Goodbye Tomorrow
02 Jul 2010 Leave a Comment
in abuse, Anger!, broken heart, Dave, fears, just messed up, Life, Life Lessons, LOVE, moving Tags: abuse, abusive relationships, broken, broken dreams, broken heart, Broken hearts, confusion, Dave, DAVE K., disappontment, dysfunction, fucked up, heartbreak, Life, Life Lessons, LOVE, manipulation, memories, ponderings, Questions, relationships, unconditional love, wishes, WTF
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!
Dream intruders
14 Jun 2010 Leave a Comment
in Dave, dreams Tags: abuse, abusive relationships, broken dreams, broken heart, Dave, DAVE K., disappontment, dreams, dysfunction, fears, fucked up, heartbreak, Life, LOVE, ponderings, relationships, unconditional love
It’s so unfortunate that we can’t control our dreams…
Fitful sleep tonight…tossing and turning… Dave K. everywhere!! I don’t want him invading my dreams like he did my home for so many years. It’s such a relief when he’s not running through my mind much. I feel such a sense of relief, and then he shows up rampant in my dreams anyway…ugh! He has no business there except to torture me. It’s frustrating to think that I’m fading him out at last and feeling successful with eliminating him from my mind and life, but my subconscious is still holding on so tightly, it seems. Otherwise how could he get in my dreams?
And this was not a good one by any means of interpretation. Seemed like a cruel reminder and additional experience with his denial of me as a human being and a loved one, past or present! His house was all rearranged and that was excruciatingly uncomfortable for me for some odd reason…I looked for “the” sofa and found it covered in an obscure corner somewhere. Relatives showed up (his not mine) and questioned my motives, my actions, and my behaviors over the past 5 years. They didn’t have even an eighth of the truth and were very critical, but still kind. He still had all my letters from days past, brought them out to show everyone, and cruelly laughed at them. That was painful. I hated him for that. So mean. …And a gambling problem…a BIG one. I told him that a psychic lady had told me of that problem years ago, but I hadn’t believed her. All in all, it was like I was at an informal trial at his house with Dave and his relatives as judge and jury and I wasn’t able to convey any truths or experience because I had already been deemed “bad” and of course “crazy” too, so nothing I said mattered. Very hurtful and frustrating…
As though he had never loved me…..had never hurt even a moment over all the things he’s cried and beaten me up about for so many years because of how much I “devastated” him. Just one big charade apparently for the sole purpose of getting in my pants and keeping me covered in guilt so he had emotional control over me. As if there had never been any reality or worthwhile substance of emotions…
It was such a painful dream and leaves me wondering are these just my deep fears trying to make desperate sense of all the nonsense that has happened or is that the ugly reality? After everything, it’s nauseating to even ponder that as a possibility.
Why NOT play Kick-the-Carcass?
09 Jun 2010 Leave a Comment
in abuse, Anger!, broken heart, Dave, Death, fears, just messed up, Life, Life Lessons, life transformations, Writing Tags: abuse, abusive relationships, broken, broken dreams, broken heart, Dave, DAVE K., destruction, dysfunction, fears, fucked up, heartbreak, hopeless, insanity, lies, Life Lessons, lost spirit, manipulation, sociopaths, wishes
No consecutive hours of sleep for what seems like weeks, although I can easily remember not so long ago when it had been more like months, so I logically know I can pull through this “short stretch”. However, when n the midst of the sleeplessness, it feels as though I’ll pass out, die, or just maybe snap into forgettable pieces. I keep reminding myself that it’s been worse and try to be grateful for the little bits of sleep I do get blessed with.
Stressing the move, finances, the gossip and lies (of course, as usual), THE ex, the children, packing, moving across the entire country from everything I’ve ever known, living out of district for my kids’ school out west, my ex husband, and his motives and choices, and how they’re going to relate and affect our lives out there, so far from the only home we’ve ever known.
