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 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.


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…

Different kind of nightmare…

Truck was in the drive yesterday  and curtains opened in middle of the afternoon.  It’s been a few months since I saw that…  I have to admit, I was a little hopeful that it meant something good.  And I felt badly that I felt that way as well…  Do I not love him enough to wish him happiness?  That is too selfish to be love and it’s not who I want to be on the planet, but it might be the plain and ugly truth…  Eww…

Heavy on my mind, I just woke from a dream that they were moving in together.  It was a dream where there was so much going on at once within the deream that I can’t recall any more details than the main premise, which was the moving in thing.  She had lots of money and I think they were quite happy…  It burned inside me so much that it was shameful to acknowledge.  And I’m left wondering…dream/nightmare or premonition?  Certain that the basis for my dream was the underlying chronic fear that this is going to happen soon.  Wishing I could recall more of the sbtle details within it though…but I can’t.  Perhaps the details are too painful for me to allow myself the details?

I’m willing to admit how hurtful the concept is, even though it goes directly against my concept of love and is embarrassing to me to acknowledge.  Yet, with this situation and thought, I do feel the tiniest release of the bonds chaining me to him .  This is part of what I’ve prayed for for so very long.  So I should be grateful for the answered prayer, really…  and in  some awkward way, I actually am.  I just hate the sick feeling that’s coming with it! 

AW says this is what she told me a year ago that had to happen before he came back for good – for real and of course, I long to believe that’s the case.  Simultaneously, I almost hope it’s just over and done (???!?!!) so I might have the chance to move on finally.  And what do I love there anymore?  I’ve not been with him since early June.  This is the second period of time in the past four years that it’s gone over a few weeks wwith him staying away.  I get that mild sense of hopeful comfort that this time it’s really over.  The same uncomfortable “comfort” I got once before, just before he returned as usual, shocking my world and my delicate balance.

Embarrassing to admit that I can’t truly fathom it’s genuinely over, while I hope that it is AND desperately pray that it’s not…all at the same maddening time!!! 

Taking baby steps (for me – leaps) to start over.  Spend a lot of time with Greg.  Met Eric Friday and liked him okay.  Saw JC and wonder if that’s anything at all, although I did not speak to him.  All in the name of deperately trying to start over and open myself to the possibility that it realy is finished and done at last.

Angie devastated our lives yet AGAIN.  In such an ugly way that we are reeling from it still!  The girls are struggling to understand such utter deceit and ugliness from someone they cared for so much.  I’m trying to help them through that, while feeling the same way myself AND kicking myself that I let myself believe in something better than that  from thet likes of her.  She has wrecked our home, thrown filthy lies and senseless deceit all over our hearts, and then threatened and accused me for good measure.  Amazing!  What a mess.  I’m tired of being the hopeful optimist and can’t stand the thought of losing that quality entirely at the same time…leaving me open to the fear that it’s still not the last time I let someone do this to me – to us.

I also feel sorry for her that it must be terribly difficult to live life within a web of lies constantly fearing they’ll be exposed and juggling people and places to keep them all in the air.  And in some ways, I wonder if she’s better off that she can do that and avoid the painful truths that hurt?  As opposed to the blatant harsh realities of myself that I’m forced to accept?

