It seems I am prolific, of late.
Especially in the later hours (although THIS hour is not so very late compared to some I have kept), I seem to write for this place. Especially of late, when I am happier, lighter of spirit, than is my wont.
Why is that?
I am in love with Someone, who loves me back. Sweetness, that. This loving has wrapped itself around me, infused me with a sort of happiness I have never known. When I think about Someone (a few hundred times a minute), I smile...and everyone who knows me, who has known me, remarks on how I've changed, how I shine. The dark one shines. Armageddon can't be far behind.
When a friend asked me today, if my feet were touching the ground yet, I laughed...and winced. I told her I was still very much in love (I am...oh yes, I am)...but I don't know how to maintain happy. I've had 31 years of misery...I know how to live in, around, and with that. Happy? Not so much. I don't know how to simply be happy - my mind will constantly manufacture fears, doubts, questions. It wears me down.
Despite that, I endure.
For once, I am choosing to trust in the feeling, to ignore the angry, hurt, spiteful voices in my head. It's a struggle, though, especially late at night when I'm alone. Late at night, when the house is quiet, the boy is sleeping, the phone is charging in it's cradle, and there's no one but a feline or three to talk to...then I begin to wonder...do I really know how to love someone? Do I have a right to try? To ask a person to love such a deeply flawed person...can I do that? I don't know that I am worth it.
It hurts, to doubt...but I endure.
I wondered, one night, if I should stop answering the phone...stop answering the e-mails...fade away. I wondered if Someone would be better off without me distracting him...tugging at him...dividing his attention between me and his life, the life he's living so far away. I don't doubt he'd be hurt, maybe angry...but it would fade with time. I'm not saying I want that...far from it...but if my presence in his world causes uncertainty or difficulty, shouldn't I withdraw? Before we met, he had dreams, plans...what right have I to hope I may become part of that? What right have I to imagine he may change them even a little to include me? I should bow out now, I thought, before this goes too far and one day he realizes he made a mistake. Just the thought hurt enough to bring tears to my eyes - I would be miserable.
I would endure, though.
I wondered if this will last...this feeling, this loving, will it last? What if it's fading and he doesn't want to tell me? What if he's realized what it means, to be woven into this chaotic pattern that is the tapestry of my life? What if he comes to regret...?
Almost beyond bearing...but I'd endure.
That's what I do, I endure. I slog on through the muck and mire, because there's nothing else to be done.
Trouble is - this love thing? There's no muck. No mire. It's beautiful. It's astonishing. It's overwhelming. And it's not something to be endured - it should be celebrated, reveled in.
It hurts, I won't lie - he IS far away, far enough that actually being in the same space at the same time is impossible on any sort of regular basis. He has a job, a life...and, while I am not employed in any traditional sense, I DO have a life, a son that I have to consider. I can't go haring off to...Somewhere...just because I feel as if half my spirit is there. It's frustrating.
But I endure...I tell the doubts, the questions, the fears and frustrations to go away...or natter on, but I won't alter my course. He mentioned how long it would be before we could meet again...and I sighed and admitted I hated to wait so long but if it must be borne...I will endure. At least I have the hope that, at the end of THIS endurance...there is something worth the ache, the pangs, the enduring...
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Boundaries
Earlier this evening, when I was hanging about with a friend and our children were tumbling about her house like two Tasmanian Devils on a serious sugar high, I chanced to mention respecting boundaries, respecting the needs of others, sometimes ahead of my own. We had a rather lengthy discourse about this, which led me to some thoughts. I'm sharing them here, because the thought chain started out fine but didn't end well.
Warning - it's long and it rambles.
Let's talk boundaries, shall we?
I know when my friend M is at work, and when she's home, and what time she tries to take a nap because raising two kids is not so easy, even when your husband is freakin' amazing. So...I don't call her until I am fairly sure she's awake and can talk. Sometimes it's hard to wait, especially when I need a friend, but I respect her need for rest, for family time. It's not a huge boundary, but it's there.
I don't give out people's phone numbers or e-mail addresses without their express permission. That's a huge boundary, to me, and one I respect mightily.
I know that my mother doesn't like it when someone messes with the temperature or radio settings in her vehicle, and I don't do it unless I have permission - won't even ask unless I'm desperate. Her vehicle, her boundaries.
My friends know that there is no time I won't answer the phone if they call - any time, day or night, if they need me, I am here for them. If I don't answer right away, it's because I didn't hear the phone ring and I WILL call them back. No boundary, there...cross at will.
I have learned Someone's daily schedule fairly well...enough to know when he's working, when at lunch, when driving home, when napping, when likely writing, gardening, or on the phone with another Friend. I don't call during those times because, however much I may miss him, want to hear his voice, be lonely or hurting...those are boundaries I won't cross. I wait my turn, and that's fine. There's a pattern to his day and he works me into it when he can.
I don't like people touching my computer. On rare occasions, I will permit its use...to special people...but it's unusual. That's one of my boundaries. I can't begin to tell you how it irritates me to find someone has been using my machine without permission, especially when I can see they've been digging through my files. Yes, they're public, no I don't password them - it's my machine, I shouldn't have to do that, and if someone is uncouth enough to root through my files and they find something they don't like, well...too damn bad for them. They chose to cross that line.
Another is that it's not OK to give out my contact information, real name, or any other identifying information to anyone else. Not even my own mother. If I want someone to be able to find me, I will give them that info. If you have it and they want it...YOU contact me and ask me to tell them. I don't like strangers calling, writing, e-mailing me...unless I gave them permission. I am mildly paranoid...work with me here.
This blog is a place for me to dump my heart and mind, to empty them of darkness and evil, to put the things I can't or won't internalize, remain silent about. It's a nasty little sanctuary for my darkest thoughts. For the most part, the people who read this were invited here. I didn't think I'd need to password protect it - it's not linked to my mundane life or other blog in any way, there's nothing to connect it with the rest of my life. I have generally asked, when I've told people about this place, that they not pass it on to anyone. I've made exceptions, when merited. I've requested that it not be linked to me in any way. I have mentioned that there are certain people I don't want reading it unless they happen upon it entirely by accident - mostly because I just don't think they ever will, and if they do? They likely won't recognize my writing here, or themselves should I mention them.
I don't write about physical characteristics or identify people by more than an initial...sometimes not even that (in the case of Someone, whose privacy I certainly won't fracture).
I try to be as untraceable as something slightly more than ordinary care can make me.
I try to write more about my own internal process and less about others. Sometimes I need to vent about how another's actions (or lack thereof) have angered or hurt me, and I will. It's a way to process without hurting anyone else.
Someone (not THE Someone...just someone) didn't respect the boundaries. Some person thought it would be a good idea to post a link and some text from this blog on another blog. It was hurtful and mean...nay...cruel...to do so. I wondered if one of my friends would have done it. Perhaps they meant well. Then I realized...no...I hold my friends in higher esteem than to believe they would anonymously do something that harmful. They would write their own words, sign their own names, would not hide behind MY words or do something to threaten MY well being or the other blogger's. They would respect the boundaries, defined and implied.
Because of that kind soul, I now must make a choice. Their action happened weeks ago, but I'm only getting around to considering my options. I could drop this blog, kill it and create a new one (or not)., but I LIKE this blog, its content, its design, its general spirit. Another blog won't have those things - it will be its own entity.
I could password protect it, make it invitation only. I don't know how useful that would be, and despite my attempts at a modicum of privacy, I don't like the idea of being exclusive. Also, I did want to show people - invited or random searchers - that horrible thoughts don't make a horrible person, and it's OK to make a place to put those thoughts so they don't fester. I wanted a place to be honest, especially when that honesty is dark, depressing, angry...any of the negative emotions.
I could filter what I write, cater to the people I know are reading, start writing fluff and be dishonest...but why bother??
I could just soldier on, trusting that the person to whom I was linked will keep his word and not read here any more...although he HAS, since saying he wouldn't...and that makes it awkward, knowing that he's still exposing himself to the things I don't want him to have to see.
Still...I prefer to keep up with this blog, keep my dumping ground as it is.
I don't know who crossed the line, or why. I'm not angry with them...with you...for doing it. I'm hurt that you would be so careless of me, of the other party, of common courtesy. I wonder why you didn't first ask if I would mind, or if you acted knowing I wouldn't like it. Perhaps you thought I needed help, that you were doing me a favor.
Whatever the reason...I'm asking nicely...don't do it again. I haven't traced your IP (easily done) or made anything more than a minor effort to suss you out. I am choosing to believe that your action was on of misguided good intentions...that perhaps you acted out of love or concern for my well being. Please don't cross that line again.
Respect the boundaries, people - I don't think it's too much to ask...