With all of this, I’m struck hard with acute awareness of the severe alteration of my heart, my perspective, my very essence… Who I once was is gone, with all that’s happening now and all I am responsible to be and do, with all the fears that are hanging just over my head like a shark’s mouth ready to swallow me whole, I really just want to sit down and bawl myself sick. Grief hangs all around me like buzzards and flies on a carcass. I know, I know… This is nothing new…I’ve been a barely-breathing carcass for years now, my only traceable movement being the slight shakes and involuntary shuffles and slides of a dead body that’s being kicked a few extra times for good measure. Big thanks to Dave and friends for that lovely prompt..without it, the buzzards might literally begin to feast on my mourning flesh, not just the metaphorical feastings of Dave and friends on the leftover remnants of my heart, my soul, my reputation, my freaking character! After all, at this point, the pickings are so slim and meager that I genuinely can’t understand the interest…surely there’s not enough there to satisfy even a starving soul?
Apparently so, as I can’t even plan my pathetic, late-as-hell “escape” without a kick every once in a while for good measure. I’m struggling and fighting this damned sense of victimization which I hate so much it makes me sick even to write of these things any more. Or maybe it’s that burning sense of injustice and flood of unkindness and continued crucification which keeps me from withering up and dying completely. It’s almost cost me a great degree of my voice and I do not know what I could even be after he’s fully taken my voice and my ability to write. It just might be my lingering indignance which is holding the shell of my existence together at all, keeping it from crumbling quietly into dust. Perhaps I should stop fighting this victimized-feeling and embrace it, allow it to strengthen me out of my hopeless feeling of being powerless, beaten, and small? Hmm….
I have comprised a plan of revenge. In my circumstances, I have no way in which to actually carry it through, but it’s a lovely fantasy nonetheless. I imagine that many people love me and know the truth of these past five years…the whole down-n-dirty, humiliating truth and they are so outraged and angry they begin a letter-writing campaign on my behalf – no, on the behalf of all people who have gone through emotional and mental abuse. Upon me leaving my home, he receives hundreds of letters from people who know the truth, faceless people who are not afraid to stand up against this man’s cruel persecution of my spirit. Each day or week he receives lovely pieces of mail from people who know what he has done and refuse to buy into his lies and bullshit, as a regular reminder that he did not just “get away with it”. And he, like me, has no chance, opportunity, or method by which to combat the attack. He would just have to sit in it, regularly reminded of his cruelty, its effects, and his powerlessness! Then he might have to spend some time in paranoia, looking at every stranger who meets his eye and wondering, does he know? Does she? Just as I still worry with every person I meet or pass, “Did he tell them I was crazy? Did he tell that person I’m a psycho? A slut? A lying cheater? Wonder what story that person heard?”
For it seems, just when I’ve let the worries go and have convinced myself anyone who believes his garbage at this point is merely a victim of sorts themselves and is entitled to my sympathy, when I finally get to the “I don’t give a damn what he’s said to anyone”, another lovely twisted story of his finds its way to me…piling on top of the huge pile of garbage he’s dumped on me that I’m already trying to climb out from underneath. And the exhaustion revives itself in me. The sense of powerlessness and damned victimization I hate SO much, gathers al around my soul to begin feasting again.
I sent him a message asking him just to please SHUT UP. Leave me alone. Reminding him he has not a single reason at this point in his game to speak my name even, let alone tarnish it further. He has won by yards and miles already. The damage done is irreversible even now. I’m leaving and his story will always stand in my place of absence; not mine, not the truth, but his sick and twisted deviation of my person. I can’t imagine any greater victory for him? So why continue beating this broken and beaten thing? Does he really still get that much pleasure and self-satisfaction from it…even NOW? Why not just SHUT UP? No, go above and beyond to make everyone always, think the person you’ve victimized is psycho crazy, then you never have to worry about being held accountable for the cruelty you perpetually heaped upon her… After all, she’s just “crazy”. Nothing she says will ever account to anything after you’ve told that to enough people ad nauseum.
Why am I so surprised anyway? Why wouldn’t anyone want to continue kicking and beating the person they’ve already slaughtered? After all, she’s dead already…. It’s not like anyone will ever find out the truth now…or believe it coming from a crazy-psycho dead girl even if they did!
