2.37. In All Honesty

Spring is near…hell it’s Kansas so Spring may show up in August for all we know, but the overall symbolism of the season has set into full blast…kinda. Actually, it should be the opposite…the beginning of Winter. When life is ending, things die, everything is cold, quiet, and gloomy.

People say divorce is comparable to a death. And it is. The death of something you thought would last forever. Now, don’t have me mistaken with someone else; I chose to go through with my divorce…I asked for it. But I imagined it would be a rebirth. An opportunity for two miserable people to find their happiness again. What has manifested is a full blown war…a spiteful display of tyranny and a chaotic concert with nothing but hate blasting through the speakers.

 

I recently attended a class called FOCIS. Focus On Children In Separation. Sadly, that hasn’t been the case in the demise of my union. It has been an icy exchange. Something embedded with vengeance. Something VERY hard to deal with.

Before I go any further, let me make it very clear that I have no clue what I’m doing. That I’m making tons of mistakes. I am emotionally screwed right now. I have no idea how to have friendships, family ties, interactions with the adult species. The epitome of my understanding is with that of a three year old (my son) and even then…I get lost sometimes and just wish he would understand that I want to cry, to hide, to fade and not deal with the agony of breathing. But he will not understand my pain. He shouldn’t have to. He didn’t choose this. He sure as shit didn’t choose me.

During that FOCIS class, the instructor went over the 5 stages of grief, first really introduced by Elsabeth Kubler-Ross in her 1969 book “On Death and Dying.”

  1. Denial and Isolation
  2. Anger
  3. Bargaining
  4. Depression/Guilt
  5. Acceptance

According to the instructor, the journey through these stages…on average…can be between 18 months and 4 years. 4 YEARS!!!! I slip into each one of these stages, depending on the day.

I have isolated myself despite playing the open book. I have walked away from friendships without so much as a tear. Because these people will leave sooner or later. It always happens. It always will happen. So fuck it. There is no use in holding on to people who will throw me away like garbage.

I become so angry, it’s sickening. I hate people who are happy. I hate people who complain about petty shit. I hate people who have it all figured out. I hate people who have no emotional understanding. I hate people who assume I should just deal. I hate people who pass judgement on my every fucking move. I hate people who think, for one second, they could deal with this pain. I hate people who have never been single a day in their adult life telling me to not feel completely lost. I hate people who have no courage to be alone telling me to stay strong…ALONE. I hate people who use that bullshit line, “you think you’re the only one in the world who…” No shit I’m not the only one going through shit. But I’m living my life. Is a rape victim supposed to think, “well, someone else went through this and worse so I should just get over it.” UM, NO! I hate the bullshit optimism and then the continuous “whatever” mentality when everything doesn’t go as fucking wonderfully as you’ve tried to convince me it would. You were wrong. Accept it. Admit that being a part of my life was a mistake and walk away. I’m giving you the option. Because I hate, more than anything, anyone who will stay in my life and is miserable because of that connection. Just walk.

I have bargained. I will do anything. I will die if it means peace for my son. For people around me. I will shut up and take it. I will forget. I will forgive. I will pretend to be happy when I’m not. I will do whatever…if only…

I have fallen into depression. I feel guilt every fucking day for existing. For just being alive. Wouldn’t people be so much better off if I were gone? Wouldn’t they all just be happier if I never existed? I have cried myself to sleep and screamed to a God I don’t believe in. I have begged for mercy. I have prayed on the phone. I have called hotlines. I have puked out the remnants of an empty bottle. I have lost myself in the pure feeling of being a mistake. I have been ashamed of my feelings because I have a child and I should never think of my own end. What kind of mother am I if I don’t want to jump out of bed every day to look at my beautiful boy? I feel guilt that he got such a pathetic ass excuse of a mother as me. I feel guilt that I am not better. That I don’t even know how to be better.

Acceptance is supposed to be that one when things make sense and there is a sense of peace and clarity. But in my acceptance, I have come to an understanding that none of this pain will EVER go away. My life is meant to be shit. And it will never change. It will always be this hard. It will always be this dark. It will always hurt this much.

Feel free to have a rolling of the eyes session, a “this bitch swears” moment…I seriously don’t fucking care. These are my emotions. These are my thoughts. This is my life. It is not and does not have to be a part of yours.

