the home that wasn’t
25 Jun 2010 Leave a Comment
in Beginnings, Dave, fears, Life, Life Lessons, life transformations, LOVE, moving, Uncategorized Tags: broken dreams, broken heart, change, Dave, DAVE K., faith, fears, gratitude, happiness, hope, joy, Life, LOVE, major change, memories, nostalgia, transformations
In exactly one week, we head off to a whole new life…a new world to us, new environment, new culture, new (to us) house…..everything new and different!!
I am scared, excited, fearful, exhilarated, anxious, and sad… I see the sun peeking up as I write and I think of the thousands of sun rises and sunsets which have encroached upon this world for me… I’ve had the happiest sunsets I ever thought possible right here in this little frustrating town. I’ve had the absolutely most phenomenal sunrises here as well. I can say with complete candor, I’ve had experiences and moments here which were the very stuff that dreams are made of…the very fiber of fairy tales come to life. I have made some unbelievably wonderful friends and known some interesting people. I’ve laughed till my stomach hurt for days following and my cheeks felt like they had done strenuous Pilates. I’ve cried more tears than I knew I had in me. Here, my heart has been so full of love I thought it would burst and so broken, I thought I would die. I’ve spent days on the beach about which I could have written novels, both comedic and romantic. I’ve met pilots traveling through, partied with hundreds of people inside military planes. I’ve gone swimming by moonlight, laughing through the waves. I’ve skipped in the rain and laughed in the snow. I’ve sat out and I’ve danced. I’ve lived in ten different houses here, all with unique people and experiences. I’ve been single here. I’ve been married here. I’ve been a mother here and responsibility free. I had my first real boyfriend here and my first grown-up love. I’ve learned lessons I never even imagined as a child. I’ve grown, I’ve stagnated, I’ve flown free as a butterfly and I’ve been imprisoned like a criminal.
I’ve played house and wife, mother and employee. I’ve played conservative party-girl, lost hippie child, and unemployed beach bum. When I moved away for college and a few years later my world crashed, I ran here. This has been the only home (“base”) I’ve ever known. The only place I’ve been able to return to (come “home” to)in the whole world no matter what happened. As much as I’ve often felt out-of-place here, out of sorts, and like an “outsider”, over the years, I’ve become this place; both the things I love here and the things I don’t. This place is a part of me…a huge and irrevocable piece of my growth and my essence. I will carry people and memories, lessons and experiences from here as though it’s part of my genetic DNA. In spite of the fact that I did not “grow up” here, I very much did grow up here in so very many ways. The people and things I’ve done and known here have shaped my soul in a good ways and bad. The sand from the beaches has become embedded in my skin forever. The memories rooted in my soul, never to be un-done, even if someday forgotten. I carry every person, every moment, every encounter, every drop of beach water, every crashing wave, every love, every hurt, every tear, and every laugh with me for the rest of my days. I’ve been hated here, loved here, nurtured and abused here on every imaginable and unimaginable level. I’ve wildly dreamed of escaping this hell-hole and I’ve ached to return to its embracing shores…
I’ve never known a “home”, a home base, a place to run to…never. And yet, I knew that here; the home of a place to go when I was lost and scared in the world (my dad). The home where I felt I was always supposed to be, the place I walked into and realized I had been holding my breath for so many years, I didn’t realize how beautiful breathing could be (Dave).
This has been the only home I’ve ever known by any definition or connotation of the word “home”. I am scared to the pit of my soul to leave here…and yet I’m scared equally to stay. I fear I can never come “home” again, in the way that this is now my home. I’m a mother and a college graduate and I wasn’t even raised here, and yet somehow it almost feels like I’m leaving the nest for the very first time. I feel like a high school graduate heading off into the world on my own into the far and unknown beyond.
What will be here when I next return to visit, to live, to escape, to…???? What feelings will remain? How will I be changed? Nothing will ever stay the same as it is now and has been.
Life is scary. Change is inevitable. This was never my home…and yet strangely it’s also been the only home I’ve ever known.
