I’ve been here before and I’ve recovered before. I’ve fallen hard for you and picked myself back up time and time again. I know I will this time, too.
One day it’ll all make sense and I’ll be happy again, with or without you. But today is reserved for being sad over you.
Where do heavy hearts go?
They slip in between the cracks
And underneath covers
And wrists and lips of half assed lovers
And they bath and seethe
In loneliness and despair
Unless a rose is given.
Then their cheeks are beet red
And their eyes blurry from waterfalls
Slinking out of their eyes
And they forget what is was like
To slip so quickly into quicksand
And bury their hearts in an untouched treasure trove.
Where do heavy hearts go?
Some stay rotten like the corpse of a dead fish
Others become golden, forgetting thorns and settle for
Blooming free.
I like to think you are the latter.
I always like to think you bloom relentlessly.
A,
There’s a cloud over my heart.
A fog in my head.
Greyscale lenses cover my eyes, and I can’t tell where I’m headed.
My life is missing from my present. My purpose missing from my future.
Yet my past is the only thing overflowing, directing the destiny of both.
You were my compass; my color. The wind that drove away the fog.
You held my hand to your heart and taught me how to live.
I don’t know why I do the things I do, or how much longer I can continue to do them.
But without sails, there isn’t much hope once the hurricane hits and I’m hundreds of miles from land.
I am missing you, and it is costing me everything.
-E
So it really is *THAT* big.
As long as you and I have known one another and teased one another for years. It finally happened.
But I am bigger too.
My chest is so big I’ve not really looked down at them at that angle in some time. I started laughing, bc Jesus; I could smother you with them.
No, you can’t push, I can honestly say, and I’m not kidding, that it hurt me when you did. Thank you for letting me on top. I can straddle a strut over you forever. You prefer that any way that I don’t stop and I don’t get bored.
I’ll have to get over what my chest looks like.
Oh. You don’t have to kiss me on the mouth the way you kiss me between my legs; less is more.
That is if the new-normal-of-COVID allows us to do this again.
Mom, I need some distance for a while. Unfortunately,
when you call, I am filled with anxiety, and I have
a meltdown over it. I’m calling friends and strategizing
how I am going to talk to you. I am having a hard
time forgiving what happened last year. I’m not
sure that I can forgive it, as much as I try. In part
because of the failure to recognize everything I
already did for my Dad’s memorial and then
marginalized and maligned against advocating
for him while everyone to see him open his eye again.
You chose to listen to the least informed person
in the room, who was distracted with her own
marital discord, making perfunctory displays
and lecturing me about something she
knew nothing about.
Defending myself at my Dad’s deathbed
was an excruciating betrayal as are the
alternative reasons that are offered for why I fled.
I didn’t leave bc it was so hard for me to see him pass;
I left because of what you said and what she did.
I was being attacked, and it wasn’t safe for me to grieve with you,
and later, not safe for me to drive back.
When I did return, I was being punished,
and the last gift I made for my Dad has an alternative
version by someone who didn’t know him. I haven’t
had a chance to really grieve losing him, bc
I’ve replayed this useless drama surrounding it.
I’m going to block your number for a while for my
own peace of mind. When I am able to contact you
again, I will. I hope you understand.
It’s just another year…
But the same behaviour.
The difference this time Is; I have absolutely no expectations from you.
It makes it easier so much easier to switch off to you and your shitty ‘friendship’
Listen as the wind blows
From across the great divide
Voices trapped in yearning
Memories trapped in time
The night is my companion
And solitude my guide
Would I spend forever here
And not be satisfied
And I would be the one
To hold you down
Kiss you so hard
I’ll take your breath away
And after I’d, wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes dear
Through this world I’ve stumbled
So many times betrayed
Trying to find an honest word
To find the truth enslaved
Oh you speak to me in riddles and
You speak to me in rhymes
My body aches to breathe your breath
Your words keep me alive
And I would be the one
To hold you down
Kiss you so hard
I’ll take your breath away
And after I’d, wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes, dear
Into this night I wander
It’s morning that I dread
Another day of knowing of
The path I fear to tread
Oh, into the sea of waking dreams
I follow without pride
Nothing stands between us here
And I won’t be denied
And I would be the one
To hold you down
Kiss you so hard
I’ll take your breath away
And after I’d, wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes dear
I’ll hold you down
Kiss you so hard
I’ll take your breath away
And after I’d wipe away the tears
Just close your eyes
-Sarah McLachlan
There is no easy way for me to make sense of this. I can neither quantify nor justify the way that I feel, only that somehow I still do.
I should be fine. I should be happy. I got my life partner back. Kids are happy. Finances are coming together. Job sucks, but nothing is perfect. And yet, the depression and the anger and resentment continue to burrow even deeper beneath my skin, tattooed to the fabric of my soul.
You see, what you put me through — it broke me. You allowed alcohol to take over your life; nearly claim it, and it took months just to figure out even what to do. You cried suicide, more for attention than anything, and eventually agreed to rehab, but it was like pulling teeth just to get that far. All the lying and the yelling and accusing just wore me down to a stub, but eventually, while laying in a hospital bed, you finally agreed to go.
Win for us, right? Were it so easy…. You fought, you cried, you threw a tantrum, over and over again. You made it clear you didn’t want to be there, away from your family. How many times did you threaten or demand to leave throughout the months? You left me alone, to make some fucking hard and uncomfortable decisions to best care of our family so you can get sober, and your entitled ass didn’t want to put in the work to become somebody we wanted to come back. Yet, somehow, you managed to stay put while I struggled with the day to day life of single parenting, thanks in large part to my mom, who is the only reason I’m still here.
