Moving, flowing, stagnating…decaying…
11 Jul 2010 Leave a Comment
in abuse, broken heart, Dave, Ex's, just messed up, Life, LOVE Tags: abuse, abusive relationships, broken, broken dreams, broken heart, confusion, Dave, DAVE K., destruction, fucked up, karma, Life, Life Lessons, lost spirit, LOVE, ponderings, Questions, relationships, unconditional love
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!
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.
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)
Broken wings
12 May 2010 Leave a Comment
in abuse, Beginnings, broken heart, child abuse, children, dating, faith, Falling in love, fears, just messed up, Life, Life Lessons, LOVE, mothers, respect, Writing Tags: abuse, child abuse, childhood, cruel, desperation, destruction, domestic violence, fears, home, lost spirit, low self esteem, memories, self love, self-respect, vulnerability, WTF
She felt like a child still in so many ways…wondering why the world always seemed to roughly push against her when she tried to stand up for herself and expect to be treated like an equally important member of society… It was so uncomfortable to stand up for herself against anyone for any reason at all and the slightest resistance or push back and she just crumbled…feeling more and more weak and pathetic. She often wondered why she was so easy to knock down?
As a child, she hadn’t been permitted the luxury of finding her own way, questioning authority, having opinions, or expressing any type of individuality. These things simply had not been permitted or tolerated in any form. What evolved from this was a fearful person; one who fit smoothly into the world and so many lives of others merely because she wasn’t equipped with a backbone to go against the grain, much less, stand up for herself. Although it sometimes seemed to her that she’d been born without a back bone, a genetic deformity of sorts, logically she understood her mother had removed it entirely over a slow and degrading 17-year-long process. A few times when it seemed one might be trying to develop in her, it was quickly squashed and eliminated. One did not question adults, either respectfully or otherwise. No questions whatsoever. One liked whatever one was given, one liked what other people liked if one wanted to BE liked or ever hope of being loved. Always just smile and go along with it. This made her an easy target for all types of abuse and manipulation.
So at 5, she didn’t question the teenage boy who insisted she go into his bedroom with him every day. She didn’t question the other babysitter either, an even older teenage girl who manipulated her even further. She didn’t question the elementary school janitor who groped beneath her panties after school. They were so much older and she desperately wanted to be a “good girl”. She wanted to be liked and thought well of and maybe if she was ever good enough, someone would come along who could love her. And anyway, she learned from a very early age that if you didn’t like something, you’d better keep your mouth shut and pretend to or it promised to get far worse. Plus, she didn’t want to be the fussy, problem child. God forbid she be an insolent, precocious type child who disgusted the adults with sass or youthful curiosity! She longed for love and acceptance..ached for it actually from her earliest memory on… Thus, she never questioned or argued, never pushed back against any type of authority…no matter how uncomfortable or wrong it felt. She didn’t suffer from a lack of identity, inner strength, or sense of righteous indignation, she simply never was permitted to develop any from the beginning. She was always a chameleon, learning to quickly change colors and quietly blend in with whatever color seemed safest in any given circumstance or moment. Somewhere buried inside her was envy of those people and children who had no trouble speaking their minds or pushing back against an authority figure if they did something which seemed wrong. She envied them the security that came from knowing if they just did the right thing for themselves, someone bigger and more powerful would be there to support and protect them.
Ironically, the catch-22 started hitting her early. She was so hungry for love and affection, any type of acceptance would be welcomed. This must have been obvious and she was often treated cruelly by her peers or friends. She early on became the common door mat for many to wipe their frustrations and insecurities. When she was hurt and tried to discuss this with her mother, desperate for some consolation, compassion and perhaps even just a little sense of support, mother would yell at her for letting people treat her badly. This was always so confusing! She wasn’t supposed to expect better, much less demand anything better, right? Be quiet and content with what you have, or else…it will only get worse. All she knew for certain is she wanted to feel loved and had to be quietly unassuming and accepting so it would not get even worse.