Puppy Love
24 Jun 2010 4 Comments
in LOVE, Photos, Puppy Tags: Bullitt, gratitude, happiness, Life, LOVE, Loyalty, pets, relationships, transformations, unconditional love
Forgive my amateur attempts at posting a photo album please. It’s my first try at that…as I’m all about the words and less about the pictures….but I had to try to share our new baby love:)
We adopted Bullitt from the local Rescue. He’s 7 months old and a real lover-boy!! He is not offcially “ours” as we actually adopted him on behalf of my ex husband (babies’ daddy) to bring out with us on our big move out west next week (!!!) However, I’ve my doubts as to this happening once we arrive… Bullitt has become so maternally attached and dependent on me, like a 2 year old with serious separation anxiety issues, and I’m uncertain as to how the tranferrence of families will go for him. He whimpers and cries so heart-breakingly when I’m out of his sight…. He just may not accept the situation. He’s beautiful, he’s sweet, he’s loyal and protective, and he’s also quite a handful and a real PITA at times too…but his love is so endearing and unbelievably devoted that he’s worth every hassle….and this is coming from the lady who has always considered herself a “cat whisperer”…total connection to the feline family is just my nature. Cats and I are like one entity..they just look much somewhat different than I. However this little adoption time has opened my eyes to dog ownership and perhaps will even help in my ability to allow relationships with humans closer than I tend to…. ?? Although it’s a big responsibility and 24/7 care-taking, my heart is opening wider through this than I can recall in a very, very long time. Dare I say it???? Ummm….I trust him! There…it’s said out loud”. I really do.
It’s interesting how a dog’s personality is slowly having a huge affect on mine…hehe:-)
He’s beautiful and wonderful!!! We are madly in love with him..challenges and all!!
I feel absolutely certain there will be more Bullitt stories to come, as I could fill a blog with them already after only three weeks!!
Kindness Shmindness
21 Jun 2010 5 Comments
in broken heart, Death, dreams, Life Lessons, LOVE, random kindness Tags: abuse, broken dreams, broken heart, DAVE K., destruction, disappontment, dreams, dysfunction, faith, fucked up, LOVE, manipulation, unconditional love, WTF
Change my blog title…? Really thinking about this lately. Funny, when I log in here and see my title, I’m just filled with sadness and a teensy bit of disgust.
Contemplating the whole “Secret” business recently and the concept of the power of attraction. I so love the concept! When I really dig into the idea and the science behind it, it seems so very valid, almost provable on many levels and yet… Random kindness…kindness as a response to cruelty…giving as the answer to taking…
When I created this blog, I was adamantly optimistic about this theory—thus, the title. I had myself convinced that if I kept my thoughts, actions, and character upright, then good things would have to come. I didn’t really have any specific “want” that I didn’t get or anything…I just wanted so much to believe that if I lived by my beliefs then good things had to happen. I steadfastly chose to send loving vibrations and energy out to everyone and in particular, the nasty people I’ve known and dealt with in recent years and in years gone by. Thinking, believing no one would want to do harm to a person who just keeps on loving and being kind, regardless of what gets thrown at them. Great in theory…terrific concept…
But, not so much true. Seems more people then just see you as a weak sucker, vulnerable and ripe to all sorts of abuse and manipulations. Not to mention, deserving of it all, since it’s so “stupid” in this day and age with these standards of society to believe such a thing and live by it. I love the saying “Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness”. I wish I could have incorporated a little more of that into my social experiment of loving kindness, but I’m not all that strong really…except perhaps in my desire to believe. There I have unlimited quantities of strength it seems. And it really gets me in trouble and leaves me hurt more often than not!
So, if one lives by loving kindness and responds to hatred and such with just more kindness, at what point do you stop the one-way flow? If the power of attraction theory is truly believed and practiced, then the moment I get angry or cease the kindness, I bring negative energy into my world and develop the very thing I’d like to avoid…so you just keep being kind and love even harder…
And people recognize this quickly, especially the mean people looking to take advantage and hoping for a sucker just like me and suddenly there is a catch-22 quandary going on and a snowball effect of bulls**t coming at you like a freight train of stupidity!
