Missing answers to silly questions

Saw him Sunday…went to him again early Monday morning.    Trying to wait to know what is the correct response/stance to take in this situation, but the possibilities are too muddled to have any true idea.

If I could only remove the want for anything but what is readily available and simple in this.  I often feel foolish for this, but it genuinely feels at times like I may as well try to remove the need for food or water from myself and somehow find a way to not only not want sustenance of any kind, but remove that built-in need for such basics.

I don’t suppose I will ever know for certain..until that time when it is already too late…and not making a choice has made my choice and placed me where I’ll remain in the midlle of the consequences for the non-choice choice…  I can pay psychics, pray till I pass out, wish upon stars every night, meditate until the silence in my head is deafening, beg, plead, try to care, try not to care – and at the end of the day, early in the morning and at each point in between, I still have no idea what is best.

Love the only way I know how in the only method that is currently available to me… and pray that a true heart and love itself can conquer all obstacles imposed by negative energies…  Compromising my self respect and morals…

Fight like a warrior to stuff down every desire and impulse I have that loves him naturally, like breathing…and pray that in my painful absence,  his want and need for me might someday grow back to where and what it once was.  Compromising the integrity

of the dreams  my heart has always held onto…

What is the lesser of two completely unwanted options?  Choosing nothing still makes a choice.  Choosingnothing is not even practically possible.  These two choices demand that I go in one direction or another…there really is no “other” option or alternate choice I’ve not considered…  Or if there is, I’m so blind and dumb to it, I’e shut off any ability to conceive of it.  Everything spiritual maintains that answers will come…”seek and ye shall find”…ask and you shall know…  That doesn’t seem to apply here, unless of course again, I am just totally shut down to hearing anything beyond what I want(?) to hear or hope to believe…?

If I could somehow force myself to not desire water anymore, the pain of thirst might  go away in time from that denial, but I’d eventually die of the thirst I wasn’t even aware of any longer.  It does not seem rational that this feels comparable to such a scenario.  It doesn’t feel at all rational and yet it still is exactly what it is.  And telling myself it’s not accurate or valid, doesn’t quell that  distinct and overwhelming sensation that it is the case…

If I move away, then maybe the laws of logic say that it must cease and go away and it is not possible that I would actually die from such missing such a foolish nonsenical thing..just not possible.  That is a foolish and irrational fear that would go  away each die it did not happen.  Do people still die from melancholy of loss and broken hearts?  Does God still answer questions when they are silly and illogical?

Billowing pillows of electrical currents


tree lovers

Oh my… I went to him today.  After everything –  I went to him!  I even thought it through first, long and hard and at some point I just realized that once the idea came to me, the gravitational pull toward him was uncontrollable. Come hell or high water, mountains, or oceans, I was going to him.  And I did.

I’m now consumed with why…and of course, what!  Why did I go?  I went because I woke up with an undeniable need for him; a desperate need like oxygen or water.  I went because I’m addicted to the drama?  I went because I felt strong and in control, as though it’s okay if I go to him, as long as he does not come to me.  That seems to be when the trouble begins.

What….ohh what is fantastic always, even better because I did feel strong, was strong, demonstrated strength (I think!?).  Brief moment of discomfort in the very beginning, but as soon as we start playing, the discomfort of the past three years just disintegrates like sand washing away from the shoreline…..whoosh….gone…okay…smile…HUGE smile…  Sighs and caresses just to play with him again.  Like the favorite friend from the neighborhood who moves away and then comes back for a visit…just sighhhhhh…..in absolute contentment that all in the world is just the best it can be at that very moment!

