with you. We still talk - just about different things. we've kept moving - just in a different direction. I hope you have too.
I hope you remember to never stay still for too long. I hope you're getting up on time for work and that your feet don't hurt too badly. Remember your worth, even though I'm not there to remind you.
I thought you wouldn't be able to survive without us - I was wrong. I didn't think we'd be ok without you - I was wrong about that too.
We talk about you sometimes - remember the good times. None of our eyes cloud over with sadness anymore. The lack of your presence is still felt, just not to the point that the world stops any longer.
You'll meet someone - I will too. We won't be able to talk about it, though. We aren't friends. Jax will learn so many new things... Just the other day he told me about a planet he learned about in a different galaxy - but he didn't tell you about it. Sadly, he didn't get tot tell his dad either.
Musefi - that's what it was called. Just out of nowhere he told me - it was so cool. I always figured he'd be telling you about these things. Hell, I thought he'd be telling his dad too. I was wrong on that as well.
But we're still doing ok. We laugh, we talk... you're just not here to share it.
I know I talk like you've died - maybe in a way you have - but only to us.
I used to tell you the opposite of love is not hate - it's indifference. It still is, I've just found that I couldn't be indifferent to you. I wanted to hate you, but that didn't feel right either.
I have hope for you instead. I hope you're happy. I hope you're good. I hope you get what you wish for, that you're well understood. Whatever your progress - I know you'll be fine. I hope you're happy - even if you're not mine.
I'm saying thank you. I'm saying we're ok. I'm asking you to keep moving, find joy in things you normally wouldn't, and think of us when you do.
I'm saying good-bye - because we never got to. You're going to be just fine - and we will too.
Two months - so many things I've wanted to tell you - so many times I've had to stop myself from sending a text. Two months since I've heard your voice.
Four years, several hundred miles - and this is the longest we've ever one without talking. The impossible has become possible - manageable even.
So strange when I think about it. While a few thins have changed, most have stayed the same, you just don't know. The house is a little more empty without your presence in it. We still laugh, just not with you. We still talk - just about different things. we've kept moving - just in a different direction. I hope you have too.
I hope you remember to never stay still for too long. I hope you're getting up on time for work and that your feet don't hurt too badly. Remember your worth, even though I'm not there to remind you.
I thought you wouldn't be able to survive without us - I was wrong. I didn't think we'd be ok without you - I was wrong about that too.
We talk about you sometimes - remember the good times. None of our eyes cloud over with sadness anymore. The lack of your presence is still felt, just not to the point that the world stops any longer.
You'll meet someone - I will too. We won't be able to talk about it, though. We aren't friends. Jax will learn so many new things... Just the other day he told me about a planet he learned about in a different galaxy - but he didn't tell you about it. Sadly, he didn't get tot tell his dad either.
Musefi - that's what it was called. Just out of nowhere he told me - it was so cool. I always figured he'd be telling you about these things. Hell, I thought he'd be telling his dad too. I was wrong on that as well.
But we're still doing ok. We laugh, we talk... you're just not here to share it.
I know I talk like you've died - maybe in a way you have - but only to us.
I used to tell you the opposite of love is not hate - it's indifference. It still is, I've just found that I couldn't be indifferent to you. I wanted to hate you, but that didn't feel right either.
I have hope for you instead. I hope you're happy. I hope you're good. I hope you get what you wish for, that you're well understood. Whatever your progress - I know you'll be fine. I hope you're happy - even if you're not mine.
I'm saying thank you. I'm saying we're ok. I'm asking you to keep moving, find joy in things you normally wouldn't, and think of us when you do.
I'm saying good-bye - because we never got to. You're going to be just fine - and we will too.
Moving on...or Redecorating With Pony Poop
When I first moved into my dated apartment, it felt like home - like magic - so did he. The fact that it was a basement level of an old farmhouse didn't matter, the dirty grout between crumbling tiles felt charming... or maybe that was just the mold talking. At the time, I was wearing 'new relationship glasses', so none of that mattered. It was our home - a home we started together.