After she left mother’s home and had her very first official boyfriend, she soon realized she had attracted a violent man. A Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde type man who worshipped and adored her more than she’d ever experienced before, but also would get very angry if she upset him intentionally or otherwise. This was especially hard for her to handle with any self-respect. There was the back-bone issue of course, mixed with the open affection and love that flowed freely in moments when her boyfriend wasn’t angry with her. She knew she wanted more of that, in fact she felt a bottomless pit of need for this love. How could she walk away from the first person who loved her enough to defend her to others, even if he did physically attack her himself? At least he didn’t allow anyone else treat her badly. He loved her most of the time and at least this way the cruelty only came from one person, instead of several. This was better than anything she had ever known before!
After a few years of his random and violent beatings she realized she must escape soon when he started openly threatening her life if she tried to leave. She turned to her mother for help… scared and begging for a place of refuge. Mother said, “You’ve let him treat you like this for years now…so you deserve what he dishes out. You must like it to have stayed so long. Give it a few years and then if I can believe that you’re really not going to go back to him again, maybe I will help you at that point.”
Give it a few years? He had recently forced her into his car and kidnapped her for an afternoon and another time recently had threatened her with a gun. She never once called the police on him (not wanting to get him in any trouble), and when concerned neighbors would hear and called the police, they never helped. In spite of her obvious busted lips and bloody noses, they would always say something like, “You two need to separate for a while and work this out on your own.”
Dad would take one look at her black and swollen eyes and say, “Honey, what did you do? You know how sassy you can be…you must have said or done something to really set him off this time. You have to learn to watch your mouth, girl.”
Give it a few years? The violence was escalating amazingly fast. She had no where safe to run and she didn’t believe she would last another few years.
In this desperation, she did what she had to do to get free and after a few years of counseling later in life, she realized that mother hadn’t allowed her to have a backbone or to develop any self-respect and then punished and criticized her further for being “weak”. No one was ever going to stand up for her and she didn’t have the strength or self-confidence to ever stand up for herself, she wanted to be loved too much to ever take that chance. It was a no-win situation. She was the world’s punching bag, literally and figuratively… and she could never lose the fear that if she didn’t learn to accept this, it could always get worse.
With this innate sense of constant fear and drastic lack of self-respect or entitlement, she set out in life, mostly hoping not to be noticed much and praying someone safe someday would.
Confession…
06 May 2010 2 Comments
in Beginnings, broken heart, Cheating, dating, Dave, just messed up, Life, Life Lessons, LOVE, random kindness, signs Tags: broken dreams, Broken hearts, compromised, DAVE K., destruction, dreams, dysfunction, faith, falling in love, mistakes, promises, truth, unconditional love, unfaithful, WTF
I was unfaithful. I cheated myself, my children, my heart, my faith, my hope, my spirit, my character. Not only that, but I cheated Dave and worse yet, I cheated all of these things from him as well. I cheated every one of everything that was right and good in our lives.
As with anything and everything, there is certainly more to the story and sometimes in fleeting moments of denial, I can comfort myself with those factual, but sad and pathetic extenuating circumstances, but for the most part, I cannot.
Is it wrong to have thoughts at times which say, “Surely there was something he did wrong before the infidelity…” I would actually attempt to distort something (anything) he once did or maybe once said even just one single time that was slightly unkind or perhaps alluded to some kind of future abuse or psychosis….
Nothing.
And many have said to me there must have been something? There had to have been. You couldn’t have been truly happy or it wouldn’t (couldn’t!) have happened.
Nope. Clear as a miserable bell, I know I was very happy. I knew it then (can’t blame this on hindsight either). I know it now.
Too happy? So happy it didn’t seem possible to realistically maintain? Yeah…frighteningly happy? Like when you go to a horror movie and the happy music is playing and there’s sunshine, laughter, security abounding and you wait on the edge of your seat, heart beating, pulse racing, and your logic silently screaming, “It’s coming!” You know any second something horribly tragic is going to explode on the screen. It must. You don’t want it to come but something in you knows you really do want it because that’s what you’ve ultimately come to the cinema to see, right? After all, you’ve specifically asked for this tragedy with the price of your ticket.
