Complete culpability

Thank you for loving me, Daddy.

Thank you for loving me, Daddy.

It’s pity party time. I’ve officially spent my second birthday and the second anniversary of my dad’s death alone. Without one single phone call on either day…not a “checking in to see how you are”, not a “hey, I’m thinkin of you”…not a single friend or family member thought of me on the two most significant days of my life: my birth and the day I lost the only love I was ever going to know.

After 44 years of life, millions of friends, several boyfriends, one husband, and two children of my own, I now realize what I feared most from my earliest days is literally true. My mother, my sister and all those other people over 44 years couldn’t ALL be wrong about me; I’m not someone who can be loved. I’m just not…
I suppose I could write of how it’s my mother’s fault. How being raised by a narcissistic sociopathic woman damaged me so cruelly, left me with huge holes in my soul that can’t be filled, making me so desperate and needy for the one thing that scared me most, love. I found it crazy ironic to discover at 26 that I have a flap in my heart which doesn’t close properly. What a perfect description of me…it was almost an explanation at last for what I am that I can’t seem to help or change. The pieces of me that are so just wrong that they’ll never be right finally made literal, physical sense when the doctors told me that back when I was pregnant with Savannah Grace.

I suppose I could write how it’s other people’s fault, as well. How being so painfully insecure and desperately needy for love and approval for as long as I can remember being alive led me directly to the kinds of people who would manipulate and abuse that…furthering the unlovable clause I was born with. Seriously, WHO gets molested as a 6 year old by a teacher and a babysitter? And WHO is ridiculous enough to get raped *three* times in 44 years? And WHO is blessed enough to have had so many wonderful men profess the most beautiful depths of undying love and still ends up alone? What kind of idiot runs so fast and so often over a lifetime from the very thing she has been praying for since the tender age of 4? I certainly could never convince myself that it was all THEM…that there was something inadequate with every one of THEM. No, the common denominator there is me…and only me. I chased, pushed, argued, and crazied every one of them away from me, even the most tenacious of them. I could try to blame any one of a hundred girlfriends who shit on me, stabbed me in the back, devastated and used me…..but again, who’s the common denominator there? Me.

And what about my daddy? I was fortunate that my mother kicked me out with just a trash bag full of clothes at 16 for lying about smoking a cigarette. Thus, I spent the majority of my life, from 16 to 42, with a most amazing parent who demonstrated love, acceptance, kindness, honesty, integrity, and joy. So many children don’t have that kind of example or love in their life from ANY where growing up, at ANY age. Hell, I was fortunate that my daddy somehow always found the strength and ability to love me at all. Why didn’t that fix those fucking holes I was born and raised with? Not everyone who is unloved by her mother is blessed enough to be unconditionally loved by her father. If the cause of this unending and irreparable unlovability issue isn’t ME, at my very core, then that shower of my daddy’s true blessings would have repaired that. It should have, right?

Yes, it should have. It would have. If it wasn’t me, my fault, my issue, my fault, my inadequacy…mine, mine, MINE.

I’ve never felt good trying to blame any of this on other people anyway. Contrary to many people’s beliefs, I’ve just never been the person who could blame someone for anything at all really and feel confident it wasn’t really my fault. When the teacher molested me at 6, I even felt guilty when he got in trouble…even at that tender age; I felt it was me, my fault. After all, I had actually appreciated the special attention he had always given me, hadn’t I? I had looked forward to his smiles in the elementary school hallways that made his face beam whenever he saw me….it actually made me think of my daddy’s huge grin whenever I got to see HIM! And my favorite was the day he lifted me up to drink from the big drinking fountain. I had appreciated feeling special to a grown-up who saw me every day and still seemed to think I was someone special in this world. I would have never told on him intentionally. Not EVER! And I really didn’t want him to get in so much trouble either. Somehow, even way back then, at such a young and innocent age, I just knew it was my fault. Everything was my fault, so that had to be too. All three times I was raped, no matter how cruelly, I still felt deep down it was my fault…that I HAD gotten what I deserved. And I think I was always afraid to tell my mother because I knew she would be sure to bring that to my attention immediately and then all doubt of me “not deserving” to be raped would be totally eliminated. Hell, somehow I’ve been “asking for it” since the age of 6! I’m sure at 17 and older, I was REALLY asking for it. I just wanted to blame them because I never figured out HOW I “asked for it” and thus, couldn’t figure out how to stop “asking for it”. I only blamed them in my own mind out of frustration that I couldn’t fix what had always been wrong with me.

