Tuesday, August 02, 2011

and so it goes


We spent 10 days traveling, relaxing, and adventuring in Central America. It went well with only a few minor glitches. We had discussions, good ones, healthy ones, with openness and honesty. Did it always feel good? No way. And we had two spats that were hurtful but we handled them differently and it worked. No lasting hard feelings, no tears, no sleepless nights.

Now we are back in reality. The fantasy was fun but now the hard stuff resumes. I don't know what will happen but I have hope and he has hope. This is positive.

And work may be picking up again (for us both). And I have hope and he has hope This is positive.

And this is all good.

You have served me well.  Thank you.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

the end is near

I know the last time I thought this my world crumbled. I am thinking it again only this time my world won't crash. Things are going well with us.  That does not mean that this reconnection is easy. It is anything but. But I have hope and he has hope. We have more than hope; we have confidence. So I am going to turn my energies toward healing and moving forward.

It is time for a new blog or new venture. This blog has served me well.

Oh, what about therapy? It shall continue with some SE touch work. Dr. B and I agree that maybe now I will be able to do this without the painful consequences. Remember way back when?

Thursday, July 07, 2011

life's looking up...

Heck, Casey Anthony is free. The weather is in the 90's with high humidity. My boss's mother-in-law was found dead in her chair at the nursing home by her daughter. And my poison ivy hasn't gone away yet.

So, I will stop complaining. Life with him is moving along in the right direction. He's kind and loving and affectionate and transparent (I hope). I have attempted to slow the desire to spend my every waking moment outside of work with him. Why? Because when I am away from him nasty thoughts infiltrate my mind and body and I feel hurt and angry. Oh yes, that is normal but I don't want it. It does nothing positive.

So I have been forcing myself to spend some alone time with myself so that I can heal the wounds and not just hide from the pain in the comfort of his arms. I want to enjoy my time with him and it has been a little rough at times. Last Saturday night I had a meltdown and he didn't know what to do. I just sobbed and he felt so guilty he just wanted to run away and hide. I didn't let him and he put aside his guilt and discomfort and eased my suffering.

He's trying...that's all I can say.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

taking possession

I wandered off my path in therapy. I started therapy with Dr. B however many years ago to find a way to integrate my parts and become "whole."  And that's what I primarily worked on - trauma healing to become whole - until the end of last year when other life stuff veered me off my course. This 'life' stuff was important but lately, I was beginning to feel that therapy was more of a chat time than a healing time and although I am more 'whole' than I have ever felt in my entire life, I don't think I'm quite done.

So, I told Dr. B last night that I need to get back on course to finish my work. "I feel so different," I told her. "I look at life in a whole new way; I feel positive and lighter, and more complete. I just feel better." She smiled and said that I was so much better. "Look at the boundaries you have just recently set!" Another miracle, I'm sure.

"I'm not really sure how I got here. I talk to you; I cry to you; I complain to you and then you ask me to sit quietly and feel what's going on inside my body." And I've been doing this for several years and I feel better but I don't know how it works. She has explained to me how it works - somatic experiencing - but it's still not easy to fathom. It feels like it should be more, more painful, more devastating, more suffering. Maybe I have just forgotton.

Time was up and she isn't one to run over. "If I were to sum it up in one sentence," she pondered. "Hmmm...I would say, 'you took possession of yourself.'"

I like that. Maybe I took back possession of myself but I'm not so sure I ever had possession.

Monday, June 27, 2011

favorable outlook

Okay, so we spent a -- hmmm...how to describe our weekend together. It was intimate (and it didn't involve sex); it was emotional, it was healing, it was gentle, it was, at times, normal, it was slow and quiet. And most definitely it was loving.

And exhausting, and a roller coaster of emotions for me when we were apart. I still cannot reconcile what happened between us. I listen to him; I feel him. He's filled with sorrow and remorse and hurt over his life, especially the last seven years or so. He wants to bury his head in a project and not deal with the uncomfortable emotions that erupt. But that doesn't work anymore and he doesn't quite get it. I encourage him to embrace his feelings, accept them, and allow himself the time and space to heal them. For two decades I watched him distract himself from his emotions with work. He is trying. It is exhausting.

Friday, June 24, 2011

An email subject line read, "data breach quiz" and I thought it was "breakup quiz."

