The Crayola dance

colorful dancer


Dancing with the devil again….  As though I could ever lead that dance or win at that game, but here I go anyway.  If I were a crayon, I’d have to be the brightest shade of hopelessly hopeful spring green!  Although I would be a chameleon crayon that would change into a hopelessly romantic bubble gum pink when I’m dancing with the devil.   Turning into despondent depressed blue when he wins again, as he always does because I was never intended as strong enough to dance with the devil.  I am putty to his game…a hopeless, spineless formless blob of bleeding heart red up against his dangerous-razor- of-apathy-black.   

He is a chameleon crayon too, only his changes come as he senses what color I want him to be at any given moment, steps into it subtly like a form-fitting suit of body armor that deceptively appears to be his true color…and there I go again. Whirling and swirling with his Crayola-color of the moment; his disguise to lure me into feeling safe as he slices me to shreds when his authentic color shows again, as it always eventually will.

I wonder if my God-given vocation is the devil’s free prostitute?  It seems I’m intended only as a vehicle of physical desire.  Somewhere along the way, all my other gifts have been rendered useless- without a single morsel of value in this world.  All the beautiful gifts that people were shocked and bewildered to discover once they got past my exterior appearance…

My friend Lisa tells me this weekend, “Girl, you just WOW me!  You have everything – the total package!!  And I can’t understand how someone like you could ever be single!?”  I just smile and look away because I know that none of that means anything … and hasn’t for so long, I forget it’s even there.  The devil doesn’t care what my other qualities are.  Only that which feeds his desire and renders his physical satisfaction, which is decidedly not my “other” qualities.  Any and all of my exes would have sex with me in a heartbeat, as would most any random male who comes around.  No, this is not arrogance or conceit on my part…believe me I do not have that.   I’ve just learned from my years of dancing with the devil that my other qualities matter not at all to anyone any more.  Except in those brief sad moments when my friend reminds me of them and I just feel sad that anyone can still recognize any of that, since it doesn’t matter anymore – useless qualities which only serve to make me think I might once have been worth more…until I started dancing with the devil…sad to remember even because they seem to only hold me back from accepting my true purpose in life…to serve sexual desires and prompt fantasies.  

Why do I even have any other qualities?  I know she meant it as a compliment though…  It was very kind of her to recognize me.  It made me hope for a minute…just enough to get back on the dance floor with him.  Geesh!

For such a woe-is-me post here, I’m surprisingly resigned at the moment.  I don’t really feel sorry for myself.  i know it could always be so much worse!  Many don’t have the blessings I have, so how dare I be such a pitiful ingrate?  There are ceratainly far worse possibilities in life than having a clset full of precious charcteristics which  don’t make a bit of difference and serve no real purpose in the world

So today I’ve been invited to dance in the sun with the devil.  And although I’ve not committed myself to it yet…heaven knows I’ll be frolicking about in the sun as his prism, changing colors as he does because I can never remember my real color when I dance with him in spiritual and physical passionate delight.  My only constant color being a twist between The Devil’s Concubine Fiery Red and Optimistically Naïve Spring Green…

And although I already know the doom of the future of this dance…..Crayola dance, I will!

Lost in translation

Definitely lost.  I could not possibly be more direct and straightforward, nor more misunderstood than if I spoke another language altogether.  How is that combination possible?  I think only that others can’t hear very well outside of their own thoughts and perceptions, leaving every thing I try to express wide open for a myriad of translations that typically bear little resemblance to what I’m actually attempting to express.  It is frustrating on a level of boldly irritating.  It leads me to not speak for constant fear that I’ll be misinterpreted. 

I’m thinking that so few people say what they mean  or mean what they say and that has created a disconnect from those who do.  I might say, ‘Your tie is nice” and you might hear me making fun of your tie.  These small disconnects create a gap for more and more misunderstandings.  They build on each other until communication is almost impossible, as I’m too fearful and take so long to carefully find words I hope can not be misinterpreted and you only hear more and more what you think instead of my actual words.  I can’t recall having the ability to just say out loud what I think or feel and trust it to be understood.  I’m defending it and explaining it even as I say it, hoping to prevent having to re-explain, hoping to avoid the frustration of my sincerest thoughts getting lost intranslation.