He wants me….he vehemently says this over and over to me.  And I know.  It might be nice if I could feel even a little power from that, but I don’t.  I want him every bit as much…maybe more?  No, it works so perfectly because that part is so even between us.  The overwhelming desire to experience every fraction of an inch of one another as if for the first time…and still feel like forever wouldn’t be long enough to explore.  Once we agreed that forever wouldn’t be long enough.  Now there are no agreements…there is just passionate, overwhelming desire for the rawest intimacy… intimacy  as though our flesh will physically fuse together, never to be painfully parted again.  Like the puzzle of my body, my life, my heart, my spirit have all found their missing pieces at once and the exhilaration of snapping them all together at the same time; feeling the utter delight and…. Sighhhhhhh….

He is so sensitive and soft with me in all the ways I forget are possible…in all the ways I forget I even like sensitive softness….  Currents of electricity  running through pillows of softness, the gentleness of your hand slowly waving through water, but filled with excitement, anticipation and deeply complete  satisfaction.

How will I ever not go to him for any length of time?  When will we be satiated to exhaustion with each other?  When will every thrilling aspect that just continues to grow whether we nurture it or not, finally cease completely?  I never could have imagined experiencing anything quite this oddly overwhelming and right, that is really not so right…(?)  And now that I have, I can’t imagine the thought of living any length of time without it?  Once a connection so deeply physical and spiritual has thrust itself into your heart and life, how does anyone fully accept that it is not and say goodbye to it forever?  When it in fact is…always is…whether we acknowledge it or not…it is.

He asked about our moving…are we moving…what’s going on with that…  Asked about my job and the kids…  I told him that seeing JW yesterday made me think of him (as though I needed that to think of him!)and that suddenly I wanted him, immediately, undeniably, and vehemently wanted him…

Four hours later, I kissed him good bye and left, happy and smiling that what is still there….  I always think that in time away, it will subside or maybe someday even go away from the ugly of all that negative garbage it’s been saturated in, like that forced denial will dissolve it all into never-never land.  It does not.  It only strengthens the need and the satisfaction.  Nothing dissolves except the softness of my skin into him, bonding us closer….too close…when closer is not even a viable possibility…closer and closer we go….  When continuing is not possible, on and on we go….

 Such a strange thing!

strange vocations?

Stole a little time away to write…  After a few days the urgency of that need is overwhelming and I’ll do or say whatever I must to steal away on my own and get the thoughts from my head out, where they seem to make more sense to me, to me at least!

Having a thoughtful discussion with Mark’s friend Rick yesterday.  We were talking of God having a vocation for every person; a gift which he gives each one of us to give back to the world to make it a better place.  Rick thinks his gift is encouragement.  I’d have to agree.  He’s very gentle and compassionate minded.  He not only asks questions, but he actually listens as well, as though he’s actually interested in the answers.  He is very kind and encouraging.  I appreciate that in him very much and I’m so glad he recognizes that he has that gift!

So I start thinking about what my gift is.  I used to think it was my empathic nature, but I’ve had to choose to try to relieve some of that and when otherwise impossible, to deny myself to act upon any of those natural tendencies.  This now as a much needed self preservation/protection mode- a somewhat method of survival in any peaceful sense anyway…  I don’t know about the rest of the world or what is “normal” everywhere else, but I’ve learned repeatedly that I’m not so safe utilizing my “gift” in the environment in which I currently live.  This reluctant realization has propelled me into an uncomfortable “Who am I?”, “What is my purpose?” mode. And thus, I must rethink my purpose.  Whoaaaa…this is rather unsettling under the circumstances.  After my conversation with Rick yesterday, I really pondered over and over what might make sense.  Thinking over everything that the past three years have brought, the specific struggles of most of my life, past situations, future possibilities etc., and add to that a couple of interesting, unintentional, off-handed remarks from Mark (which took me a few moments to “get”) and I think I might’ve figured out one possibility.  It’s actually the only thing that makes sense at all…and makes some sense of all my past challenges.  It’s rather sick and disgusting to me really, but in my current state of mind of years now, facing all that I face each day, in each situation,  I really can’t deny that it might be it.


When I wrote of craving documentation, I did not think it was a necessity.  It was merely because I am forgetful sometimes, although not typically ergarding matters close to my heart.  Those things seem burned into my memories like permanent fixtures I can’t rid myself of when I want to!