I’ve never minded taking the blame for things, actually I usually prefer it. After all, if it’s MY fault, then I can fix it. If it’s not, then I’m powerless to ever get it right. And yet, in spite of years of therapy, and so many wonderful years with a loving father, a zillion self-help books and strategies, I’ve never been successful at fixing it. And I still don’t feel satisfied trying to put the blame on other people for anything really… It’s been my life problem as long as I can remember; therefore, it’s still MY problem. My ex-husband even said to me once, “NO one in this world has such chronic shitty luck as you. The shit that happens to you regularly, just doesn’t happen to anyone…not even one of then usually, much less a lifetime of them!?” He was so right. I’ve always known that deep inside too. It’s me…it’s GOT to be. There is no other logical explanation. Hell, my mother abused the hell out of me physically, mentally, and verbally for 26 years and I was STILL desperate for her to love me. I’ve counseled so many children whose parents were fiercely abusive and still, they loved them and would do anything for their love. Me? I have two children who tossed me AND my love in the garbage without a second thought or one single look back to just wave good-bye….just threw me in the trash like the worthless garbage I’ve always been. And in spite of all my mistakes and failings as a mother and a human being, I gave those two children the very best of anything good I have ever had inside me to give, which was still apparently utterly worthless.

And since it seems to get worse the harder I’ve tried to repair whatever this is I was born with, what does that even really mean? If I own it all, I still can’t fix it; if I blame everyone else, I can’t fix it either.
I have so many of my daddy’s amazing qualities…deep down I think, where most can’t see them, but I have them dammit! So, why don’t they make me and my life even a fraction as valuable as my daddy was in this world to almost everyone who ever met him? Why can’t I fix what’s wrong with me?

Why?

I realized recently that I’ve never really been afraid to die… Well, as a mom I was because I felt my children deserved to know the love and nurturing of a mother…the love I never knew and started my desperate journey toward a life of failure lacking. Other than that, I never was afraid to die though. Obviously, my greatest fear is living. And figuring out why I’ve been forced to do something for 44 years that I’m just not able to do well. I’d rather not do something at all, than try for 44 years just to get worse and worse at the effort.

I did always hope that someday, before he passed or I did, I’d have the opportunity to deserve to matter in this world by giving back to my daddy somehow. I always told him, “someday Daddy, I’m going to get myself together and do something REALLY amazing for you to repay all you’ve ben and done for me over my life time”. It still wouldn’t have ever been enough, but I really always hoped I’d have that opportunity and ability someday. I didn’t. He is gone and I’m still fucking alive and every bit as unworthy, useless, and unlovable as the day I was born.

I’m sorry Daddy. I’m sorry I didn’t get it together in time to return your wonderfulness to you even a little bit. I’m really sorry. I know it made no difference to you whatsoever, but it really would have made the world of difference to me.

It seems so cruel. So much death all around me over the last two years since my daddy passed. All these beloved people and children dying and leaving behind heartbroken masses of hurting folks who loved and admired them. Yet, on and on and on I go…. 44 years of nothing but worthless efforts to somehow give the world what I always dreamed of. A life of nothing; worth nothing, for nothing, meaning nothing. No one notices or cares I’m alive and who can blame them? I don’t. So, why does God take the cherished ones and leave the insignificant failures to continue being a burden.

