Chapter 9 - Infinite Possibility
In a world with infinite possibilities, the only limiting factor is me. I limit myself, pull away, hold myself back. I push myself on and into other, and I latch on and won't let go. I am embarking on the journey home. Back to where I fell in love, back to where I know I'm loved.
There is great joy married with sadness for this journey. And it's ironic that it's me who is pulling away. Anyone who saw the two of us would have thought he'd be the one to stray, to leave, to move on without me. But it was I who pulled away first. His was just the natural reaction to being pushed.
He loved me like no other, and I felt it radiate through me. I was joyful and happy that someone like him would ever love someone like me. I set him high upon his pedestal, and why should I have been surprised he'd stay there and look down on me when he got comfortable in his high seat? It was the hardest blow to be dealt. His eyes seemed to gleam from his velvety heights. And whenever he'd come down, they were dead to me.
My life is not what I imagined; I am failure walking down the street, shattering mirrors, dreaming of Jupiter, living a life I never wanted to lead. And with all that is going on, and with all that is going to be, the thought I have more and more these days is that I often wish I'd never pulled away, but my nature is to pull away.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Pull Away - 10thDoM RoM Challenge MUSE 8
Chapter 8 - This Business of Jupiter
So I'm going back home, and I will conduct my business beside the statue of Romulus and Remus, grandsons of Jupiter, and I will be happy. I hope I will be happy. I pray that happiness will somehow find me. At night, I will be home, nestled snugly in my 250 year old bed, in an old historic neighborhood, and I hope there will be gas heat.
I am in love with this idea of Rome. I am in love with going home. And there are seeds being planted already to make sure that I won't want to pull away from there too soon. Things didn't work out so well for my friend, and she is stuck in a foreign state with a hateful man for the duration of her daughters' school-aged lives. That is hell, born of Pluto.
The steps to get to my love are long and arduous and terrifying to take. The way the boys love their wolfmother is how I'm feeling about the move home. However, the thought of leaving this life I've known for the past ten years is haunting me, terrorizing me, and terrorizing those around me. I've been called a terrorist lately, and not without cause.
Maybe I should think of a new business, one that doesn't involve the grandsons of Jupiter. I know one person who thinks that things should be that way, but he hates that I am so scared. But I know it's only because he is too.
So I'm going back home, and I will conduct my business beside the statue of Romulus and Remus, grandsons of Jupiter, and I will be happy. I hope I will be happy. I pray that happiness will somehow find me. At night, I will be home, nestled snugly in my 250 year old bed, in an old historic neighborhood, and I hope there will be gas heat.
I am in love with this idea of Rome. I am in love with going home. And there are seeds being planted already to make sure that I won't want to pull away from there too soon. Things didn't work out so well for my friend, and she is stuck in a foreign state with a hateful man for the duration of her daughters' school-aged lives. That is hell, born of Pluto.
The steps to get to my love are long and arduous and terrifying to take. The way the boys love their wolfmother is how I'm feeling about the move home. However, the thought of leaving this life I've known for the past ten years is haunting me, terrorizing me, and terrorizing those around me. I've been called a terrorist lately, and not without cause.
Maybe I should think of a new business, one that doesn't involve the grandsons of Jupiter. I know one person who thinks that things should be that way, but he hates that I am so scared. But I know it's only because he is too.
Pull Away - 10thDoM RoM Challenge MUSE 7
Chapter 7 - Shattered Mirrors
If I could go back before the glass shattered, before the mirrors reflected the things I chose not to see before, I wouldn't. I like my mistakes, I like the practice. I like knowing what I'm capable of even if I choose to hold out on putting my plans into action. I like knowing that I can destroy a man with nothing more than the truth if I so choose. There is nothing more powerful and destructive than the truth.
And the truth is in the mirrors. I am wasting away. My bones are prominent where they were covered in flesh, and I blame them all. My stomach is weak and nervous, and my doctors are all worried. My bank account is drained, and the world is going on as if nothing has changed. Isn't it funny how the world continues despite the despair? Isn't it ridiculous how sad I am when I have more than so many people.
It doesn't make it any less painful or real, but perspective is nice when I remember to have it. And I'm definitely proud of the fact that I'm far worse than I seem (thanks, Ani). The only person who sees and knows the real me is the face staring back at me from the mirror. If only it were so easy as to shatter the mirror, rearrange it and put it back together to get a prettier reflection. If only I could still choose not to see the truth.