So, I really dislike that I no longer believe in this…I really wanted this to be true with all my heart. I was prepared to take all the crap and just keep loving…love, love, love…. But after 5 years now of being dumped into a mass of crap, I just can’t continue believing. And I’m actually embarrassed to confess how ridiculously stupid I’ve been to let this belief/hope persist in spite of the hurt it’s caused, because at the end of the day, I’m the one responsible for allowing it all to happen and continue. So hard not to feel like a victim when even your best and most beautiful intentions are devoured and devastated by the seemingly innate UNkindness of the majority….but if I let myself feel like a victim, then I’m bringing more victimization energy back to myself. Arghh…wtf?! All in all, this little experiment seems to have just left me wide open and vulnerable to abuse and attack, while simultaneously rendering me scared to death to get angry, much less actually fight back!!
I’m deeply sad to admit the death of this inside me. I didn’t expect all my dreams to come true and nothing but rainbows and butterflies every day by this theory…but I DID truly believe that it would bring more love and happiness not only into my world, but possibly even into the world of many. And now, I mostly just feel hurt, angry, and embarrassed that I’ve been such a stupid idiot for so very long…and devastated that my best efforts and hugest faith amounted to so little actual good for anyone…to the point that I now have this little wish in my heart to take it all back and just punch those mean people in the mouth for every hurt they caused!
How’s THAT for loving kindness?! ..hehe…=D
Did John-Boy seem the vengeful type…or was it just me?
17 Jun 2010 Leave a Comment
in Ex's, John Boy, Life, Life Lessons, life transformations, LOVE Tags: broken dreams, broken heart, Broken hearts, confusion, destruction, disappontment, fucked up, hope, lies, Life Lessons, lost spirit, LOVE, manipulation, memories, relationships, revenge
She was torn between desperately seeking the stability and love she’d never known and enjoying her relatively new freedom. She was seeking her own identity, uncomfortable and unsure in her own skin and never quite sure why she warranted so much attention and certainly not at all sure how to handle such attention politely, without hurting anyone’s feelings. It’s not that she had not been told she was beautiful by boys and men before or wanted by many, it was that she literally could not see that or comprehend the possibility. She was a dry sponge full of holes, seeking all the love and attention she had never felt before. She certainly wasn’t a slut in any sexually promiscuous sense, but perhaps she did fit the description of an attention whore. She couldn’t understand how anyone could love her or think her beautiful in any definition of the word. In spite of her need for freedom, she longed with every part of her being to feel loved and to believe she was beautiful in someone’s eyes…to feel accepted just as she was, flaws and holes and all…
Unfortunately, she felt the closest to beautiful and worthy when she was making other people feel good about themselves and this would eventually be her slow demise in satisfying her own deepest hopes, but that’s another story entirely. There was a supply and demand in effect seemingly at all times. Men longed for her attention and she longed to make people feel good. She could spend hours talking to a stranger in a club about his job, his school, his relationships, his dreams, his broken heart, anything…and treat him as if he was the only person on the planet for the duration of that conversation…often to the annoyance of her friends and/or boyfriends.
By her early twenties, she had ended two significant relationships. The relationships themselves weren’t bad per se, but she was a lost and meandering spirit. It was almost as if once the relationship reached a mutually satisfying point, she felt her “work there was done” and her attention needed to go to the next soul seeking her heart, time, and attention. So after ending two serious LTR’s, which did not go quietly, she finally conceded to her long-subdued need for freedom and her completely suppressed wild at heart nature… She dreaded the thought of committing to a relationship with a man because it seemed somehow to always eventually end with a hurt man and her feeling as though her effort to make someone feel loved and important always began with the best of intentions and resulted in their broken heart. This was not at all what she wanted.