Yet, on I go…

Sunlight Returns

Daddy's home....

Daddy’s home….

Dear Daddy,

I always feel your general presence around me and I’m thankful for that. However, as this long winter has dragged on and on and on without one single sound of your voice and not once watching you come in the door in your big red coat, brisk from the winter air, I realized something today.

As the sun finally shone into the windows of your big old house, I could REALLY feel you today and sense you everywhere. I stopped for a minute looking at that sunlight streaking across the floor and felt your presence more than I have in months. (I’ve really missed you, by the way!)

You are always here, with me each moment… You were the only constant light I knew in my life. The passing lights like jobs, accomplishments, friends, boyfriends, husbands, and even children…were all just temporary flashes of brightness passing in my life, like car headlights lights on a highway. You…you were always shining. Always. And I was fortunate that you chose to shine your light on me every day and in every way possible for the duration of your entire existence here on this Earth. Big smiles, bigger laughs, kind words, hugs, gifts, help, love, wisdom, prayers, listening, friendship, or advice…you were always shining your light on me somehow in any way you possibly could think of. And just like one can’t possibly fully understand good without knowing bad or right without knowing wrong, I’m not sure one notices how very dark their world truly is, until a bright light which could always be seen somewhere scattering its bright particles over every darkness, has been fully extinguished. Your light always shined on me; from a distance growing up, it perpetually shined inside my heart through understanding and trusting in your unconditional love and up close, it beamed on me directly with warm, smiling rays of your brightness, kindness, inner joy, and love.

So, today when the first sunny day finally came through after this horribly long and bleak winter, as I looked at it and took a moment to be grateful for it, you came immediately to mind. And it felt like you walking through that door. For one split second even, I almost expected you, yourself, to come walking in the door from that light as though you had carried it into the house personally to shine on me in your death even as you did in your lifetime.

I love you Daddy. I miss you. I talk to you every day and I pray you can hear me now even just half as well as you did when you were here.

With or Without…Him

Will I ever stop loving him? I truly think not…

Things are better, but only as friends… a friendship which is slowwwwwlllyyyy developing and gaining trust (I think!?). I’m okay, no actually, I’m grateful for the friendship we are creating. I would rather have him as a dear friend than not have him in my life at all.

Just when I really believe my feelings for him have finally transformed into a more brotherly-like love, I will look at him and…

I just stopped over to his house to get a donation for a cause I’m collecting for. Coincidentally, as I’m driving over there, the song he once told me in the smack dab middle of our personal not-together-but-not-separate hell starts playing. Even as I pull in his drive, the song (With or Without You) is still playing. I can’t help but play the moment when he asked me to be sure they played that at his funeral through my mind. A thought I’ve not allowed myself to re-live in quite a few years. But I do now. It’s safer now, right? We are truly just friends. Pulling in his drive, I hesitate to turn the car and song (and sweet memory) off, but I gotta grab the donation and get somewhere else.

He’s just fresh from the gym, wearing sweats and kinda sweaty… I actually think my feelings have changed. No, I mean I really believe that.

Then he holds me for a moment and after all this time of craziness and whatnot, I feel for the first time in years, more than a mere friendly hug. His arms wrap around me just a bit softer and more tender than they did for our last few hugs. They hold onto me just a tad tighter and longer. At first, I don’t want to let go. I want to cling to him for life the minute I feel that something more from him. I do hold on, not for dear life, but like him, just a smidgeon more from my soul and not just from my trained-to-love-him-as-a-friend mind (that protection mode I’ve developed after all this time).

And I think to myself, am I imagining this? Is my eight year long fantasy running away with my rational side? I hold on for a minute right back, then gently push away from him and tell myself, Yes, you’re only imagining that something extra. Okay yeah, the hug is slightly different than he’s been hugging you for the past few years, but it does not, and I mean does NOT mean anything.