That kind of happiness. Scary happy. Waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop-happy.
Only it never did. And it surely had to… Right?
So, it seems I forced it to drop. Was the anticipation too much? Did the happy part go on and on so long that my heart couldn’t take the wait anymore? Was logic screaming so loudly at me that I couldn’t relax in that kind of happy? Had life taught me too well already that this was only possible in fairy tales? My life certainly had never been anything near fairy tale quality. I was no long-lost beloved princess finally saved from all the evils of the world by my fair prince who had been looking for me all his life. There was no way this existed on any plane of reality possible for me…
There were no signs of impending doom. There was no cruel undertone in something he even once casually said in a quiet or controlling voice. There were no sarcastic words; no subtle insults to my character, my appearance, or my intelligence, phrased as a “joke” so as to make it acceptable to keep me in my place or put me down sub-consciously. …except in my logic. In my brain and my experiential wisdom there was always this little nudge. Nudge, nudge – another day full of kindness has passed… another day of sincerely spoken compliments, loving gestures, and sweet-nothings has passed… the music of my logic is getting scarier and scarier… Da-da-da-dum, da-da-da-dum…playing faster and faster. The bad guy is coming. The moment of tragedy is hanging in limbo directly over your head. It’s just hanging there waiting around till you feel so safe and comfortable that it’s definitely not coming…for full, tragic effect, you know…
I might even be able to convince myself that this is only the hind-sight story of a romantic hopeful, the rose-colored version of falling in love where nostalgia and regret fade the facts and amplify the colors of happiness to such a vibrant shade that the bad stuff disappears into oblivion. Except, I was so overly aware of this unrealistic happiness that I spoke regularly of it to my dad, whom I knew would understand that this wasn’t logically possible. Whom I expected to point out the tiny ugly realities I HAD to be missing throughout this experience. And even he couldn’t. My wise and all-too logical father could only continually remind and reassure me that I deserved this happiness and offer advice to me to accept it or else by looking so hard for the ugly, I would eventually make something ugly happen.
What? Make it happen?? That’s not possible! I’m gloriously happy. No person desperate for happiness, like me, would ever create the very unhappiness they fear and dread from a gift so pure and beautiful it must be directly from God. That’s just some psychological mumbo-jumbo! No one in their right mind, finally experiencing happy without a single sign of impending doom on the horizon would sabotage such beauty, such intoxicating joy of life, such a sense of security and love. NO….don‘t be silly!
Hindsight does, though, strongly indicate to me that there was another sneaky element going on through this. One I could never have anticipated or braced myself to handle. The sneakiest of subtle sabotage tactics, so very tricky that it just hung out in the corner recesses of my mind, innocently playing all alone and not mingling ever with the other thoughts and fears which were obvious enough for me to ask advice from those wiser than I. Quietly gaining power and strength…
I am not worthy…
This sneaky element of sub-conscious sabotage actually came out in the light only once.
Right around maybe the sixth month marker, we had gone for a few drinks away from the crowd of friends, romantically alone, and were laughing and enjoying ourselves. Having a nice traditional date in out-of-the-way places where we could adore each other uninterrupted by the “Ahh you two lovebirds make the rest of us sick!” And I was loving every minute of this until it dawned upon me. Maybe this was even the first moment I ever had seen my happiness so very clearly and felt it to the core of my being, minus the what-if’s and can’t-be’s. And I said to him, “What is this? I’ve never known anything like this. It can’t be real, can it? And if it is, there’s no way I deserve this much. Here is why….” And I commenced to tell him why I didn’t deserve this…deserve him, deserve genuine love…
And then he said one of the most beautiful things I’ve heard anyone say in my life that wasn’t written in a song, a book, or a movie…
…He said, “Every single horrible thing that has happened to you or me, every single bad choice or mistake we might have made in our pasts, every single thing right wrong, good or bad, has brought us right here right now. And we have to just be grateful for it ALL and know that this was why it ALL happened exactly as it did. If not for that exactly, whatever it may have been, we would not be here with each other right now in this exact moment, having this.”