Warning - it's long and it rambles.
Let's talk boundaries, shall we?
I know when my friend M is at work, and when she's home, and what time she tries to take a nap because raising two kids is not so easy, even when your husband is freakin' amazing. So...I don't call her until I am fairly sure she's awake and can talk. Sometimes it's hard to wait, especially when I need a friend, but I respect her need for rest, for family time. It's not a huge boundary, but it's there.
I don't give out people's phone numbers or e-mail addresses without their express permission. That's a huge boundary, to me, and one I respect mightily.
I know that my mother doesn't like it when someone messes with the temperature or radio settings in her vehicle, and I don't do it unless I have permission - won't even ask unless I'm desperate. Her vehicle, her boundaries.
My friends know that there is no time I won't answer the phone if they call - any time, day or night, if they need me, I am here for them. If I don't answer right away, it's because I didn't hear the phone ring and I WILL call them back. No boundary, there...cross at will.
I have learned Someone's daily schedule fairly well...enough to know when he's working, when at lunch, when driving home, when napping, when likely writing, gardening, or on the phone with another Friend. I don't call during those times because, however much I may miss him, want to hear his voice, be lonely or hurting...those are boundaries I won't cross. I wait my turn, and that's fine. There's a pattern to his day and he works me into it when he can.
I don't like people touching my computer. On rare occasions, I will permit its use...to special people...but it's unusual. That's one of my boundaries. I can't begin to tell you how it irritates me to find someone has been using my machine without permission, especially when I can see they've been digging through my files. Yes, they're public, no I don't password them - it's my machine, I shouldn't have to do that, and if someone is uncouth enough to root through my files and they find something they don't like, well...too damn bad for them. They chose to cross that line.
Another is that it's not OK to give out my contact information, real name, or any other identifying information to anyone else. Not even my own mother. If I want someone to be able to find me, I will give them that info. If you have it and they want it...YOU contact me and ask me to tell them. I don't like strangers calling, writing, e-mailing me...unless I gave them permission. I am mildly paranoid...work with me here.
This blog is a place for me to dump my heart and mind, to empty them of darkness and evil, to put the things I can't or won't internalize, remain silent about. It's a nasty little sanctuary for my darkest thoughts. For the most part, the people who read this were invited here. I didn't think I'd need to password protect it - it's not linked to my mundane life or other blog in any way, there's nothing to connect it with the rest of my life. I have generally asked, when I've told people about this place, that they not pass it on to anyone. I've made exceptions, when merited. I've requested that it not be linked to me in any way. I have mentioned that there are certain people I don't want reading it unless they happen upon it entirely by accident - mostly because I just don't think they ever will, and if they do? They likely won't recognize my writing here, or themselves should I mention them.
I don't write about physical characteristics or identify people by more than an initial...sometimes not even that (in the case of Someone, whose privacy I certainly won't fracture).
I try to be as untraceable as something slightly more than ordinary care can make me.
I try to write more about my own internal process and less about others. Sometimes I need to vent about how another's actions (or lack thereof) have angered or hurt me, and I will. It's a way to process without hurting anyone else.
Someone (not THE Someone...just someone) didn't respect the boundaries. Some person thought it would be a good idea to post a link and some text from this blog on another blog. It was hurtful and mean...nay...cruel...to do so. I wondered if one of my friends would have done it. Perhaps they meant well. Then I realized...no...I hold my friends in higher esteem than to believe they would anonymously do something that harmful. They would write their own words, sign their own names, would not hide behind MY words or do something to threaten MY well being or the other blogger's. They would respect the boundaries, defined and implied.
Because of that kind soul, I now must make a choice. Their action happened weeks ago, but I'm only getting around to considering my options. I could drop this blog, kill it and create a new one (or not)., but I LIKE this blog, its content, its design, its general spirit. Another blog won't have those things - it will be its own entity.
I could password protect it, make it invitation only. I don't know how useful that would be, and despite my attempts at a modicum of privacy, I don't like the idea of being exclusive. Also, I did want to show people - invited or random searchers - that horrible thoughts don't make a horrible person, and it's OK to make a place to put those thoughts so they don't fester. I wanted a place to be honest, especially when that honesty is dark, depressing, angry...any of the negative emotions.
I could filter what I write, cater to the people I know are reading, start writing fluff and be dishonest...but why bother??
I could just soldier on, trusting that the person to whom I was linked will keep his word and not read here any more...although he HAS, since saying he wouldn't...and that makes it awkward, knowing that he's still exposing himself to the things I don't want him to have to see.
Still...I prefer to keep up with this blog, keep my dumping ground as it is.
I don't know who crossed the line, or why. I'm not angry with them...with you...for doing it. I'm hurt that you would be so careless of me, of the other party, of common courtesy. I wonder why you didn't first ask if I would mind, or if you acted knowing I wouldn't like it. Perhaps you thought I needed help, that you were doing me a favor.
Whatever the reason...I'm asking nicely...don't do it again. I haven't traced your IP (easily done) or made anything more than a minor effort to suss you out. I am choosing to believe that your action was on of misguided good intentions...that perhaps you acted out of love or concern for my well being. Please don't cross that line again.
Respect the boundaries, people - I don't think it's too much to ask...
Monday, July 27, 2009
I Don't Go
This was rattling around my head, wouldn't let me sleep. I figured I'd plant it in the Lament and let it grow here instead of in my cerebellum.
~~~~~
I don't go where I'm not wanted.
Once upon a time, maybe
Maybe I would
Sneak in
Past the guardians at the gate
Sit in a quiet corner
Wait
Hope
Maybe this time
They'll want...
Me
I don't go where I'm not wanted
Not any more
Not today
It just isn't worth it
Was never worth it
To sit in a quiet corner
Wait
Hope
Maybe this time
They'll want...
Me
I don't go where I'm not wanted
Not even when
I'd very much like to
Not even when
I think it would be good
To sit in a quiet corner
Wait
Hope
Maybe this time
They'll want...
Me
I don't go where I'm not wanted
Sometimes...I don't go anywhere at all.
~~~~~
I don't go where I'm not wanted.
Once upon a time, maybe
Maybe I would
Sneak in
Past the guardians at the gate
Sit in a quiet corner
Wait
Hope
Maybe this time
They'll want...
Me
I don't go where I'm not wanted
Not any more
Not today
It just isn't worth it
Was never worth it
To sit in a quiet corner
Wait
Hope
Maybe this time
They'll want...
Me
I don't go where I'm not wanted
Not even when
I'd very much like to
Not even when
I think it would be good
To sit in a quiet corner
Wait
Hope
Maybe this time
They'll want...
Me
I don't go where I'm not wanted
Sometimes...I don't go anywhere at all.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Mixed Messages
"I love you... just wanted you to know...I'll always love you...I said I was going to tell you that so you wouldn't forget... to remind you...until you tell me to stop..."
Ten minutes later, he's out the door, heading for his girlfriend's place. Oh, wait...she's not a girlfriend, just a girl who's a friend...whose bed he sleeps in...but they're not having sex...even though he asked me to buy him some condoms...
Umm...
THAT'S not a mixed message, is it?
For the record...I don't mind that he has a girlfriend. When we were still married, I TOLD him to find a girlfriend, that it was fine with me - he could even bring her home if she would do chores. I wouldn't have minded if he had sex with another woman, or man, as long as he was honest and up front about it.
I DO mind that he made me feel like shit for asking if he could watch the boy Wednesday night because he mumbled something about having plans...after he had clearly told me a few minutes before that he would be home all week.
Again...not like that's a mixed message or anything.
I mind that he said he would watch the boy tomorrow so I could run some errands for someone else, a few hours out of the day, that's all, of being a parent...and now he says I should call him when I'm headed out (ostensibly with Bird in tow) if I haven't heard from him before then.
Not mixed, at all.
Is it too much to ask that someone honor their word? If you tell me you'll be here...then bloody be here! If you say you're going to call...then bloody call!! Don't leave me hanging here, dangling in the wind, wondering what the Hell happened...
I know I'm no lady...but still...you should never keep a lady waiting...even if she DOES mean less to you than the computer, the TV, or whatever has you so frikkin' distracted you don't hear your own words, let alone her...and of you're going to be that way, can you really wonder if she thinks maybe you don't love her, after all?? Not like she's getting mixed messages...
Ten minutes later, he's out the door, heading for his girlfriend's place. Oh, wait...she's not a girlfriend, just a girl who's a friend...whose bed he sleeps in...but they're not having sex...even though he asked me to buy him some condoms...
Umm...
THAT'S not a mixed message, is it?