Ohhh it would be Christmas every day to just imagine this letter-campaign of outraged people, addressing the truth to him which he feels he has sufficiently buried beneath his heavily placed offensive-tactic accusations and insults. He could just laugh away a few letters, but if hundreds came to him long after I’m gone, that would have to make him think maybe he wasn’t really fooling everyone after all. His mailbox becoming the screaming, lingering Tell-Tale Heart of an Edgar Allen Poe story! It’s a harmless, but juicy thought in my weak state of stress, fatigue, and hopeless indignation…
(insert evil cackle here)
Alexander Supertramp
13 May 2010 Leave a Comment
in Beginnings, broken heart, children, daughters, Death, fears, George A., Life, Life Lessons, life transformations, LOVE, respect, Writing Tags: admiration, adventures, books, courage, disappontment, disrespect, heartbreak, jealousy, Life, Life Lessons, LOVE, parents, radical acceptance
Into the wild. Wow…what a story!
A deep respect for Alexander Supertramp (Christopher Johnson McCandless) grew as I read of his solid character, his fierce determination and independence, and of course his stunningly daring adventures! Every person whose life he touched on his journey felt changed for the better by their association with him (That is one of my ultimate goals from the words of Mother Theresa). He must have truly been a phenomenal human being to have touched so many lives of so many different types of people and earned their respect and love!! Amazing! I adored Chris McCandless (aka Alexander Supertramp) throughout this book! His premature ending was a tragic loss for the world.
I am envious of the life he lived in his final two years – an entire lifetime of experiences gathered in two short years. I felt his self-righteousness and his need to veto all the mendacity in the world and his life as my own. I admired his ability to make such a stand and his courage in walking away from all sense of security and achieving his dream. As I read on though, I began to wonder many things. In spite of his angry resentment toward his father, had he not had the kind of parents and support he did for his entire life prior to leaving it all, would he have been the same person? Would he have had such courage? I say no. To have such a vast sense of independence and confidence as he did, he must have been given the luxury of a powerful inner sense of stability created at his core that allowed and developed such a firm and fierce stance. …Until I read of his parents visiting the “magic bus” 10 months after his death.
Suddenly, I was envious of the parents he so vehemently and immaturely resented, wishing I had such loving and accepting people as the main characters in my first 24 years of life. I gather he had some major discrepancies with his father and the deceit his parents shrouded him in for so long and I certainly ”get” that. However, some of that was standard child versus parents stuff, that period most go through when forming their own individual identity ….if they are fortunate enough to have parents who allow such growth. With my history, I could never take such a gift as that for granted. We don’t all have parents like that.
My heart tore as I pictured his mother standing sentient in that dilapidated bus, among his personal belongings at the end of his life, breathing in his clothes for any trace of scent of her son to whom she gave so very much free love and acceptance. She loved him and he broke her heart. The movie indicated that he might have come to a place of recognition and understanding of his parents before he passed, although I was disappointed to not hear of him leaving them any kind of communiqué specifically telling them and so we can’t ever know for certain. He owed them both a huge apology!
As a mother, my heart aches for Billie McCandless and wants to have a strongly worded conversation with her son, Christopher. As a child of my mother, I can’t help but have a fierce envy of this boy and his wide open life possibilities which he was afforded due to the kind of parents and upbringing he had. It’s clear he was not nearly as stifled by them as he felt he was and it’s deeply tragic to me that he passed before gaining the maturity to acknowledge and comprehend what a priceless and precious gift that was for the very life he so resented.
I ended the story feeling conflicted among feelings of jealousy, admiration, disgust and adoration for this brave and intelligent, albeit selfish and “bratty”, young man.
An interesting personal point to me in Chris’ story is that he shares the same brirthdate as one of my best friends’. Doubly intriguing in its coincidence(?) of their very similar personalities! (I confess: I’m fascinated by astrology.) George was such a quiet, intelligent, and reflective type who was fiercely resentful of his parents (with good reason at times) and always far more comfortable alone than in society or groups. He spoke often of going off into the wilderness someday and living far from what he termed the “concrete jungle”. He dreamed of building a cabin with a huge garden and just living in relative isolation, free from the deceit of government, society and materialism in the world which deeply disgusted him. The similarities between George and Chris’s personalities are truly amazing. This added to my understanding of Chris (and surprisingly, George as well) as a soul who reveled in nature and shunned all things which society represents and reveres. It definitely added even more depth and beauty to his story for me, although the story certainly doesn’t lack those things entirely in its own right. Makes me more grateful to have the opportunity to read of this unique and morally strong man and makes me miss and appreciate my friendship with George from so long ago as well.