So after ending an engagement with a terrific man who loved her in the most beautifully endearing and devoted way and running straight into the arms of an abuser, she resolved to stay free. In her partying and carousing with friends she only gave a few hours of dedication to anyone and moved on to someone else…until she inadvertently and unintentionally met John. Strange that she’d caught him watching her quietly on many occasions and took note of him. She found him truly handsome in the most adorable boy-next-door way, but he never approached except nonchalantly in passing. After several of these incidents, they finally had an actual conversation. He was so damned likeable and undeniably adorable. She loved his eyes – the way they watched her quietly without attempting to connect with her or pick her up (ugh!) and she loved the way he innocently made her laugh without even trying. She spent several platonic evenings with him, just partying and having fun.
Since this started innocently enough, she felt no warnings that trouble was brewing. They were both having a blast and neither seemed intent upon choking the other’s freedom, but they enjoyed their time together so much each day would follow into the next. She even discovered that he was a few years younger than she and it didn’t matter at all to her. He wasn’t even jealous of her flirty personalityand he gave her total trust and freedom!!!! She loved this. Could it be he actually understood her? It seemed natural that suddenly one day she realized that their affections had grown big and they were spending all of their free time together…and she didn’t even want to change that or run from it…were they falling in love?
Yes, it seemed so. This realization hit when she received acceptance to the school she’d applied to upon her last release from a relationship. She had applied in a moment of freedom and need to not be held back from her goals again…a brief respite between obligations. But against her design and intention, he was now in love and she loved him in return as well. Uh-oh..scary, as this never ended well for her. Always seemed to end in a flurry of anger, broken hearts and her immersion in guilt which provoked a need in her to run far, far away.
It was a difficult situation, but they were young, confident with one another, and happy…therefore this could still work. Right? No one had to get hurt this time. Long distance relationships could work for truly happy couples. Besides, she just wanted to go finish her education at the school of her choosing, not date around or get involved in any relationships. This should be easy.
They missed each other terribly, though. The connection was difficult to maintain from such a distance. And she was immersed in the collegiate life while he was in the town he grew up in and working the job he intended to work forever. She wasn’t dating anyone else, but she had a few study friends whom she enjoyed hanging out with as well. They had little in common under these circumstances and their phone calls started feeling like a “duty” to her, not an enjoyment. He planned a visit.
On this visit, he mentioned shopping for a promise ring to cement their relationship and their desire to progress into the next natural step for a happy couple. Except, his visit, his presence, annoyed her. She didn’t know why. She still loved him. She just couldn’t feel or find that connection to him anymore once she was removed from their little shared town, at least not enough to accept a promise ring or in good conscience, continue the relationship that was stunted for her and clearly still growing stronger for him. After a few days of his visit, she discussed this with him and ended the relationship. She felt sick to do this, she adored him, but she felt it was the right thing to do in the midst of her confusion confounded and highlighted by his devoted certainty. It was over. He left. She could tell he was very hurt and she hated that, but he didn’t seem angry and for that, she was so grateful that it almost sparked her feelings again…but not quite enough to change her choice in the matter. She had to be fair to him. He deserved at least that and her conscience refused to accept less for him.
Fast forward five or six years.
Back in their hometown for a few years now, she was a single mother, scared and still lost. One night she runs into him at a bar. They start talking and reconnecting. Inside she is scared and far more damaged than she was years before. In her loneliness and fear, he represents something good and safe to her. She decides to go home with him. After all, it’s John Boy. The safest place she’d known at this point. He’d never gotten angry at her for who she was. On the contrary, he had always seemed to understand her when no one else could. Ahhhhhh…safety and sincerity.
When they woke up the next morning, she felt happy to be next to him. No it wasn’t the answer to everything of course, but it was a safe and familiar place at last and she had always adored him anyway.
As he was driving her home, he said, “I don’t want you. I just wanted to pay you back for breaking my heart all those years ago…. How does it feel?” Her heart ripped as he laughed.
Well done John Boy…very cruel effective.
Elephant in my living room!
15 Jun 2010 Leave a Comment
in addiction, addiction behaviors, choices, fears, Mark D., moving, PTSD Tags: abusive relationships, boundaries, confusion, dysfunction, fears, fucked up, insanity, Life Lessons, Loyalty, memories, Questions, transformations, unconditional love
I can’t talk to M about much of anything anymore and it scares me. We are moving so soon and so much rides on him for that….