In all honesty, there is only ONE thing I am certain about…just one…but it is the most important thing for me to know – I love my son. I love my baby boy with every ounce of my being. I do not care if not one single person on this planet cares about me as long as my son knows I love him and I live ONLY for him.

In all honesty, my son is the ONLY thing I’ve done right in my life. The ONLY thing I am proud to be a part of. The ONLY reason I have the tiniest glimmer of hope in my heart that this life can be beautiful. As hard as the days get, I know this life has possibility…for happiness, for love, for laughter, for growth, for beauty…ONLY because he is in it.

I am a flawed human being. I am struggling to find peace in this battle. I am lost, scared, uncertain, feeling broken…

BUT I am willing to continue my journey, no matter what, because my son will always know I kept going…despite it all…FOR HIM. Here’s to healing, to growing, to figuring me out. To fixing me. One stage at a time.

2.27. Chambers

The simplicity of knowing skin is tiring…boring…undesirable. 

The complexity of knowing a mind is foreign and quickly weighing on a stone heart. 

A mix between hopelessness and hopeful prayers.

For something that will prove everything she ever believed to be wrong. 

For a glimmer.

A spark.

An ember. 

But fire cannot live and thrive from stone. 

From the cold caverns of a heart forgotten. 

2.4. Sacrifice

Love eludes me

Escapes my grasps

Never close enough to be touched

Felt beneath the surface.

 

There should be pain in this loneliness

but the universe knows.

Because love is toxic to the muse.

Kills the desire to give

Taking all of the fuel meant for the page.

 

I’d rather never know

if it means

the pages will multiply.

1.175 – When You Are Happy

When you are sad, I will swim with you in an ocean of tears and become your life jacket when you are ready to let go of the feeling.

I will listen with an open heart..an open mind and hold your hand through every storm. 

When you are cold, I will become the fire that heats you…embers gifting you with a warmth to remind you that you are never alone.

I will cast away all shivers of doubt and worry with a blaze of assurance at a moments notice. 

When you are sick, I will make you the foods that fulfill your soul, play melodies that will morph into blankets of healing, and sing sunshine back into your frail little body. 

When you are lonely, I will appear in the twinkle of the stars, the sway of the leaves and the blossoming of every flower. Every raindrop will be a kiss from me to you and every tick of a clock will be my I love you. 

When you are afraid, I will slay every monster and capture every dragon. You will live atop a mountain of safety as I shatter the glass of darkness, turmoil and pain of this world. Glass you will never have to touch. 

When you are tired, I will lay down a thousand and one bedtime stories of your happiness, your love, your growth and triumphs. You will lay upon the stories of joy and wonder and fall into dreams of hope. 

When you are grumpy, I will do all the silly little things that make you giggle and tickle you until you hit the highest pitch of laughter known to man. 

I will shower you in jelly belly droplets and strawberry shortcake swirls, in fruit punches and sun kisses. 

When you are lost, I will shine upon you the radiant beam of the moon, to find you in the darkest hour. Whether a lifetime away or simply two feet…whether you are unfound or just feeling unseen…I will hold you in my heart and cast love and light upon your name. 

I will dim the light when you do not want to be found, though I will never turn my back, I will give you the space and time you need. 

When you are happy…oh when you are happy. I will bask in the glow of your joy and relish in the wonder of your smile. I will count my lucky stars for having the opportunity to be your mother and thank my lucky stars that you chose me. Saved me. Taught me what love means. 

When you are happy.

Inspired by When You Are Happy by Eileen Spinelli.

1.155 – Yep, She Said Abstinence

Does abstinence have to equal loneliness?

This is the question at hand for the evening. In my current life situation, I am in no place to deal with any sort of physical encounters. That’s just being honest about things. Encounters of the flesh simply complicate matters and if my life isn’t complicated enough as it is…just trust me – it is. So no need to add fuel to the fire, right?

I’m also going through some deeper spiritual considerations. Religion – not quite. Spiritual Soul Searching – Yes. With that in mind, it’s not exactly a prime time to fog my world with lustful acts, thoughts or encounters. If I’m really putting all of this into consideration, I need to do so genuinely and with a clear perspective.

Now trust, I don’t have guys banging on my door. Ugly duckling syndrome makes that a non-factor BUT that doesn’t mean I don’t wonder. About the future. About relationships. About connections. About the possibility of meeting someone that makes me want to love again. Even not so pretty girls get lucky sometimes.

