Wednesday, August 28, 2013

In Love

Now for the realization.

I'm in love...

With an addict.

And the big question is...

Can I do this?

Or even, can he?

Is there enough...

Prayer, love, respect,

And that sense of need?

We are better...

As Individuals


I am

Most definitely

In Love.

Sunday, August 25, 2013


I never know what to say to you when I'm supposed to be patient and quiet. Those times before that I have known I'm suffocating you and you don't even say a word, you just let me suffocate you until I get the picture. You're always kind then. But this time, I suffocated you enough that you asked to be allowed to breathe. I'm suffocating, not breathing so that you can. And I wish you wouldn't let me feel this. And maybe it's in the fact that you would let me feel this horrible way that says I shouldn't wish to be with you so much. Maybe it's the sign I need but it's not getting all the way through all the good that's been.

This kind of physical pain is not something I take very well. I will be better. If I've learned nothing from my past instances of similar pain, it is that it will end or subside or, at least, lessen. For a while. Then it will return but duller. And each time, I will cry silently and out loud. Each time, I will try to take the kids to do fun things and the attempt will be so exhausting that I will come home and lie in bed for 2 days just to recover. Part of that is emotional. Part of that is the EDS. Struggling through EDS while dealing with emotional stress leaves me nearly bed-ridden.

It amazes me how physically I feel pain when the real problem is emotional. I cannot eat except every other day or so when my body's needs override the nausea and discomfort. I try to eat as many calories as possible on those days, even if they are "bad" calories. I had a half of a corndog yesterday and a few french fries. The day before, a couple of wonton tacos and some sizzling rice soup. The day before that, a slice of banana bread. And the day before that, nothing.

I want to say to you. Stand up. Be strong. Don't be afraid of being amazing and great. Don't be afraid of yourself. Stand up for the good we've created. If you're going to put me in the same category as God and Anne Lamott and AA and Still Waters, then why would you let that go? Why would you say you're the best you've ever been and give me credit for that but push me aside because you fear your brother's tantrums and hurt? Yes, he is hurt. We lied. Yes, he will be hurt; he holds onto hurt like it's a prized possession.

Which brings me to this... Was it all a lie? Was it just about sex or getting back at your brother or making a martyr of yourself to him to prove how much he means to you? Was I just a plaything? I never felt like that with you, ever. I thought it was completely genuine and that you wanted what we had, even though it was sometimes scary to think of yourself as being worthy or able to be in a relationship.

Is it even important for me to know what this was? Why would God make me so sure of you, and I mean, CONVINCED that we are meant to be only to throw this wrench in and have you freak out. Was I here for you? Were you here for me? Is our job in each others' lives over?

Which leads me to - what the fuck am I supposed to be learning? Why finally give me a relationship where I actually get to FEEL loved and cared about and considered only to rip it away from me? Is there something better? Is there someone better? Or is this a test to see if we're really meant to be? Or is this a point in time to teach us to appreciate each other even more? What am I going through this for? What kind of lesson is in this pain?

I'm trying to let go. It is like my insides are being ripped out. I am full of hate and anger and sadness and despair. I know I'll come out the other side better than before, whether it be with or without him. It's very hard to imagine at the moment though, very hard to believe. I only know it to be true because it happens every time.

So, I'm praying for help. And I hope You hear me. Because I need it.

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Dear Sir

Dear Sir,

How do you put me in the same category with Anne Lamott and God and then tell me it's not good enough. How the fuck is that not good enough? I'm in the same fucking category with fucking God for Christ's sake!

How do you say you're the best you've ever been with me but that it's not good enough? How is the best you've ever been not enough? I mean, it's the best you've ever fucking been!

You're lying to me or you're lying to yourself. Both will ruin your life.


Friday, August 23, 2013


I dream of a life where I'm not constantly fighting to be important or special, where I just am, and decisions are easy.

But I'm scary and passionate. I fall too hard too fast and always for someone who doesn't... or can't... Love Me Back.

They always declare their love after I've gone. When I no longer have fight or feelings left.

I dream of a life where he and I just continue to grow and care and disagree and argue and still rather be with each other than apart. That is 90% so good that the 10% bad is just that needed blip to keep it interesting for me.

Recognizing I can't have 100% good because I need to fight. I only want it bad enough to let me fight once in a while.

One fight or fuss a month. That's good for me. A fight where I'm heard and he's heard and we end up closer because we respected each other through the process. But not such a fight I get scared he'll leave or that I threaten to leave.

I am in love. Love. Or dreamland.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013


In the end, if the hurdle is so big you don't want to climb over it with me, then you must not want to be with me. I have to accept that. Please, God, help me accept that.

Sunday, August 18, 2013


I feel myself collapsing. Everything around me falling onto me, caving in on top of me. I painted a picture too good to be true, and when I peeled back the paint, I remembered that it was all a lie. My heart is achy and shredded. My stomach raw and angry.

I knew this day would come. I knew it couldn't last. Why I let myself believe that we could overcome the obstacles, I know. I'm always wanting the movie, the fairytale, the love story that shouldn't have been but made it anyhow despite adversity. I need the drama. I crave it. I think it's because I want to feel - even if it's pain, I want to feel - really, truly FEEL.

The quiet is deafening, defeating.

Saturday, August 17, 2013

Pink Guitar

My girl has a pink guitar
She never plays with it at all
It hangs on the wall, a decoration in fact
And she likes to show it to her friends
I like it okay, she'd say, but I'm not sure it's the one I want
She wishes she had a different, better guitar
Maybe that one she played with once somewhere, sometime else

But if I took her guitar away
It might be a day or two before she'd notice
And then she'd wail and scream and shout
It was the very best guitar in the world, she'd say out loud
It was the perfect one for me
She would be so devastated and sad
How could I not know that it was her favorite thing ever

She'd sulk for weeks, nay months, even years
Into its place on the wall, she'd stare
Keeping its space open just in case it returns
Fabricating memories of how she loved it so
And how, if she had it now, she'd care until the day she dies
She'd dust it and play it every day, at least
Though when it was hers, she barely knew it was there