Running with scissors

Leaving for vacation this morning.  Anxiety fills me.  I can’t stand to be here sometimes and I can’t stand to be away…  Haha, I just can’t stand at all apparently!  I am overwhelmed to think I can’t write when I want to, write when I need to.  What happens if I have to write?  How did I become this fearful hermit?

One would think that I’d embrace this opportunity to be away from the hell which has overtaken me here.  Far, far away where none of it can touch me.  Wouldn’t that be a nice reprieve for most? I embrace it and I dread it.  It’s as though I’m smack inside some episode of the Twilight Zone  or Tales from the Crypt…where I’m sitting in misery with hundreds of roads leading away, but in my mind all of them are too frightening to take and so I stay right where I am, cultivating the very thing that’s destroying me from the inside out.  It’s bizarre and ridiculous.

And I wonder so often why…  Why does my every thought include the memories that never were?  Why can’t I have an unobstructed thought or flash in my mind?  I think of vacation and he is there too.  But no, he isn’t. so why would he be put there?  I do not want him there.  I do not intentionally include him there.  I chase him away…  And my next thought, he comes immediately back.  I chase him away again.  Can I spend my life chasing him off from my own deranged mind?  That sucks so much energy from my life-force, from my existence, from my life. 

I vividly remember my high school sweetheart telling me once, “Gosh, I can’t even have a mundane dream of anything without you being right there next to me.  If I dream I’m changing a tire on my car, you’re standing right next to me.  If I dream I’m petting a dog, you’re holding the dog I’m petting.  If I dream I go to the surf shop, you’re at the surf shop with me, etc, etc, etc…”

I was so flattered by this and thought it was odd because he was rarely in my dreams at all, although he was my very best friend and we spent every moment together for years.  I felt badly that I didn’t have the same experience, as though maybe that meant I didn’t love him the way he loved me?  I couldn’t imagine even having that experience with anyone.  Couldn’t fathom being so completely connected to any other human being that the person would be everywhere I was, even spiritually or in my dream world.  It was beyond me, beyond my experience, beyond my comprehension.  Yet, I was connected to him, as much as I’d ever felt connected to anyone or anything.  At that time, I couldn’t imagine going more than a day without talking to him for the rest of my life.  He was the flesh and blood best friend I’d never had.  The friend who never left my side no matter how crazy things got or how messed up I was.  He loved me and my heart had not yet opened, so my love was so limited and screwy(although it was very well intentioned) because I didn’t even understand.

And now, I have that.  Now I understand what he meant.  Only I do not like it.  It does not make me smile.  I do not want it.  In fact, I beg for mercy from it.  It makes me feel crazy.  It obstructs my life and my future.

In spite of the knocking, he has not come.  I  clearly misinterpret the meaning of the knocking.  The other time must have been coincidence.  I am grateful he has not.  The letters we all wrote telling him to stay away from us might have actually gotten through his selfish, twisted mind.  Is that possible?  Do I dare hope that is so?  I fear the minute I say thanks for that merciful grace, I’ll open my eyes and he’ll be standing there.  And then I’ll be caught off guard and not handle it appropriately.  So, I can’t allow myself to believe that the letters worked.  They’ve never worked before.  But…we did try a different avenue this time, so maybe………?  I cannot relax with that thought because I know what happens the minute I do.  And it’s not healthy.  It’s unsettling and destructive, as though I’m spinning in circles, arms wide out, laughing like a child, delighting in the freedom of spinning, but then the spinning won’t stop.  For months…  until I’m no longer giggling, but crying, begging God to make it stop, only He doesn’t make it stop.  The spinning continues beyond any joy I ever felt initially and it becomes a nightmare I can’t wake from.  Where even the slightest breeze will knock me completely off balance and send me spinning all over again before I’ve regained any strength or discernment.

I do not know how, but someday it won’t be like this.  It just can’t.  It won’t.  I will not allow it.  I will stop it somehow.  I have to.

Vacation will be good for me.  Past the anxiety will be strength refreshed and a sense of hope.  Such distance, even temporary, will help disconnect that confounding connection.  It will stretch those invisible cords beyond their comfort zone.  Maybe it will even snap them?

I do not wish anything bad for him, but I must dream of a world without him in it.  Even if I must manufacture those dreams and remove him constantly.

My doors are locked.  My number is changed.  We have mailed strong letters demanding he stay away.  And I am going on vacation far, far away.  In my dreams, I’m going to run with the magical scissors I will use to cut those cords  forever.  He’ll have no choice.  These are my dreams and he isn’t permitted in them.  He has no place there anymore.  Go away.  Good bye.

Goodbye to the crazy girl!

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!

 

 

 

 

searches

I wish I could remember where I read that when separating from someone, the fear comes not from thinking they might stop loving you, but from the fear that you’ll lose your love for them.  At the time, I thought that was pretty silly.  Of course you’re afraid to lose their love, you know your own love – you can trust in that.  However, it’s recently occurred to me that there’s some truth in this.  Losing the love you feel, letting it fade to black, watching it slowly go from vibrantly green and breathing with a life of its own to invisible is difficult.  And quite possibly more difficult than losing love from another source outside yourself.  This love is an actual part of you.  It has molded and shaped things for however long it’s been inside your heart.  It has brought peace and chaos, clouded some thoughts and made others sharper, has warmed you and frustrated you, protected and hurt you…  It’s been a vitally alive part of your being for however long it has thrived inside you and losing that is difficult and frightening…  watching it fade off like the end to a movie or the most important chapter in your life to date.  And what will fill that space?  Isn’t that a frightening question to ponder?  Something better?  Something worse?  What will sprout up in that cleared spot where once there was this love, beautiful and comforting in its own right…however destructive or fulfilling it may have been respectively, it all goes in the wake of the demolition.  And then the tiny fragments and microscopic debris that is left…  What comes of that?  Those stay forever in fond memories of the good things your memory will not release but your heart did?    I don’t know.  I have never experienced this before and I’m afraid of it.  What if the particles don’t clear?  What if they do?  Then, have I lost that person who loved the other right then in that precise space and time?  What if I loved her as much as him?  What if I do not want to lose that piece of me who loved so beautifully and unconditionally?  What if I do hope to lose her, never to find her exactly the same again?  And that is the frighteningly inevitable.  Letting go of something beautiful inside yourself to move on to something unknown as yet.