For the record...I don't mind that he has a girlfriend. When we were still married, I TOLD him to find a girlfriend, that it was fine with me - he could even bring her home if she would do chores. I wouldn't have minded if he had sex with another woman, or man, as long as he was honest and up front about it.
I DO mind that he made me feel like shit for asking if he could watch the boy Wednesday night because he mumbled something about having plans...after he had clearly told me a few minutes before that he would be home all week.
Again...not like that's a mixed message or anything.
I mind that he said he would watch the boy tomorrow so I could run some errands for someone else, a few hours out of the day, that's all, of being a parent...and now he says I should call him when I'm headed out (ostensibly with Bird in tow) if I haven't heard from him before then.
Not mixed, at all.
Is it too much to ask that someone honor their word? If you tell me you'll be here...then bloody be here! If you say you're going to call...then bloody call!! Don't leave me hanging here, dangling in the wind, wondering what the Hell happened...
I know I'm no lady...but still...you should never keep a lady waiting...even if she DOES mean less to you than the computer, the TV, or whatever has you so frikkin' distracted you don't hear your own words, let alone her...and of you're going to be that way, can you really wonder if she thinks maybe you don't love her, after all?? Not like she's getting mixed messages...
Friday, July 24, 2009
Solas
I've been listening to this band's album The Edge of Silence for a few years, now...and I love their sound. I thought this song appropriate, considering my rather less than chipper mood, of late. I like to turn it up, sing along, and (as long as no one's watching) dance to it. Yeah, we all know I'm an odd one. Cheers, y'all!
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Not Asleep
Sigh.
I thought if I wrote about the eclipse and some of my thinking afterwards, I could maybe go to bed, get some sleep.
Want to make the gods laugh? Tell them your plans.
No sleep. Not yet.
A hot shower didn't help. That voice was nagging me. About saying "fuck", and being lonely, and how it's my own damn fault.
Hey, voice? Guess what? It isn't. Not entirely.
You see, I would have been lonely anyway. I was lonely when I still thought my husband and me had a chance. I was lonely because he was more interested in the computer than his wife. More interested in the television. More interested in the stereo, the iPod, the cell phone, the video games, the latest gadget or gizmo.
I was lonely back when I went to bed alone more nights than not (despite my best efforts), and cried myself to sleep I hurt so much inside. I was lonely when I had to squeeze a pillow tight because it and the cats were the only sympathetic things in the room. I was lonely when I would have given anything for my husband to touch me, just touch me, instead of sitting at the computer surfing the net for one more political post, one more opinion, one more...I don't know what...
I was lonely when I would (rarely) get sick, and hope for some sympathy but instead received a litany of why he was sicker, why he hurt more...and never, not once, did he just hold me, offer comfort.
At least this sense of loneliness and loss has more to do with distance and the foreignness of loving someone and feeling loved in return than with being in a house with someone who says they love you but doesn't notice your sorrow and pain...doesn't or won't.
Yeah, I'm lonely tonight...the kind of lonely that cuts deep and bleeds freely...but it's a bearable loneliness. It's one that can be remedied, that can be soothed by hope. And I would have been as alone with T in the house as ever I am when he's gone.
So shut up, stupid voice. Quit keeping me awake with doubt, hurt, fear, and recrimination - I know I'm doing the right thing.
Know how I know? Because I made this choice before I was graced with loving Someone. I was determined to end this marriage before I ever hoped and then knew Someone had feelings for me. I believed that I would end up alone with my son, walking my path on my own for the rest of my days, and I made my peace with that. No one wanted me before...I know how to live with that. I could live with it again...and even better than before, because now I know what folly it is to try and pretend that believing someone wants me is enough...and I won't be that cruel ever again. If I'd known then I was being cruel...well...things would have taken a different course. I'm not evil, stupid voice.
Sad, yes. Pathetic, probably. Miserable, often. Evil, never.
So yes, stupid voice, I am lonely and frightened by the prospect of being alone - but it won't make a difference.
Lonely can be gotten through, stupid voice, despite what you want me to believe. So piss off and let me sleep...please...
I thought if I wrote about the eclipse and some of my thinking afterwards, I could maybe go to bed, get some sleep.
Want to make the gods laugh? Tell them your plans.
No sleep. Not yet.
A hot shower didn't help. That voice was nagging me. About saying "fuck", and being lonely, and how it's my own damn fault.
Hey, voice? Guess what? It isn't. Not entirely.
You see, I would have been lonely anyway. I was lonely when I still thought my husband and me had a chance. I was lonely because he was more interested in the computer than his wife. More interested in the television. More interested in the stereo, the iPod, the cell phone, the video games, the latest gadget or gizmo.
I was lonely back when I went to bed alone more nights than not (despite my best efforts), and cried myself to sleep I hurt so much inside. I was lonely when I had to squeeze a pillow tight because it and the cats were the only sympathetic things in the room. I was lonely when I would have given anything for my husband to touch me, just touch me, instead of sitting at the computer surfing the net for one more political post, one more opinion, one more...I don't know what...
I was lonely when I would (rarely) get sick, and hope for some sympathy but instead received a litany of why he was sicker, why he hurt more...and never, not once, did he just hold me, offer comfort.
At least this sense of loneliness and loss has more to do with distance and the foreignness of loving someone and feeling loved in return than with being in a house with someone who says they love you but doesn't notice your sorrow and pain...doesn't or won't.
Yeah, I'm lonely tonight...the kind of lonely that cuts deep and bleeds freely...but it's a bearable loneliness. It's one that can be remedied, that can be soothed by hope. And I would have been as alone with T in the house as ever I am when he's gone.
So shut up, stupid voice. Quit keeping me awake with doubt, hurt, fear, and recrimination - I know I'm doing the right thing.
Know how I know? Because I made this choice before I was graced with loving Someone. I was determined to end this marriage before I ever hoped and then knew Someone had feelings for me. I believed that I would end up alone with my son, walking my path on my own for the rest of my days, and I made my peace with that. No one wanted me before...I know how to live with that. I could live with it again...and even better than before, because now I know what folly it is to try and pretend that believing someone wants me is enough...and I won't be that cruel ever again. If I'd known then I was being cruel...well...things would have taken a different course. I'm not evil, stupid voice.
Sad, yes. Pathetic, probably. Miserable, often. Evil, never.
So yes, stupid voice, I am lonely and frightened by the prospect of being alone - but it won't make a difference.
Lonely can be gotten through, stupid voice, despite what you want me to believe. So piss off and let me sleep...please...
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Eclipsed
Yes, part of this is posted elsewhere...but it took a turn, one that didn't belong in that other place. It belongs here, with the other dark things.
~~~~~
I was outside just now, enjoying the coolth (yes, that is too a word) and the waves of night song washing over me.
Somewhere in the world, people were watching as shadows played Hob with their day. Earth, Moon, and Sun bowed to their partners, bowed to their corners, began the dance of the Eclipse. Here, it was, it is, dark. Night is well fallen, well beyond evening and into darker time. Somewhere, though, it is day, if obscured.
I made a wish. Why not? New moon, eclipse, why not?
I wish that every man, woman, and child who lives in fear of another blow, in fear of abuse, neglect, or abandonment, knows peace.
I wish that every man, woman, and child who lives with hunger, homelessness, uncertainty, want, or need, knows peace.
I wish that every man, woman, and child who is waiting for the next gun, the next bomb, the next invasion or act of violence, knows peace.
Peace. I wish for peace.
It's my wish...I'll spend it how I like. Wishes aren't supposed to be realistic - they are supposed to reach beyond the bounds of reality and into that place called Hope, that soft place in the human Heart, the human Soul, where the last of Pandora's gifts shelters, waiting for us to notice her.
I wished, and I talked to a friend and watched the clouds disintegrating, dissolving into inky night and shining stars, one of them (the clouds, I mean) looking for all the world like a great, beautiful swan drifting serenely across the firmament, neck arched, staring down at my insignificance as it moved on...moved on...until there were stars and stars and stars above me and I could have fallen upward to swim among them, myself.
I thought about wishing for something I dearly wanted...something for myself...but...I didn't. Couldn't. Can't bear to think the wish will be denied. Can't bear to think that wishing for what I want...might mean someone else loses their dream, their hope, changes the course they want their life to take to satisfy my selfishness. Better not to wish at all than to cause harm to another...any other. I won't. I can do without...I've proven that. It's doing with that's the unknown, the mystery, the fearful thing. But fuck, I'm lonely. I feel like a cup that was, for the briefest time, filled...and now knows exactly how empty it can be.
The call ended too soon...but then, forever isn't long enough to hear that dear voice. I stayed for a few minutes with the night wrapped around me, a security blanket for the soul. I thought about the ground on which I am figuratively walking, how uncertain it is...how uncertain the future seems, just now. Like walking through a swamp, never knowing which step will fall on solid ground, which will land me up to my ass in muck. I felt lost, and awfully alone.
