Janeen
Ghosts everywhere and my eyes aren't even open. Ghosts of pasts husbands, ghosts of past lovers, ghosts of past dreams. What do you do when doubts and "what ifs" start staggering through your brain like a drunk on the beach kicking memories around like sand in the wind? I think. I wonder what if i zigged here instead of zagged? What if I feel flat on my face here? What if I didn't crawl there? Did I give up moving over a large dune? Could I help from getting dizzy in the surf racing across my feet? Could I have prevented the risk of undertow by stumbling only where the safe path appeared in my skewed view?
It doesn't matter. Though I admit I need the sunshine and a sober yet pounding head to sometimes see that. Passing through the transparent veils of yesterday can offer a chill, but on the other side, there is a good chance you'll feel warmth again on the other side.
I saw an old music videos with the towers still standing. A friend pointed them out to me... his words echoing a phrase I heard on the radio the morning they fell. Memories rushed at me. Not knowing where my husband was, my brother. Were they there? Couldn't get a line out to either via cell. My dad called me at work and told me my brother was okay. He had taken the day off after working all weekend. Wasn't there when it happened.
I was hours after I got home I finally heard from my husband that he was okay. And hours more before he came home. Odd how the emotions from then are still inside me running like a movie, and although I remember my anguish from then, but I feel nothing for him now. Divorce over and done with 6 months ago today. So much feeling and care dissolved into nothingness. Time changes everything... not even a tear now. Not sure I should rejoice in the numbness or fear it.
I have been hoping to find someone who nourishes me. I left thinking there might be someone out there, and I have met someone... but when people are accustomed to caring for themselves... they don't really let other people in.
As much as it bothers me that I haven't been able to get close to anyone without hitting that border, I think that's what I'm missing. Not having someone nourishing me. I'm talking about missing that ability to nourish myself I had back in my hell life. Self nourishment was how I survived, held on, kept from giving up until I had the strength to walk away.
Now, I have to figure out how to do that again. I can't sit here waiting for someone to provide me with what I need. My lesson seems to be nourish myself and then I can share or exchange what I've 'baked' with someone else. Independent, sharing, caring, still us, but sharing.
Or is that just fear whispering in my head so I don't let down my guard and let someone in again...
I love old movies, especially black and white movies. They didn't have the color then so they made the movie colorful by doing it really well, or took advantage of the lack of color to get cheesy effects by as best they could. I'll watch love stories, classic mysteries, and my favorite old sci-fi flicks. I get to share them with some great friends online. Some are more special than others. I don't always know much about the movies except that they fill some nostalgic twang in me of childhood, simpler times, and my desire to see good film without gore. New ones are super too, but there is a quality in the old fashioned show that is comfort food for the eyes and heart (calorie free).
Control used to mean me... being under it for the advantage of someone else. I never felt it, held it, understood that it could be mine. Now, I have it. And I realized I can exercise it in a million places in my life...and it gave me a more beautiful life. I'm happier, I'm me at last. I can also give up my control at times... because it's good to do that. But now... I choose when and to whom. Win Win.
I talk with him and I remember when I was younger... better yet, he remembers when I was younger and I remember when he was. Funny how when we speak the years drop away. Our bodies are older, our experiences for the last 30 years since we had parted extremely different, but the us we were then is still there. Lurking under the surface. Those little things that seemed so big, long gone. Misunderstandings and explanations that we wouldn't or couldn't listen too then expands into a deeper understanding and a few, 'I wish had listened/asked back then...', so many times in our convos. But it's neat how both of us relish the wonder of the good things that have happened and wouldn't change a thing if those special people wouldn't be there. We both love our kids. Snippets of our lives where we lived and touched our dreams. We grew up apart, but still together as our thoughts and brief sightings and mini-visits in a grocery store or warehouse club brought it all back again to dance in our dreams of what could have been... Now, we are reconnecting on a deeper level. Intimate friends whose love for each other has never faded just grown, changed, and like wine, ripened into something unique and special. I don't believe it's chance we are in each others lives again right now. States away in body, never away in heart.
The American ballet of expectations. Futures we believed in and have been denied. The sitcom smiles and perfect, easy lives where the biggest issue was no rolls for dinner or a dog with muddy feet walking across the carpet. No actual struggles, no tears, no heartache, no empty crying at night because the loneliness hurts and stepping out to seek a cure is more frightening than staying. The nibbles of happiness that end with the click of a phone to plunge you into silence with reality suckling at your brain, nourishing the fears that creep in your mind while the moon slips by with a sneer of indifference. It's script of make believe. But, I still want to believe it can all be true. Don't you?
You had captured my heart, my soul, my mind. My spirit danced every day with life and happiness and the wonder of life. I felt the beauty of living, being loved again, understood. I felt cherished and appreciated and special. And you took it away. A bad week here, another bad week there. Yes you want me, need me, pressure me to be at your side, month after month after month. But when I tried to step in your door, reach for your hand, embrace your words--your force field rose like a shredder ripping through soft butter. Bits of my hearts torn asunder in all directions, splattered, destroyed, carelessly flung aside. A month of suppression dealing with your false facade of fine, the silence that screamed inside my being until I felt deaf from the heart out. I offered words in gentle support, simplicity in love and respect and kindness and concern to lift you up, protect you. But you lied again and again, you pushed me away. Your confession sliced open places I thought love had laced for life. And when I swallowed my pain and embraced you anew, you did it again in selfish pride on a whim. My needs were simple, open honest communication with you. My 'whines' were tears born of pain because YOU had to cut me down to find a place to rest your feet that felt good to you while chastising me. My need for intimacy was rejected because the only needs that meant anything to you were your own on your timetable, your schedule, your need for release. You made me feel dirty for feeling and believing in love, in our future. The invitation to your heart was just a rubber carrot in disguise. Something, my dear, you obviously never intended to ever truly give.
Sometimes I think I'm cursed. I find myself falling in love, opening myself up to someone, reaching for a connection. To finally connect with someone at last, it's like a fireworks show. Brilliant and dazzling, with loud noises and pretty lights, music playing to pull it all together like a reality movie with two hearts as the stars and one of them is mine. It's all so magical. And then I messed it all up. I shared my words and you ran. You claimed to see beauty, truth, all I wanted to convey, but whenever I actually touch you and you can feel it--you withdraw, retreat, spew with anger or envy or a violation, and go. Do you truly not understand? To write my words, capture them on paper and screen, and to have them turned away by the one I trust, the one I thought I knew, my one... To bare my heart, my fears, my joys, my thoughts, my love... and pushed away for it again, over and over again. My heart can't fathom, my mind can't grasp, and my love weeps in hopelessness. My eyes seek out light again, hopeful; but the rest goes into storage as you push me into detaching. My inspiration squelched and exiled even in the slightest playful spark. Again. Lost... wandering... alone again I sit. You desire constant reassurance of love's presence, yet if your actions cannot match your words, my words and all the hope I embraced within them, serve no purpose. And neither do I within your life.
I was flattened when I realized, I was done. It's time to leave. When I look ahead, I realize I have no desire to see myself here in this place with him ever again. I see waste, desolation, emptiness in every part of our lives together. There is no future in emptiness, and I have no desire to even try to fill it again with hope, because we've been here too many times before. I begged, I pleaded, I yelled. I tried patience, tough love, tears, anger... now I'm just numb. Love flattened into a lifeless soil even the wind has no desire to carry. I'm sorry. But it is so over.
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