I had a strained day yesterday which left me heavyhearted. I was as dismal inside as the weather was outside. I worked my evening job but spent much of the time distracted and impatient (and I need oodles of patience at this job). The woman I worked for detected my angst and tried to stay focused but it was difficult for us both.

I came home, crammed food into my mouth and then crammed some more, without waiting for that internal signal to tell me I was full. I checked my emails and was in bed before 10 p.m. I just couldn't deal with any residue from my day. It all ended with a fitful sleep wracked by unpleasant, anxious dreams.

Things with him have been progressing gently, with lots of love, compassion, and forgiveness.  Believe me, it is NOT easy. It is easy to love him, it is easy to be loved by him, it is even easy to forgive him...but it is not easy to erase the hurt of his betrayal.  I look at something and I think, "did he purchase this for their home?" I find myself asking him just that and then I regret it. It is not whether he tells me 'yes' or 'no', it is the sadness that surfaces - it is the fact that the question always lies in wait. I try very hard to let go. I have a much better understanding of what went down the last seven or so years and I have sympathy and tenderness toward him. He hurts, more than me. It's genuine and it's painful to watch and feel.

It is still a very confusing place to be. Why do I love this man so completely when his betrayal was so absolute? I don't harbor much anger toward him at all; he has enough contempt for the both of us. Yesterday there was an edginess to his voice; he tried in vain to keep the love and gentleness in his conversations with me.  The words were there but so was the edge of anger and frustration. Not at me, I'm sure. It was with himself and how he chose to live his life.

But it unnerved me.

Friday, June 17, 2011

is an eruption inevitable?

I sure hope not but sometimes I am overwhelmed with a feeling that all this love and compassion and forgiveness will evaporate and what will emerge will be a deluge of bad feelings - an eruption of anger and sadness that will choke me and leave me gasping for breath in some miserable reality.

But I don't believe that. It is fear talking. I look at him and I can feel truth and sincerity in his words and actions. I have always felt love but it was never pure. I sensed the secrets and the lies. I just didn't know what they were. I don't experience that anymore.

I believe he is sincere. Time, I suppose, and his actions toward me and with me, will heal my wounds and mistrust. Unfortunately it doesn't happen overnight. But it seems to be happening quickly.

I don't feel any volcanic rumblings in my gut. I don't feel any angry anguish in my heart.

I think (and I pray) that this will work out and I will be okay.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

the glimmer of hope is shining brighter

I must tell you that I really had no idea where our relationship was headed. He wouldn't move out of his girlfriend's house and I was suffering from a monumental betrayal. We both wanted and hoped to be able to patch things up and move beyond all the hurt. Was it possible? How strong was our love? It is a daunting task.

I had little hope that he would be able to be the man I once loved. Actually I wanted more than what I settled for in the past. He had little hope that I would be able to forgive him. We are both working hard to change the very nature of our relationship and we are different people than we were.

Bottom line? I have hope; real hope. All of this, all of this love I feel, is nothing short of a miracle and I can certainly appreciate and cherish any miracles that come my way.

It feels like a new beginning. It's strange that on the flip side of something so devastating and traumatic, something so beautiful and loving can emerge.

Together we are the lotus flower growing up out of the mud and into a beautiful blossom.

I know it's corny but it's how I feel right now.

Tuesday, June 07, 2011

pending confessions

I spoke to my girlfriend on the opposite coast yesterday and told her I needed to talk to her about something that had happened in my life but I was afraid that she would be too judgemental. She promised she would keep an open mind. She knew something was going on between the two of us because I never mention his name anymore. I said an affair would have been simple. She asked if our relationship was a done deal. I told her no and that we both hoped that it wasn't but time would tell if we can actually mend the wounds.

I need to talk to someone about what is going on but I need someone who will be supportive and not call me a fucking asshole.

You were beautiful then but you are way more beautiful now -- James Maddock

I believe in love.

Monday, June 06, 2011

abuse is alive and well

Maybe not in my life but definitely in the lives of those I love. I learned some very disturbing information about him this weekend and I must tell you, it makes me physically ill. It has interrupted my sleep, my stability and just makes me want to cry.

What is it you might ask? When he decided to move in with his girlfriend six years ago, he stepped right into an emotionally abusive relationship which began almost immediately. You might say to me, oh that is such bullshit - he's just handing you another lie. But I don't think so. You didn't see the look in his eyes; you didn't see his slumped over shoulders as he told me this stuff; you didn't see the shame and hurt in his face; you didn't hear the excuses he made to justify her actions; you didn't hear the self-loathing in his voice; and you didn't feel his fear and insecurity of having to go back to that house.