I wept, a little...gave in to what's been there for weeks, that lonely longing, the hurt that seems ever present, despite the love and kindness of others, of Someone...
I think I need a better cry, a real one, a snot-faced, body-shaking, gut-wrenching release, before the sun can shine fully on my spirit again. I need to give the shadows their due before they will move on. Only I can't seem to let go enough...and so I'm eclipsed by my own need, want, hope, fear, great shining shades mantling about me...obscuring the light I so crave...
~~~~~
I was outside just now, enjoying the coolth (yes, that is too a word) and the waves of night song washing over me.
Somewhere in the world, people were watching as shadows played Hob with their day. Earth, Moon, and Sun bowed to their partners, bowed to their corners, began the dance of the Eclipse. Here, it was, it is, dark. Night is well fallen, well beyond evening and into darker time. Somewhere, though, it is day, if obscured.
I made a wish. Why not? New moon, eclipse, why not?
I wish that every man, woman, and child who lives in fear of another blow, in fear of abuse, neglect, or abandonment, knows peace.
I wish that every man, woman, and child who lives with hunger, homelessness, uncertainty, want, or need, knows peace.
I wish that every man, woman, and child who is waiting for the next gun, the next bomb, the next invasion or act of violence, knows peace.
Peace. I wish for peace.
It's my wish...I'll spend it how I like. Wishes aren't supposed to be realistic - they are supposed to reach beyond the bounds of reality and into that place called Hope, that soft place in the human Heart, the human Soul, where the last of Pandora's gifts shelters, waiting for us to notice her.
I wished, and I talked to a friend and watched the clouds disintegrating, dissolving into inky night and shining stars, one of them (the clouds, I mean) looking for all the world like a great, beautiful swan drifting serenely across the firmament, neck arched, staring down at my insignificance as it moved on...moved on...until there were stars and stars and stars above me and I could have fallen upward to swim among them, myself.
I thought about wishing for something I dearly wanted...something for myself...but...I didn't. Couldn't. Can't bear to think the wish will be denied. Can't bear to think that wishing for what I want...might mean someone else loses their dream, their hope, changes the course they want their life to take to satisfy my selfishness. Better not to wish at all than to cause harm to another...any other. I won't. I can do without...I've proven that. It's doing with that's the unknown, the mystery, the fearful thing. But fuck, I'm lonely. I feel like a cup that was, for the briefest time, filled...and now knows exactly how empty it can be.
The call ended too soon...but then, forever isn't long enough to hear that dear voice. I stayed for a few minutes with the night wrapped around me, a security blanket for the soul. I thought about the ground on which I am figuratively walking, how uncertain it is...how uncertain the future seems, just now. Like walking through a swamp, never knowing which step will fall on solid ground, which will land me up to my ass in muck. I felt lost, and awfully alone.
I wept, a little...gave in to what's been there for weeks, that lonely longing, the hurt that seems ever present, despite the love and kindness of others, of Someone...
I think I need a better cry, a real one, a snot-faced, body-shaking, gut-wrenching release, before the sun can shine fully on my spirit again. I need to give the shadows their due before they will move on. Only I can't seem to let go enough...and so I'm eclipsed by my own need, want, hope, fear, great shining shades mantling about me...obscuring the light I so crave...
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Thought Prism
The day started with promise - the boy slept late, and so I slept late, a boon to a mother who was awake through the wee hours. We snuggled for brief while, his sweet head resting on my shoulder, his eyes inches from mine.
Once up, I made the bed - it's nice, having a made bed, and I didn't know I'd missed it until I started the habit again. I started some laundry, emptied the dishwasher and loaded it again, did a little cooking, went on with my day.
A good start.
The last few hours, though...I don't know.
I feel...distracted. Tugged this way and that. Fractured. I can't focus.
I tried writing a bit. No dice - the pieces of fiction I've been juggling for a long while now are slippery, words falling from my grasp and shattering on the keyboard. The non-fiction is just as elusive, nothing coming out right, all tangled up and out of order.
I have been pacing up and down the hall, up and down the stairs, into my room and out again. Folding and stowing laundry was automatic, a minor distraction from my distraction. I called a friend - no answer, no distraction there. Called another...ditto. Wrote some blog posts. Deleted them. Wrote some poetry. Deleted it.
As an aside - you know I think it's truly awful when I delete it, as I tend to save even the failures as object lessons.
I keep looking at blogs I've already read, hoping for something new to look at, something new to hold my attention, help pass the time. It's the weekend...slim pickin's in Blogopolis.
I am restless, but don't want to go anywhere. I start household chores and leave them half done as I gaze out the window at...nothing.
I am impatient. I snapped at the boy for acting like a boy. I apologized...then snapped again a few minutes later.
I dozed a little in the chair, only to start awake after a few moments. I thought I felt something, soft as a moth's wing, brush my temple, my forehead, my lips. Nothing was there. Just my imagination.
I stared at some dust motes dancing through a beam of sunlight, and rather than enchanted I felt...almost frantic.
I am worried. That's it. Worried. I don't know why, or about what...but it broke open and washed over me a few hours ago and now I can't shake it.
My minutes are hours, fractured by a prism into tiny segments...I am waiting for my scattered thoughts to coalesce...with no idea where it came from, all I can do is ride it out and hope that it's not connected to someone I love, that some unnamed catastrophe had struck family or friends and I know before being told.
I would very much like for it to pass...
Once up, I made the bed - it's nice, having a made bed, and I didn't know I'd missed it until I started the habit again. I started some laundry, emptied the dishwasher and loaded it again, did a little cooking, went on with my day.
A good start.
The last few hours, though...I don't know.
I feel...distracted. Tugged this way and that. Fractured. I can't focus.
I tried writing a bit. No dice - the pieces of fiction I've been juggling for a long while now are slippery, words falling from my grasp and shattering on the keyboard. The non-fiction is just as elusive, nothing coming out right, all tangled up and out of order.
I have been pacing up and down the hall, up and down the stairs, into my room and out again. Folding and stowing laundry was automatic, a minor distraction from my distraction. I called a friend - no answer, no distraction there. Called another...ditto. Wrote some blog posts. Deleted them. Wrote some poetry. Deleted it.
As an aside - you know I think it's truly awful when I delete it, as I tend to save even the failures as object lessons.
I keep looking at blogs I've already read, hoping for something new to look at, something new to hold my attention, help pass the time. It's the weekend...slim pickin's in Blogopolis.
I am restless, but don't want to go anywhere. I start household chores and leave them half done as I gaze out the window at...nothing.
I am impatient. I snapped at the boy for acting like a boy. I apologized...then snapped again a few minutes later.
I dozed a little in the chair, only to start awake after a few moments. I thought I felt something, soft as a moth's wing, brush my temple, my forehead, my lips. Nothing was there. Just my imagination.
I stared at some dust motes dancing through a beam of sunlight, and rather than enchanted I felt...almost frantic.
I am worried. That's it. Worried. I don't know why, or about what...but it broke open and washed over me a few hours ago and now I can't shake it.
My minutes are hours, fractured by a prism into tiny segments...I am waiting for my scattered thoughts to coalesce...with no idea where it came from, all I can do is ride it out and hope that it's not connected to someone I love, that some unnamed catastrophe had struck family or friends and I know before being told.
I would very much like for it to pass...
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
The Sweetest Ache
Six days.
Even with doubt coloring a few hours, even with fear and uncertainty making an undercurrent here, there, coloring a few moments before subsiding, it was six incredible days of...what? What did we do, really, that was so remarkable?
Ah.
We met.
We loved.
We gave and received, freely, of ourselves.
That is remarkable. Each moment was an honest moment, without secrets, without lies, without shame.
Even the quiet minutes when I was writing while he spoke on the phone, when he tapped away at the computer while I read or stretched or simply watched him until he turned, saw me, and smiled, even these simple things were rich and deep.
Leaving may have been the most difficult thing I've done in a long while. I missed my son, of course...what mother wouldn't?..and wanted to come home to him, but I missed, too, Someone, even before leaving him behind to journey home.
Someone whose touch quieted the voice in my head, so angry, so derogatory, so bitter. Someone whose laugh lifted...lifts...my heart and sets it soaring. Someone with beautiful, tender, smiling, intense eyes and gentle, loving hands that caress so sweetly they make me shiver.
I have often told my son that there is an invisible line from his heart to mine, one that will never break, one that connects us no matter where we are or what we are doing. I tell him that I am always loving him.
