No more weak, no more speaking fucking meek, I know what I need.
I need ME to stop being a pussy and find my cheetah: direct, confident, and fast as lightning when chasing what it wants to eat for sustenance, for brain candy.
I’m taking back my control to reestablish connection with my soul…Even drowning, I want to be able to dance a groove on the ocean floor!
Control. I will own my control. A wheeled wonder woman ready to pave my own road, that’s what I want to be.
Sitting on your wall, I call. Music bopping, tail feathers hopping, beaks bobbing. Alone, stimulated and invigorated, eyes glowing in the blue aura you left in my mind, I search for you in the sky, a friend flying by, willing to stop for a dancing flutter or a joke, or maybe a quick poke…
Sunday Vibe
This is a true story now:
My last concert this year was G Love, who I adore. Instead of a necklace for my 50th bday, I chose to get VIP passes for his Meet-n-Greet in Michigan. Instead of chilling with me when we got to the hotel, my other went Frisbee golfing. Moods were good. Then, the wait…we were us that night. Me leaving him to go take weird pictures as he never looked up from his phone, great pre-show where I asked too many questions, then he was pretty much done. I left, went in my van, and listened to “Sweet Spot” took my hits, and went back smiling. By mid-show he went outside and I stayed by myself until after I told G Love thanks and good-bye. I happened to choose the spot right by where his wife and family were, and it was so touching to see how a husband and wife should treat each other.
I’m thankful that I had you to help me through feeling so happy and so sad.
A heart walled in by bars staked down to my gut and piercing me when I talk…that’s what my pain has done with time. A full-time job to upkeep, but only sleep solicits a sense of lovely peace from a brain that hates, a load of loathe that I can’t escape.
I want to be different. I want to embrace glowing! I swallow hard that feeling.
I’m always trying to find a way out…out of my brain, out of my house, out of my marriage, out…out…out DAMN spot! Out past demons that retain too much control! I rule my life!
Pure truth, that’s what I give now, the painful kind, the kind that rules my mind, telling me I’m full of shit to think this is going to get better, it’s over.
I want more than that in this life.
In theory if someone is there, you are not alone. Technically, I have a pair, yet merely an occasional sharing of ideas, of air.
I need more than that in this life.
I don’t come in anger, but desperation, searching for a way to maintain my daily motivation, knowing I stopped feeling anything.
I want what’s not mine, the dream.
However, I fear my favorite distraction, my secret dream needs not my thoughts in his world, full enough without some stupid fucking fan-girl.
Then, I imagine blues as clear as sky and fly high.
when things are missing or moved, if something is not done right, an ask for a bit of help, a word of advice, honestly, a word of any kind seems to earn a look
— trouble-shots of disgust —
I used to get an apology when he acted like a dick, now I just have a dick I never want to play with, and for fuck’s sake, I’m pretty desperate.
You tell me…after spending the day in bed from a hang over, then slamming a bowl of chicken down and spitefully spitting, “I haven’t eaten in two days and this is dinner?”
He didn’t remember finishing off the pasta dish I took to the party before he went to bed at 7:00. I told him that softly and took care of the kid.
He went back to bed.
I’m here wondering if he’s actually irritated I’m not backing down, not crying, not caring anymore. I’m doing everything the same, except I’m not home all the time to be his maid, I haven’t been treating him enough like a king.
I loathe that expectation.
My dad taught me a man wants to be treated like a king. After 20 years, I created a monster of expectations and disappointments.
I spent the last two hours cooking and cleaning, thinking about how I can escape tonight, where can I fly when it’s my time to feel something magical…but he killed it, reminding me right now I’m stuck in this reality.
I’m a Woman
Last week’s music league entry.