He has used these words - lambasted, chastised, berated, bloody screaming matches, bullied -- consistently, every 7-10 days for all those years, out of the blue, unprovoked verbal attacks on him; thrusted middle finger in his face all the time.

He was an adult. She was too. They merged their lives and formed an abusive, dysfunctional relationship. I sat on the outskirts knowing things were out of sync and deeply troubled but I didn't understand why. He was traumatized and he lied to me about everything. He was terrified of losing me and at the same time felt condemned to this life of abuse because his actions had already caused the inevitable loss.

It's very sad.

Saturday, June 04, 2011

sex sex sex

I asked him today, "If sex with me was so great, why did you want to have sex with someone else?" Without even turning his head to look at me, he responded, "I didn't."

But you did. No, I didn't. You didn't what -- have sex with someone else? But you did. I didn't want to. Then why did you?

He didn't answer. I asked again, "Why did you?"

"I don't know but I didn't want to."

Because in order to have a relationship with her and move into her house, you had to have a sexual relationship?

"I suppose so."

Didn't you have sex before you were pressured to move into her house?

"I can't talk about this anymore."

No, I suppose not. I didn't want to talk about it anymore either. It is pointless and it achieves nothing but upset for us both. It happened - there's no denial at least.

Friday, June 03, 2011

what is reality?

Is life with him really going to heal and get better? I don't mean to be a skeptic but now as we are rounding the corner to the possibility of a new life together, I am having an emotional meltdown and a crushing lack of confidence in our abilities to heal. I didn't sleep last night. My anxiety levels have skyrocketed. I keep waiting for the devastating blow - to be brought to my knees with the revelation that he isn't capable of loving me in a way that is good for me. Yes, he loves me but it has to serve him first and foremost. He screwed me over and I'm nursing him back to health. Why? Because I love him and because I know in his heart he loves me. But can he love me really? He swears he can and will. I hope so. My trepidation hurts my digestive track.

So with that I'm off to take care of my upset tummy.

And maybe take a nap while sitting on the bowl (like the good old days). Oh geez.

Thursday, June 02, 2011

Time marchs on

And silence from me means one of two things -- life is too traumatic to write or life is not topsy turvy with unwanted drama. Today, it is the latter. Life is relatively calm; he is finally moving out of his girlfriend's house and we are trying to figure out how we can heal our relationship. He certainly wants to make things right and I would like that as well. Do I trust him? Not so much. Does he give me anxiety? Yes. But I'm not making any snap judgments until he moves into his own place and we see how our relationship evolves and heals. I have had some indications of past behaviors that I do not like seeing but I was able to address these with him in a civilized and even respectful manner. I don't know if he really listened to me or heard me or understood where I was coming from but he said he did so for now, I will trust in that. Only time will tell and I'm not all that willing to give it an endless amount of my life to work through these issues.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011


Things are changing.  What things? Me. And I'm not so sure who I am morphing into but I do believe it is someone better -- someone more confident, self-assured, clearer, calmer, focused.

I went out of town this past weekend and it was different. I set boundaries and limits and coped much better than normal. I'm tired of being insulted, ignored and fucked over.

This a good thing to be tired of. Before I left I spoke to him and got angry. I told him I had enough of his bullshit excuses and continued lies. I told him he should try coming clean with himself. Then I left on my trip. Some movement began - little twitches, I think.

Life is too short to spend it in misery and in the company of miserable people.  That sounds harsh but too much misery can become too much misery to bear.

Friday, May 20, 2011

How am I today?

Oh, this love triangle situation has taken a toll on me. But, of course, it would. What kind of idiot allows herself to stay a part of this sick and dysfunctional situation? I question my own sanity now. I emailed him this morning, after a day yesterday of very passionate and sexual text messages, that this mess he has put us in has got to stop. What I really want is for him to move and give us a chance. Yes, yes, he tells me he is moving. Don't bug me about it. It's almost three months. I guess I am being inpatient. Yeah, right. It's insanity and why I am comfortable with it needs some serious thought. But I'm not comfortable. I'm miserable. Maybe I need to give some thought to why it is okay for me to be so miserable.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

a sinking ship

Hope floats. What does that mean anyway? It was a movie title some years back but not a movie that I ever watched -- starring Sandra Bullock, I believe. Here's the movie quote - Birdie (Bullock) tells her daughter:
"Childhood is what you spend the rest of your life trying to overcome. That's what momma always says. She says that beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it's the middle that counts the most. Try to remember that when you find yourself at a new beginning. Just give hope a chance to float up. And it will, too..."
Okay, so I feel that my relationship is a sinking ship. I thought hope would resurface but so far the weight of the deceit is heavier than the buoyancy of hope.