I feel much the same about Someone. Driving away yesterday morning, leaving him behind, was painful. I ached. I felt a soreness in my heart where he is so newly rooted as the connection between us began to stretch.
Mile after mile, I felt it pulling me back, back to where I'd been, even as I was drawn forward, home to my son.
I wondered...if I kept driving, would this new connection accommodate? Or would it, so new and fragile, so tenuous, snap?
It's there, yet. It thrums. I feel him, Someone, there, rooting deeper, establishing himself, creating his space. My home isn't quite home, any more...it's missing something...Someone...
It is the sweetest ache, this absence, this presence, this want, this need...this Love...
Even with doubt coloring a few hours, even with fear and uncertainty making an undercurrent here, there, coloring a few moments before subsiding, it was six incredible days of...what? What did we do, really, that was so remarkable?
Ah.
We met.
We loved.
We gave and received, freely, of ourselves.
That is remarkable. Each moment was an honest moment, without secrets, without lies, without shame.
Even the quiet minutes when I was writing while he spoke on the phone, when he tapped away at the computer while I read or stretched or simply watched him until he turned, saw me, and smiled, even these simple things were rich and deep.
Leaving may have been the most difficult thing I've done in a long while. I missed my son, of course...what mother wouldn't?..and wanted to come home to him, but I missed, too, Someone, even before leaving him behind to journey home.
Someone whose touch quieted the voice in my head, so angry, so derogatory, so bitter. Someone whose laugh lifted...lifts...my heart and sets it soaring. Someone with beautiful, tender, smiling, intense eyes and gentle, loving hands that caress so sweetly they make me shiver.
I have often told my son that there is an invisible line from his heart to mine, one that will never break, one that connects us no matter where we are or what we are doing. I tell him that I am always loving him.
I feel much the same about Someone. Driving away yesterday morning, leaving him behind, was painful. I ached. I felt a soreness in my heart where he is so newly rooted as the connection between us began to stretch.
Mile after mile, I felt it pulling me back, back to where I'd been, even as I was drawn forward, home to my son.
I wondered...if I kept driving, would this new connection accommodate? Or would it, so new and fragile, so tenuous, snap?
It's there, yet. It thrums. I feel him, Someone, there, rooting deeper, establishing himself, creating his space. My home isn't quite home, any more...it's missing something...Someone...
It is the sweetest ache, this absence, this presence, this want, this need...this Love...
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Wearying Dreams
Two wakings, this morning, both hard to bear - not for the waking, but for what came before...the dreaming.
The first, early, when I would have happily slept on, wrapped in Someone's arms, warm...feeling as though I fit there. Sweetness...but troubled, nonetheless, by dreams.
Dreams in which I sought...something. Wandered lost, alone, bereft, aching from the internal cold that poured from me in waves of frost and fog. I was looking for warmth, I think, though it be from a candle's flame, but all was gray, bleak...empty...and that light, that heat, was always just out of reach, hinted at on the horizon but never close enough to see, to touch, to believe real.
At some point The world changed, and I was surrounded by whispers that fell onto my skin like an acid mist, droplets burning chill through my skin, down to my core. It won't last. You have gone too far. Unwise. Unwanted. Used up. Tossed away. Fool.
I wanted to drown out the voices...the voice...my voice...but I could not. It echoed even as I woke and watched Someone prepare for his day, for the part he will spend away from me and this little room we've made into the greater part of our world for these few short, precious days we have together. Room. Cave. Den. Haven. At least, for me...insidious voice, telling me it's an interlude for Him...poking at the softest places in my heart, because she knows so well where and how to hurt me, and she is driven to do so whenever she can. She is cruel. I am cruel.
I watched him move about, smiled, drifted, watched more. When he lay beside me again, I touched his face, his hair, his arm, trying to teach his texture to my fingertips...loving, yes...but also, in part, trying to make them remember so when he's gone (the voice says he will be gone, he is ephemeral...insidious voice) I will still have him there...in the nerves and sinew of my own hands, that love touching him so softly, so tenderly. I watched him smile, eyes closed, face relaxed, looked and looked and could not get my fill, could not take him in enough to reach the place the dreams still roiled, burn them away and replace them with...something.
Once he was gone, I slept again, fitful, alone, lonely. I wrapped my arms around the pillow he's only just been using, breathed deep, scented him, dozed a little deeper. This time, I dreamed we made love...sweet...slow...tender...and woke before we finished, before he drew in his breath and stilled, lost in that collection of moments that are climax, face set in a rictus of bliss...
When I woke the second time, not long after I had slept, I again felt the emptiness...and wondered, aloud, what is wrong. Why would it make me sad, to dream such beauty? The voice, ever faithful, answered...because pleasure is fleeting, and you don't deserve a full measure...of yours or anyone else's. Evil voice...telling the truth just often enough to make it impossible to ignore...planting that small seed that grows so quickly into a forest of doubt, fear, loss, where I wander lost, alone, bereft, aching from the internal cold that pours from me in waves of frost and fog, without even the dream of a candle's small, dear flame to warm me...
The first, early, when I would have happily slept on, wrapped in Someone's arms, warm...feeling as though I fit there. Sweetness...but troubled, nonetheless, by dreams.
Dreams in which I sought...something. Wandered lost, alone, bereft, aching from the internal cold that poured from me in waves of frost and fog. I was looking for warmth, I think, though it be from a candle's flame, but all was gray, bleak...empty...and that light, that heat, was always just out of reach, hinted at on the horizon but never close enough to see, to touch, to believe real.
At some point The world changed, and I was surrounded by whispers that fell onto my skin like an acid mist, droplets burning chill through my skin, down to my core. It won't last. You have gone too far. Unwise. Unwanted. Used up. Tossed away. Fool.
I wanted to drown out the voices...the voice...my voice...but I could not. It echoed even as I woke and watched Someone prepare for his day, for the part he will spend away from me and this little room we've made into the greater part of our world for these few short, precious days we have together. Room. Cave. Den. Haven. At least, for me...insidious voice, telling me it's an interlude for Him...poking at the softest places in my heart, because she knows so well where and how to hurt me, and she is driven to do so whenever she can. She is cruel. I am cruel.
I watched him move about, smiled, drifted, watched more. When he lay beside me again, I touched his face, his hair, his arm, trying to teach his texture to my fingertips...loving, yes...but also, in part, trying to make them remember so when he's gone (the voice says he will be gone, he is ephemeral...insidious voice) I will still have him there...in the nerves and sinew of my own hands, that love touching him so softly, so tenderly. I watched him smile, eyes closed, face relaxed, looked and looked and could not get my fill, could not take him in enough to reach the place the dreams still roiled, burn them away and replace them with...something.
Once he was gone, I slept again, fitful, alone, lonely. I wrapped my arms around the pillow he's only just been using, breathed deep, scented him, dozed a little deeper. This time, I dreamed we made love...sweet...slow...tender...and woke before we finished, before he drew in his breath and stilled, lost in that collection of moments that are climax, face set in a rictus of bliss...
When I woke the second time, not long after I had slept, I again felt the emptiness...and wondered, aloud, what is wrong. Why would it make me sad, to dream such beauty? The voice, ever faithful, answered...because pleasure is fleeting, and you don't deserve a full measure...of yours or anyone else's. Evil voice...telling the truth just often enough to make it impossible to ignore...planting that small seed that grows so quickly into a forest of doubt, fear, loss, where I wander lost, alone, bereft, aching from the internal cold that pours from me in waves of frost and fog, without even the dream of a candle's small, dear flame to warm me...
Friday, June 26, 2009
The Things I Tell Myself
So my husband is spending the night with his girlfriend, and I am alone with our son - not unusual, of late - and I could laugh, a bitter laugh, because he has moved on and now I am here by myself, where I wish to be...or wished to be...
Is it worth it? The loneliness in this moment, so crushing...is it worth the month of happiness? Is it worth the maybe that may never be? The tenuous joy? Is it worth the mere idea that someone could love...me...really? Is the month of believing that I could love and be loved in equal measure...is it worth the sudden knowing that I am not, cannot, will not be?
My mind tells me so. Insidious voices, whispering to me, sibilant, insistent, sweet and seductive, they tell me...that I will not have more than this small measure...the one month of hope...and now it's done.
I know better.
I do.
I know better than to hope. Hope invites the voices in.
I want to talk to him, to this man I love...this man I believe loves...loved...me...
I want to hear his voice and be reassured...but...I am so afraid...to be a bother...to be a burden...an annoyance...to interrupt what must be more important...because it isn't me being needy...
I want to hear him, and feel the stillness that comes when he speaks and I believe and the voices are banished for a while longer...but...
I feel...different...as though something has changed...