I choked up. A huge lump in my throat developed, my eyes stung and threatened to cry as every horror-movie moment of my past flashed across my mind and I saw every path of it leading me, sometimes even forcing me to this moment with him. He was so wise and so right. He could see more broadly than I. My devotion, my respect, my gratitude, my understanding quadrupled in that moment, with those stunning words of amazingly insightful wisdom. And suddenly everything made sense. Everything. Every pain and every struggle from my earliest memory I could instantly and directly connect to the events (forced or otherwise) which led me to RIGHT HERE, directly to HIM. A million individually ugly tiny puzzle pieces of time dropped at once, snapped into place, and created a gorgeous sunrise shimmering with love and happiness. And I could think of each one and actually FEEL each and every one of them as reasons to be grateful for it all.
I loved his simplicity…adored it even, amidst my confounding and irritating contradictions. And it was in this moment that I realized his “simplicity” wasn’t so simple after all. I saw him in an entirely new light of love and blessings. And it was also then that I began to fully realize that this might indeed be real…that perhaps the other shoe was not ever going to kick me in the face after all. A most beautiful moment… Or the beginning of the end?
Less than a year later and ironically while singing his praises, my blessings, and this very theory of deserved, “everything happens for a reason” happiness, I cheated.
Yes………. I cheated.
Spinning…spinning…spinning!
12 Dec 2009 Leave a Comment
in broken heart, Dave, dreams, faith, fears, just messed up, Life, life transformations, LOVE, Writing Tags: confusion, connection, Dave, DAVE K., desire, desperation, destruction, strength, unconditional love
At last I can write – or I believe I can…. Typically, I write to process thoughts and mass confusion, as well as to ease the throbbing from the proverbial knife which stabs directly into my heart…and sits there…refusing to budge…
Seems D wasn’t as “gone” as I thought, as true to form, he has reappeared yet again…at the 6 month mark of his absence. The “FOR SALE” sign no longer sits in his yard. Its absence screams of something which didn’t quite work the way he had hoped…or another had hoped? I will never know the story. I can’t imagine I will ever ask..or learn the truth whatever it may be regardless, so I’ll not be asking!
Last Saturday, prior to any contact since June, I could not shake him from my thoughts. His presence lingered everywhere and quite honestly was driving me mad. Random glances at the driveway with the misplaced wondering of when is D coming home? The chronic expectation that he would, should be arriving any moment was leaving me with the distinct feeling of mildly hysterical insanity. “Of course he is not pulling in any moment, you FOOL!”, I consistently admonished my own thoughts. My eldest could not shake him either and we both felt this quite odd and of course, unsettling in its random constancy.
When around 11 PM I received a text message, I still did not imagine for a moment it was him. As only 6 months ago I would have been certain it was. And yet…..something in my gut told me….”Ahhh yes …THERE HE IS…” And yes, it was him!! I had to look again and again to be sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me! They were not..clear as day my phone announced “DK”. My heart felt it would explode…my hands shook as I grabbed the phone…my head spun so fast I literally struggled to read the words. Ohhhhh I sound so melodramatic! And the most pathetic and embarrassing part of it all, is that if anything, I’m actually somewhat undermining my strong, physical, mental, and emotional response to this tiny contact.
To cut to the chase and cease the temptation to provide every boring detail and subtle nuance of these text interaction that spanned a few hours’ time… After some inner struggle and torturous indecision trying desperately to tell myself, “Absolutely not! Under NO circumstances to you go to him damnit..NO! NO! NOOOO!!!!”, I went to him.
After taking me in fully in only a brief glance, he kissed me immediately…instantly…no moment of waiting or indecision on his part….or mine, in my response. And this proved that our kiss was the same as every kiss. In absolute mutual rhythm and complete understanding of the lip, mouth, heart, and character of the other side of this kiss. Like an orchestra who hasn’t played together in so long and yet they pick up instantly as thought they hadn’t missed a single day of practice… Our mouths met in perfect knowing rhythm, rhyme, and reason. A tiny (oh-so-tiny!) part of my mind, hoped in that brief moment before the initial exchange, that we would be changed somehow and had lost this connection and I would feel (sadly) secure that what we have shared from our first kiss through every kiss of the past five years would be altered beyond recognition. No.
