An Impetuous Buffet of Loving Indulgence

Our humble return

lostintranslation11 — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 17:23:36 +0000

I do not know where or how to begin back on this blog… I do know, however, that unless I just “do”, the random pieces of me – the pieces I love, the pieces I detest and every other element in the middle – will begin to float out into a vast black hole of nothingness. And it will be as if it never happened; even perhaps as if I haven’t existed in those frames. There would merely be long frames of life and action, empty of humanity…filled with nothing but the space around the people: an entire section of a movie void of any activity or characters; photographical “still” shots, running consecutively without humanity to define it.
I’ve yet again returned to my home that never was. I’m delighted to do so as for a moment there, circumstances and events all pointed to the distinct possibility that returning ever again might have been an unfortunate impossibility. So, I return with gratitude… Gratitude that I had a place to “return” to as well as mass gratitude that I was given the ability and resources against the odds to actually do so.
In the City of Sin, I lived in a lovely house with my two daughters and Jasper the cat. We lived about ten miles from the children’s father. I could go on and on about the terrific points of our brief stay there. It was certainly not as horrible as it could have been. However, my children’s father was not the same person I’ve we’ve thought he was for many years. He was cruel and abusive. This began as being directed only toward me, which was disappointing and uncomfortable, as well as shocking and unwarranted. Shortly after I realized that I was to be treated like the unwanted step-child, I soon realized that this wasn’t to stop with me. The daddy slowly started directing it toward our children – the very children whom he was “moved to tears” that they would be living in close proximity to him. Even this I thought would be workable, such was my faith in the man I’d come to think the daddy was. Yet, when we combined his blatant disrespect and dis-compassion to me with his treatment of my children, our children, I very quickly realized that I was powerless to protect my children from the same treatment. Without the mutual respect of our previous relationship, my attempts at interfering on their behalf merely caused huge arguments, more disrespect, more apathy, and the treatment continued…and worsened.
I want so much to be grateful that my children had never before seen or heard their parents argue and be grateful that they had no concept of how horribly unkind their father was capable of treating their mother. After all, this was the very reason these children had never lived in a “nuclear family” situation. I decided when they were still infants that I would prefer them to grow up in a single mother dysfunction rather than expose them to the kind of environment which was their parents living together as a family. My choice in moving across the country in order to allow them more contact and closeness with their father was based entirely upon the mass changes he had made in himself, his life, and his character since our early days. It proved, however, that I merely postponed their exposure to these things for thirteen years and then promptly moved them directly into the line of fire to experience the very way of life I so proudly and fiercely had protected them from as babies.
So, I wish to be grateful that they were saved from experiencing this as their only life experience up until this point, as I understand some children have… But, I can’t. I’m angry as hell that I made this choice: angry at myself and furiously angry with their father! Had I not regained such faith and trust in him, my children very well might have gone their whole lives without knowing on any personal level the kind of person their father could be… and often is. But now they know. And even my attempts at coloring the events with my rosy crayon fell upon eyes now too old to fall for such deceptions. It wasn’t long after we arrived that I ran out of smoke and mirrors and plausible explanations for his behaviors.
Now my gratitude is only in that I was able to successfully remove us from that situation. Not without massive loss… we had no choice but to leave our belongings there and leave with only a few suitcases of clothing. We were satisfied with that exchange when we thought we might lose our home if we did not leave these things behind. However, in his anger at our choice to leave against his will (and more notably in spite of his “power” over us), he opted to take our home from us anyway. So we returned “home” homeless. To add insult to injury, “Daddy” also decided to contact my father to warn and threaten him not to “assist us” in any way, claiming that it was for “our own good” to suffer the consequences of our “rash and thoughtless” actions; threatening to never again provide any support or assistance to either myself or our two children if my father opted to assist us in any manner. Adding in there that any kindnesses my father might offer us would be taken for granted(by us), as any and all previous kindnesses had been. The “Daddy” was terribly insulting to my father, as well as our two children and me.
I am exceedingly grateful that my father did not heed these threats or warnings and chose to assist us anyway. Thankfully, I mustered up the finances to get us back in a safe environment and we were fortunate enough to stay with my dad for a few months until I could find a place for us to live.
And we are home…with not a single desire to ever leave again. I don’t miss my things much… my clothes, my furniture, not even my precious life mementos. What I deeply miss is the innocence of my children; their beautiful faith in their father, our respect for him as a good man – those are the things I miss the most that in the aftermath of this whole disaster, I fear can never be replaced or restored.
I realize here on my blog, that only a few months ago, I truly believed the worst pain I could feel was a repeatedly crushed and destroyed heart courtesy of Dave K. I now realize with horrifying impact that even that doesn’t compare to the agony of watching your children’s hearts break and knowing you are powerless to ever repair or soothe their pain.
I have the most amazing and beautiful children any mother could have, as well as the blessings of angels in the assistance my father provided us in our desperate time of need. I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

Gratitude…

lostintranslation11 — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 21:26:34 +0000

Lately I’ve really been thinking a lot about gratitude. I look for it in others to see how it looks on them. I regularly exercise my own gratitude and stay in a grateful place…

The more I’m aware of gratitude, the more I see a chronic lack of it in so many. And I wonder, perhaps mine is too large and thus, easily taken for granted and/or manipulated? Or do I just happen to have regular contact and life dealings with basically ungrateful (selfish?) people?