Tweet-tweet memories
02 May 2010 Leave a Comment
in abuse, Beginnings, broken heart, Dave, dreams, faith, Falling in love, fears, Life, LOVE, marriage, signs Tags: Dave, DAVE K., faith, fears, grace, gratitude, happiness, heartbreak, hope, hopeless, journeys, joy, LOVE, memories, nostalgia, unconditional love
Early morning, birds chirping….so many memories…
She was a junior in college, working the swing shift at a casino in Mississippi…driving home with Jennifer at 4 am, laughing, feeling so brave, fresh, young, self-confident, and maybe just a teensy bit cocky! Arriving home at daybreak and lulled to sleep by tiny spirited chirps. Birds chirping sweetly mean freedom and independence and they whisper softly to you in your dreams that life is just beginning…
Later, she was married…waiting and worrying through sleepless nights for him to arrive home safely. Sitting up with exhaustion night after night as she heard the birds sweetly start chirping, like an alarm clock confirming another full night of his absence…wondering why… Wondering what… Remembering his stories of frighteningly excessive cocaine use and bird chirping confessions regarding his first wife. Realizing that this alarm clock no longer brought happy thoughts of freedom and a life unwritten, full of opportunities to create future happy memories. Now this charming sound indicated it was long past time to lock the door. Yes. Lock the door. Birds chirping sweetly mean your husband is still using drugs and your marriage might be a terrible mistake.
Some years and a nasty divorce later, she often stayed at his house. Him….the only him for her. The one who brought joy to her simplest thoughts and hope from her worst fears. The one who showed her how to smile while sleeping and taught her to wake with excitement and promise…the only one. She loved that he would wake early and go fishing… Birds chirping sweetly as nature’s background music as he made love to her. He hated leaving her alone in his bed and simply had to have her in the wee early mornings when watching her sleep made him want her more than anything else in the world… Sometimes it seemed more like a dream and the gentle chirping reassured her this was no dream….he was real and he loved her. Kissing her softly on her still sleepy mouth before he left, she would linger in the land between dreams and reality waiting for sleep to return….knowing that when she next awoke it would be to his adoring smile and passionate, I-missed-you-so-much-before-the-sun-came-up this morning wake-up kisses. Birds chirping sweetly mean that you are the luckiest, most loved and adored woman on earth and bring millions of kisses….kisses that taste like falling deeply in love and smell like the fresh ocean breeze.
I just shot cupid (with JLH)!
16 Apr 2010 Leave a Comment
in abuse, Anger!, broken heart, Dave, just messed up, Life, Life Lessons, LOVE, moving, respect Tags: broken, broken dreams, Broken hearts, Dave, DAVE K., dysfunction, hateful people, heartbreak, morals, moving, Questions, unanswered questions, unconditional love
Reading JLH’s book, The Day I Shot Cupid, which is an interesting and fairly entertaining book, I came upon this passage:
…because at the end of the day it must be sad to love yourself so little that you’d be willing to become the joke, the cocktail hour topic, or worst of all, the reason someone else will find it difficult to love and trust again.
As I was reading the preamble to the point she was making here, I was on a totally different page as to where she was going with this. I was riding on a whole other train on that ride. When I read along and get to the above quoted statement and I stop my train dead in its tracks. According to DK (yes, in his twisted logic and mouth that can’t stop spewing lies and fantasies of comfortable denial long enough to admit to the weather outside), I (ME!) am, in fact, that girl. And yet, how can that be fact when he is, in fact, that same person for me…that guy? And if I stretch beyond myself and presume that in our own little worlds and our own little lives that we are both correct on this matter….what the hell? I mean, what IS that?