Little by little, things started to shift. He was working out of state, a six week job that would become six months - and I began to unravel due to a pituitary tumor. Imagine being bipolar and multiplying it by 100... that was my level of impulse.
I began to focus manically on improving the house. I spent two entire days cleaning and sealing the time-greyed grout. By the end of that disaster, my fingers and hands were numb for days. Come to think of it, I need to do that again. This time I won't be outsmarted - I'll get a can of paint and a small brush. Fuck you, floor. Not this time! I hung pictures finally, decorated the space - got curtains. It began to feel homier. Due to the lack of sunlight from the basement windows, it gets depressing as fuck down here. Sometimes decorating and cleaning helps.
We broke up during that time. When he finally came home, we still lived together. We were only supposed to overlap a month or so, but neither of us left.
It stayed that way for a little over a year. Life moved on, sort of. We continued to behave like a couple - I'd make him lunches and do his laundry; he'd take care of my son and fuck me like a beast. It seemed to work, sort of.
As winter turned to spring, when the house really began to feel like a prison once more - he moved out and we started to call ourselves a couple publicly again. Without him or my oldest to clean up after all the time, I began to beautify my space once more. My youngest was embarrassed to be living 'in a basement', but with the improvements we both began to feel more at ease with it.
I bought a ten panel room divider and made him his own room. I put up more pictures, some art and more butterflies. I bought a gorgeous grey and white area rug that consumed the entire living room. The place became a home, an actual home, for the first time in 2 years. I actually enjoyed the space. The little guy wasn't embarrassed by it anymore.
We inevitably broke up again, of course. This time, somewhere between his moving out and his moving on, it stopped being 'our place'. It's almost impossible to recall memories or events that took place because it all looks and feels so different. It became a home for myself and my son. I don't think about moving all the time anymore.
I mean, sure - it's still a shit hole, but it's a shit hole we've become proud of. It's our shit hole.
I could have stayed all fucked up like I did the first time - when I busted my ass making improvements but keeping the space generally the same - like the shit hole and I were on pause until his return. I didn't do that. I mustered up all he unicorn glitter poop and fairy dandruff I could find and made it different. I made it better. (I also had the help of Amazon Prime, to be honest.) So different in fact it made him uncomfortable the few times he visited.
In doing that, I moved the fuck on. I just got over it all. I didn't end it and I have no interest in fixing it either. I can sit in my unicorn poop hole and see how much less bullshit there is in my life now. I inflated him so much in my mind (which was not a smart move considering how big his stupid head was naturally - had it exploded, no amount of grout paint could have cleaned up that disaster) I created an ideal he couldn't possibly live up to. I projected all of the things I wanted onto him and was devastated when he wouldn't or couldn't be those things.
We do normal things now at the unicorn poop hole. We do homework after school, watch movies on the sagging couch (365 days of a big ass man sleeping on a couch can really screw up some springs and framing) We sing, we cook, we dream. We have established a routine.
I guess what I'm saying is no matter where you are or how hurt you feel, you CAN move on. Once you start, it's hard - if not impossible - to stop. Maybe I'm saying you should glue a waffle cone on a Shetland pony's head and let it shit all over your house. Who the fuck ever knows? I did tell you I'm nuts.
Healing From Your Past
I don't get emotional like I imagine normal people do. My ex used to say I was full of shit when it came to being depressed - I'm always smiling and joking...
I'm not always immediately affected... When it finally hits, it's a crippling surge of emotion that nearly incapacitates me. I either do nothing but sleep or simply not be able to sleep at all.
Right now I'm thinking of a bunch of unrelated moments an tearing up because I don't feel those things anymore. I don't know how to describe that better - literally just moments where I felt elated, felt an overwhelming love, even if the situation the moment sprang from didn't make feeling such a way logical.
I think there have been times that I wanted to feel a certain type of love despite the horrible circumstances. These mini snapshots may have been my means of survival at the time, however, when my mind dredges up these snapshots in the middle of the night, they are hardly helpful; they are manipulating and confusing at best.
In the past, analyzing little things like this would have made me crazy. I will not let them ruin my present.