I keep trying in a delicate, but honest, way to point out my concerns, but just like 13 years ago, everything is an “attack”. Every word of concern gets met with, “I AM NOT A BAD PERSON!! I AM NOT A BAD PERSON!! I AM NOT A BAD PERSON” screamed repeatedly over my trying-to-stay calm voice and words, until I have no choice but to hang up the phone. Obviously, this doesn’t result in anything productive and does the very opposite of reassuring my fears.
This experience throws me clear into full force PTSD as I’m hurled instantly to 13 years ago…trapped, scared, nervous, with a 3 month old child to care for. My knees shake, my head spins and the frustration at not being heard, not being counted, not being considered, not being able to even TALK is overwhelming and terrifying to my core. What am I doing?
Mark, he who I’ve watched struggle and kick for years, fighting his way past and beyond all that once haunted and controlled him, is yet again unreachable, irreproachable, impossible to reason with. And I am left feeling two options: return to that horribly handicapping environment which threatened my sanity or continue raising my children far away from their loving father.
Even the choices alone don’t feel like choices. They feel like steel walls closing in on me fast, boxing me in tight, with the “rules” written in graffiti all over them in bold black paint. Rules from my childhood; rules from my relationship with Mark 13 years ago.
The rules:
- No matter what M does or says, it’s always absolutely fine.
- No one is to question, doubt, or worry about M’s behaviors or choices. They are all as close to perfect as could possibly be.
- No one is to point out (kindly or otherwise) any fears or, God forbid, discrepancies in Mark’s choices.
- If you see an elephant in the living room, no one is to speak of it, question its presence, or for God’s sake call it an elephant. Nothing is what it appears and only M knows what it really is, so he cannot be questioned or expected to communicate with the rest of us.
- It’s M’s world…only his reality counts…the rest of us are just graced with the opportunity to live in it…so SHUT UP.
- If you speak or imply any of the above, it is a direct “attack on M” and he will kick and scream accordingly, deftly playing the offense is the best defense game to the point that you’re wasting every word you can actually get into the conversation, trying (in utter futility) to insist that you’ve not attacked or insulted M.
- Every word you say that is not an ass-kissing “M, you’re the GREATEST!” is, in fact, going to be considered an attack.
- Your actual words will not ever matter. They are ALL an attack on Mark, unless they are a direct and undisguised compliment of his person and character.
- M will hear what M hears and it’s not up for discussion… What M hears IS what you said, no matter how far off it may seem (to you) from what you’ve actually said.
- Questions, doubts, fears (authentic or otherwise) will NOT be tolerated or spoken of EVER.
- Unless you are complimenting M on how wonderful he is, you must SHUT UP AT ALL TIMES.
I am afraid. I am rendered paralyzed to act and terrified to speak of my concerns…while the walls close in tighter on me.
Dream intruders
14 Jun 2010 Leave a Comment
in Dave, dreams Tags: abuse, abusive relationships, broken dreams, broken heart, Dave, DAVE K., disappontment, dreams, dysfunction, fears, fucked up, heartbreak, Life, LOVE, ponderings, relationships, unconditional love
It’s so unfortunate that we can’t control our dreams…
Fitful sleep tonight…tossing and turning… Dave K. everywhere!! I don’t want him invading my dreams like he did my home for so many years. It’s such a relief when he’s not running through my mind much. I feel such a sense of relief, and then he shows up rampant in my dreams anyway…ugh! He has no business there except to torture me. It’s frustrating to think that I’m fading him out at last and feeling successful with eliminating him from my mind and life, but my subconscious is still holding on so tightly, it seems. Otherwise how could he get in my dreams?