And now...now I fear the choice my would-be, want-to-be love will make...I fear he will not choose me, because I am not worth the choosing...not worth him...and he's just looking for the right way to say...to tell me...that another shines brighter, sings sweeter, calls louder...
It's not his fault. The salt I taste now, running down my face...it's my own doing. Cursed brain manufacturing these feelings...but they are just as real as anything else...they always are...and they hurt as deeply as if they were true...and I fear they could be...
The voices tell me I'm not good enough...and I try so hard not to hear them...but they've always been right in the past...haven't they? Didn't they tell me about B? And M? And...others...who I thought could be...hoped would be...but then they turned away...and, just as the voices warned, crowed about, I was alone again...
Oh, this crash was due, I well know...there's always a crash commensurate with the high...no, not commensurate...greater than...ten feet up, fifty feet down...
It is worth it?
It's my own fault. It is. I know better...I do...and these tears? I deserve them, and every one that follows. I've no one to blame but myself.
Or...so I tell myself...
Is it worth it? The loneliness in this moment, so crushing...is it worth the month of happiness? Is it worth the maybe that may never be? The tenuous joy? Is it worth the mere idea that someone could love...me...really? Is the month of believing that I could love and be loved in equal measure...is it worth the sudden knowing that I am not, cannot, will not be?
My mind tells me so. Insidious voices, whispering to me, sibilant, insistent, sweet and seductive, they tell me...that I will not have more than this small measure...the one month of hope...and now it's done.
I know better.
I do.
I know better than to hope. Hope invites the voices in.
I want to talk to him, to this man I love...this man I believe loves...loved...me...
I want to hear his voice and be reassured...but...I am so afraid...to be a bother...to be a burden...an annoyance...to interrupt what must be more important...because it isn't me being needy...
I want to hear him, and feel the stillness that comes when he speaks and I believe and the voices are banished for a while longer...but...
I feel...different...as though something has changed...
And now...now I fear the choice my would-be, want-to-be love will make...I fear he will not choose me, because I am not worth the choosing...not worth him...and he's just looking for the right way to say...to tell me...that another shines brighter, sings sweeter, calls louder...
It's not his fault. The salt I taste now, running down my face...it's my own doing. Cursed brain manufacturing these feelings...but they are just as real as anything else...they always are...and they hurt as deeply as if they were true...and I fear they could be...
The voices tell me I'm not good enough...and I try so hard not to hear them...but they've always been right in the past...haven't they? Didn't they tell me about B? And M? And...others...who I thought could be...hoped would be...but then they turned away...and, just as the voices warned, crowed about, I was alone again...
Oh, this crash was due, I well know...there's always a crash commensurate with the high...no, not commensurate...greater than...ten feet up, fifty feet down...
It is worth it?
It's my own fault. It is. I know better...I do...and these tears? I deserve them, and every one that follows. I've no one to blame but myself.
Or...so I tell myself...
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The Angry Response I'll Never Post
Or, at least, not on the original site.
My husband wrote a blog post (he just started blogging, a means to garner my attention and vent his feelings) yesterday that provoke a very negative response in me. Oddly enough, I rarely read his blog, because I am living with the reality of his emotional state and don't need the idealized words he writes.
Anyway.
I wrote a point-by-point response to it and set it aside, thinking I would not place it anywhere he could see it...but I ended up sending it to a friend, needing someone to see and understand that there are two perspectives to this thing.
And the Lament is my place to dump the darkness. So...here it is (items in italics are his words, the rest are mine):
T posted this on his blog...and it's so full of incorrect facts and memories...I don't understand, sometimes, how we were in the same room, having the same conversation...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What do we do about RA? Who gets the tv? What about the wedding pictures?
We will make certain that our son has his father in his life as much as possible, that he doesn't suffer privations, and that her continues to be the bright, sweet, loving boy he has always been. We have four televisions...take one, any one, I don't care which, they have never been as important to me as they have been to you. The photos can be copied - they're a small detail.
K has moved pass the getting upset about all of this.
No, I haven't...I just contain it better.
She has never shown any weakness during this divorce.
Because I cannot, lest you misconstrue it, try to delay, to mend what is broken beyond my ability to repair.
I didn't know that life could hurt so bad, and it doesn't help that she puts on this I don't care attitude.
You forced this "I don't care" attitude on me, T, when you wouldn't (and still don't) listen, really listen, to what I say.
I don't have anywhere to go, so my mother told me to come down and stay with her. She is 76 years old and isn't able to do much for herself anymore. Last month there would have been no way that K would have let me move back with my mom. She even said that if something happened between us, she would not let me move out until I had a place away from my mom's house. My how things have change.
No, they haven't - I still don't think moving into your mother's house is the answer...but if it's that or you never make an effort to find a place, I will have to let go of my need to see you established in a healthy environment...I have no right to care where you live, anyway...although, I DO care...but you don't want to see that. Again, you need me to be the hard-ass bitch, so I will oblige, though it run counter to my nature and it pains me...
Last night she told me she really needed me out of the house asap. When I told her ok she asked where I was going. I told her that right now my mom's is the only place I have to go. I told her that I am working on another place but it might be 30 days before I could move in. She told me as long as it was not permanent, that I should go live at my mom's. What could have changed her mind about me so quickly.
I said no such thing...not that it matters...because you have always remembered what you wanted to, and not what I clearly said or did. You have twisted my words, my thoughts, my actions this way and that to make them pierce all the deeper, and there's nothing I can do about that. but I won't sit back and let you make your misinterpretations shout forth from a public forum without correcting you.
About 30 days ago everything in the W house was going great.
You keep saying that life was perfect, wonderful, amazing...well, it wasn't. not for everyone in this house. You had a terrific life - a wife, a son, a home, free reign to live as you pleased, to do as you pleased...of course you were happy. I have been miserable for so long, we both stopped noticing...and when I tried, TRIED to engage you, to make you see...you ignored, turned aside, invalidated me, did nothing...
We went to movies together, played with our son, and did all the things a normal family would do. We were even looking at new matching titanium wedding rings. She met met someone at the track who had one and she started looking into styles and prices. She was emailing me web sites and pictures.
This?? Was LAST YEAR!! Not this year. And it's an example of how you are twisting what I have said or done to suit your need for pain.
Well I guess I don't have to worry about the rings I was giving you for our 9 th wedding anniversary.
You mean, if you actually followed through with an idea rather than simply tell me what you would have done, if only?? A gift I wouldn't have to find, show you, and practically order, wrap, and give to myself? How novel...
Anyway, about 30 days ago she started an online friendship with him. She says he is in Houston but his phone # is located in Austin. But that's nether here nor there. In the last 30 days their friendship has turned into a relationship. If that's what it takes to make K happy, then I'm happy for her. All I want is for the love of my life to be happy. So in 30 days I went from someone she loved enough to want to get new wedding rings with to a roommate that he wants out of the house today.
This man? Has nothing to do with this...and I won't have you impugn him. He's innocent in this...and I won't have you attaching blame or responsibility to anyone besides me or you. This marriage failed because of US, and no one else.
Cell phones come from all over. I get calls from someone whose phone is listed in Atlanta, but she lives in Asheville - and that's neither her nor there, either, but since you felt compelled to mention...
So when she got home last night after being gone all weekend with her friend K2. (They were doing some work) I asked her to sit down with me to talk about a few details about the upcoming divorce. We talking about the splitting of the assets and most importantly how we would handle our son's well being. I thought that we had decided that RA would stay with his mom and I would have always be able to see his son whenever I chose. But this time when the subject was brought up she said a friend had told her that the courts would have to decide how RA would be handled. She said she was also told the courts would have to decide how much child support payments would be. Anyway in the middle of this important talk her cell phone rang. It was him. You could tell by the way the tone in her voice changed when she picked up the phone. In that one second we went from a serious talk about our son's future to her talking to him. Seems like the last two weeks anytime her and I need to talk about the future he calls and I am sent to my room. Not once has she told him "Can I call you back. I'm in the middle of something important". He is a big reason for her wanting me out of the house so fast. She told me she would not feel right having him or any other man come to stay with her while I'm still here.
I sat and listened while you said the same things over and over again, and I hope I may be forgiven for my silence when I have nothing more to add. How many times must I answer the same questions, the same implications, the same statements in the same way before I may stop?
It wasn't a friend who told me these things - it was Mum. Being a lawyer, I respect her opinion and knowledge of the law. I also didn't say the courts would decide custody or visitation. I clearly said I would be happy for you to be part of our son's life as much as you chose to be...all I ask is you never promise him you'll be there when you won't. It was child-support - something YOU brought up, by the way - that I said would have to be decided by the court...because that's what I was told...