I think it's important that i recognize these feelings for what they were: I am not remembering moments where I FELT loved, or the joy or elation that comes from someone expressing love, respect or adoration for me. In these moments - which notably took place during the middle of the night as well, while my then partner was sleeping. I dissect the moment in which the feeling took place - it's not hard to force the logical realization that it's very easy to look at someone sleeping and feel a tsunami of emotion for them. When they are asleep, they likely are not degrading, insulting, manipulating or abusing you. Perhaps those moments were how my abused mind justified the reason behind why I didn't leave. It turned these unreciprocated feelings (likely formed for survival) and manipulated the memory into something it simply was not. It was never a moment of true joy or bliss, nor any enviable feeling at all.
Now that I can see it for what it truly is...was - it's not joy I feel. It's sadness. The poor girl in those moments of misguided emotion was so broken and abused by the object of her affection, yet continued to project waves of love onto them.
Seeing it that way now, I am not sad or feeling jaded that I am not feeling those ways at all. Quite the opposite. I am proud that I have healed enough that I do not. I am over the moon that my current decision making has not created an environment in my broken mind that deems it necessary to feel a fabricated, unhealthy emotion onto a sleeping human being who hurts me as a means of survival.
Dysfunction can feel like home. I accept the love that others give me now because I am worthy of it. I accept that boundaries are healthy as well as necessary. I will no longer waste precious moments guessing the quality of my life by comparing it to my abusive past. I take people for face value when they take position in my life and if I find myself unable to do that, I will deny that person the position. I allow myself to receive love as strongly as I give it.
Recognizing these self destructive behaviors, being able to identify toxic patterns and the parallels in thought processes has taught me what they mean:
They mean I have healed some...
They mean that the cycles and patterns in abuse are breaking....
They mean the people who have abused me no longer have the power to hurt me anymore...
They mean that I am setting a healthier example for my boys...
They mean I am winning. I almost lost my progress, that is, until this realization rocked me to my very core. Fuck that. He doesn't get to win anymore. I don't allow him to hurt me.
I'm not always immediately affected... When it finally hits, it's a crippling surge of emotion that nearly incapacitates me. I either do nothing but sleep or simply not be able to sleep at all.
Right now I'm thinking of a bunch of unrelated moments an tearing up because I don't feel those things anymore. I don't know how to describe that better - literally just moments where I felt elated, felt an overwhelming love, even if the situation the moment sprang from didn't make feeling such a way logical.
I think there have been times that I wanted to feel a certain type of love despite the horrible circumstances. These mini snapshots may have been my means of survival at the time, however, when my mind dredges up these snapshots in the middle of the night, they are hardly helpful; they are manipulating and confusing at best.
In the past, analyzing little things like this would have made me crazy. I will not let them ruin my present.
I think it's important that i recognize these feelings for what they were: I am not remembering moments where I FELT loved, or the joy or elation that comes from someone expressing love, respect or adoration for me. In these moments - which notably took place during the middle of the night as well, while my then partner was sleeping. I dissect the moment in which the feeling took place - it's not hard to force the logical realization that it's very easy to look at someone sleeping and feel a tsunami of emotion for them. When they are asleep, they likely are not degrading, insulting, manipulating or abusing you. Perhaps those moments were how my abused mind justified the reason behind why I didn't leave. It turned these unreciprocated feelings (likely formed for survival) and manipulated the memory into something it simply was not. It was never a moment of true joy or bliss, nor any enviable feeling at all.
Now that I can see it for what it truly is...was - it's not joy I feel. It's sadness. The poor girl in those moments of misguided emotion was so broken and abused by the object of her affection, yet continued to project waves of love onto them.
Seeing it that way now, I am not sad or feeling jaded that I am not feeling those ways at all. Quite the opposite. I am proud that I have healed enough that I do not. I am over the moon that my current decision making has not created an environment in my broken mind that deems it necessary to feel a fabricated, unhealthy emotion onto a sleeping human being who hurts me as a means of survival.