However, it is exceedingly troublesome to be in the position to doubt reality.  I recall reading something about this technique referred to as “gaslighting”.  This term comes from a Hitchcock movie where a woman’s husband wants her to believe she’s crazy.  He tells her things didn’t happen when they did.  He tells her she did things she didn’t.  He tells her she didn’t do things she knows she did.  She gets increasingly confused by this and doubts her own sanity.  This is the perfect setup to make someone believe they’re crazy.  Although it is somewhat easy to dismiss this the first few times as just being mistaken, over time, it really does work to make you wonder…

No one thinks that documenting every encounter, ever visit, every conversation, every phone call or text would ever be necessary in order to prove mundane everyday things.  I think we should all be exhausted if we had to document every interaction with others in order to have verification of reality.  Quite honestly, out of embarraassment for the truth, I have not done that even here…the place where I really “let it all out”.  Why I would be embarrassed about things on a mostly anonymous blog, I’ve no idea, but I have been.   However, I’m now wishing I wasn’t.  Not that it provides any actual documentation or evidentiary proof of anything real, but at this point for my own peace of mind it would be comforting.  And mind comfort is hard for me to come by these days.  So, I’m really wishing I had blogged more concretely in dates and times and events. 

I did not.  And perhaps my embarrassment was what he counts on.  The embarrassment  does help keep things hidden and creates a challenge for me in the event that I ever might have to prove something, either to myself, him, or anyone else.  Although I just wouldn’t ever imagine that this kind of thing would be important to prove  anything other than possibly  a murder case or police investigation.  Couldn’t imagine it would be important to prove irrelevant events that shouldn’t even be up for debate…other than for someone attempting to “gaslight”.

Can I trust that I’m typing this right now?  Can I trust that I’m even sitting here?  I might not be.  He very well may tell me tomorrow that I wasn’t.  And when I attempt to “prove” it, by showing the blog entry with date and time (or some equivalent method of proof), he will explain it away, as though I’m ridiculous to believe that proves a single thing. 

And gosh, why would I ever need to prove such things anyway, right?  I should know if I am sitting here typing this; if I checked my email, if I went to the grocery store yesterday, if my favorite sweater is grey, or my favorite color is green…  shouldn’t I be able to know these things without needing “proof”?  And what kind of freak sociopathic psycho tries to make you doubt these things?  I understand that many things are based on perspective, like what something feels like to another person, we could never know for certain or have thet audacity to doubt their sensations and experience.  But there are concrete, factual things that are not up for debate.  You might think my shoes are navy and I might see them as black and in relative terms we are both correct in our own right, but we can’t deny that I’m wearing shoes, right? 

What would anyone hope to gain other than perhaps a husband trying to get rid of a wife “legally” by discrediting her sanity?  Or acting in terms of self preservation maybe?  If our behavior is so outrageously embarrassing that we need to believe it didn’t exist, we don’t “do that”, or we need to be sure no one else would believe that we did/have done such things? 

This is my favorite sweater.  No, it isn’t.  I have not been tanning in over a month.  Yes, you have. We went to the movies last week.  No, we didn’t.  I’m sitting on the sofa right now.  No, you aren’t.

What???!!??  Why would anyone do this?  How very, very cruel!

Goodbye to the crazy girl!

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!





Can you hear me? Hey, is this thing on?

Can anyone hear me?  No, I don’t mean metaphorically…  Okay, well, I DO mean it metaphorically and I also mean it literally.  I find it a cruel irony that I’ve struggled all my life to “be heard” – to speak up for myself, to use my voice on my own behalf…. and now that I’m trying (Trying to speak up, to share kindnesses, to be love and demonstrate loving things with my actions and words), it seems I quite literally cannot be heard.  As in, “What?”, “Huh?”  It seems my vocal chords have weakened so significantly in the past few years, that people cannot hear me when I speak.  Side note just now realized: The other interesting irony of that is that it pushes and shoves me to write (as though I needed anything to push me in that direction – writing is all I’ve ever had – to write has always been my way to have a “voice”).  But now, I have the strangest sensation that I can’t be heard at all any other way.