I took the call to ask him if I could call back later...but before I could say more than "Hello...", you fled the room...and I am tired of chasing...so I took the call. I haven't interrupted every talk with calls - you've often interrupted my conversations with him and others with your need to talk, waiting until I was involved with something else to demand time and attention...and I have tried to give them to you, despite the cost to me.
The conversation we had about not wanting you in the house was weeks ago, and that statement was made in answer to your implication that I had already cut another pony from the herd, well before I was talking to someone who actually LISTENS...
K, I know that he is now a very important part of your but RA and I both still need you in our lives.
And I'm here...as I have been for years...even when YOU WEREN'T...and I'm listening, even when you DON'T, and I will always put our son and his needs first...and I have never broken and will never break my word to him, you or anyone...can you honestly say the same???
You are my Heart, my Soul, my Life, and my Love.But most of all you are my Friend. I Love You.
Somehow, I doubt this...at least...I doubt you mean it when you say the things you do...
My husband wrote a blog post (he just started blogging, a means to garner my attention and vent his feelings) yesterday that provoke a very negative response in me. Oddly enough, I rarely read his blog, because I am living with the reality of his emotional state and don't need the idealized words he writes.
Anyway.
I wrote a point-by-point response to it and set it aside, thinking I would not place it anywhere he could see it...but I ended up sending it to a friend, needing someone to see and understand that there are two perspectives to this thing.
And the Lament is my place to dump the darkness. So...here it is (items in italics are his words, the rest are mine):
T posted this on his blog...and it's so full of incorrect facts and memories...I don't understand, sometimes, how we were in the same room, having the same conversation...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What do we do about RA? Who gets the tv? What about the wedding pictures?
We will make certain that our son has his father in his life as much as possible, that he doesn't suffer privations, and that her continues to be the bright, sweet, loving boy he has always been. We have four televisions...take one, any one, I don't care which, they have never been as important to me as they have been to you. The photos can be copied - they're a small detail.
K has moved pass the getting upset about all of this.
No, I haven't...I just contain it better.
She has never shown any weakness during this divorce.
Because I cannot, lest you misconstrue it, try to delay, to mend what is broken beyond my ability to repair.
I didn't know that life could hurt so bad, and it doesn't help that she puts on this I don't care attitude.
You forced this "I don't care" attitude on me, T, when you wouldn't (and still don't) listen, really listen, to what I say.
I don't have anywhere to go, so my mother told me to come down and stay with her. She is 76 years old and isn't able to do much for herself anymore. Last month there would have been no way that K would have let me move back with my mom. She even said that if something happened between us, she would not let me move out until I had a place away from my mom's house. My how things have change.
No, they haven't - I still don't think moving into your mother's house is the answer...but if it's that or you never make an effort to find a place, I will have to let go of my need to see you established in a healthy environment...I have no right to care where you live, anyway...although, I DO care...but you don't want to see that. Again, you need me to be the hard-ass bitch, so I will oblige, though it run counter to my nature and it pains me...
Last night she told me she really needed me out of the house asap. When I told her ok she asked where I was going. I told her that right now my mom's is the only place I have to go. I told her that I am working on another place but it might be 30 days before I could move in. She told me as long as it was not permanent, that I should go live at my mom's. What could have changed her mind about me so quickly.
I said no such thing...not that it matters...because you have always remembered what you wanted to, and not what I clearly said or did. You have twisted my words, my thoughts, my actions this way and that to make them pierce all the deeper, and there's nothing I can do about that. but I won't sit back and let you make your misinterpretations shout forth from a public forum without correcting you.
About 30 days ago everything in the W house was going great.
You keep saying that life was perfect, wonderful, amazing...well, it wasn't. not for everyone in this house. You had a terrific life - a wife, a son, a home, free reign to live as you pleased, to do as you pleased...of course you were happy. I have been miserable for so long, we both stopped noticing...and when I tried, TRIED to engage you, to make you see...you ignored, turned aside, invalidated me, did nothing...
We went to movies together, played with our son, and did all the things a normal family would do. We were even looking at new matching titanium wedding rings. She met met someone at the track who had one and she started looking into styles and prices. She was emailing me web sites and pictures.
This?? Was LAST YEAR!! Not this year. And it's an example of how you are twisting what I have said or done to suit your need for pain.
Well I guess I don't have to worry about the rings I was giving you for our 9 th wedding anniversary.
You mean, if you actually followed through with an idea rather than simply tell me what you would have done, if only?? A gift I wouldn't have to find, show you, and practically order, wrap, and give to myself? How novel...
Anyway, about 30 days ago she started an online friendship with him. She says he is in Houston but his phone # is located in Austin. But that's nether here nor there. In the last 30 days their friendship has turned into a relationship. If that's what it takes to make K happy, then I'm happy for her. All I want is for the love of my life to be happy. So in 30 days I went from someone she loved enough to want to get new wedding rings with to a roommate that he wants out of the house today.
This man? Has nothing to do with this...and I won't have you impugn him. He's innocent in this...and I won't have you attaching blame or responsibility to anyone besides me or you. This marriage failed because of US, and no one else.
Cell phones come from all over. I get calls from someone whose phone is listed in Atlanta, but she lives in Asheville - and that's neither her nor there, either, but since you felt compelled to mention...
So when she got home last night after being gone all weekend with her friend K2. (They were doing some work) I asked her to sit down with me to talk about a few details about the upcoming divorce. We talking about the splitting of the assets and most importantly how we would handle our son's well being. I thought that we had decided that RA would stay with his mom and I would have always be able to see his son whenever I chose. But this time when the subject was brought up she said a friend had told her that the courts would have to decide how RA would be handled. She said she was also told the courts would have to decide how much child support payments would be. Anyway in the middle of this important talk her cell phone rang. It was him. You could tell by the way the tone in her voice changed when she picked up the phone. In that one second we went from a serious talk about our son's future to her talking to him. Seems like the last two weeks anytime her and I need to talk about the future he calls and I am sent to my room. Not once has she told him "Can I call you back. I'm in the middle of something important". He is a big reason for her wanting me out of the house so fast. She told me she would not feel right having him or any other man come to stay with her while I'm still here.
I sat and listened while you said the same things over and over again, and I hope I may be forgiven for my silence when I have nothing more to add. How many times must I answer the same questions, the same implications, the same statements in the same way before I may stop?
It wasn't a friend who told me these things - it was Mum. Being a lawyer, I respect her opinion and knowledge of the law. I also didn't say the courts would decide custody or visitation. I clearly said I would be happy for you to be part of our son's life as much as you chose to be...all I ask is you never promise him you'll be there when you won't. It was child-support - something YOU brought up, by the way - that I said would have to be decided by the court...because that's what I was told...
I took the call to ask him if I could call back later...but before I could say more than "Hello...", you fled the room...and I am tired of chasing...so I took the call. I haven't interrupted every talk with calls - you've often interrupted my conversations with him and others with your need to talk, waiting until I was involved with something else to demand time and attention...and I have tried to give them to you, despite the cost to me.
The conversation we had about not wanting you in the house was weeks ago, and that statement was made in answer to your implication that I had already cut another pony from the herd, well before I was talking to someone who actually LISTENS...
K, I know that he is now a very important part of your but RA and I both still need you in our lives.
And I'm here...as I have been for years...even when YOU WEREN'T...and I'm listening, even when you DON'T, and I will always put our son and his needs first...and I have never broken and will never break my word to him, you or anyone...can you honestly say the same???
You are my Heart, my Soul, my Life, and my Love.But most of all you are my Friend. I Love You.
Somehow, I doubt this...at least...I doubt you mean it when you say the things you do...