Dysfunction can feel like home. I accept the love that others give me now because I am worthy of it. I accept that boundaries are healthy as well as necessary. I will no longer waste precious moments guessing the quality of my life by comparing it to my abusive past. I take people for face value when they take position in my life and if I find myself unable to do that, I will deny that person the position. I allow myself to receive love as strongly as I give it.
Recognizing these self destructive behaviors, being able to identify toxic patterns and the parallels in thought processes has taught me what they mean:
They mean I have healed some...
They mean that the cycles and patterns in abuse are breaking....
They mean the people who have abused me no longer have the power to hurt me anymore...
They mean that I am setting a healthier example for my boys...
They mean I am winning. I almost lost my progress, that is, until this realization rocked me to my very core. Fuck that. He doesn't get to win anymore. I don't allow him to hurt me.
Letter to my Abuser
Hello again.
I'm through with you twisting my mind - making me doubt myself and my sanity. It's only the projection of your own insanity cast upon me.
You lurk around like a pussy, biding your time until you know I am alone, attempting to discredit me, defame me, in the eyes of the people around me. I'm crazy? A drug addict? A slut? Worthless? Oh, I make you sick? Why don't you come back when you've got some new material.
See, you can't hurt me. You can't bend my mind anymore. I've gotten stronger over the years. You have no idea who you are up against now.
You didn't know me then - never got over yourself enough to try - you certainly don't know me now. I didn't even know who I was then. Back then I was weak, I was broken. Not anymore. I know who I am now.
Is there anyone more dangerous than someone who knows their own mind? Knows both their strength and their weaknesses? I don't think there is.
Thank you. Although what you did was inexcusable, painful, and sick... It changed me. It taught me how strong I could be. It taught me I could heal. Once that healing began and I began to trust the world again the most incredible thing took place: I saw myself the way the rest of the world saw me... I saw myself through the eyes of the people who love and revered me.
Thank you. By accident, you made me a better mother, better friend - better companion to the person who will take you place in the future. I'll bet that was never part of your plans.
I honestly wish you no ill will. I nether feel hatred nor pity for you. In fact, I feel nothing. The opposite of love is NOT hate. It is indifference. I have become indifferent.
Melissa
I'm through with you twisting my mind - making me doubt myself and my sanity. It's only the projection of your own insanity cast upon me.
You lurk around like a pussy, biding your time until you know I am alone, attempting to discredit me, defame me, in the eyes of the people around me. I'm crazy? A drug addict? A slut? Worthless? Oh, I make you sick? Why don't you come back when you've got some new material.
See, you can't hurt me. You can't bend my mind anymore. I've gotten stronger over the years. You have no idea who you are up against now.
You didn't know me then - never got over yourself enough to try - you certainly don't know me now. I didn't even know who I was then. Back then I was weak, I was broken. Not anymore. I know who I am now.
Is there anyone more dangerous than someone who knows their own mind? Knows both their strength and their weaknesses? I don't think there is.
Thank you. Although what you did was inexcusable, painful, and sick... It changed me. It taught me how strong I could be. It taught me I could heal. Once that healing began and I began to trust the world again the most incredible thing took place: I saw myself the way the rest of the world saw me... I saw myself through the eyes of the people who love and revered me.
Thank you. By accident, you made me a better mother, better friend - better companion to the person who will take you place in the future. I'll bet that was never part of your plans.
I honestly wish you no ill will. I nether feel hatred nor pity for you. In fact, I feel nothing. The opposite of love is NOT hate. It is indifference. I have become indifferent.
Melissa
I just gotta get through today
I'm fucking sad. I'm sad for future plans that were taken away from me. I'm sad my friend was taken from his family so needlessly... And at such a young age. I'm sad I'm so alone.
I'm angry. I'm angry that I gave all of myself to someone who never gave any of their self back, I'm angry that although I have had so many other people's backs that I am alone in what I am facing.
I want to cry for all I've lost - My mother, my hopes, my security, my confidence - i want to cry and cry and not stop. I want to give up. I want to alternately go on a spree of self destruction so ridiculous that I go out in a blaze so bright no one can bear to look at it - But then, I kinda want to sleep and just never wake, letting the euphoria of release take over every part of me as well.