Snapped back to the reality, we continue a friendly chat for a few minutes. As I prepare to leave (no matter what type of visit/relationship/hug/whatever, I always, always hate leaving his house!), he grabs his donation to carry to my car for me. I walk next to him to grab my handbag sitting on the table. I’m not sad we are just friends. I don’t look at the picture on his refrigerator with the girl he’s dating now and feel any jealousy or even any hurt or twinge of “what if” like I once would have felt like a nail piercing my heart. No, I don’t feel that anymore. So yes, my love for him now must truly be friendly only; love coming from that pure place in my heart which loves forever when it truly loves at all. So, as I’m standing rather close to him grabbing my bag and he’s got his donation bag, I’m preparing to leave. We are laughing about something trivial and suddenly he sets the donation bag back down…(what? what is he doing? No donation after all?).. Yeah, he sets it back down….to hug me again!

tidal wave

This is an even longer hug than the first one…and just as tender..but maybe I sense something almost sensual in this one as he holds me close and brushes the small section of exposed skin on my upper back. Is it? No! I only love him as a friend… yet my heart soars, pitter-patters, skips, and plays hopscotch like a little girl. And this time I struggle with correcting my feelings and I rest my head in the nook of his neck and shoulder where it has always fit just right and I want to let go and melt into him like I have a million times before.

Oh, will I ever, EVER stop loving him?

“…Ladybugs Katherine! Lots and lots of ladybugs!”

Lazing in the glorious sun in my back yard yesterday, chatting with girls and Mark about the big upcoming move, feeling mostly excited and thankfully, only mildly overwhelmed at the moment thinking of all that has to be done…all that’s to be left behind, and what’s to come…  Sweet ladybug lands on my thigh, just hanging out for a moment.  I try to recall what this means.  I have a vague recollection of some movie or some symbolic meaning of this ladybug in this moment.

 “Ladybug: Perhaps best known as an emblem of luck, the Ladybug is a love symbol too. Asian traditions hold to the belief that if caught and then released, the Ladybug will faithfully fly to your true love and whisper your name in his/her ear. Upon hearing the Ladybug’s message your true love will hurry his/her way to your side. Ancient farmers of the land have considered the Ladybug a good omen as she controls aphid populations. The number of spots on a Ladybug’s back is said to indicate the number of months to pass before the wish for love comes true.”

My ladybug flew off and then returned briefly to the same spot on my thigh.  She only hung out with me for a moment…long enough for me to curiously wonder.  Later I found the above explanation when I Googled animal symbolism.

Strange feelings stirred this weekend with Mark’s visit.  He shared some upsetting news with me and it turned my world around.  It was as if some ancient forgotten feelings were gently brushed. There seems to be a woman he has casually dated, who is claiming she is pregnant with his child.  Oh geesh…hello and welcome to the Jerry Springer Show!  What the heck is this?! I remained fairly calm at first but the feelings slowly snuck up on me as I pondered and tears threatened to spill.  I was hurt. 

Only last Christmas I asked him if we could have another baby.  He was adamantly and decidedly against this. Mostly I was teasing him, but I was really hoping at the same time.  A part of me longs to know what a planned pregnancy feels like before I hang up my reproductive abilities forever.  I love our children and wouldn’t think to change a thing regarding them, but I have the saddest sense of never knowing the excitement that comes with learning I am pregnant, in spite of the fact that I have two fabulous children.  I only know the, “Oh my GOD! I’m pregnant..what the heck should/am I going to do?”  I don’t know the, “Yay…LOOK we’re having a baby!” feeling.  At one point, I was absolutely certain I would have this with Dave, but that’s not going to ever be and I resigned myself to the mercy of my children’s father hopefully granting me the third and first expectedly planned child.  Again, not to be…