My ex-husband is a most generous man for the most part. I would never deem him selfish in any monetary sense and yet, the man has a perspective that is selfish to such an extreme that I have trouble comprehending his view, much less reconciling it with the man I know who would help me or our children out with money to just about any length we requested, as long as it wasn’t just an obnoxious request… So, I wonder just how a generous man so regularly maintains a perspective of every day dealings quite as” ME, ME, ME!!!” as this man does?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m extremely grateful for his financial generosity and I do understand that’s a rare circumstance and blessing for a divorced, single mother. I just can’t help but wonder how someone so financially generous can maintain such absolute selfishness? The two just don’t mesh. And my petty side, when faced with this realization over and over, wants to say, “My gosh, you are the most unbelievably selfish man I’ve ever known!” And yet, I could never in good conscience say that given the overall picture of his mostly quite generous nature, which I strive to stay grateful for and feel it’s the utmost of ingratitude to even think such a thing about him!

…there just seems to be a point though, when generosity goes beyond merely being willing to write a check to help. Or more importantly maybe it’s less about the money and more about the mutual experience and feelings involved. It’s so much easier to stay grateful toward a person who is full of gratitude in return! But a person who think his act of financial generosity is so far above and beyond anyone else’s kind gestures that he treats them as though they just don’t count…or as though they are expected…and still don’t quite make the cut of something to be grateful for…

I’m sure I sound like a spoiled brat…and perhaps I am? No, I’m not able to help many out with much money compensation or assistance(although I certainly do when I’m able), but I am that person who does any and every thing else I possibly can in order to feel I’m a helpful human being, if only generous with my time, compassion, or other things which don’t hold a price tag of any kind and therefore can never be measured by today’s materialistic standard of “generosity”. Somehow it just feels frustrating to stay grateful for every little smidgen of generosity from a person, when that person is completely oblivious to any gifts of kindness he’s been offered. Almost as though anything I could ever offer is merely expected, while anything I receive should fill me with gratitude.

I just don’t know. It isn’t that I DO things for the gratitude. I prefer to do kindness anonymously actually…but when that’s not possible and the person does know what you’ve done (or at least knows your intentions), a little gratitude goes a long way toward feeling that kindness made any difference in this world or for that person whatsoever. I think feeling like your best efforts mean nothing just sucks a lot of the momentum to make any attempt at this at all.

And at least when it’s done anonymously, one can always assume and pretend that it was indeed special and a valuable contribution to some person’s life, day, heart, etc, somewhere. Even if it’s not appreciated at all, you’re just not so acutely aware of how useless your kind intentions and attempts were.

Moving, flowing, stagnating…decaying…

lostintranslation11 — Sun, 11 Jul 2010 16:10:43 +0000

Now what? Will the stench of my battered and beaten soul carry over? Will the people here smell it as easily as the people there seemed to? Will the breakdown of the very fiber of my being, atom by atom, continue here to break down?

Woke up this morning to thoughts of him, resentfully wondering when will the first day in six years that I do not think even once of him? …not remember some cruelty, or worse yet some ancient loving kindness which should by now be so stale and moldy that I’m not at all tempted to revisit a site or feeling so ancient its very authenticity should now be questioned…because it’s validity has been so thoroughly contaminated by age and drenched in poisonous toxins of regular cruelty… When?

…can people smell the decay of a rotting heart, the bloody and beaten spirit from 2,000 miles away from the scene of the crime? And four years after the initial deadly stab? All the countless following merely a swift revival of that heart, just to rip its tenderly mended pieces apart yet again? Does mere redundancy smell of the bitter metallic scent of the initial blood-fest?

“Stalked” his FB page the other day, overwhelmed with curiosity. (Maybe that’s why the thoughts? Haha..who am I kidding here?!) Yes, he has an official (albeit not FB status official yet) new bi-annual flavor. So interesting! Took the man four years after our split to make a commitment for anything beyond a one-night-stand, well other of course than the 2 AM booty call “regular”… And now he’s suddenly a serial committer? WTF?! His booty-call turned engagement split was a mere 7 months ago or so and he’s already on to another “girlfriend”? Is this due to the hardened heart he’s claimed so many times that I caused as he stabbed another knife into my heart, yet another time? Or is it desperation on his part to stay away from me..or desperation to have someone, anyone, something meaningful in his beginning-to-age years? A sudden newly developed fear of being truly alone? Exaggerated quick commitment because his fear of commitment has grown beyond his control?

After crying and whining for over four years that he could not find what we had..nothing even close to the passion, joy, and love we shared, suddenly he’s meeting these types of suitable replacements back-to-back?

What is that even? Other than either just plain good fortune (I mean, WOW!) or mere pathetic desperation stemming from a weariness of chronic one-or-two-night stands with faceless, nameless people full of drunken meaningless redundant sexual escapades?