But I can't really allow myself to do any of those things. I have to stay. I need to be here to how my youngest son what pure love is - the kind with no expectations. I need to be here to so my middle son learns how to not be so angry and keep coaching him on. I need to be here for to tell my oldest how proud I am of him for never giving up on himself - no matter how much easier it would have been.
I can't do those things in giving up on myself. I can't give them reasons to stop. I need to be here to prove to myself, to them, that it was all worth it. So I can see once and for all the storms have passed -that I can live in peace - actually live and not just survive.
That's my pep talk to myself. What's the point in cutting out now after all the hard work has already been put in? What kind of idiot leaves just before the pay off?
I love these stupid kids - I have sacrificed more than I care to admit for them. I could have done more - been more - but that's all past. No point in dwelling.
I feel no guilt. I have put 190% of myself into everything I have ever loved. Regardless of how much more I could have done. looking back, I'm smart enough to know that ultimately it may have done more harm than good had I done it. Most of us have survived with minimal scars.
When I look back over my own bruises, some were self inflicted, others showed up along the way... Bruises are like that, really - either from hard (or clumsy) living or just a product of being human. This brings me to the hard part - admitting that I am a mess... a self-destructive, beautiful mess.
I don't know how to do this, but I'm pretty sure I've felt that same way when any of the other shit I've made it through happened and so far, my survival rate has been 100%.
So today - I chose to get through it. It might change me a little - It's supposed to, I guess. I'll just get through today.
I'm not arrogant enough to say it will all work out how I want, but I have enough empirical data to conclude that I will, indeed survive. I'm just going to let tomorrow happen - in the meantime, I keep telling myself - you just gotta get through today....
I'm angry. I'm angry that I gave all of myself to someone who never gave any of their self back, I'm angry that although I have had so many other people's backs that I am alone in what I am facing.
I want to cry for all I've lost - My mother, my hopes, my security, my confidence - i want to cry and cry and not stop. I want to give up. I want to alternately go on a spree of self destruction so ridiculous that I go out in a blaze so bright no one can bear to look at it - But then, I kinda want to sleep and just never wake, letting the euphoria of release take over every part of me as well.
But I can't really allow myself to do any of those things. I have to stay. I need to be here to how my youngest son what pure love is - the kind with no expectations. I need to be here to so my middle son learns how to not be so angry and keep coaching him on. I need to be here for to tell my oldest how proud I am of him for never giving up on himself - no matter how much easier it would have been.
I can't do those things in giving up on myself. I can't give them reasons to stop. I need to be here to prove to myself, to them, that it was all worth it. So I can see once and for all the storms have passed -that I can live in peace - actually live and not just survive.
That's my pep talk to myself. What's the point in cutting out now after all the hard work has already been put in? What kind of idiot leaves just before the pay off?
I love these stupid kids - I have sacrificed more than I care to admit for them. I could have done more - been more - but that's all past. No point in dwelling.
I feel no guilt. I have put 190% of myself into everything I have ever loved. Regardless of how much more I could have done. looking back, I'm smart enough to know that ultimately it may have done more harm than good had I done it. Most of us have survived with minimal scars.
When I look back over my own bruises, some were self inflicted, others showed up along the way... Bruises are like that, really - either from hard (or clumsy) living or just a product of being human. This brings me to the hard part - admitting that I am a mess... a self-destructive, beautiful mess.
I don't know how to do this, but I'm pretty sure I've felt that same way when any of the other shit I've made it through happened and so far, my survival rate has been 100%.
So today - I chose to get through it. It might change me a little - It's supposed to, I guess. I'll just get through today.
I'm not arrogant enough to say it will all work out how I want, but I have enough empirical data to conclude that I will, indeed survive. I'm just going to let tomorrow happen - in the meantime, I keep telling myself - you just gotta get through today....
Remember How You Loved Me?
Remember when it was all still magical? Even to this day, when I look back at that time I can't recall many moments where we weren't smiling. We went everywhere together, missed each other when we were apart... It wasn't even all that long a go.