And now this…a “stranger” having a child with MY children’s father?  A half-brother or sister right in the delicate era when I’m desperately trying to explain intelligent life-choices to my teen/pre-teen girls?  Immediately following my pleadings for a planned child? It’s upsetting to me in a very selfish way and in a not-so-selfish way in regards to my daughters and the family we have created in spite of the divorce.  Mark confessed strong hunches and disbelief that this really is his child.  I admit I share these hunches, but I can’t tell if this is wishful, desperate hope or actual intuition.  Really feels like intuition, as the circumstances surrounding this pregnancy as relayed by Mark, are clouded in a dark suspicion.  Apparently he had “the” conversation with this woman and even prior to their intimate relations which resolutely explained his unwillingness and total lack of desire for any more children.  I certainly am no hypocrite and fully understand taking chances and what happens sometimes, as I have one unplanned child with this man and another one who borders between the planned and unplanned – but purposely and knowingly (on both our parts) taking a BIG chance area.  However, something just feels different with this.  Mark and I never had this conversation he had with this woman, until last Christmas…years after our two children’s births.  And keeping these children was never a thought to Mark.  He would discuss no other options with either actually.

I did finally find my voice to say softly, “Dammit, I wanted us to have one more and I even begged you last Christmas!” I was a little comforted when he replied, “I know and it would be totally different if this was you.”

Something passionate and historically forgotten (but not lost?) for this man, this unbelievably fantastic father of my children, awoke with those words. Momentarily I forgot my sadness and the- what-will-this-do-to-our-children fears and it dawned on me that there IS one person on this planet with whom it is different for me in a good way.  A place on this earth where I have carte blanche and the huge margin of error I’ve never known and always hoped to have somewhere in my lifetime…or recognized might be the more appropriate word?  Hindsight tells me I always had it here, but never fully realized or comprehended. And as hurt and afraid and sad as I felt, it was temporarily overcome by love for this beautiful man, who after everything, does love me and does put me in a position of greater respect.  This man who, other than our two terrific children, has more reason than anyone to NOT put me in this position.  The same man who knows of so many of my faults, mistakes and truly ugly characteristics…still chooses to give ME this place, this status, this beautiful acceptance and WIDE berth of error. 

I flash back to the deciding moments I’ve had with Mark.  The tearfully spoken “Ummmm…guess what?” moments in which this man responded with every support and every ounce of respect any one could offer a woman in such frightening times.  He never once veered in his choices to want and to love our children, unexpected, unplanned, whatever….  Never once.  I did.  I was confused and scared and undecided..reflecting on ALL our options.  While he, he was stout and strong and beautifully decided.  And my selfish, spoiled self rears its ugly head now to scream at this other woman, “Na na na na boo boo…I’M the mamma dammit…I’m the wanted Mamma.  He was never willing to discuss adoption or abortion with me!”  It never even occurred to me that Mark had any other responses to, Guess what?  I’m pregnant than full and total support and strength.  Seems he does.  Although in my defense, I was not a grown woman with a professional career who engaged in the I DO NOT want any children discussion with him just prior to our pregnancies.  Seems as though our accidents were more in the area of mutual accidents and never came across as even possibly planned or pre-meditated, as this situation screams.

I have not always acted honorably in our various life challenges as people or as parents with Mark.  In fact, there are many occasions when I have acted horribly and been just mean and hateful.  I can blame some of these on circumstances, innocence, and youthful self-righteousness and I have had cause to regret them anyway, but they will now always be sources of shame for me after this one little sentence he spoke like a gift from God.  Have I really given Dave K.  every chance, every forgiveness, every excuse for a million horrible and hateful beyond explanation behaviors and actions against me while being selfish and stingy with these in regards to my children’s father, who has repeatedly and thoroughly proven himself as far more deserving of forgiveness and acceptance than this, or any, other man?  Am I this blind?

I was.  I must have been.  Was the intoxicating joy and perfection I felt with Dave and never once prior so much that it knocked me senseless and blind to see the beauty of Mark’s love and respect for me?  I’ve always been admitting and openly praising of Mark as a man who worked hard to change his early shortcomings and surprisingly became the greatest father I could have ever hoped for my children.  I have almost always been open to seeing this and believing in it from the actions-speak-louder-than-words faith, but I just never really “got it” fully.  Am I part of the reason he succeeded so well in this?