And this was not a good one by any means of interpretation. Seemed like a cruel reminder and additional experience with his denial of me as a human being and a loved one, past or present! His house was all rearranged and that was excruciatingly uncomfortable for me for some odd reason…I looked for “the” sofa and found it covered in an obscure corner somewhere. Relatives showed up (his not mine) and questioned my motives, my actions, and my behaviors over the past 5 years. They didn’t have even an eighth of the truth and were very critical, but still kind. He still had all my letters from days past, brought them out to show everyone, and cruelly laughed at them. That was painful. I hated him for that. So mean. …And a gambling problem…a BIG one. I told him that a psychic lady had told me of that problem years ago, but I hadn’t believed her. All in all, it was like I was at an informal trial at his house with Dave and his relatives as judge and jury and I wasn’t able to convey any truths or experience because I had already been deemed “bad” and of course “crazy” too, so nothing I said mattered. Very hurtful and frustrating…
As though he had never loved me…..had never hurt even a moment over all the things he’s cried and beaten me up about for so many years because of how much I “devastated” him. Just one big charade apparently for the sole purpose of getting in my pants and keeping me covered in guilt so he had emotional control over me. As if there had never been any reality or worthwhile substance of emotions…
It was such a painful dream and leaves me wondering are these just my deep fears trying to make desperate sense of all the nonsense that has happened or is that the ugly reality? After everything, it’s nauseating to even ponder that as a possibility.
Why NOT play Kick-the-Carcass?
09 Jun 2010 Leave a Comment
in abuse, Anger!, broken heart, Dave, Death, fears, just messed up, Life, Life Lessons, life transformations, Writing Tags: abuse, abusive relationships, broken, broken dreams, broken heart, Dave, DAVE K., destruction, dysfunction, fears, fucked up, heartbreak, hopeless, insanity, lies, Life Lessons, lost spirit, manipulation, sociopaths, wishes
No consecutive hours of sleep for what seems like weeks, although I can easily remember not so long ago when it had been more like months, so I logically know I can pull through this “short stretch”. However, when n the midst of the sleeplessness, it feels as though I’ll pass out, die, or just maybe snap into forgettable pieces. I keep reminding myself that it’s been worse and try to be grateful for the little bits of sleep I do get blessed with.
Stressing the move, finances, the gossip and lies (of course, as usual), THE ex, the children, packing, moving across the entire country from everything I’ve ever known, living out of district for my kids’ school out west, my ex husband, and his motives and choices, and how they’re going to relate and affect our lives out there, so far from the only home we’ve ever known.
With all of this, I’m struck hard with acute awareness of the severe alteration of my heart, my perspective, my very essence… Who I once was is gone, with all that’s happening now and all I am responsible to be and do, with all the fears that are hanging just over my head like a shark’s mouth ready to swallow me whole, I really just want to sit down and bawl myself sick. Grief hangs all around me like buzzards and flies on a carcass. I know, I know… This is nothing new…I’ve been a barely-breathing carcass for years now, my only traceable movement being the slight shakes and involuntary shuffles and slides of a dead body that’s being kicked a few extra times for good measure. Big thanks to Dave and friends for that lovely prompt..without it, the buzzards might literally begin to feast on my mourning flesh, not just the metaphorical feastings of Dave and friends on the leftover remnants of my heart, my soul, my reputation, my freaking character! After all, at this point, the pickings are so slim and meager that I genuinely can’t understand the interest…surely there’s not enough there to satisfy even a starving soul?
Apparently so, as I can’t even plan my pathetic, late-as-hell “escape” without a kick every once in a while for good measure. I’m struggling and fighting this damned sense of victimization which I hate so much it makes me sick even to write of these things any more. Or maybe it’s that burning sense of injustice and flood of unkindness and continued crucification which keeps me from withering up and dying completely. It’s almost cost me a great degree of my voice and I do not know what I could even be after he’s fully taken my voice and my ability to write. It just might be my lingering indignance which is holding the shell of my existence together at all, keeping it from crumbling quietly into dust. Perhaps I should stop fighting this victimized-feeling and embrace it, allow it to strengthen me out of my hopeless feeling of being powerless, beaten, and small? Hmm….