I asked him if I died suddenly, would he have regrets over how he treats me. His response? A resounding YES. But does that make a difference?

I haven't totally given up that hope may float up.

I don't really want to be on a rapidly sinking ship. If only he would move and give us a chance. If only...

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

another lie floats to the surface

And another arrow pierces my heart. So, I find myself continuously complaining about the fact that he hasn't left his home with his girlfriend, even though he swears he doesn't want to be there. But why does she want him there? If my boyfriend told me he was in love with another woman and has been for two decades, I would not have him around for almost three months. I'm not that kind hearted (and I am quite forgiving).

So the truth emerged and it was a lie. He didn't tell her anything about me. She still loves him and all he said was that it wasn't working out. Probably he said something like I care deeply for you but it's just working out for me. I love you; I'm just not in love with you. Some bullshit, I'm sure.  So, she's hanging on to him and letting him stay and he's playing the lying, crying game.

We are three adults in a very sick triangular relationship. I don't want it.

I think he might have finally pushed me off the cliff. I don't know how to forgive anymore. How much hurt do I have to endure before I give up?

Yes, that is the question. How much longer will I allow him to hurt me?

once a fool, always a fool?

I am beginning to think this is so.

It goes hand-in-hand with once a cheater, always a cheater.

What is love anyway? A sickness? A really controlling, manipulative way of treating someone? Oh, yes, darling, I love you; I want to be with you; I want a future with you - a life with you. I look forward to the day you can spend nights with me and be an intrusion in my life...

His girlfriend called me on Sunday, February 27th. He's still living with her although he told me on Monday, February 28th, he was going to move out right away - 2 1/2 months ago. And I still believe him.

Yes, once a fool; always a fool. So it seems.

Sunday, May 08, 2011

sometimes I just hate him

Some mornings I wake up just hating him. Hating him for the humiliation, the betrayal, the lies, the hurt... oh, I could go on about every lie he told me and there were millions.

I hate him.  That's such a strong word and I don't want to feel hatred but some days, it's just what it is.

And it's a beautiful morning, this mother's day, and my insides are bathed in hate. Sunlight bathes; hatred permeates. My insides are darkened by contempt for the man I love.

I love him. Some days I just don't think I want him. I mean, really, CAN I EVER TRUST HIM?

Saturday, May 07, 2011

I get overwhelmed

Yes, I get overwhelmed. How dreadfully boring I have become. Some days, some moments, sometimes I just get completely overwhelmed with the pain of his betrayal. I try to keep myself busy with thoughts other than him and then one thought or one memory creeps in and everything goes out the window.

Today I went for a 6 mile power walk with my neighbor. We went across the river and walked along the shore path. It was an absolutely gorgeous day outside. As we were leaving the park, I went to show her the upper plateau area, the place he and I had our first sexual encounter. I didn't tell my friend this but I was barely able to maintain the tears. And then I wanted to kill him for hurting me.

But alas, I'm home wearing my new shoes around the house to try to break them in. They felt comfy at first but not any more. They might not work for me but I like them so I'll try. I also bought a new office chair at a tag sale up the street. It is very comfortable.

I sent him an email this morning -- I'm not a never-ending well of patience and understanding, I wrote. Move, I wrote, before there's nothing left to save. Is that an ultimatum? I didn't mean it that way. I was trying to be truthful about how I feel. I just can't subject myself to his weaknesses and inabilities to take control of his life. But then I think, maybe this is what he wants...to stay put and keep me out on a limb.

We shall see.

Friday, May 06, 2011

it's here again

I slept soundly last night, waking up only once at 3:33 a.m. That was after having a rousing sex dream about him. I picked him up at the train last night and drove him to his car. We shared little conversation - he said my car smelled like alcohol (it was the garbage at the station) and I said he smelled like cigarette smoke. We may have exchanged words on one or two other banal topics but that was the intent and we stuck to it.

