The alternative to growing old

Dear muse of my life,
50 some odd years ago fate found its way to intersect our lives and in its playfully cruel fashion only left one of us permanently tethered to the moment. I always trusted that we would somehow find each other through life’s chapters and we sorta did. After a tour in the A.F, we reconnected and it was as if no time had passed, it always was that way. We, or at least I, felt the oneness of our relationship, the friendship that I knew would ignite and seal our fates together. Fate and what I missed because of my blindness had different thoughts however. We were always attached to others, again my blindness interrupts reality. My other became intensely jealous of you because of my absolute happiness in being around you, it was the truth and my only path to peace was to not communicate with you and maybe I suspected you were happy with your blond haired, blue eyed other and I was just dreaming. I don’t know and will probably never know if you ever felt about me the way I did about you. 3o years pass and I never stopped thinking of you, internet search showed you had married as I had and yet you were still that deeply fused part of me, no time had passed in my passion.
Then my marriage started crumbling, our last child out and jobs pressures showed the weakness I always knew existed but never faced, I really never wanted this but my weakness and my pity on her situation, hero complex!, now had me feeling cornered in my own life. So I did what every cliched a-hole, self pitying wimp does, I locate what I thought was the cure,YOU!
My God you were!

To be continued….

balancing act


It feels like I’ve lived my whole life balancing on lines, swaying every which way with just the slightest touch of breeze. Each side feels like such ultimatums, equally exciting and fantastic as they are dangerous.

My mother also navigated these lines, a minute by minute Cirque du Soleil as walked the tight rope. But the longer you stand, the weaker the threads become, and she fell to the side that I would be engrossed in – the side my father commanded. He engulfed her and I with love when he was sober, but too often he wasn’t. I hear his words, dripping in venom and such, such cruelty. I see his eyes, how they would turn red like a bull with a snap of your fingers, on such a whim that you could never prepare. I feel his hands on me.

God, I still feel so much fear.

Whatever happened, I wouldn’t fall to that side. I would never allow myself to be trapped. I would never allow myself to become my mother. You see, love became a double edged sword. I learned the lesson growing up that you could only receive love with pain. I didn’t trust it. And to be frank, the times I did try to engage with it did its best to fortify my opinion. I didn’t know if it was for me.

But E, you weren’t like that. I knew you weren’t. You are sweet, funny, smart, and so handsome. We quickly became close friends. How could we not?

I realized soon that you liked me. You didn’t hide it very well — I was much better at that (until I wasn’t). I knew I was dragging you on, but things felt so perfect the way they were. You see, I had finally found were the line was the tightest, stable and safe. Here, I could balance between the two sides, between the will and the won’t they.

Before you left to go back home for a few months, you asked me if I was ready for a relationship. I said I wasn’t, I said I was still scared of men. That was true, but only partially. I was scared of myself. You were so sweet, so perfect, and your last relationship had been hell. I saw what it did to you. You are too sensitive for your own good, and don’t worry, so am I. But god, am I mess. Emotional and panicked. Depressed and confused. How could I put you through that? My issues color the most intimate parts of myself, parts I desperately wanted to keep in the dark.

I was so, so scared of letting you see that. But love only comes when you are willing to live in fear.

I told myself that when you came back, I would confess. But you didn’t come back alone. She’s fantastic by the way. Gorgeous. Independent. Smart. You got someone you deserved, and I am happy for you.

Five Years of waiting

If you do feel for me in any way at all, please do make a move. Even though you feel that the circumstances do not encourage you to. It will be fine, I promise you.
How can it be almost five years of waiting and guessing? Feeling like there’s a connection but no confirmation.
I can’t hold out for much longer. Please, just give me a sign. Even if it’s to say the connection is all in my head. That way at least I can move on.

What are we doing?

For something like four million minutes, every holiday, every birthday, every special occasion, all I wanted is to hear from you. And I never have, not once. It doesnt really hurt anymore, not even disappointed that much actually. I dont understand why you feel its necessary to withhold basically everything from me, both publicly and privately. You dont talk to me. You dont celebrate my highs with me or support me in my lows. You definitely dont fuck me. You dont share your life with me nor allow me to share mine with you. Ive tried to tell you for years how this isnt working for me, this isnt good for me. How much it damages my self-esteem and confidence when you say you care about me yet make zero discernible effort to actually showing that. Cause its gotta be me right? You’re certainly not the one who’s a little bit broken inside. But you dont listen or dont care. And I think its only reasonable for me to assume this is how it will always be, and nothing I ever do or say will ever change anything between us. So, what are we doing? Or, how I used to phrase it. Tell me why I am still here. Its time for you to give me a real answer.

I can’t anymore

I’m getting comfortable with crying at my desk, going to the restroom to clean up my mascara, and getting back to work as if nothing happened. I am trying to do the right thing but the right thing is killing me. I wish God would just fill up the emptiness with something else. Anything else. Make me satisfied with this. God, is this what you want for me? I am trying so hard to be grateful for all that I have. I know you have given me more than I deserve but this part is destroying me. Everyday I feel emptier. I can’t be who I need to be. Who I know I am supposed to be. This isn’t who you wanted me to be. I know you want me to do something else but I don’t see how I can do both at the same time. I don’t see why you would allow me to be in a situation that is driving me further from where I should be. And if this is where I should be, why? Why do you have me here? This is so painful. Is that all I am? A martyr? To give me so much hope and joy in my heart hut allow me to remain in a situation that steals it everyday for the rest of my life? I’m so angry and hurt but more angry and hurt by the fact that I am angry and hurt. I don’t want to feel this way. You know my heart and if I could accept it you know I would. I’ve been trying for 15 years. I’ve shouldered this on my own but nothing is changing. I just grow more weary. Where are you??

The pain of your Resentment

After seeing my mother in her care facility today it dawned on me how our similar situations in that were what made us toxic in the first place.

For me a big part of my acceptance, adjustment and mental well being, after her stroke; was talking about the good and the bad times with someone who was going though a similar situation. I honestly didn’t understand at the time how much talking about her slow yet steady recovery. Constantly reminded you on how your mother will never be the same again and is progressively getting worse. I get that; I understand that now.

The pain that comes from revelation is you resented me for that. The worst part is I did nothing wrong to deserve that resentment. You above all people should at least understand that just because my mother is doing better doesn’t mean its any less painful to see her, it dosn’t change the depression and the heartbreak of knowing that she’s never going to be the same; and her bad days just makes everything so much worse.

I’m no saint, yes I did make my mistakes and I played my hand in what ultimately lead to our final down fall…mostly out of the pain of what you did to me out of what came from your unjust resentment.

If you hate me that’s fine all I ask is you hate and resent me for what I’m accountable for…and not for the shit that you know for a fact isn’t my fault.