And I didn’t even proclaim any hesitation or feign any trepidation at succumbing to him. Simple and silently clear as, “I want you still.” Yes, I want you still, as well. Like a drowning person finally gasping for that first gulp of delicious life-giving air, with zero embarrassment or cautionary thoughts, I gave myself yet again to the only man I have ever loved.
He spoke of his need for me..his desire…his daily fantasies of me through the past 6 months. And I questioned nothing. I know because I am him. I am his every desire, his every fantasy of thought. I am it every bit as much as he. Logic had no place in this moment in time..nor did rationality. Just the desperate satisfaction at finally being re-connected to my own personal oxygen supply. I do realize that it likely and probable that no one is intended to love anyone or anything on this level, much less need them/it. But after 6 months away from the source, I do not have the energy to carry on the farce that anything of the sort matters…or doesn’t make sense anymore…or hurts so badly later that I almost wish for death. He spoke of needing me and spoke of tomorrow…. I cared not that it was probably lies or exaggerations… my only thought was OXYGEN…AT LAST!!! The world stopped spinning and made sense again for a few hours..at last…
Several days later, he ignored my follow up contact…of course. Nothing has changed…or has it? So I message him that this new game of his was quite sad and he should lose my number permanently rather than drag me through this again…. no response…
Dreamt of him yesterday…the first dream in SO long where we were together and happy..no complications or hidden agendas and it seems I even was handwriting our wedding invitations at one point… This dream was luscious..with no anxieties or stress points mixed in..just the sheer comfort and security we actually shared so long ago…
Nothing at all from him though…. until last night around 11 PM again, when he texts, “I was wrong. Sorry!” …which progresses shortly thereafter to repeated and insistent “I wantyou” Come to me” messages.
I play the game and volley the texts and the subject as hand back and forth for several hours. I never respond to these directly, except one simple “I want you too”. Otherwise, I dodge his demands.
What I will never tell him is that I attempted to go to him, but my garage door was frozen shut, making it impossible for me to leave. I almost texted him this, but opted instead to at least let it appear as though I have some strength against him, some will power inside that provides the ability to deny him.
And my world continues to relentlessly spin. I feel no satisfaction at the false premise of strength against this insanity which circumstances forced upon me. I just miss him. I only love him. Still….
The Crayola dance
11 May 2009 3 Comments
in broken heart, Dave, faith, fears, just messed up, Life, Life Lessons, LOVE Tags: dancing, Dave, DAVE K., desire, destiny, destruction, devotion, fucked up, hope, hopeless, innocence, LOVE, Loyalty, naivete, unconditional love
Dancing with the devil again…. As though I could ever lead that dance or win at that game, but here I go anyway. If I were a crayon, I’d have to be the brightest shade of hopelessly hopeful spring green! Although I would be a chameleon crayon that would change into a hopelessly romantic bubble gum pink when I’m dancing with the devil. Turning into despondent depressed blue when he wins again, as he always does because I was never intended as strong enough to dance with the devil. I am putty to his game…a hopeless, spineless formless blob of bleeding heart red up against his dangerous-razor- of-apathy-black.
He is a chameleon crayon too, only his changes come as he senses what color I want him to be at any given moment, steps into it subtly like a form-fitting suit of body armor that deceptively appears to be his true color…and there I go again. Whirling and swirling with his Crayola-color of the moment; his disguise to lure me into feeling safe as he slices me to shreds when his authentic color shows again, as it always eventually will.