If I could go back before the glass shattered, before the mirrors reflected the things I chose not to see before, I wouldn't. I like my mistakes, I like the practice. I like knowing what I'm capable of even if I choose to hold out on putting my plans into action. I like knowing that I can destroy a man with nothing more than the truth if I so choose. There is nothing more powerful and destructive than the truth.
And the truth is in the mirrors. I am wasting away. My bones are prominent where they were covered in flesh, and I blame them all. My stomach is weak and nervous, and my doctors are all worried. My bank account is drained, and the world is going on as if nothing has changed. Isn't it funny how the world continues despite the despair? Isn't it ridiculous how sad I am when I have more than so many people.
It doesn't make it any less painful or real, but perspective is nice when I remember to have it. And I'm definitely proud of the fact that I'm far worse than I seem (thanks, Ani). The only person who sees and knows the real me is the face staring back at me from the mirror. If only it were so easy as to shatter the mirror, rearrange it and put it back together to get a prettier reflection. If only I could still choose not to see the truth.
Pull Away - 10thDoM RoM Challenge MUSE 6
Chapter 6 - Earnest Mockery
My best friend makes a mockery of me, in all earnestness, of course, every time he speaks to me. He belittles me, and rightfully so, but it doesn't hurt any less. He knows all there is to know about me, and he's completely disappointed in me. I'm pulling away, and he doesn't care to pull me back. He pushed me away so hard a few months back, and it's never been the same.
But it's not his fault, not entirely. He's always mocked me in some way or another, and I've always enjoyed the banter between us. I made the mistake of pulling away when he was my greatest support. I made the mistake of putting my trust into someone else, letting someone else who I thought wouldn't put me down take the reigns of our friendship.
And I was proven terribly wrong. I lost my husband, my best friend, and it's a constant struggle with my lover. Everything is a mess, and the world crumbles, and it feels the weight is on my back. I know it's time to pull away, but I can't make myself just yet. It's just a few more months.
It's just a few more months...
My best friend makes a mockery of me, in all earnestness, of course, every time he speaks to me. He belittles me, and rightfully so, but it doesn't hurt any less. He knows all there is to know about me, and he's completely disappointed in me. I'm pulling away, and he doesn't care to pull me back. He pushed me away so hard a few months back, and it's never been the same.
But it's not his fault, not entirely. He's always mocked me in some way or another, and I've always enjoyed the banter between us. I made the mistake of pulling away when he was my greatest support. I made the mistake of putting my trust into someone else, letting someone else who I thought wouldn't put me down take the reigns of our friendship.
And I was proven terribly wrong. I lost my husband, my best friend, and it's a constant struggle with my lover. Everything is a mess, and the world crumbles, and it feels the weight is on my back. I know it's time to pull away, but I can't make myself just yet. It's just a few more months.
It's just a few more months...
Pull Away - 10thDoM RoM Challenge MUSE 5
Chapter 5 - Of Feral Mind and Carnal Heart
Finding out that I actually do like sex - after 10 years of hating it - was an amazing miracle. I don't know if it's the new person or the fact that it's not with the old person. Why would I ever want to have sex with someone who forced me to, even when in excruciating pain? I didn't, and he would accuse me of not loving him. That was the beginning of my broken heart.
All I can think about now is the next time I get to have sex. Twice a day is never enough. I'm so ecstatic about actually enjoying it that I can't get enough. It could be my age, or it could be the man, but I mostly think it's just finding out that I could still like it. I'm terrified of the feeling waning before I want.
But I'm different now from then, and even more different from when I was a teen. I was feral as a teen, not nearly as discerning as I should have been. Always sneaking, always on the prowl. I didn't care about fidelity or monogamy, and I wasn't worried about pregnancy or disease. When the mom of one of my boyfriends found the socks we used to "clean" ourselves up and confronted us about it, we laughed and left the house.
It wasn't a big deal to go a few days or even weeks between sexual encounters back then, and it was heaven to go days, weeks, or lovely months without sex during my marriage. Now, it's hours, and I can't stand it. And my heart has gone carnal, uncontrollably evil, vindictive, and animalistic. It's only a matter of time.
Finding out that I actually do like sex - after 10 years of hating it - was an amazing miracle. I don't know if it's the new person or the fact that it's not with the old person. Why would I ever want to have sex with someone who forced me to, even when in excruciating pain? I didn't, and he would accuse me of not loving him. That was the beginning of my broken heart.
All I can think about now is the next time I get to have sex. Twice a day is never enough. I'm so ecstatic about actually enjoying it that I can't get enough. It could be my age, or it could be the man, but I mostly think it's just finding out that I could still like it. I'm terrified of the feeling waning before I want.