No answers

Today my heart was sinking faster than the sun and I drove past two small children sitting in a big easy chair in their front lawn. REmnants of a yard sale I presume.  Their little legs sticking straight out with their tiny feet just dangling past the edge of the cushion…  and I remember being little and the worst thing I could imagine was rain for a baseball game, my sister crying over anything, or my mother not loving me.  I knew the broken heart of the child.  My heart broke every time I wanted to do something more than anything in the world, but was not given permission or the crush I had on the little boy next door who liked my best friend instead.  I vividly remember the pain of those things and feeling completely heart broken.  And now, I looked at those two little kids, sharing the big comfy chair in their yard and what fun that must have been for them and I wished with all my heart that I could just go back for even a minute’s reprieve from the vast brokenness of growing up, the vulnerabilities you have that come with age, wisdom, and fears you didn’t used to know even existed as a child, dangling your feet over a sift chair and giggling.  The security that tomorrow will always be coming, the trust that that’s just the way the world works and the confidence that you never have to think any differently because you’re going to be a child forever….until you grow up, which is so very far away it’s unfathomable.  The only deep pain I knew growng up were the moments that my mother’s lack of compassion, understanding, time, attention, or love were slapped in my face too many times to give me the chance to slip into fantasy world where she did love me.  Aftyer those times, I would sit in my room and write stories about how much my mother loved me and all the hugs and kisses she gave me because I was special.  And in time, I would feel better.  I could almost put myseslf into those stories so well that they became true,- in my openly imaginative mind and the deperation of denial.

I don’t have that luxury anymore.  And instead of my hopes and wishes that I would grow up to be loved by a husband and family of my own; people who would love me every day, not just when other people were present.  The deepest irony of my lot in life is that life has placed me in the very same position I was in as a child.  Ensuring that I never feel the safety and comfort of love I can depend on. Promising me nothing except more insecurity that further serves to make me so difficult to love and respect.

As an adult, I know have some tiny bits of understanding as to why I never got a puppy or a kitten and even why I wasn’t allowed to go to the fair, the carnival or the circus.  And I even understand a little that my mom just didn’t feel developing friendships was what mattered for children and why she chose to inhibit and prohibit that seemingly natural part of childhood.  I understand the beauty of those tiny broken hearted moments which I was fortunate enough to be able to escape with the simple tools of pen and paper and hiding places.  I can think of those sadnesses and smile a little because I almost miss them, as horrible as they seemed at the time.  I would trade so quickly to be my daughter’s age again.  She has a mother who holds her and tries to understand, although sometimes I don’t really because her life is so entirely and drastically different than the childhood I knew.  I love when she is confident that even if I’m upset with her for a minute.  I see the confidence that she knows unequivally that I love her no matter what.  She knows she is wonderful, beaitiful, capable, and loved…no matter what life throws at her.  She has the blessing of that strength and conviction and all the confidence that comes with it.  The confidence that children should be given to grow within from it.

And I am still a child without security, longing for love and respect and compassion from the one person who insists he will never give that to me again.  My worthiness doesn’t matter, my beauty, my abilities, my spirit, the light of my soul…none of it matters because just like my mother he will never choose to love me again, at least not with his heart and maybe not even with his body.  I should somehow find the blessing in that and be grateful for even knowing I once had something so beautiful, but I’m apparently a stubborn, hopeless case who just pines and hurts and waits for the pain to kill me and make the life-long suffering of this very affliction cease once and for all.

I wait and pray.  I write and wish.  I hope and dream. And nothing.  It’s all a twisted repeat cycle only furthering my insecurity becvause now I know that he once tried to love me exactly the way I always prayed and hoped for.  And he does not now and I don’t have the ability to write it all into a happy ending strong enough that my mind can forget for awhile that I’l grown up with the same broken heart and the very same unfulfilled prayer.

Maybe God’s lesson for me is that love should never have been so important to me;that perhaps some of us are not intended to receive it, but just to be gratefulo for the ability to feel it and give it away to others.  I don’t know what God has in mind for me.  I only know that it has never been what I’ve dreamed or prayed for and the chances of that ever changing are almost down to zero due to the circumstances life has placed upon me.


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.




I dreamt of you this morning…

Rain and you pouring all around…

Your taste still storming

delicious, on my tongue

Your scent floating in the air

like a haunted song

Your mouth lingering on my lips

…a passionate prayer

Your hand on my hips

pulling me softly closer

My skin still wrapped in the heat

of your essence, as it washed

your tender presence

over my heart  so sweet.

So hard to understand

love’s rhythm and rhyme…

why it beats and sustains…

and why I miss you even more

when the sky spills the rain