I wonder if my God-given vocation is the devil’s free prostitute? It seems I’m intended only as a vehicle of physical desire. Somewhere along the way, all my other gifts have been rendered useless- without a single morsel of value in this world. All the beautiful gifts that people were shocked and bewildered to discover once they got past my exterior appearance…
My friend Lisa tells me this weekend, “Girl, you just WOW me! You have everything – the total package!! And I can’t understand how someone like you could ever be single!?” I just smile and look away because I know that none of that means anything … and hasn’t for so long, I forget it’s even there. The devil doesn’t care what my other qualities are. Only that which feeds his desire and renders his physical satisfaction, which is decidedly not my “other” qualities. Any and all of my exes would have sex with me in a heartbeat, as would most any random male who comes around. No, this is not arrogance or conceit on my part…believe me I do not have that. I’ve just learned from my years of dancing with the devil that my other qualities matter not at all to anyone any more. Except in those brief sad moments when my friend reminds me of them and I just feel sad that anyone can still recognize any of that, since it doesn’t matter anymore – useless qualities which only serve to make me think I might once have been worth more…until I started dancing with the devil…sad to remember even because they seem to only hold me back from accepting my true purpose in life…to serve sexual desires and prompt fantasies.
Why do I even have any other qualities? I know she meant it as a compliment though… It was very kind of her to recognize me. It made me hope for a minute…just enough to get back on the dance floor with him. Geesh!
For such a woe-is-me post here, I’m surprisingly resigned at the moment. I don’t really feel sorry for myself. i know it could always be so much worse! Many don’t have the blessings I have, so how dare I be such a pitiful ingrate? There are ceratainly far worse possibilities in life than having a clset full of precious charcteristics which don’t make a bit of difference and serve no real purpose in the world
So today I’ve been invited to dance in the sun with the devil. And although I’ve not committed myself to it yet…heaven knows I’ll be frolicking about in the sun as his prism, changing colors as he does because I can never remember my real color when I dance with him in spiritual and physical passionate delight. My only constant color being a twist between The Devil’s Concubine Fiery Red and Optimistically Naïve Spring Green…
And although I already know the doom of the future of this dance…..Crayola dance, I will!
Gaslighting
26 Mar 2009 Leave a Comment
in abuse, Anger!, broken heart, Dave, faith, fears, just messed up, Life Tags: abuse, abusive relationships, Dave, DAVE K., destruction, fucked up, insanity, ponderings, Questions, sociopaths, trust, truth
When I wrote of craving documentation, I did not think it was a necessity. It was merely because I am forgetful sometimes, although not typically ergarding matters close to my heart. Those things seem burned into my memories like permanent fixtures I can’t rid myself of when I want to!
However, it is exceedingly troublesome to be in the position to doubt reality. I recall reading something about this technique referred to as “gaslighting”. This term comes from a Hitchcock movie where a woman’s husband wants her to believe she’s crazy. He tells her things didn’t happen when they did. He tells her she did things she didn’t. He tells her she didn’t do things she knows she did. She gets increasingly confused by this and doubts her own sanity. This is the perfect setup to make someone believe they’re crazy. Although it is somewhat easy to dismiss this the first few times as just being mistaken, over time, it really does work to make you wonder…
No one thinks that documenting every encounter, ever visit, every conversation, every phone call or text would ever be necessary in order to prove mundane everyday things. I think we should all be exhausted if we had to document every interaction with others in order to have verification of reality. Quite honestly, out of embarraassment for the truth, I have not done that even here…the place where I really “let it all out”. Why I would be embarrassed about things on a mostly anonymous blog, I’ve no idea, but I have been. However, I’m now wishing I wasn’t. Not that it provides any actual documentation or evidentiary proof of anything real, but at this point for my own peace of mind it would be comforting. And mind comfort is hard for me to come by these days. So, I’m really wishing I had blogged more concretely in dates and times and events.
I did not. And perhaps my embarrassment was what he counts on. The embarrassment does help keep things hidden and creates a challenge for me in the event that I ever might have to prove something, either to myself, him, or anyone else. Although I just wouldn’t ever imagine that this kind of thing would be important to prove anything other than possibly a murder case or police investigation. Couldn’t imagine it would be important to prove irrelevant events that shouldn’t even be up for debate…other than for someone attempting to “gaslight”.