But you see, it got so much worse for me. For months, I struggled so heavily with everything: our relationship, my own worth and value, how to take care of the kids so they don’t feel the strain I was feeling. I did everything I could for you out of love. Wrote letters frequently, took every phone call you were allowed. Came to see you with the kids at every opportunity to hopefully give you the motivation you needed to see this thing through, and yet the fighting and the pushback continued. For months, you continued to fight where you were and resent me for what I was trying to do without you.
I never told you this, and likely never will, but I was heavily suicidal the entire time this ordeal was going on. Every. Single. Day I had to find something just to keep me here because of how low you have brought me. All the lying, manipulation, accusing, etc. was just more than I could mentally and emotionally take, considering that none of this shit was even my fault. I had a lot of talks with my mom. I had a lot of talks with a couple mentors and friends just trying to figure out how to get through it all. As the months dragged on, I needed to physically distance myself from you just so I could hear myself think, because my thoughts were drowned out by your condescending voice.
Although it was a slow process, I began to find peace of a sort as I weighed exactly what moving forward needed to look like. Clearly, we were incompatible still. You continued to rebel against the system, convinced you were “cured” and there was no point in remaining in the program, despite all the red flags and guidance from your counselor. As broken as I was without you, I realized I had to start looking at what life might be apart from you, permanently. I had to process multiple scenarios that involved our separation and be willing to take care of myself and our kids in the wake of your inevitable failure to remain sober or, at the very least, sober but divorced. It practically took the very last ounce of my mental strength to accept this as the correct course of action, and even then it still took a while to come to terms with that decision. Yet when I did, I finally began to find peace. I reconciled my inner self with the thought of leaving you and, if you happened to maintain your sobriety, remain amicable for the sake of the kids, and if not, prepared to fight for them, for their sake. It was the first time since this nightmare began that I actually found peace in all of this, and the more I thought and planned for that eventually, the more peaceful my spirit became. You had begun to prove to me that we were incompatible. I had every reason from the beginning to leave, but still chose to stay for your sake and the kids, holding on to a feeble hope that you would have a change of heart, but it never came. I grew so tired and weak from fighting with you, that I finally realized it was time to let go and move on, however that would look like.
But you see, life has a tendency to fuck me over. I never got an opportunity to act on this new-found peace and begin that process of letting go. Because, as though you knew exactly what I was thinking and about to do, that “change of heart” came. It had been 7 months of fighting, but finally you submitted just as I found my peace with letting you go. You agreed that your time there was necessary, and you’d stay as long as needed. You found your own peace in God, displayed remorse, and wanted to finally work towards fixing things.
Wonderful news, right? Wrong, I was shattered…. I had no idea how to react or what to feel, other than my whole world crumbling around me. See, I had a plan. I knew what I had to do, and now you took that from me. I just couldn’t. I was obligated to give you a chance and see how long this “change of heart” would last, as I was sure it was just another manipulative ploy, but it held up.
Before I knew it, you graduated and were allowed to come home while simultaneously given a paying job at the rehab center, forcing me to pull out my fake smile and façade once again for the benefit of all. And although there were obvious changes and improvements in your mental well-being and outlook on life, I still continued to feel left out and unimportant. My depression sank its teeth even deeper into my soul and has yet to let go, nearly one year later.
You found your sobriety: great. You found Jesus: wonderful. We saved the house, despite accumulating immense debt in the absence of your paycheck: awesome. But while you were basically given a months-long vacation to work on yourself, most of which you whined and bitched through, I was entirely broken and shattered by everything that took place and the burdens forced upon my back. You’re the one that fucked up and caused the whole mess, but I’m the one that had to bear all the consequences. And then you get to come home happily and move on with life as though it never happened?
While you may have discovered a deep and meaningful relationship with God in the last couple months of your recovery, I completely lost what little that I had. I have lost all purpose and motivation for my future, and I just feel trapped, perpetually drowning in my own hopelessness. If only you knew exactly how close to the point of no return I truly was, maybe you’d think twice about forcing me to suppress my own demons in order to help you handle yours almost every, fucking, day. I don’t get to have bad days or show how much I am struggling, because they cause you to have bad days and so I have to suck it up to take care of you.
We may be married, but I have never felt so alone and unappreciated. I’ve fallen back into the depths of suicidal thinking and I really see no way out. It would be far easier than trying to face any sort of confrontation or conflict. I missed my window and I have yet to forgive myself for it. I have no friends here. No support. I am as isolated as ever in my endeavor to continue sacrificing myself for the well-being of others.
But it’s okay. I love you. You’re my favorite.
It’s been a long time. I was scared when I found out you were gone. But I pushed forward and on a whim I looked for you again. Now I’m back when I needed you most. I lived my life bowing to other people. I couldn’t be my own because I found myself most comfortable when I was in pain. Now I’m here and she makes me happy. It’s just like before. It was too fast. She’s focused on her self but she says she’s mine. I have no reason to not trust her… I’m in my own head again. I guess that’s why I wanted you back. A place to speak my mind and ask for help. Because when I hear her voice, my world is perfect. My world is her. But when she’s away, I doubt myself. I hate myself for not being enough. I have many regrets. Many storms I’ve abandoned. Many friends I pushed away. People I dragged through the dirt from forever away and then lost love for. Family that says they’d welcome me out there but are just as broken as it is here. I hate this town and these people… that’s what I say atleast. Honestly I just hate me. If I’m sad, she’s depressed that she hurt me. I console her as I cry to myself. I’m loosing it. But I’m back now. At this place that saved and scared me so long ago. Right when I needed you most. So tell me… where do I go from here? Do I run away from this place that I’m drowning in, run to a girl who says she loves me? Or do I stay in this place that has a career and safety, but makes me wonder if I’m truly worth anything? Or will I be haunted by those I’ve hurt, that I’ve abandoned, and my scared past, where ever I go…
-Wolfgang