I never would have guessed or presumed this.  EVER!   And it smacked me so beautifully and lovingly that I was taken aback with a brand new love and gratitude for Mark, the most beautiful father, ex, and friend any woman could dream of.  I fell just a little bit back in love with him this weekend. Whoa…life sure is surprising in its sudden and totally unexpected twists and turns!  I can’t even imagine what this will or will not bring… or what it even means…

Back to the closet…missing the kissing…

…and on with the spring cleaning!

Nude linen peek-a-boo flats:

Purchased online last summer in a frenzy of a spontaneous (yes, truly spontaneous in every sense of the word!) trip to Albany, NY.

Came across a man who went to my same school years ago.  he was a guy I’d had an adolescent crush on for several years in middle school and beyond.  One of those crushes so secret that you don’t admit it to anyone, not even really yourself;.  It’s always there, it just sorta hangs out in the quiet admiration corner.  In fact, now that I think about it….maybe it was actually more of an admiration thing than a crush thing altogether anyway….

So… crossed paths on Facebook.  He denied my friend request at first,  apparently because he didn’t remember or recognize me.  No real surprise there.  After all, I was the little girl with the crush.  He was older and more social than I. And FB friends we became….

A running inside joke regarding DK on my page between my friends and I sparked his curiosity, which sparked some one on one emails  and extended conversations getting to know each other a little better and such.  I was honest about my struggle to get past the DK thing as well as the fact that I was still sexually active with him and rarely anyone else, but mostly my desperation to move on from that situation/relationship/whatever it’s called.  At some point he makes the suggestion of just finding another, better lover and I’d get past it all just fine, with a hint of his availability to provide this phenomena.  Flirty, suggestive emails commence…and I’m enjoying this diversion from my broken heart.  In hind sight, it was probably initially intended merely as a joke or a tease or something, but I, in my true form of desperation and love of this newly blossoming friendship with a school-age crush, took this as a serious possibility and booked a flight to Albany.  Did I mention my desperation to get past the whole DK thing?  I did?  Okay.

Flight booked.  It’s summer and I have lost my favorite pair of shoes.  I do this often..it might even be my MO.  I perpetually struggle to keep shoes and coats.  That’s just my thing, I guess…  And I need these to wear in Albany.  Online shopping I go in search of another similar pair to bring on this emergency voyage of desperation.

Off white (beige?) linen peek-a-boo flats….would go with just about every summer thing I own…shorts, sundresses, capris, etc…  Perfect! Purchased.  Then packed and off I go to Albany!

This turns into the strangest visit ever!  I still have this admiration thing from the 7th grade going on.  He is still very handsome, by my specific terms of what is attractive.  He is funny, he is very intelligent and he has an amazing dog…WOW!  I fall madly in love with the dog, by the way…no really..I mean madly.  And I do like him as well.  he is a fabulous cook, a brilliant host and I have a great time.  The personal (physical?) connection is not understood though.  Was there one?  I really don’t even know, but my guess today is not much, if any.  I wasn’t too concerned about this really, as the whole defining purpose behind the visit was shrouded in the mist of my love and adoration of DK.  Anyway, I was having a great time and I was far, FAR removed from the risk of connecting with DK while in Albany, so what did it matter either way? 

He never once kissed me in any passionate way throughout my entire visit.  I felt like this meant we were connecting probably more as friends and didn’t really think too much of it. Friends was just fine with me.  I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, I’m sure.   Until….. we did connect sexually once…..  I was truly taken aback…..HEY, I thought we were just connecting as friends?!   I assumed there was no big sexual attraction going on.  What’s this now?!??