I’m floundering about lately, trying to figure so much…so much love, so much pain, so much twisted truths and blatant lies, so much WTF’s, so much slander, so much hatefully random mean-ness, so much utter selfishness, so much damage, just…well, so much, so much! After the last two absolute denials and random mean text spewing in response to my attempt to find peace, closure, and an amicable place to end this nightmare from hell, I finally just snapped. The first denial of reality(at least the first in awhile, that is), I felt socked in the gut, taken aback, literally a deer in headlights, but then the very next one was just so much more of random senseless garbage that I snapped and lashed out (and lashed out pretty “randomly” if I may say so myself!)…..I atually had a thought where I felt justifiable in thinking that this man has become so inherently cruel and evil-ly twisted that he deserves to die a long, slow, painful death. I have never, EVER, thought such a horrible thing regarding anyone in all my life! The thought itself shook me to my core. I felt overwhelmingly guilty. I searched myself for the saturation of love and gratitude that I typically can find for most any human being on the planet, except perhaps the most heinous of the infamous serial killers… Nope….not there anymore. I believe every last ounce of optimism, blind faith, and agape that once ruled the lush kingdom of my heart and soul, has been stomped and shredded to a microscopic dust of frustration , hurt, and resentment. Beyond what I’ve ever thought was possible. No, you can’t love hate away for some people. No, you cannot be so accepting and caring that a horribly damaged person will heal and become beautiful again. No, you an’t be so unassuming and selfless and take every stab of hurt and bullshit a mean person dishes out and think that this person is one bit more capable of seeing the beauty in the world and in humanity, much less in me.
At this point, the part that is most senseless is thatg I want nothing from him. I don’t ask for him back. I don’t chase him. I don’t try to gain back his love. My desire in this had become nothing except the bleek hope that he just might not speak terribly of me or think the worst of me forever or spread more lies and hatefully untrue insults to my character. I guess that in itself is a bit selfish, as it does still mean I was hoping for something from him and I’m not going to feel badly about that because in my world, those things are basic considerations which should be every moderately decent human being’s right on this planet, and maybe even all the others as well. So, I will not see that basic expectation as truly selfish, but more as me asking to be treated with basic and minimal consideration as a person…..me, asking for the only absolute right that I believe anyone and everyone is truly entitled to merely by their existence as a human being, with all the parts and pieces that make them human.
Is that too much for him because he hates? Does he hate? Or is he as completely apathetic as he poses most of the time lately? Who knows? I certainly never will. I lean toward believing the apathetic part, but then what of the nasty accusation explosion off all that OLD stuff when I requested some closure and expressed my desire to leave it in a good place? Requested and desired at this point, merely so as to (hopefully) not feel as though either of us have wasted the last 7 years on truly and completely ridiculous nonsense.
Who cares? Just more mean-ness and hurt added on top of an already existing avalanche of the unthinkable and often unspeakable crimes against my heart and assaults to my spirit… What damned difference should it make anyway? It will soon be over…like it or not….over…over…OVER…
And at least now, I can safely know there is an end to the pain being inflicted, even if not the damage done. This is the glorious positive in this whole last hoop-la of his bitter, hateful, ugly past 5-6 years! Yay!
Hindsight…..arghhhh
23 Oct 2009 6 Comments
in broken heart, Dave, fears, Friendship, just messed up, Life, Life Lessons, LOVE, Writing Tags: broken dreams, broken heart, Dave, DAVE K., depression, disappontment, friends, heartbreak, sadness, unconditional love, Writing
Bit broken down and whatnot, but was encouraged by a dear soul to write anyway…. (thank you, my friend!)
Reflecting lately on hindsight…wondering why foresight can’t be 20/20?? And contemplating second chances..who gets them? Under what circumstances should a 2nd chance not be granted? Pit party mode: Why can’t I be in the good graces of 2nd chances, anyway? Some get so very many “2nd” chances, while rarely get one…..
Obviously, I fall into the “no 2nd chances” category for whatever reason…the higher powers that be have deemed me unworthy of such grace… and within that frame, I swallow the bitter lesson that perhaps it is not better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? I mean, who said that anyway? Whoever it was certainly had more grace and gratitude than I!
Losing a love is excruciatingly painful…and after all, before you’ve loved, you can’t even know what you’re missing, so…hmmm……??
No, I have decided I would rather not have loved at all…. Would I miss all the beautiful memories of being loved, feeling loved, figuring out what love is? Oh yeah…but I’d not know that I missed it at all, so better off, I believe I’d be!
On the other hand, were I more gratefully graceful, I could confess that I have once been loved deeply and far beyond my expectations. Perhaps I just wasn’t ready for something so huge? I sure didn’t know how to appreciate it fully or accept it as reality until it was long gone from my life. So, instead, I spent 2 years in bliss I never fathomed prior and three years desperately trying to make up for losing it…beating myself up every inch of the way, as though that might make me worthy of a second chance….