I’ve been noticing the inability of others to hear me often lately.  I confess it’s becoming a huge source of frustration for me to the extent that I contemplate each day whether it’s worth it to even attempt to speak aloud.  How exhausting!  “What?”  Ohhhh never mind…and be sure to smile very sweetly so as to not convey my frustration.  After all, it is not so-and-so’s fault that he or she did not hear me.  I do not dare become frustrated at something so innocent and un-blameable (What?  Is that even a word?)  Yesterday, I was around a great deal of people throughout the day and I can honestly say that there were perhaps only one or two sentences I spoke aloud (to another human being) which were not responded to with, “What?”  And after the third or fourth repeat, I am regretting that I bothered to speak at all.  So, I’m leading to the solution of not speaking.  Or, at the least, very, very carefully choosing when to make the effort to speak. 

This enigma has been going on to one degree or another for the past 9 years.  And it’s getting noticeably worse (i.e. more frustrating for me).  And please understand that is is actually becoming a genuine enigma.  What?  Ohhh never mind, (again, I smile sweetly so you’ll know I’m not saying that in frustration with to you) it’s really nothing important.  “What?”  Oh my stars, really, never mind, I truly was just babbling about nothing….

I must be honest here and say that yes, this has become frustrating on a personal level.  However, the cruelest irony of it all is this:  Now that I have made my whole intention (and chosen to focus the majority of my energy) to be kind and demonstrate lovingness to others at large, if I can’t be heard and must repeat myself to the point of frustration, then the only intention that I’m conveying by the time I’m actually heard, IS my frustration…  at which point, I’ve missed my intention target entirely and truly do regret that I’ve bothered to speak in the first place.

Thank you.  “What?”  Oh, I wanted to say thank you for reading my blog. “What?”  Ohhhhh never mind (smile sweetly) I was just babbling on about nothing. “What?”  Oh my gosh, never mind. Smile sweetly.  Silence.

The car in the driveway

The 4th of July….  It doesn’t take her anywhere specifically and yet that blasted nostalgia surrounds her regardless.

Does he not come because of the company?  The strange car in the driveway would be misleading for a man of such risque sexual tendencies as his.  It would have to be another man.  In a mind such as his, there would be no other plausible explanation.  Although it was in fact, only a girlfriend and her children staying for awhile.  This creates a false sense of security.  He’s not coming.  As long as that car is in the driveway late at night, he’s not coming and so she can sleep for a change.

Sleep, however, is still full of the questions she no longer asks while awake…  and she realizes there is no escape.  Escape….  Ahhhhh, to escape!  To have a few moments build upon other moments when she might feel the relief of escape.  She  even likes saying the word escape.  The way the “s” sound rolls into the hard “c” just feels soothing while sitting in her prison.  The vowel at the beginning sets the entire word flowing off the tongue and lips and provoked her mind with thoughts of sliding carelessly down a long slippery water slide;  it prompts in her the sensation of letting go with trust and faith of a safe and amusing landing (which she feels with the sudden plop of the “pahh” at the end!).  Ehhhhsssssskaaaaaaayyypahh…

A safe landing.  She was certain there had to be one at the end of this life-slide, at the end of every slide.  Really, what other end is there in any situation/life?  At the end, you have the end and there you are…at the end.  Landing wherever you’ve landed.

The blessed, blasted strange car in her driveway. The safety and confusion of houseguests unknown to him.  Thank you.  For this moment, she can know stability and security.  There will be no waking up in the middle of the night to him.  There is no “Will he or will he not come to me tonight?”  Ahhhhh yes,  the maddening relief of knowing what the nights would bring.  The confusing sense of knowing and understanding everything she could not know or understand ever…even for just a moment.  Thank you.