But I'm different now from then, and even more different from when I was a teen. I was feral as a teen, not nearly as discerning as I should have been. Always sneaking, always on the prowl. I didn't care about fidelity or monogamy, and I wasn't worried about pregnancy or disease. When the mom of one of my boyfriends found the socks we used to "clean" ourselves up and confronted us about it, we laughed and left the house.
It wasn't a big deal to go a few days or even weeks between sexual encounters back then, and it was heaven to go days, weeks, or lovely months without sex during my marriage. Now, it's hours, and I can't stand it. And my heart has gone carnal, uncontrollably evil, vindictive, and animalistic. It's only a matter of time.
Pull Away - 10thDoM RoM Challenge MUSE 4
Chapter 4 - Omitting Your Mistakes
How many mistakes have I made this past year and half? It's hard to tell. If you ask a certain other blogger, he'll tell you them all, play by play. If you read my blog and his (and you probably found my blog through him), he probably already has.
I live my life by omitting my mistakes to myself. I let myself make them, and I basque in them, and I loathe them. Every move I've made is a mistake. Now, I'm holding on when I should pull away, and everyone knows it's a mistake, but I'm terrified.
My whole life is dissolving around me, and I'm just helping it along. Letting go of the love that I fought to get away from but fought for me and then let me fall seemed like the right thing to do. Everyone who knows me supports me leaving him, which makes me wonder why no one said anything before.
I'm pulling away from the life that I've lived and loathed to fall into another life that I'm afraid I will live and loathe even more. Before, I wasn't afraid, but now the time is coming closer for me to make that next step, dive in, let myself go...
It's time for me to pull away...
How many mistakes have I made this past year and half? It's hard to tell. If you ask a certain other blogger, he'll tell you them all, play by play. If you read my blog and his (and you probably found my blog through him), he probably already has.
I live my life by omitting my mistakes to myself. I let myself make them, and I basque in them, and I loathe them. Every move I've made is a mistake. Now, I'm holding on when I should pull away, and everyone knows it's a mistake, but I'm terrified.
My whole life is dissolving around me, and I'm just helping it along. Letting go of the love that I fought to get away from but fought for me and then let me fall seemed like the right thing to do. Everyone who knows me supports me leaving him, which makes me wonder why no one said anything before.
I'm pulling away from the life that I've lived and loathed to fall into another life that I'm afraid I will live and loathe even more. Before, I wasn't afraid, but now the time is coming closer for me to make that next step, dive in, let myself go...
It's time for me to pull away...
Pull Away - 10thDoM RoM Challenge MUSE 3
Chapter III - An Ambiance of Technology
In the midst of the great sadness I felt at the realization that the love I thought had existed was no longer to be, I cried. I cried as I drove the kids to school. I cried on my way to work. I cried when I wrote poems. I cried and cried and cried.
And then a new friendship arose from the wonders of technology. I'm not sure if it was the ambiance created by the late night hours of the phone calls, or if it was just that I needed a new friend. The first time we spoke on the phone, it was for eleven hours. I didn't sleep at all that night, and I was a zombie - a very happy zombie - the next day.
We'd been writing emails to each other - he from a land far away, and me from my lonely home - for a few weeks. I'd been overtly vague in mine, and he'd prodded for more, but the comfort level wasn't there. I wasn't even aware of how much I looked forward to his emails until there wasn't one for a few days. He'd gone on a mission, and I was actually worried. The relief felt from that next email was wonderful. I offered my phone number, never thinking he'd call.
But he did.
In the midst of the great sadness I felt at the realization that the love I thought had existed was no longer to be, I cried. I cried as I drove the kids to school. I cried on my way to work. I cried when I wrote poems. I cried and cried and cried.
And then a new friendship arose from the wonders of technology. I'm not sure if it was the ambiance created by the late night hours of the phone calls, or if it was just that I needed a new friend. The first time we spoke on the phone, it was for eleven hours. I didn't sleep at all that night, and I was a zombie - a very happy zombie - the next day.
We'd been writing emails to each other - he from a land far away, and me from my lonely home - for a few weeks. I'd been overtly vague in mine, and he'd prodded for more, but the comfort level wasn't there. I wasn't even aware of how much I looked forward to his emails until there wasn't one for a few days. He'd gone on a mission, and I was actually worried. The relief felt from that next email was wonderful. I offered my phone number, never thinking he'd call.