No such luck. No second chances. Just vivid, painful hindsight and sweet memories that sting with the heartache of that hindsight. Memories which haunt my every waking (and sleeping!) hour. Memories that tear at my soul, rip at my self worth and shred my ability to forgive myself my erroneous errors.
I’d like to think that perhaps it wouldn’t have lasted even if I hadn’t erred………….but that’s not something I can convince myself of because the evidence proves it would have… Evidence shows it was the greatest, purest chance at love that I may ever have…and I couldn’t see that until it was too late…. And hard as Humpty tried to put it together again, alas, it could not be done…. Too little…too late..ahhh cliche’…
Maybe there’s only one chance at such depths of love, in order to learn that second chances aren’t a given in any situation, so I’d better get it right the first time from now on…if there’s ever another chance to demonstrate what I’ve learned from this experience…. Haha… I suppose it’s called once in a lifetime love because the opportunity comes only once…..
Yes, I would most definitely erase every beautiful memory, so I could live blissfully in ignorance of what love can be…and pooh-pah in hindight’s hateful mean face!
However, as that is not an option, instead, I get to trudge on, hoping it all makes sense someday….and hanging onto everyv possible shred of hope that nothing is ever final…until it’s final…
Are granola bars truly satisfying?
10 May 2009 Leave a Comment
in broken heart, Dave, faith, fears, Friendship, just messed up, Life, Life Lessons, LOVE, respect Tags: confusion, connection, conscience, Dave, DAVE K., devotion, dysfunction, fucked up, games, heartbreak, LOVE, ponderings, sincerity, single, unconditional love
When you “like” everyone but love only the one whom you wish you didn’t. Complications are bound to arise.
And what is it all about anymore anyway? Is it all just a means to an end with the “end” being sex? Is there no one anymore willing to commit to the vulnerabilities of creating a relationship? Sex for the sake of sex alone… or sex for the sake of brief, momentary companionship? Is it simply to fulfill a base, animal desire? Animals mate by instinct, but aren’t humans supposedly more evolved than that? What is a world where we are all just responding to instinct without using our emotions and/or evolved conscience? I don’t disagree with non-committed sex, if that’s what makes one happy and is within a mutually agreed understanding, although I still see it somehow as a rather sad and lonely way to connect with others; lacking anything beyond two animals satisfying a need.
It makes me think of eating for the sake of hunger alone… isn’t something far more fulfilling missing when we do that? Yes, at times one must eat in order to survive and follow the instinct of hunger. However, my enjoyment of food would be significantly lessened if this was my regular practice. I enjoy planning a meal, shopping for all the special, unique ingredients, and then committing some time to creating something that is deeply enjoyable and fulfilling in response to my hunger. These are the memorable meals that are savored and appreciated. Other times, when I don’t want to take time or care into this, I can just grab a granola bar. I would never be satisfied if every meal was just a granola bar on the run…even if it is a delicious granola bar! Would I ever look forward to meals or obtain that deeply satisfying sensation of fulfilling a need beautifully as opposed to quickly and randomly? Personally, I would skip many meals if this was how I choose to fulfill my hunger. Food and eating would cease to hold anything compelling or desirous for me. Anything acceptably edible would do…
It was an interesting weekend. I socialized more than I have in years… actually went out to the bars with friends, both single and married friends. The married ones are in marriages where there is no real appreciation or satisfaction within their relationships and seem to blatantly be relationships of convenience and routine comfort. I don’t understand this and it’s almost painful for me to hear and recognize these situations. The single friends are all exasperated and frustrated with the single life of searching in a world of people seeking to satisfy sexual desire or a need for brief connection. Weary from seeking something meaningful in a world saturated with animals merely fulfilling something for survival. I am utterly lost in this kind of world, as I see both of these situations as senseless and hopelessly arbitrary. What’s the point to either? I just don’t get it. I don’t know how I could ever belong to one group or another and yet, there seems to be nothing else as options, except perhaps satisfaction as a single person, not looking for anything. That answer practically forces a withdrawal from these people and settings though. Your mere presence in these environments of animals seeking to satisfy a random hunger-on-the-run means that you will be pulled in… either to play, participate, or dodge and avoid.