I have comprised a plan of revenge. In my circumstances, I have no way in which to actually carry it through, but it’s a lovely fantasy nonetheless. I imagine that many people love me and know the truth of these past five years…the whole down-n-dirty, humiliating truth and they are so outraged and angry they begin a letter-writing campaign on my behalf – no, on the behalf of all people who have gone through emotional and mental abuse. Upon me leaving my home, he receives hundreds of letters from people who know the truth, faceless people who are not afraid to stand up against this man’s cruel persecution of my spirit. Each day or week he receives lovely pieces of mail from people who know what he has done and refuse to buy into his lies and bullshit, as a regular reminder that he did not just “get away with it”. And he, like me, has no chance, opportunity, or method by which to combat the attack. He would just have to sit in it, regularly reminded of his cruelty, its effects, and his powerlessness! Then he might have to spend some time in paranoia, looking at every stranger who meets his eye and wondering, does he know? Does she? Just as I still worry with every person I meet or pass, “Did he tell them I was crazy? Did he tell that person I’m a psycho? A slut? A lying cheater? Wonder what story that person heard?”
For it seems, just when I’ve let the worries go and have convinced myself anyone who believes his garbage at this point is merely a victim of sorts themselves and is entitled to my sympathy, when I finally get to the “I don’t give a damn what he’s said to anyone”, another lovely twisted story of his finds its way to me…piling on top of the huge pile of garbage he’s dumped on me that I’m already trying to climb out from underneath. And the exhaustion revives itself in me. The sense of powerlessness and damned victimization I hate SO much, gathers al around my soul to begin feasting again.
I sent him a message asking him just to please SHUT UP. Leave me alone. Reminding him he has not a single reason at this point in his game to speak my name even, let alone tarnish it further. He has won by yards and miles already. The damage done is irreversible even now. I’m leaving and his story will always stand in my place of absence; not mine, not the truth, but his sick and twisted deviation of my person. I can’t imagine any greater victory for him? So why continue beating this broken and beaten thing? Does he really still get that much pleasure and self-satisfaction from it…even NOW? Why not just SHUT UP? No, go above and beyond to make everyone always, think the person you’ve victimized is psycho crazy, then you never have to worry about being held accountable for the cruelty you perpetually heaped upon her… After all, she’s just “crazy”. Nothing she says will ever account to anything after you’ve told that to enough people ad nauseum.
Why am I so surprised anyway? Why wouldn’t anyone want to continue kicking and beating the person they’ve already slaughtered? After all, she’s dead already…. It’s not like anyone will ever find out the truth now…or believe it coming from a crazy-psycho dead girl even if they did!
Ohhh it would be Christmas every day to just imagine this letter-campaign of outraged people, addressing the truth to him which he feels he has sufficiently buried beneath his heavily placed offensive-tactic accusations and insults. He could just laugh away a few letters, but if hundreds came to him long after I’m gone, that would have to make him think maybe he wasn’t really fooling everyone after all. His mailbox becoming the screaming, lingering Tell-Tale Heart of an Edgar Allen Poe story! It’s a harmless, but juicy thought in my weak state of stress, fatigue, and hopeless indignation…
(insert evil cackle here)
Washed in a forgotten moment
05 Jun 2010 6 Comments
in Beginnings, Dave, faith, Falling in love, Life, LOVE Tags: blessings, Dave, DAVE K., devotion, dreams, happiness, hope, joy, memories, unconditional love
There was one night…it was pounding rain in fat bullets from the sky. We ran quickly in the house, but still we were drenched! Tiny Jake was soaking wet and shivering. Grabbing a towel, I wrapped him up snuggly and tight like an infant swaddled. And you…. You…. I could see directly into your heart through the look in your eyes. It was big and warm, vibrantly green and had rays of hope shooting from it like a starburst. So bright and full, it shimmered all the way through your eyes, dusting me with a mist of sparkling light as you watched me drying Jake.
I could have sworn at that moment that love was not merely an intangible emotion or some silly concept for romance novels and love songs, but solid and as truly touchable as a soft, furry, smiling puppy… shivering and wet from the driving rain.
Maybe that is why I still ache for you every time it rains…
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