Would you believe me if I told you I can't remember the feeling of being held in your arms when I slept? Strange, seeing as there was once a time where I couldn't imagine their absence. I've forgotten the way you used to look a me - the way your eyes would change. You said "I love you" in a way I've never heard before... or since.
I can't stay in those memories too long before the lump in my throat forms again, threatening to unleash a river of tears.
We were everything to each other; the future, the answered prayers of our past.
How you loved me...
How I still do....
I may not remember the way your strong arms felt when they held me - but it's only because the pain of your absence consumes me tot he point of forgetfulness.
I may not be able to recall being short of breath - gasping your name - but I'll never be able to shake the stutter brought on by sobs when I try to speak your name.
I have to believe you simply stopped loving me one morning upon waking and seeing my face - because the thought of you still loving me while choosing not to be here is too much for me to comprehend.
One day it will be easier, I imagine. The nights and days that pass without hearing your voice won't kill a little more of my soul at a time.
But right now, I'm not sure how I might make it through he night. What a stark contrast knowing that the only way I could sleep at night was with the thought of your love in my mind, to the reality of now - where I try not to sleep least the dreams of you should come and break my heart into a million pieces all over again.
You tell me you want to discuss it all, that closure will come of beautiful words speaking fondly of better times -you tell me you still want me in your life. Well, I won't. The pain is too much to bear.
Every time I see you, my heart breaks again, remembering how easy it was to walk away.
"I loved every stupid broken piece of you. I swallowed your badness an held my hand out for more. People thought I was stupid or heroic - I don't know which is better. Do you remember sitting on that mountain? I watched the moonlight stream through the cracks of your heart and I kissed them. Your sad was so big it took up my whole world. There was nowhere I could turn without wanting to hold your hand. There was never any hope for us, and you knew that, but I was the only light that never left, so your wrapped your hands around my warmth like you would have died without it. I could have lived on that mountain forever, you know... I could have washed myself after each dirty day with you and come up clean, I could have been the only good thing. We could have called it love."
Would you believe me if I told you I can't remember the feeling of being held in your arms when I slept? Strange, seeing as there was once a time where I couldn't imagine their absence. I've forgotten the way you used to look a me - the way your eyes would change. You said "I love you" in a way I've never heard before... or since.
I can't stay in those memories too long before the lump in my throat forms again, threatening to unleash a river of tears.
We were everything to each other; the future, the answered prayers of our past.
How you loved me...
How I still do....
I may not remember the way your strong arms felt when they held me - but it's only because the pain of your absence consumes me tot he point of forgetfulness.
I may not be able to recall being short of breath - gasping your name - but I'll never be able to shake the stutter brought on by sobs when I try to speak your name.
I have to believe you simply stopped loving me one morning upon waking and seeing my face - because the thought of you still loving me while choosing not to be here is too much for me to comprehend.
One day it will be easier, I imagine. The nights and days that pass without hearing your voice won't kill a little more of my soul at a time.
But right now, I'm not sure how I might make it through he night. What a stark contrast knowing that the only way I could sleep at night was with the thought of your love in my mind, to the reality of now - where I try not to sleep least the dreams of you should come and break my heart into a million pieces all over again.
You tell me you want to discuss it all, that closure will come of beautiful words speaking fondly of better times -you tell me you still want me in your life. Well, I won't. The pain is too much to bear.
Every time I see you, my heart breaks again, remembering how easy it was to walk away.
"I loved every stupid broken piece of you. I swallowed your badness an held my hand out for more. People thought I was stupid or heroic - I don't know which is better. Do you remember sitting on that mountain? I watched the moonlight stream through the cracks of your heart and I kissed them. Your sad was so big it took up my whole world. There was nowhere I could turn without wanting to hold your hand. There was never any hope for us, and you knew that, but I was the only light that never left, so your wrapped your hands around my warmth like you would have died without it. I could have lived on that mountain forever, you know... I could have washed myself after each dirty day with you and come up clean, I could have been the only good thing. We could have called it love."
The Obsession With Death
I have been obsessed with death as long as I can remember. When I was small, it was animals. It was mind blowing to me that something lying so still. so stiff, could have just moments ago been running free...