(FYI: Publishing this for 24 hours helps my brain deal with the fact that I’m not this, I’m not someone who shares marriage baggage until I can’t get past a new scar that opens an old wound…wish I could find some other way to deal, but as Popeye always says, “I am what I am and that’s all that I am.”;)
Twenty years ago, for almost ten, when anxiety got the best of me, his presence brought a sense of safety, security that he’d never leave me. Time made jade a dark daily demeanor with an insipid tone and harsh evaluation of every word I say, every single thing I do. A decade of me feeing dead (except for my kids), ten years of “fuck hope” because Netflix limited series lineup got me fine with laying alone in bed, ten fucking years of ugly I carried inside, wondering, Am I really here? Am I breathing?
Upon a Transcendental moment, the light beamed so bright, it flowed from my eyes changing my sight.
Now, I own a power I don’t understand yet, a perspective differing from my own…
YES, outside the one he’s been able to control.
I’m empowered to take on his many ‘big dick days’ with something beautiful instead of hating myself for being myself, which obviously is someone he doesn’t like.
I want to be fair, but after 20 years, I experienced it all many, many times before, nothing is new. Even though his physical body is here every day after work, he does not participate, with the exception of the occasional short moments of loving on the kids.
I’m a burden, but expected to be warm.
Days like this, I’m glad I have my blog because he really hurt me today and I just want to run away.
I found a moment of magic along the sunset walk with my son. While he played, I watched as the lyrics singing in my brain bloomed a rose on a mushroom head.
“Inside the Heart a Hidden Language”Undiscovered County
“Inside the heart a book of matches.”
(Gratitude streams flow through my soul for the wizard who helped me find my own life-light out of the deadest darkness. I’m stronger.)
Trying to erase this doesn’t ease the pain of what is next, so I am putting it back up as a reminder that I do have fucking strength if I’d just allow myself to speak…
I wish I could handle conflict instead of literally hiding from it in my closet pretending to organize the chaos I’m in. No one knows, no one sees the battle raging in me.
I don’t reside here. I’m just preparing. Where is my voice? Why can’t I speak? Why can’t I just be ok living this way? Empty. Despite how I try to fill my space with a positive state of mind, I feel like I’m here just to watch until I die.
I refuse that fucking life. I sware I’ll keep practicing and getting stronger and one day I’ll do it. I’ll stand up for myself and find the voice of my authentic self.
Until then…I’ll just keep incessantly cleaning, my only form of control in my upside-down world.
Eyes Don’t Lie
This struck my chord as I sniff sweet coffee steam, the storm beating down on me and the roof over my head, lightning behind my eyes, shocking my brain to the truth of why I can’t help but feel insane.
As I drove to help at my daughter’s work again, I realized I was singing, not staring absent or crying over a complex situation, no I felt like singing!
In an instant, fully cognizant of the difference in my temperament, I asked myself, Why? What’s different this morning from yesterday’s?
And I remembered how I fell asleep last night, relishing every frame of him singing until my eyes fell into my brain’s serenity (held within my phone’s screen).
Every day is the same for me.
I cherish his face, the way he moves his mouth…funniest thing ever is since I can remember, I had dreams of teeth, so not kidding, and the most hilarious part of yearning for this particular man is that I have literally had dreams about his mouth since childhood, lol!
How silly right!?! No one knows, it’s just a secret hidden deep in my heart without any point or purpose except to me. I swear, I couldn’t make this shit up.
I’m starting to have nightly panic attacks unfortunately. No one knows that either. I wonder why I cry, like letting out the pain of my hub killing hope will help me cope. What a joke.
I sware that other of mine is going to ruin G Love’s show for me (tried the first time I saw him in the Rockies, tried to ruin Billy Strings, and was a dick before (and I slept alone in the hotel room after) ALO too).
He makes the great in life taste…less sweet.
Tonight, right now, with love guiding my sail, I will eat another man’s sweet, and I do not feel guilty. I’ll protect my heart, keep doing it alone, talking to myself, touching myself with images of us that pop up hot…
A clandestine transgression of fulfillment, wishes washing my soul into an awakening, my wish every evening.
My days with him helping me through each end, then, begin like this…
Hopelessly Inappropriate Thoughts 