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Pounce
I fear you will tire of me
or forget
or find some lovelier flower to admire
in your garden
So, eager to keep fresh in your memory
and hoping to continue
to fall beneath your gaze
I pounce
On words hardly left your lips,
I pounce, and
Playful as a kit
clamor to be noticed,
noticing you
I gobble your minutes
crave further sustenance,
refrain, only just
from begging,
pride be damned, begging
for just a little more
I fear you will tire of me,
or forget
or find some lovelier flower to admire
in your garden
And so I pounce,
to remind you
that I am here
empty as a pocket
waiting to be filled
or forget
or find some lovelier flower to admire
in your garden
So, eager to keep fresh in your memory
and hoping to continue
to fall beneath your gaze
I pounce
On words hardly left your lips,
I pounce, and
Playful as a kit
clamor to be noticed,
noticing you
I gobble your minutes
crave further sustenance,
refrain, only just
from begging,
pride be damned, begging
for just a little more
I fear you will tire of me,
or forget
or find some lovelier flower to admire
in your garden
And so I pounce,
to remind you
that I am here
empty as a pocket
waiting to be filled
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Your Words, Sir
Your words, Sir
Thick and slow
And sweet
Flow through me
Honeyed
Heavy
I am languorous with them
Stretching upward
Reaching outward
Hands dropping gracefully
To my pillow
Tracing a path to the place
On my neck
Where I want your lips
Murmuring
Your words, Sir
Soft, gentle,
Whispers
Shivering through
To my core
Brushing so delicate
Against my heart
Shattering it all the same
Your words, Sir
Flow through me
The pleasant lassitude
Of lava burning
Through the center
All the way through the center
Your words, Sir
Leave me hungry,
Quivering
Wanting
More
Of you
And
Your words, Sir
Thick and slow
And sweet
Flow through me
Honeyed
Heavy
I am languorous with them
Stretching upward
Reaching outward
Hands dropping gracefully
To my pillow
Tracing a path to the place
On my neck
Where I want your lips
Murmuring
Your words, Sir
Soft, gentle,
Whispers
Shivering through
To my core
Brushing so delicate
Against my heart
Shattering it all the same
Your words, Sir
Flow through me
The pleasant lassitude
Of lava burning
Through the center
All the way through the center
Your words, Sir
Leave me hungry,
Quivering
Wanting
More
Of you
And
Your words, Sir
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Over the Pit
Today I told my husband that I could no longer be his wife.
Here we hang, the pair of us, over our own deep pits, wondering what comes next.
I told him I had spent the week thinking about, peeling away, all the doubts, the anger, the blame, the self-recriminations, the despair...all of it...and was left with this: I need to be free to love whom I will...to love freely, joyfully, and fearlessly.
He is leaving, because if I cannot love him, and him alone, then...then nothing.
So here we hang, the pair of us, over our own deep pits, wondering what comes next.
I feel sick.
Here we hang, the pair of us, over our own deep pits, wondering what comes next.
I told him I had spent the week thinking about, peeling away, all the doubts, the anger, the blame, the self-recriminations, the despair...all of it...and was left with this: I need to be free to love whom I will...to love freely, joyfully, and fearlessly.
He is leaving, because if I cannot love him, and him alone, then...then nothing.
So here we hang, the pair of us, over our own deep pits, wondering what comes next.
I feel sick.
Monday, May 18, 2009
I Resent Having to Say This
Warning: If you have come to this blog through a link, found it by accident, or were snooping, stop now and consider - this is a repository for every dark, horrible, wistful, depressed, depraved, demented, angry, resentful, sad, and wounded thought in my head. If you can't handle reading it and biting your tongue about the content, that's on you.
You know who you are. Now quit cyber-stalking me and making us both miserable.
Thank you. That is all.
You know who you are. Now quit cyber-stalking me and making us both miserable.
Thank you. That is all.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Butterflies
There are butterflies in my stomach. They've been there for days, flying through the anger, the sorrow, the bitterness.
Their wings softly, gently, patiently flutter, dissipating the clouds, making room for...something...something else...perhaps beautiful.
There are butterflies in my chest. They've been there for days, gliding through the cold, unconcerned with anything but their own brilliance.
Their wings softly, gently, patiently flutter, frightening away the loneliness birds that perch on my withered, stone heart.
There are butterflies in my head. They've been there for days, painting the grey into something more to their liking.
Their wings softly, gently, patiently flutter, brushing away the cobwebs, airing out the stillness, opening doors long closed.
The butterflies dance...
Their wings softly, gently, patiently flutter, dissipating the clouds, making room for...something...something else...perhaps beautiful.
There are butterflies in my chest. They've been there for days, gliding through the cold, unconcerned with anything but their own brilliance.
Their wings softly, gently, patiently flutter, frightening away the loneliness birds that perch on my withered, stone heart.
There are butterflies in my head. They've been there for days, painting the grey into something more to their liking.
Their wings softly, gently, patiently flutter, brushing away the cobwebs, airing out the stillness, opening doors long closed.
The butterflies dance...
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Hypothermia
Have you ever been out in the snow?
In a blizzard?
The flakes come at you hard and fast, blinding, and if you don't know where you're going, you can get lost.
Get lost, and you're in trouble - you need shelter, somewhere to keep warm and safe, a haven.
Stay out in it, and you find yourself growing colder, withdrawing inward...until you are overcome by an warm, sweet lassitude, melting into your bones and sapping your strength, your will, until you lie down in the snow and slip away, not even shivering any more.
It's been snowing in my heart, in my mind, for a very long time. Years. I've grown cold, remote, and unable to rise to my own defense, to rouse myself and care, to fight.
I've finally come to a place where I am so chilled, I am warm...and it's a dangerous place. Suddenly, I am floating, drifting through my own life, with no attachment to what is happening around me. I feel limp, weak, lazy, like placing my head on the earth, curling around myself, and drifting off to sleep...
Dangerous. Dangerous place.
And the place I thought was a shelter, a safe haven, a place that was supposed to help me weather these storms?
He's watching TV, oblivious, and I just can't seem to care enough to try and salvage things...
I'd rather just lie here, floating, until I'm gone.
*Edit - after playing around on youTube this evening, I rana cross this, and thought it was apropriate...
In a blizzard?
The flakes come at you hard and fast, blinding, and if you don't know where you're going, you can get lost.
Get lost, and you're in trouble - you need shelter, somewhere to keep warm and safe, a haven.
Stay out in it, and you find yourself growing colder, withdrawing inward...until you are overcome by an warm, sweet lassitude, melting into your bones and sapping your strength, your will, until you lie down in the snow and slip away, not even shivering any more.
It's been snowing in my heart, in my mind, for a very long time. Years. I've grown cold, remote, and unable to rise to my own defense, to rouse myself and care, to fight.
I've finally come to a place where I am so chilled, I am warm...and it's a dangerous place. Suddenly, I am floating, drifting through my own life, with no attachment to what is happening around me. I feel limp, weak, lazy, like placing my head on the earth, curling around myself, and drifting off to sleep...
Dangerous. Dangerous place.
And the place I thought was a shelter, a safe haven, a place that was supposed to help me weather these storms?
He's watching TV, oblivious, and I just can't seem to care enough to try and salvage things...
I'd rather just lie here, floating, until I'm gone.
*Edit - after playing around on youTube this evening, I rana cross this, and thought it was apropriate...
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Silken Strands, Gentle Hands
So often, I wear it up. My hair. I wear it pulled back or pinned up or braided, hidden away. It's my best feature, the one thing I am proud of, and I hide it away.
I have yearned for gentle hands to pull it loose, carefully, remove the pins and ties and run curious fingers through it, silken strands tumbling down, tangling, clinging.
I have yearned for gentle hands to caress, to stroke, to run underneath, at the nape, where the hair is softest and quiet little shivers wait to run their course.
I touch it myslef, brush it, run my fingers through it, almost but not quite satisfying the want...but it isn't the same...
I have yearned for gentle hands to pull it loose, carefully, remove the pins and ties and run curious fingers through it, silken strands tumbling down, tangling, clinging.
I have yearned for gentle hands to caress, to stroke, to run underneath, at the nape, where the hair is softest and quiet little shivers wait to run their course.
I touch it myslef, brush it, run my fingers through it, almost but not quite satisfying the want...but it isn't the same...
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
That Thing You Do
I don't pretend to understand, sir, what it is you do.
I don't mean do as in work, as in polite conversation, what do you do?
I don't mean do as in what you do to thrive, to bring light and lightness of being in to your life.
I don't mean hobbies, pastimes, or how you fix your hair.
I refer to what you do to me.
I mean how you make me want to be...someone...somewhere...else. Better. New.
What is that?
And still I dream of someone who isn't there and wake with an ache that can't filled, calmed, soothed, because you can't caress something with nothing. You can't fill an empty place with dreams, wishes, hope.
Frustrating, sir, frustrating.
Fearful, sir, fearful.
The Angel knows better, she does, than to give way, to stand down, to open, unfold...trust.
The Angel is a fool.
What is that thing you do, sir?
I don't mean do as in work, as in polite conversation, what do you do?
I don't mean do as in what you do to thrive, to bring light and lightness of being in to your life.
I don't mean hobbies, pastimes, or how you fix your hair.
I refer to what you do to me.
I mean how you make me want to be...someone...somewhere...else. Better. New.
What is that?
And still I dream of someone who isn't there and wake with an ache that can't filled, calmed, soothed, because you can't caress something with nothing. You can't fill an empty place with dreams, wishes, hope.
Frustrating, sir, frustrating.
Fearful, sir, fearful.
The Angel knows better, she does, than to give way, to stand down, to open, unfold...trust.
The Angel is a fool.
What is that thing you do, sir?
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