I was there. I was smack in the middle of it all. So I played. Although I’m just not good at this kind of play. I’m far too sensitive of others’ feelings, when most likely they aren’t even acting on any feelings at all, but rather a driving force for some base instinct, which I’m not even fully aware of what yet, which obviously puts me at somewhat of a disadvantage. My only advantage at all, perhaps being that some people find me physically attractive?
I go out last night with a friend and I meet/see several men I know while I’m out. It turned into a sad comedy really, where I was trying to balance being considerate of the pride of three different males attempting to do whatever they are attempting to do. I listened to the offers. None of which held any appeal at all for me, but how do you remain sensitive to feelings and state something like that? “No thank you. That concept/proposition/whatever hold absolutely no appeal to me whatsoever, but gosh, you’re so sweet to offer.” There’s no way I could say something like that! So, it became a game of trying to say basically that (or at least obtain the same result) without ever saying it outright. “No, I really can’t have you over tonight. My children are home and that’s not a good example for them.” “No, I can’t go to your hot tub or come over to play scrabble because I have to get home at a decent hour.” “No, he is not my boyfriend. I am single, but he’s my friend and we’ve had dinner a few times.” “I don’t know why he’s hovering around me, but I really don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings…”
One guy says he respects my no casual sex rule, but just wants to be close to me. Is this true? In this environment, I am no longer naïve enough to believe that. I no longer have the luxury of my confounding naïveté to those kinds of plays. I am at a million disadvantages here. My basic innocence which tells me that people are somewhat like me and so they don’t usually lie, although I’m starting to suspect that they do… Addled with the impenetrable, undeniable fact that my heart is fully vested in another, in spite of the fact that I’m single. And that if I were to choose to engage in sex for the sake of physical satisfaction alone, I would always choose the man I love…or go without, as any other option just feels too arbitrary to bother with and far more trouble than it might be worth.
So, after juggling these men’s feelings and trying to be as honest as I could without exposing my vulnerabilities or my thoughts of the whole game itself, or my hopeless love and devotion for another, I went home alone. I was happy to go home alone, as the the only other desirable option would be to go home with DK and engage in more casually uncasual sex with the man I love sexually, spiritually, and emotionally… the same man I have loved for years and the only man I’m willing to compromise myself sexually for in order to have the sensation of closeness and intimacy that I miss from that very same man. Nothing else makes any sense to me. And even if that is pathetic and hopeless, the more I get offers for anything else, the more I sadly understand that I’m simply not available for any of those options. I’m simply not available at all, much less to something that I see no point to and don’t understand on any level.
It’s all very interesting, but other than feeling forced to play a game I don’t believe in and don’t even really know the rules. It was fun on a learning experience level…but sad too that my vestment and devotion to DK is only strengthened as I’m exposed to these environments. I am certain that my “situation” insists that I will wind up a very lonely person with 100 cats to keep me company when this is all over. Until I learn how to play this game and obtain a desire to fulfill myself with random granola bars on the run or break the hopeless devotion to a happiness-gone-by, I really can’t see any other options or be open to them.
Freakishly sad and unfortunate.,..but fun times with the girls..that’s for sure! It was nice to have some laughs with friends and look around at what’s become of it all.
A Woman’s Tears
09 Feb 2009 1 Comment
in abuse, Anger!, broken heart, Dave, just messed up, Life, Life Lessons, LOVE Tags: abusive relationships, broken heart, Dave, DAVE K., depression, fucked up, heartbreak, lies, manipulation, relationships, self love, self-respect
The Hebrew Talmud says:
“Be very careful if you make a woman cry, because God counts her tears.
The woman came out of a man’s rib.
Not from his feet to be walked on.
Not from his head to be superior.
But from the side to be equal.
Under the arm to be protected,
and next to the heart to be loved.”
Go home……or……..stay
01 Sep 2008 Leave a Comment
in Dave, just messed up, Life, LOVE Tags: boundaries, Broken hearts, change, DAVE K., heartbreak, hopeless, insane, unconditional love
She hadn’t written anything for awhile because she had said good-bye and every good-bye to him was like a slow murder of her spirit. One month was all the good-bye lasted.