Grief

It’s been a long slow torturous battle.  I’m devastated that the end is to be death after all.  No amount of fighting for the cause could stop it.  The ghost of resurrection has been running around making me believe nothing is permanent.  The ghost of days past.  I have wrestled and argued, screamed and kicked, prayed and begged, but this was inevitable, wasn’t it?  Why was I so ignorant and unaccepting?  Forever is a long time and eternity is all that lasts.

I loved you truly.  I can’t believe you’re gone.  I hope you find a happier place where you can know peace and love.  I wonder how much longer I’ll last.  Food has no taste and sleep doesn’t visit me often, but then I think of the darkness of your hidden misery and I know I’ve no right to complain or judge.  So many years of this.  Is there still enough time and energy to save myself?  Do I have the strength?  Will I find the motivation?  Do I have the desire?  What comes after this?  Will you rise above and resurrect yourself?  Do you even know you’re gone?  Do you believe in yourself now?

Funny, how death means I don’t need to seek so many answers.  My head only  spins a little and that might be just from habit or my coming-to from spinning so long?  Is there life after love?  Is there recovery from scars so deep they’ve altered one’s very spirit and essence?

I am light.  I am love.  I will love you always, even when I’m angry, even when I’m hurt.  When I’ve nothing tangible left to believe, I’ll always think of you. I forgive the abuse your tormented soul heaped on my heart.  I’m angry and I plan to be angry for awhile.  Will I always belong to the dead?  How will I live among that decay and stench?

My soul is locked in an eternal embrace of the heart that once lighted up my universe.  I will find my way…maybe back to you…maybe not.  God’s will is all I seek.

Certifiable

crazyI am a certifiable nut case.  It’s official.  I don’t know how in the world I got to this place, but I do not want to be here anymore!  I can’t imagine what’s wrong with me unless I’m just crazy.  And I’m definitely beginning to believe that’s the only answer left that makes even a bit of sense.

I don’t want to be crazy, but if I have to be, then I want to be fully, completely  crazy.  I don’t want to be partially crazy or crazy only in certain aspects.  I want to just be absolutely crazy.  There must be some relief in insanity, in that one can no longer reason enough to try to find the reasons!?!?  …or even care what they are…

What is the matter with him?  What the hell is the matter with me?  And where is God in this whole mess?

Can’t move forward.  Can’t stand sitting still any more.  Tired of praying.  Tired of caring.  Tired of worrying.  Tired of analyzing.  Tired of it all.  Just tired.

I don’t want to focus on whatever his problems are because that’s not the point for my life, but as long as he’s fiddling and faddling in my life, it’s harder than hell not to.  What kind of crazy person could even care after all of this?  And what kind of crazy person is he to keep interfering?  After almost three freakin’ years, one would think this game would be exhausted for us both.  I’m certainly exhausted.  My exhaustion only serves to keep me sitting still as the bullseye as opposed to at least the benefit of a moving target!

If I mean nothing, then why the hell hasn’t he moved on?  If I mean something, then why the hell hasn’t he moved on?  I know why I haven’t moved on.  And I know why I can no longer find the energy to keep trying to go against myself.  He is my energy vampire.  Sucking up everything I have left to offer this world and myself.  I can’t hate him.  I can’t stay angry. Hell it’s hard enough for me to even get angry anymore, much less stay there.  Why doesn’t he just go or just stay? ..or just something other than this .  Who in their right mind goes through this garbage for this long?!  WHO??!!?!

Yesterday I did go there to him.  That is my insanity.  Who takes themselves to the vampire den?  What kind of idiot does that?

I got excited for a moment this week because I kissed my ex husband!  Yayyyy me!!  Kissed him and liked it even!!  Went on a date last week with a new guy and had a good time…  Then he shows up and nothing else matters.  I just feel guilty that I’ve even thought about bringing any other person into this craziness.  I’d not want to do that to my worst enemy.

I did leave though.  I just suddenly realized I didn’t know why I was even there; that there was nothing there for me, except this stupid love which needs to go away anyway..  So, I just stood up and left. Good bye.  Take care.  Actually went out with my friends last night…and was having fun until him.  He isn’t going to let me dance with another guy.  He isn’t going to let me hang out with my friends and be carefree…  No.  he is going to sneak right in there and BAM…no dancing with my friend Mark.  No laughing with my friends.  He is there and I can’t even breathe.  His friends gawking at me like I’m some freak show makes it hard to just ignore everything.  Him comuing up to me repeatedly and interrupting my dance also makes it hard to ignore.  What the hell is going on here?  What happened to my brain?  My common sense?  My sense of dignity?  Why do I not tell him to leave me alone and then enforce that?  WHY???  What the hell is it going to take?  Drugs?  Drunkenness?  Complete insanity?  Death?  WHAT THE HELL???!!?