And what happens IF that does occur. I’m in that “I want to hold hands, cuddle and kiss” phase. Meanwhile, guys my age want sex. Or the promise of sex. But what if that’s something I can’t give. Not because I don’t want to. But if I do become serious about this spiritual journey…I have to pursue it with my whole heart. And that includes no sex.

I no longer believe in the union of marriage. Not for everyone. I just don’t think I am meant to know that type of relationship…in any way. Yes, I sound like the typical scorned woman getting ready to do the divorce dance. But I genuinely feel like it’s just not meant for me. But if that’s the case, and sex outside of marriage is something that will disrupt my spiritual growth…does that mean I’m meant to be without companionship of any kind forever?

Intimacy doesn’t necessarily mean sex but what guy…at 28…wants to JUST cuddle, JUST kiss, JUST hold hands? Virginal boys who want to marry…maybe. But I can’t give that end result either. Do I think anyone can change my mind? Not even a little.

This whole spiritual situation is fucking with my head far more than I can explain. I don’t expect anyone to understand any of the above. It’s just a rambling session from a girl that doesn’t want to be alone forever but also from a girl that wants to know she is more than just a body to be had. I want that part in the middle. And I want someone to savor that part with me without expectation of the next step. I want patience.

I want something I may never have.

Fuck me running.

1.140 – All The Things You Said

Someone’s playing the piano somewhere but I can’t hear the beauty of the art because you’re screaming again.

I disown you. You aren’t mine anymore.

Someone’s painting a masterpiece somewhere but I can’t see the smooth strokes of possibility because you’re screaming again.

No one will ever love you. No one wants you. You’re going to be alone. 

Someone’s singing a melody of hope wrapped in vines of tranquility and I can’t quite understand the words because you’re screaming again.

Why don’t you just kill yourself already.

Someone’s knocking at the door…convinced they can save me but I won’t open it because you’re screaming again.

All I can feel are the daggers of 10,268 days, 246,408 hours, 887,068,800 seconds. Of every living, breathing moment I didn’t choose to have…and yet, I’m still here…despite your screaming.

I wish you were never born. 

Some days, I feel the same way. I’d put on the headphones to stifle the sound, the gut-wrenching echoes of your vocal attacks but such things cannot kill the scars that fester in my mind.

1.135 – Blind Sight

Can you see me?

Hidden behind the masquerade of “I know what I’m doing,”

Underneath the layers of “What the fuck you looking at?”

I’m the most confident self-esteem deficient individual you will ever meet

The loudest shy girl you will ever know

And the angriest happy bitch this side of ‘who the hell cares.’

If only to find a blind man

To see me for what I want him to see 

Versus the damaged goods I truly am.

She’s that emo chick stuck somewhere in the middle of trying to forget who she was, hating who she is and wishing she could fast forward and be the girl she always dreamed in dreams beneath stained sheets surrounded by sirens and falling plaster in the gutter.

She’s that sorry chick hoping for tomorrow but stricken with fear because tomorrow always brings phone calls, which equate to death, and she can’t take another loss right about now.

She’s that vibrant chick that snuffs out her own light before the glances begin because it’s easier to believe that this is all a chose instead of what it really is.

She’s that pissed off chick that hates with all of her heart and all of her soul and all of her every breath because hate is justified and hate is her religion and hate is her God and hate has gotten her this far and hate is all she knows and hate is what she was born from and hate is how she will die.

She’s that dumb chick that can pretend she’s smart because she knows how to read people and manipulate them into divulging what they want to hear without uttering a word.

She’s that riding solo type of chick that pushes until their aint nothing left to push and the wind blows away all of her tears that no one can see because no one stuck around.

Can you see me?

Hidden behind the masquerade of “I know what I’m doing,”

Underneath the layers of “What the fuck you looking at?”

I’m the most confident self-esteem deficient individual you will ever meet

The loudest shy girl you will ever know

And the angriest happy bitch this side of ‘who the hell cares.’

If only to find a blind man

To see me for what I want him to see 

Versus the damaged goods I truly am. 

1.112 – My Loves Contract

In order to be myself…I am willing to be by myself

I will not claim perfection but relish in the beauty that is my chaotic mind, heart, and soul.

I will not stifle my words, emotions, thoughts for the sake of fitting in.

I will not tread lightly to fit any gender roles.

I will grow towards the sun.

I will rest beside the moon.

I will not give of myself physically for the sole sake of pleasing another.