… and something was missing.  Sort of felt like a piece of loud, almost beautiful music minus a critical instrument.  So close to  hmmmm….maaayyyybeeeee??? …yet missing something big and  undefinable, like maybe it needed more cow bell or something.  Really still haven’t quite figured it out…

Ummm….wait!  No, I know!!!!  It was missing the kissing!!!  He never kissed me, not even *then*!!  Maybe this is common for prostitutes or even perhaps not so strange for a spontaneous voyage of desperately running from DK.  However, I have not once in my life experienced this let’s-just-do-it-and-still-not-kiss-thing.  I am confused.  After a few days, I finally ask him outright if he ever intends to kiss me.  I am far less concerned with the actual kiss at this point than the fact that I’ve never experienced this “issue” before. Do I have a bad case of halitosis?  Do I seem lacking in the oral hygiene department?   I mean What?!!?  (None of this do I say to him or ask, of course, but I’m wondering all of this after we passed the “just a visit between friends” thing.) 

He says yes, at some point he will kiss me.  Okay.  Just curious.  Having fun either way….no big deal….cool….

So, I have a truly fantastic little mini vacation with an interesting, attractive, and intelligent crush from way back when, develop a mad crush and obsession with his  fabulous dog…and on the way to the airport to go home, we stop for sushi. Delicious sushi, by the way! I mean…yummmmmy!  After we eat and are waiting for the check, he gets up to go to the men’s room.  As he walks past me at the table, he leans down suddenly and quickly gives me a smooch on the cheek.  Awwww..that is sweet, I think to myself.   He returns from the men’s room and says, “See?  I told you I would kiss you!”

Oh my, my, my…  Seriously, what was that?

Thank you.  Had a blast.   Good bye Albany!  Into the box you go little shoes…

WTF!?!! thoughts (or How on Earth did I get so lucky?)

After some reflection from Wednesday evening’s events, I’ve formulated some thoughts and questions…

1.  On what planet does a married professional woman who gives blow jobs in bar parking lots to men she’s just met feel righteous in judging others as parents or even human beings in general?

2.  A married woman claiming she’s desperate for friendship who sees nothing “all that” wrong in sleeping with her friends’ lover?   And then hanging her friend’s character out to dry, just for good measure? 

What is that? Is that okay?  Do the moral aspects of a person’s character or life even have any bearing at all on these questions?  Do we keep all of this stuff separate while we are wearing our judge’s robe and gossiping through our journalist’s megaphone?  When judging others should it be just about them, where the judge remains beyond reproach? 

Hey, I heard Susie has been cheating on her husband for years!   

Oh really, so have you…

Maybe so, but this is about Susie right now….

How do you sit and reflect in judgment on others’ lives, mistakes, rumors, choices, etc, etc, without your thoughts immediately turning to your own?  I am incapable.  My thoughts automatically go straight to “Oh…I once did that too”  or “Gosh…I’ve done something similar myself”….I do not get to pass Go and collect 200 justifications.  It seems the moment I try on the judge’s robe, my entire life is immediately suspect and under the microscope as well…..  Immediately!   Am I just overly self-aware compared to the typical person?  I’m wondering why so many seem to feel righteous in their judgements against others and I’ve noticed that it’s often the very people whose life choices could truly come into serious question, perhaps in direct defiance of the Ten Commandments, for example…?  I’m not religious in any way and yet it does seem to me that the Ten Commandments are, for the most part, pretty basic rules of morality.  It shouldn’t require a membership or devotion to an organized religion to comprehend them and agree that they are just pretty basic ideas of common decency in general, regardless of any doctrine of faith.  Religious rules are typically up for argument and interpretation….only beyond the basics though in my opinion.  It seems to me though that the majority of people I know who judge the most and often the most unfairly are the very people not living by the basic creed of respect for others and/or humanity, but living their lives in a hedonistic, “whatever is best for me”, however I have to get it type manner.  And these people so often feel justified in sitting around passing judgement on others?  And usually judging the loudest, as though they hope the world will hear and somehow deflect attention on their personal lives and choices?  Or do these people truly have themselves convinced that their behaviors are all excused and/or justified, while every one else’s should be placed under the microscope and broadcasted for the public masses?  I have to argue that this kind of thinking floats around in the box of similarity to sociopathic thinking.  Although I’m not saying all selfish hedonistic types (i.e. ‘MY pleasure, MY best interest at ANY cost is perfectly acceptable’) are sociopaths, but I do see a similar train of thought here. 