We arrived at his car less than five minutes later. I asked to meet him because I wanted a hug and I knew he usually enjoys the hugs as well. I think we both needed a hug so he agreed and there we were. Sitting in my car in the mostly abandoned parking lot at dusk. "I want to hug you standing up. I like it better than leaning over the emergency brake for a hug." He agreed. "Let me put my backpack in my car." He got out. I got out. I waited for him to put his backpack in his car. He walked over to where I was standing between the two cars. I reached out toward him for a hug. "No," he said, "not yet. Just stand there please." He has done this to me since I first met him. He likes to look at me. Sometimes it is fine; sometimes, like last night, when I feel disheveled and out of sorts, it is uncomfortable. He wears no expression as he stares at me. He looks into my eyes; he studies me from the top of my head to my toes. After what felt like an eternity but was probably only 60 seconds, he pulled me into an embrace. I breathed him in; I felt his body; we both squeezed each other. He stared off into the distance over my head. I nestled my head into his chest and relaxed for a few moments. I kissed his cheek just as a car pulled into the lot. "I have to go," he said. We let go, turned and walked to our respective driver-side doors. He gave me a little wave; I gave him a little smile and backed out of the lot in front of him.

That was our encounter. I went home and took a power walk with my neighbor and suffered with a major charlie horse in my left calf. I managed to continue the walk but not without significant pain.

His email to me that night said "I love you. I was drinking you in"

Yes, that is what he does.

When I can't deal

When I can't deal, I get hyper. I strike out against the intrusive thoughts and angst I feel with hyper-activity. Today, this morning, I tried to reverse that survival technique with something less frantic. I moved with deliberation and presence of mind. It was a strange. I watched myself chew my food and sip my water. I pressed the numbers on the phone slowly and gently. I took a deep breath before I embarked on my next task. I think what happened was I lived for an hour or so with gentleness. Slow, for me, is being gentle. I didn't pound the phone keys in a rush to make my call. I played a gentle, slow and melodic waltz.

It was a nice (yes, nice) feeling and not an easy one to keep up. I will practice.

Thursday, May 05, 2011

voices in my head

I wrote to him this morning and asked for the truth. I'm not sure he's capable of giving the truth. I told him that I had a troubling night yielding little sleep. I couldn't stop the voices asking all those questions I think I know the answer to but not really sure. Hence, the corresondence to him this morning.

Was I listening to the voices of fear?  Fear of being alone, fear of losing him, fear of finding out that he truly loves another.  Was I listening to the voices reason? Don't be a fool, keep your eyes open, don't be driven by your fears. Was I listening to voices of reality? Come on, pay attention, take the blinders off, look at it for what it is - a major betrayal, years of lies, etc. etc. etc.

I listened to the voices of all. I just hope they weren't the voices of madness.

It's overwhelming.

Wednesday, May 04, 2011

so deep is the hurt

On the surface life is fine, bearable...even a little productive. Of course, I am prone to the occasional rage, especially at my boss (who is a man). It's a shame because most of the time he is innocent of all charges thrown at him. But I'm angry and he does irritate. My mood really has nothing whatsoever to do with him.  He is inconsequential.

On my drive to work this morning I felt this almost unbearable ache in my core. My heart actually hurts, deep inside. I must be harboring the pain in my cells even. I can go through my day mildly functioning, almost normal, but I can't shake the hurt inside, not even for a moment. Heartache and me have become one, not for always I hope.

And then I start to miss him. I want to call him or text him or email him. Instead I question my desire. How do I miss him? Every memory these days is tainted with poison, every memory hurts my already overwhelming anguish. Why do I want him? I think back on all those loving moments we shared and that's what I miss. Oh, there have been plenty of them. And of those plenty of loving moments, many are poisoned by acts of infidelity or lies. It's craziness because, believe it or not, I know that he loves me.

He's got issues ... major, big-time issues ... that have caused me unimaginable grief. Not that I haven't got my own without him. Dr. B said we need to discover what the real underlying historical connection is between us. It's something mighty potent (my words, not hers).

Tuesday, May 03, 2011

what I learned today

Today I learned about addiction. Today I understood why "he" always said he was addicted to me. I never liked it when he said that...addiction is not something complimentary. It's an attraction or desire that is uncontrollable and that harms. Having him tell me he was addicted to me was upsetting. I thought to myself how is loving me an addiction?