I will not fake a smile, a tear, an orgasm, a laugh for the sake of anyone’s ego.

I will not be fooled to believe that every love story is a long story.

I will not settle for a punchline.

I will love with my whole heart when it is deserved.

I will not let everyone behind my walls.

I will not hold anyone captive within the walls.

I will not say what needs to be said just to “play the game.”

I will not treat anyone like a predator.

I will not be anyone’s prey.

I will not pretend to care when I don’t.

I will not pretend to not care when I do.

I will indulge in a kiss like it’s the first time.

I will not waste away my years trying to fill anyone’s voids.

I will not be a walking tomb.

I will never replace/become “her.”

I will allow vulnerability to overshadow my fears.

I will be honest about my insecurities.

I will not let them haunt me.

I will be myself.

I will be alone.

I will be okay.

I will sign on the dotted line.

X…………………………

1.96 – Fighting The Good Fight

At face value, she is a drama queen.

Cowering in the corner, she is a shattered dream.

Like anyone else, I have bad days. Unlike everybody else, I have extremely dark bad days. This is not to say I’m the only one. This is to say, there are normal people who don’t think their light is snuffed out because of hard times.

And yet, this is how my brain works. A small stress is just an ember, growing on a dry patch of grass, engulfing trees and landscape, wreaking havoc upon every possible dream and stamping a big fat, emblazoned failure sign in the darkness. One worry is stacked along with many until a house of cards comes tumbling down and I feel like I’m drowning. Drowning in a pool of confusion, self-annihilation and full blown panic attacks.

I cant remember the first time I had one. I thought everyone felt the way I felt when they were scared. Until these attacks happened when I was not in danger, when things weren’t so bad, when no harm was close. Palms sweating, my heart racing, tears overflowing, head spinning, and the inability to breathe…I am a wreck. I can only describe it as an emotional ocean that sucks you under and you suddenly forgot how to swim against the tide. That part of you gets stuck on stupid and you’re helpless physically, though mentally you’re screaming bloody fucking murder because you don’t want to lay down and die.

Before yesterday, the last time I’d had one was the day my father died. And that shit was expected…the attack..not the death. Yesterday, on the other hand – was just a wave of sudden grief. Everything looks bleak, the sun isn’t going to shine and I’ve plummeted to my lowest low. There really is no rescuing me in this dark space. Because my brain has all of the answers…even though it’s wrong.

In that panic, I am the ugliest, poorest, most worthless excuse of a mother. I am a sorry excuse of a woman. I am a failure as a human being. A waste of space.

And then I am on land again. And I recognize that I still feel those dark feelings but I have the strength to battle each demon like a knight with a sword…sent to slay the unslayable dragon. I don’t think unslayable is a word…I don’t give two shits, quite frankly. It is now.

The panic steals my air. The dragon rests its unforgiving claws against my windpipes and I struggle, with tears in my eyes and my sons name at my lips. Because he’s my reason to fight the beasts. The darkness. The demons. The hell that lay in the corners of my mind.

I probably sound like I’m batty as all hell. I’m not. I’m living proof that ignoring things for a sense of pride, in childhood, is pointless. Because some of us are just born differently, mentally. Some of us have distorted images of ourselves. Some of us struggle to feel less alien and more like the world. Some of us pop a pill and talk out our problems and still fear the dark. Some of us fight attacks and episodes. Some of us cringe when people make bi-polar jokes. Because we know you’d only laugh. Because you think we are fucking nuts. Because you think we want to be this way. And some of us just don’t give a fuck anymore who understands us. Not all of us want empathy, sympathy, pity.

Some of us just want to slay the dragon. To protect our kin from the demons that danced with our limp bodies. To negate the cycle from repeating itself. To stop pretending that if we don’t talk about it, it will go away. Because it won’t. It is the bear that hibernates. It is the beast the lurks with patience. It is the monster that we continuously turn our heads to look out for. It is the scar upon our souls. It is the damage that was done…the wound that will not heal…no matter how many band-aids the world wants to slap on the hideous reminder.

The panic attacks used to scare me. Now, they just remind me that I’m still alive. I will push away those who I feel will not understand. I hide from those who will shun me. I fake the smile for those I hope wont. I used to say I wished my battle was like Cancer because then people would understand and not assume it was all an exaggeration. But I don’t need people to understand in order to fight the good fight. I just need to remind myself that I now have the best damned reason to continue the battle – my boy.

My son keeps me alive.