Dark shadows be damned, this morning as a block party began, I didn’t think I could muster the courage to go, so I asked myself, If he could, what do you think he would’ve said???
And I held his power tight, my mind ready to do that party right! And I rocked the night (a gummy helper to keep my anxiety bugs outta sight;) chatting with a political candidate and his beautiful Guatemalan wife, I mended beloved bridges I destroyed with old friends.
I used a little bit of latent moxie, and I’m triumphant! I made a positive memory!!! In the world of anxiety and PTSD, triggers are negativity grown like brain-weeds, strangling reality, so good memories mean more than gold, so precious that life without them is madness.
With my other sleeping until his hangover, tonight I’m happy cleaning alone, listening to my favorite album, dancing when no one sees, relishing my tiny success story, waiting to warm up my dreams with a lullaby, eyes dropping to us dancing cheek-to-cheek as I fall asleep.
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.
With the momentum of being shot out of a cannon, I soared into the clouds, into the stars, hung onto the moon for a flip, a laughing dodo flying to fall when gravity threw me to splat on my ass in the same place as if I never left, a rock in my throat that makes me choke: I will never feel that high again.
I don’t believe it when I twist and manipulate and manifest beauty into something I want, then cry when obviously I knew in my heart that I could never have possibly possessed that kind of beauty anyway, you know, the kind of connection that calms me down, a shine of warmth when the darkness takes control.
I don’t know…I don’t know why, but I’m so sad at my loss of the one who gives flight to my soul. A flower barred from the garden, at the entrance I spread my petals as they fall, yearning for the one to knock on my door. (A ridiculous alternate reality I love to get lost in;)
Dear Muse: I eat your words, brain food that packs a punch, nourishment for life I need to get by, an inspiration encouraging motivation…Oh, the voice that calms the pain in my daily routine is priceless to me! I wish I could give something back.
Does love from someone you don’t know mean anything?
(The question cracks me up, honestly, sure he’d find it creepy, lol.
Here and now, I admit that controlling my inappropriate impulsivity is challenging, especially when it’s such lovely fun to escape. I’ve had an epiphany over the last few days as that insane crave grew into a monster, and I allowed myself to practice taking off my armor.
Naked and vulnerable, I hope to share unabashedly in the future because that’s how I find lately that I heal.)
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 