Can I trust that I’m typing this right now? Can I trust that I’m even sitting here? I might not be. He very well may tell me tomorrow that I wasn’t. And when I attempt to “prove” it, by showing the blog entry with date and time (or some equivalent method of proof), he will explain it away, as though I’m ridiculous to believe that proves a single thing.
And gosh, why would I ever need to prove such things anyway, right? I should know if I am sitting here typing this; if I checked my email, if I went to the grocery store yesterday, if my favorite sweater is grey, or my favorite color is green… shouldn’t I be able to know these things without needing “proof”? And what kind of freak sociopathic psycho tries to make you doubt these things? I understand that many things are based on perspective, like what something feels like to another person, we could never know for certain or have thet audacity to doubt their sensations and experience. But there are concrete, factual things that are not up for debate. You might think my shoes are navy and I might see them as black and in relative terms we are both correct in our own right, but we can’t deny that I’m wearing shoes, right?
What would anyone hope to gain other than perhaps a husband trying to get rid of a wife “legally” by discrediting her sanity? Or acting in terms of self preservation maybe? If our behavior is so outrageously embarrassing that we need to believe it didn’t exist, we don’t “do that”, or we need to be sure no one else would believe that we did/have done such things?
This is my favorite sweater. No, it isn’t. I have not been tanning in over a month. Yes, you have. We went to the movies last week. No, we didn’t. I’m sitting on the sofa right now. No, you aren’t.
What???!!?? Why would anyone do this? How very, very cruel!
Goodbye to the crazy girl!
10 Mar 2009 Leave a Comment
in abuse, Apologies, broken heart, Dave, fears, just messed up, Life, LOVE Tags: blame, Dave, DAVE K., death, destruction, goodbye, LOVE, ponderings, Questions, responsibility, truth, unconditional love
Hey, when she dies, who will tell him he is partially responsible? I hate to give in to the melodrama of blame and responsibility…not my thing really… but really….who will tell him? Will he be held accountable in any way?
Will he get off completely scott-free? Will they all say goodbye to the crazy girl? Goodbye crazy girl…you amused us for awhile. We all anxiously awaited your end, while we dreaded the end of our fun and games, we grew tired of it all at the same time. We hated ourselves for hating you…a defenseless, spineless human being trying to spread your love around…weakly fighting off our attacks…although we never really tired of attacking and laughing as we watched you squirm uncomfortably and cry out for help. We loved how crazy you seemed! And he will stand there grinning innocently as if to say, “See, I told you all, all along”, with just the tiniest note of a smirk at his hidden success. No one will know because she was always alone.
Target the victims. No one cares enough to hear them. No one cares about them even if they do squeal and scream a bit. They are an easy shot. Like shooting fish in a barrel!
Even her own attacked her, if she ever had any of her “own”… Did she? We think not. They joined us long ago. She stood alone… swimming futilely in circles, actually believing she was getting somewhere. As always. The hand that writes the future as though it were the past. No, she stood alone in her craziness. Alone for all anyone could see…. Except for that slight sinister shadow in the background. The shadow that always slips away undetected. The shadow that claims no idea it is at all sinister. After all, she is crazy! At her funeral, her own will have the opportunity to openly join forces with those responsible. They can commiserate at how difficult she made it all for them.
Maybe he did not pull the trigger…no. He wouldn’t. She could never be worth that risk. He risked once already for her and look at what that brought him. No. However, he can nurture the seeds of worthlessness, which her own planted long ago. He can water them, support them, encourage them, heartily eat the fruit from her tree, until it is barren of any treasure.
He can hand her the gun, all loaded and cocked, ready to fire, whisper words of nothingness into her soul and then walk away from the really dirty part. Walk away from the crime itself. The obvious crime he wants no part of. Without that, there can be no blame. No recoil. No punishment because there was no crime except hers.
If he sets the stage just right and gives all the perfect direction of an award winning director, maybe someday with all his excellent direction, she will succeed at something?
If so, who will credit him his due? After all, although the target was so easy, it was still quite the cunning masterpiece!
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