I’m sure I’m guilty of this too.  Once I took most things at face value, which left me wide open as the butt of jokes and accusations of annoying naivete’, which sadly was truly trust and innocence.  “I’m so proud to be with you” actually translated (to me) as I’m so proud to be with you.  When in actuality it must have meant, “You’re dressed like a tramp” or possibly, “You get too much attention and that makes me uncomfortable.”  How am I to know anymore?  I thought you were just proud to be with me.

Is there no place in this world for direct and honest communication?  Can I not say what I mean, using crisp and clearly descriptive words and trust that you’ll hear just what  I’m saying?  Is this not possible?


So I’m thinking lately how this situation makes me feel resentful, manipulated, frustrated, and less of myself in general.  As though I start to become a distant fading light, losing its power and sense of being.  The very essence of who I am feels lost every time this cycle starts over and/or continues.  I realize that although my part in it is to hold onto a sense of faith in the person I love, that is allowing this and affecting me as a whole.  As much as I want to believe in the person I love and his ability to do the right thing and my ability to patiently wait for that to happen, there comes a time when I have to accept what is and let go of what I want so badly to believe.  A time when I have to take responsibility for that and my part in perpetuating the insanity in my life.  My responsibility is to love myself enough to believe in myself and not try so much to believe in another.

Starting yesterday, I’m making the attempt to take back the power in this ongoing crazy situation; to take responsibility for making it different – changing the things I want changed.  I’m tired of being perplexed, confused, hopeful and hurt, trusting and betrayed.  I’ve been tired of that for some time now. Hopefully I’ve really had enough at this point and will stick to it.   I’ve made small steps toward that in the past and then hoped he would give the rest, by accepting my position, taking it into consideration, respecting it, and ultimately doing the right thing in response to my efforts.  Guess I’ve been hoping he would share the responsibility of correcting this situation, making it a little easier on me to be strong and do the right thing for myself. 

What kind of ridiculously innocent faith is that?  And what has he done over the past 2 and 1/2 years to demonstrate that he would ever take any responsibility for doing the right thing?  Nothing.  I’ve seen nothing in him that resembles the character of the man I love for years now.  Why would I hold onto faith in him when I’ve seen nothing of him in so very long?  Is it because I’m too lazy to just do it all myself and be the complete strong person on my own?  Or is it denial that the man I knew and loved somehow disappeared and is possibly gone forever?  Or never existed, except as a facade…  Which is an extremely hurtful concept to consider.  It makes the truest thing I’ve ever known or experienced all just a manipulative act which I was naive enough to fall for completely.  If I have to accept that the only love I’ve felt was real was not in fact real, what does that mean?  It means I was duped.  It means I’ve never known authentic love, ever… 

Gosh, how desperately I have clung to my deepest hopes of the heart and soul, while the ugly face of its  opposite  screams directly in my face?  I  may as well cover my eyes and chant a sing-song I can’t seeeeee yoooooouuu…I can’t seeeeee yoooouuu. 

How ridiculous.  Time to grow up.    Time to face the music that’s actually playing instead of thinking I can keep dancing to the music from my heart, at an entirely different beat.  Time to take the power back and take responsibility for eliminating this chaos in my world which is changing me at a structural level.  Where did my boundaries go?   I am not the victim here unless I allow myself to be.  I am not inherently lazy either.  Apparently just inherently, ridiculously faithful in others, regardless of their actuality.  Holding onto that innocence has been exhausting and soul mutilating.  My knuckles are white and stretched to their max.  The skin might even be starting to rip and tear.  It’s painful to continue holding on that way.  It’s also painful to let go… 

However, one makes more sense and will prompt a faster end to the difficulty.  I’ve never been one to rip the band-aid off fast and quick, although I’ve always known that’s the smartest and most effective method to remove a bandage. 

In respect of the possibility there is even an ounce of truth in the “struggle” he’s indicated he is currently experiencing in his life and in his expressed need to turn to me for comfort and support, I do not want to be vengeful or cold in my removal or harsh in my setting boundaries.  It has never been about getting what I want.  It has only been about believing in him and believing in the power and purity of unconditional love for another human being…   Yesterday, I selected a nice card expressing my love, concern and support of him and wrote my well wishes and other kind, but unattached, non-expectant words, in signage and left this on his door.  Not wishing or expecting anything at all in return.  Being inherently true to myself and my heart irregardless of his character; confirming that in spite of what I’m about to do and the boundaries I must set and hold firm, I do truly love him.  Then, last evening before I went to sleep, I blocked all access to me, locking him out of my life.  I drew a line in the sand, directly and firmly in front of where he’s chosen to stand. 

And with that, here I go…..