I once read a book called The Sociopath Next Door which claimed that one in ten (I believe it was? Or some similar statistic…)people are sociopaths. I thought that statistic was a reach, but in reflection on the depth of denial running amouk and society’s willingness to throw others under the bus so to speak in order to preserve themselves or defend some irrational fear that a defense tactic is needed although there is no attack in progress, or perhaps merely for the fun of it (?), puts me in a place of thought where I can clearly see the one in ten possibility.  Not all sociopaths are on the extreme end of the spectrum, like serial killers for example, but I can see a direct connection to the low-to-no-conscience behaviours of society and the personality traits of a sociopath.

When people spread ugly false rumors about another person, are they doing this because they’re trying to protect someone from harm?  Are they doing it because they really believe the information and feel obligated to society’s ‘right to kow” and a satisfaction in spreading the news?  Are they doing it because they get higher self satisfaction in the (possibility of) mistakes and/or misery of others which they figure as far worse than their own imperfections?  And what of the people who just flat-out lie about others?  Do they actually somehow convince themselves of these lies as truth or do they spread it around, in full realization that they are lying? To me, the first indicates the possibility of a serious mental issue and the second resembles the thought processes of a sociopath…

And how did I become a magnet for these types?  Is it true that birds of a feather flock together and I just can’t (or won’t?) see these traits in myself?  Or is it that these types have excellent radar for  attracting easy targets?  Or a combination of both possibly?

Are these people so sick that they are to be pitied?  There are so very many crimes against humanity far, FAR worse than these, yes I know, which go on every day all over the world.  And I feel nauseated and sick to think of them…but these small little crimes against the spirit are so common and so accepted (or so it seems to me) in my little world that I wonder if it is like this in most people’s lives?  Is this the current “norm”?  Or am I just the lucky one who attracts more than most?

Veering and swerving

Everything pointed for a moment toward the possibility of finally overcoming the prison I’ve been in for 5 years, but then my emotions got involved and it all came to an abrupt stop….so fast I feel I might have whiplash.  From the screeching painfully sudden STOP, I swerved and fishtailed…trying to get my equilibrium back.

It hasn’t come back.  I’ve flailed around for it….sank deeper into a sense of depression and desperation..two unfailingly unattractive qualities and states of mind….and then did a 360…right back where I started ..only I’ve lost the tiny position and place I had prior.  So I’ve made everything far far worse by trying to demand respect and acceptance for my emotions and my self as a woman and a human being.  It always goes like this.  And I don’t know how I first got here…oh I can blame DK sure….but I really don’t know for certain that it’s anyone’s fault but my own…

One fateful night 5 years ago has altered my course permanently and in all areas, with all people?  How can that be?  Why would that be?

All that has changed from this is that it no longer makes me smile or feel any joy.  It feels dark and foreboding, smells of cheap perfume, and continues to compromise my self worth and inhibits my attempts to regain a better sense of such.

I am tired though and my spirit is truly weary from holding out and hoping, praying and believing.  Deeply and completely weary…that light of joy I had has been chased off by my very exuberance and acceptance of it.  I can ruin anything..no matter how delightful it might be or how many seemingly great qualities of potential it might have…just give me a few weeks..a month, a year….whatever….  I’ll take care of it and see that it’s fully eclipsed.  And then writhe around in emotional agony filled to the core with sour regret and puffy confusion..stuffing myself further and further down into the rabbit hole.

I envy people who have passed on from this world.  How fantastic it must be to end the fight and struggle completely and be at peace.