I shouldn’t even ponder any of this..it certainly matters not a smidgen on any level at this point… However, it’s mystifying to me… What on earth does this even mean? So odd…but hopefully he’s found “the one”. In spite of my resentments that he refuses to leave my heart and mind once and for all (ugh!), I actually do wish him happiness…..well that mixed with a bit of karma too perhaps…hehe… After all, I am still a human being, perhaps barely, but I am…I am…still flawed and human after all!

Goodbye Tomorrow

lostintranslation11 — Fri, 02 Jul 2010 09:03:24 +0000

Tomorrow is the day!!! We fly out of here with a one-way ticket….no return, no changing minds, no turning back…. it’s one-way, baby! Scary and exhilarating. I will cry. Good-byes are in the realm of unbearable for me…literally. I often find I’d rather be rude and avoid people than ever say good-bye. I’m not even good at saying good-bye to the people I don’t like! I just detest good-byes! Typically, I avoid them like the plague…

There is no avoiding tomorrow… Which means there will be crying, sobbing, heaving, the embarrassing kind of tears…the “OMG Dave and I broke up” kinda crying probably…ewww!

I returned DK’s clothes I’ve had for a while. I wouldn’t want the next ridiculous accusation to be that I’m a thief. Sadly, that’s not even an absurd or paranoid fear with the way he bashes my character. Crazy to realize that after hitting the best of the best and the worst of the worst, the man has zero feelings for me at all. After all the nights he came running to me, crying and sighing, full of words he couldn’t get out, as well as words he never should have let out. After it all, there is nothing. Empty. Void. Zero. Nada.

I thought of keeping his clothes out of spite even, but realized I just don’t want them and he does, so why not take the high road? It’s not as if keeping a few articles of his favorite clothing would ever compensate for all the cruel damage he’s done anyway…and it would mostly just serve to make me feel petty and small. So, I dropped them at his house when he wasn’t home..nor was the new “bi-annual flavor of the month” there either.

Strangely, I don’t wish him ill. I almost wish I did or could, but I just don’t. I even sometimes have little prayers and hopes that perhaps this is finally “the one” for him..this latest strange car parked at his house down the street from my soon-to-be old house. Perhaps this is the happiness he needed, minus any inconveniences or challenges which I represented to him after all the years and tears? The mean part of me wants to hope he just gets what he’s dished out to me for so long – cruelty. But, my heart would ache to think of him hurting even a moment the way he’s hurt me. I don’t know if that makes me strong or just plain stupid..but I’m leaning toward the “stupid” answer.

I’ll never know how someone could be and do so much good (and horrible) in my life and then just be absolutely nothing. The two just contradict themselves. I feel as though this sets a low-level of importance on anything. As though the most wondrous of experiences and feelings will always be significantly lessened in my mind and heart because maybe someday that very thing will merely be a void of anything, like this whole experience was. If anyone had ever tried to tell me that I would be literally nothing to the man who loved me so much he cried, I would have laughed at the ridiculous thought alone and been certain as I’ve been of nothing in my life, but certain that it all meant something significant.

Nope. It all was merely nothing. Every tear, every effort, every cruelty I allowed hoping it would make things even again, hoping it would open his heart back up, hoping we could at least have a friendship…..all for nothing. It feels as though I’m so dispensable and worthless that not even a shred of emotion, good OR bad, can be mustered up on behalf of it ALL….that just feels “off” to me…impossible actually…and yet it’s totally possible and realistic today.

And I wonder if I’ll ever bother to waste a tear, an emotion, much less an effort on any other person who claims to love me? After all, if it’s possible to just mean nothing as though it never was or happened, then why would one ever waste even a moment on such trivial, useless-ness? Seems pretty silly really…

And I think to myself that either he really IS a sociopath (that’s a hurtful hard thought really) or I am just a crazy person (always a possibility). All I know is that this feels like I’m having to realize that one plus one does not equal two, macaroni does not go well with cheese, and french fries are not commonly eaten with ketchup. Feels as though the whole world is not what I once knew; as though nothing at all is what I’ve ever thought. It’s almost more upside down and confused than the day we broke up. I knew he cared and I at least knew why we split. This though…this makes no sense whatsoever.

Radical acceptance here that the grass is orange and the sky is green. Nothing is was or will be what it seems…. I can only hope that this realization will keep things in perspective for me from here on out and I’m never again tempted to place value (much less such precious value) on such trifling and trivial matters as this has apparently been.

What a lesson!

the home that wasn’t

lostintranslation11 — Fri, 25 Jun 2010 12:01:40 +0000

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

lostintranslation11 — Thu, 24 Jun 2010 14:06:16 +0000

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

lostintranslation11 — Mon, 21 Jun 2010 13:57:26 +0000

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?

lostintranslation11 — Thu, 17 Jun 2010 11:03:51 +0000

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!

lostintranslation11 — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 15:17:39 +0000

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

lostintranslation11 — Mon, 14 Jun 2010 09:32:10 +0000

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.