But he did.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Pull Away II - 10thDoM RoM Challenge MUSE 2
Chapter II - Fear of Writing
I had been a writer before but only when I was sad. It was my only true outlet. My letters and poems flowed from my mind faster than I could even think of writing them down, and I always wrote them, never typed them. Even when he shattered my heart for the first time, into a million little pieces, I couldn't write about him. He was my numbness, my lack of feeling, my writer's block in flesh form. And I believed this was love, for I could only write when I was sad, and I couldn't write about him, so I must not be sad. This must be true love, forever love. The kind from which you don't pull away.
In the years between the first knowledge that I was in love and the horror of the realization that the love had been murdered, I never wrote about him. There was a fear there that could not be contained, a fear that if I wrote the about the sadness and the truth of the sadness, that it would be real, and I would have to open my eyes to a bigger, scarier world, a world where he and I were no longer one.
And the truth is that despite my realization that the love was gone, it took writing about something I thought completely unrelated that brought to surface the truth of my life, our life together. It was but a farce. I had loved him unconditionally, but he would always be number two, and that is the truth of the sadness.
I had been a writer before but only when I was sad. It was my only true outlet. My letters and poems flowed from my mind faster than I could even think of writing them down, and I always wrote them, never typed them. Even when he shattered my heart for the first time, into a million little pieces, I couldn't write about him. He was my numbness, my lack of feeling, my writer's block in flesh form. And I believed this was love, for I could only write when I was sad, and I couldn't write about him, so I must not be sad. This must be true love, forever love. The kind from which you don't pull away.
In the years between the first knowledge that I was in love and the horror of the realization that the love had been murdered, I never wrote about him. There was a fear there that could not be contained, a fear that if I wrote the about the sadness and the truth of the sadness, that it would be real, and I would have to open my eyes to a bigger, scarier world, a world where he and I were no longer one.
And the truth is that despite my realization that the love was gone, it took writing about something I thought completely unrelated that brought to surface the truth of my life, our life together. It was but a farce. I had loved him unconditionally, but he would always be number two, and that is the truth of the sadness.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Pull Away - 10thDoM RoM Challenge MUSE 1
It wasn't love at first sight. Or second or third for that matter. It was a love that was cultivated despite my resistance and reservations without hesitation or reservation from him. He was persistent, and before I knew what had happened, I was in love. Completely and utterly in love. I was ready, at the ripe age of 15, to leave my little hometown and follow him anywhere, if he'd only have me. It was the first time that he told me he loved me - over the phone with a quick disconnect afterward so I couldn't even respond - that I knew he was the man I was supposed to marry. In that one moment of teenage clarity, I fell so deeply in love that I couldn't imagine my life going on without him.
Despite the brevity of the actual time we'd spent together - just less than 2 months really - it felt like we'd been together for years. Every day, when he'd come pick me up in his little old beat up blue truck, I was giddy as I watched him drive up, shirtless, park the old beater, and put his shirt on as he walked up to the front porch. I relished that moment, waited for that moment, loved that moment every day. And every night, when he'd get ready to leave in that same old blue beater truck, he'd embrace me on the dirty front porch under the dim porch light for just a little longer than I embraced him. I was always the first to pull away.
I remember that summer, the part before he left, as the best of my life. It had it's ups and downs for sure, but mostly there were ups. Mostly, I felt safe. Mostly, I felt that this man would hold me up when I couldn't hold myself, lift me up when I was down, protect me from the things he thought me too delicate to experience. He worked hard at pulling down the 15 years of emotional walls I'd put up. I was still always the first to pull away.
And then he left. We knew it was coming, and it was hard. I can't even describe the emptiness I felt without him there. I wrote him every single day just to make sure that when mail call came, his name would always be called. When he was done with the first part of his training, I stayed home every Sunday just hoping he'd get to call. When the first cold letter came, I ignored the sentiment. And when the next letter came telling me to forget the previous one, I was all too happy to do just that.
When the phone call came, I wasn't at all prepared. I was devastated beyond comprehension. When I finally crawled myself out of my own hole of despair, I made a promise. If he would ever have me back, I would drop everything and everyone and do anything, go anywhere, be anyone for him.
The day finally came, five years later, that I got to make good on my promise. I became his. And I was happy with nothing more than being his. I wanted nothing more than to be his. I loved no one like I loved him, and I never ever will again. He owns my heart just like he always has. My heart that has never beat like it should, never sounded like it should, never worked like it should. My imperfect heart will always be his even if I'm still the first to pull away.
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