My mother called it a darkness... " You're got a darkness in you, that's for sure." she'd say...
As I got older, it was weird and random thoughts about dying - If I died right here, right now, would anyone figure out who I was? How would they know who to call?
Older still - a romance. Death ans I would flirt. I'd do outrageously reckless and impulsive things just for the thrill.
At some point, I even convinced myself I would die in a car accident. I've envisioned it, dreamt about it - nearly to the point it seems logical.
Once I discovered motorcycles it morphed into a different feeling. The feeling of power I possessed knowing that at any given time I could simply let go. At a speed of 90 mph on a bike there us nothing but the sensation of wind in your hair , rushing into your ears - the rest of the world is drowned out. The intoxicating feeling of knowing the ultimate freedom is just within your grasp, yet the power to not take hold of its' hand and escape.
Drugs, for me, was a subconscious game of hide and seek with death. Being doped out of my mind was as close as I could get to the euphoric numbness of snuggling deep into its' cold embrace - but without the commitment. That would actually be a damn good slogan for opiates - "death, without the commitment."
I don't want to die - but that doesn't make the feeling or experience any less fascinating to me.
What an unusual place to spend your life; drifting between the planes of a life I know I haven't lived as well as I could have - and sweet, euphoric nothingness. Total freedom.
I know i don't want to die. I knew it yesterday when I crossed the street. Before setting foot into the road, I looked to my right, then my left.
Looking both ways before you cross a street is not a survival instinct deeply ingrained in our DNA, it's a learned response. You have to be taught it. Consider a young child, recklessly darting through a parking lot, driven by excitement. Someone has to teach him. It's an act of self-preservation - a small, simple act that both goes unnoticed but yet screams out "I haven't given up yet!"
I looked both ways when I crossed the street yesterday.
Things are dark an uncertain in my life right now - I am unsure of my next move and at times, with all the loss around me like a cloak it's hard to even fathom moving - but nevertheless, I looked both ways.
I'm going to keep looking, too. I've got a lot of living to do yet.
My mother called it a darkness... " You're got a darkness in you, that's for sure." she'd say...
As I got older, it was weird and random thoughts about dying - If I died right here, right now, would anyone figure out who I was? How would they know who to call?
Older still - a romance. Death ans I would flirt. I'd do outrageously reckless and impulsive things just for the thrill.
At some point, I even convinced myself I would die in a car accident. I've envisioned it, dreamt about it - nearly to the point it seems logical.
Once I discovered motorcycles it morphed into a different feeling. The feeling of power I possessed knowing that at any given time I could simply let go. At a speed of 90 mph on a bike there us nothing but the sensation of wind in your hair , rushing into your ears - the rest of the world is drowned out. The intoxicating feeling of knowing the ultimate freedom is just within your grasp, yet the power to not take hold of its' hand and escape.
Drugs, for me, was a subconscious game of hide and seek with death. Being doped out of my mind was as close as I could get to the euphoric numbness of snuggling deep into its' cold embrace - but without the commitment. That would actually be a damn good slogan for opiates - "death, without the commitment."
I don't want to die - but that doesn't make the feeling or experience any less fascinating to me.
What an unusual place to spend your life; drifting between the planes of a life I know I haven't lived as well as I could have - and sweet, euphoric nothingness. Total freedom.
I know i don't want to die. I knew it yesterday when I crossed the street. Before setting foot into the road, I looked to my right, then my left.
Looking both ways before you cross a street is not a survival instinct deeply ingrained in our DNA, it's a learned response. You have to be taught it. Consider a young child, recklessly darting through a parking lot, driven by excitement. Someone has to teach him. It's an act of self-preservation - a small, simple act that both goes unnoticed but yet screams out "I haven't given up yet!"
I looked both ways when I crossed the street yesterday.
Things are dark an uncertain in my life right now - I am unsure of my next move and at times, with all the loss around me like a cloak it's hard to even fathom moving - but nevertheless, I looked both ways.
I'm going to keep looking, too. I've got a lot of living to do yet.