She had been doing dishes after dinner, still damp and sandy from a fabulous day at the beach with her children. Standing at the sink, washing dishes, when he knocked at the door. When she had said, “Stay and play Balderdash for awhile”, she really meant, “GO HOME, Dave!” It just came out of her mouth all fumbled and backward. That’s all. She had always been difficult to translate clearly. And the older she got, the more that was an issue in general. As though with age and experience came fluency in some strange language closely reminiscent of English, but just not at all accurately translatable.
He came in asking to talk. She knew his translation of “talk” and was not in agreement or in a state of willingness for that conversation. She really was just a pushover for it though and no matter how many times she swore she wouldn’t listen to “let’s talk”, every time she feared he may really need to talk and she invited him in. Every time. Every time had become the definition of her very own insanity in a circular repetitive pattern that induced a voyage only to the road of chaos and further heartbreak. Although she regularly insisted further damage was not possible. It seemed nothing would finally just break her completely when it came to him… as broken as she felt.
A month of healing. Well, two weeks of grief and just under two weeks of healing and letting go. It was most likely that second two weeks which always had more room for damage. She’d just gotten to a state of semi peace and acceptance. Where she wasn’t grieving constantly and wasn’t nauseous. Then, BAM! There he was blowing it all away like a flimsy house of cards.
As usual, he never did “talk”. He helped her finish the dishes, chatted with the girls for a few minutes, and then they went outside for privacy. They stood in front of her car, him holding her so tightly as if holding onto life itself. He said, “It’s just that lots of people in my life are dying and getting sick and that makes me think about the people in life I care about.” She was instantly concerned and naturally asked who. His second basemen had recently and suddenly died at 33 years old and a very young co-worker had suffered a stroke. The co-worker had survived. She had been through a similar experience the year before and hadn’t fully gotten past the need to consistently tell people she loved them and appreciated them. She understood the fear this type of experience prompted. He said, “I know things are difficult between us now but I care about you. I do love you and the girls.”
And he held on and on to her, telling her she smelled like the beach…like sun, sand, and water; like her; she smelled like comfort. And holding her “was so comfortable and natural, it was too hard to let go.” He said he didn’t want anything to happen to her ever. She just reassured him, as always, telling him she was his friend, no matter how crazy thing got between them or anyone else. He responded, “I know. That’s why I’m here.” And they lay in her driveway looking at the stars just beginning to blossom in the twilight, laughing because they were lying in her driveway. His phone kept ringing with his loud, drunken pals waiting for him to come party or whatever was planned next.
She asked him to stay and play Balderdash. He said he knew he should but he had too much on his mind. He kept kissing her. And finally he said, “I could just kiss and make out with you all night. You are the best kisser in the world.” She didn’t know if she should be kissing him or not. She redirected his hands when they wandered too far from her back, but she just never knew where the line really should be. The very minute she drew the line, the line shifted, whether she wanted it to or not. It seemed as though the universe itself shifted a little, moving it and confusing her. Of course she encouraged him to talk about whatever he had come to talk about and of course, after having the comfort of her even just briefly, he didn’t need to talk after all, saying they’d talk soon sometime when the children weren’t home.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh…..she wanted to scream! Was his only mission in life to not stop until he killed her? He was the proverbial scab ripper. No matter what she did to move on and get away from him, make a stand and turn him away, no matter how much work she did to begin the healing process of letting go. He had the knack of showing up just in time to stop the progress and stay just log enough to rip the still fresh and vulnerable scab off all her hard work… leaving her bleeding with love as usual. No he wasn’t going to stop, was he? And for the love of God, she wasn’t ever going to find the fortitude to stop him herself, was she? Good heavens what a cruel and crazy world this was!
And now, her only goal could be to immediately get back to work on building up another scab for him to rip off. Must get to that immediately. She could not let herself sit and dwell on what it all meant, why, and so on. It meant he was sick and twisted. It meant he never changed. Hell, he didn’t even change his tactic moderately. Same old, same old. Tearing her entire world apart, ripping the delicate protective shell she fought and struggled to build, took the absolute minimal effort on his part and no creativity whatsoever even. Pathetic. And she had allowed him to kiss her and had even reassured him! Now where was her confidence and the reassurance she so desperately needed? No where. Back to digging it up from the depths of her soul… if there was any left down there… and if she could muster up the strength… It was exhausting to even think about starting that daunting task….he would always be back. No matter what happened. He would always come to her eventually. God help her….she wanted to vomit.
Your blabs