Well, today I understood. He had a new life, a new woman, a new home, and he wanted it to work. He wanted to love this other woman and to have a good life with her but he couldn't. He couldn't because he still loved me and he couldn't let me go. So, he lied to both of us. He kept some semblance of the life with her that he believed he wanted and he kept me around on a shoestring. And I allowed it.

He tried to get rid of me but he would change his mind and come back again and again. And I allowed it.

questions and answers

There are just too many questions I don't really want to know the answers to...
  • Is she smarter than me?
  • A better cook?
  • Prettier and skinnier?
  • More creative?
  • Funnier?
  • More interesting to converse with?
  • Nicer home? (that's a given)
  • Stylish dresser?
  • Warmer?
  • More compassionate?
  • More loving?
  • A green thumb?
I have better sex with him. Is that all I have? He couldn't give me up but he can't leave her.

I'm a hurting puppy today.  This is all superficial crap and I don't give a crap what she was or is.

I am who I am and that's pretty darn amazing.  Positive affirmations...YES!!!!

Monday, May 02, 2011


I'm okay. There is a masked layer of anxiety lying in wait just below the surface causing just enough discomfort to remind me that he is not around and won't be until I want him. The thing is, I want him, but I don't want him the way he is. And I don't want him where is. But he won't change (not yet anyway) so I cannot be with him. It's for my sanity.

it just isn't easy

I had a wretched weekend, a miserable misunderstanding, and an emotional meltdown. The result? I wrote a card and told him that I needed a little space to gather myself, get grounded, step away, and calm down. I wrote how much I loathed feeling consumed, at times, with so much anger and hurt. I need breathing room.  That was yesterday morning when I drove him to the train and presented him with my card. He read it and called me during his lunch. We had a good conversation and he understood my feelings. What could he say really?  It is best for us both.

Now, it is 18 hours later and I already feel his absence. It is such a strong connection we have and it's strange to make a purposeful move to extricate myself from this relationship, even on a very temporary basis. I still love him; I still want to heal our relatonship but I know that I can't even begin until he makes the changes he needs to do. Rather than frustrate myself and fall victim to my own explosive breakdowns, I am taking a break.

US forces killed Osama Bin Ladin last night and I found myself first thing this morning texting him about the news. It's natural but then I realized I was taking a break. I still sent it and he replied.

Now I will live with the anger, process the hurt, and hopefully, calm down.

It just ain't easy.

Friday, April 29, 2011

just a bitch

I committed a mortal sin - I asked him why he hasn't moved out yet. I didn't cry but I did sound quietly frustrated and upset. It's going into the third month and he has done little toward ending his relationship and living arrangements with her. I was a bitch and spoke my mind...not really spoke it, wrote it. And now I get to be ignored because I have bothered him and as he tells it "everyone is coming at him from every direction." Well, no dah! You created your nightmare and you are choosing to stay in your nightmare. Why I'm there...I'm not so sure. Maybe I am just as slow as him when it comes to making a change.

Oh, that's a depressing thought but one I should examine. Why am I there? Oh, that's right - it's love. Does that mean I have to be lied to, betrayed, taken advantage of and treated like garbage?

In my family that's probably true. Oh, I guess it's one more thing I need to take corrective action against - being treated like shit. No more physical abuse - CHECK; no more emotional abuse - WORKING ON IT.

I may never get out of therapy.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

What is love?

I never imagined I would quote anything from the Bible, not even loosely. But here it goes:

First Corinthians 13: "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered. It keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."


I ended the session with Dr. B this afternoon by telling her that I was an "amazing woman." Her face broke into a very warm and beaming smile and she said "now that's what I like to hear you say." Yes, that's what I like to believe and I do often now. My perspective is changing and I am looking at my life differently. Oh, the trauma hasn't disappeared and the pain has not evaporated but I realize now how incredibly strong I was to endure and survive what I did. Speaking about my abusive husband #1, I told Dr. B that I didn't walk out into the ocean with my two babies to drown, I protected my children and I left him. That was an internal strength that has been with me all my life. Whatever it is that sits in my core, sits in my childrens' as well. They have suffered untold injuries growing up but they never felt unloved or uncared for and that internal strength that has kept me going for decades is part of them as well.


Wednesday, April 27, 2011

The pendulum has swung back

Oh, ain't mood swings grand?
I took a breath. I ate lunch with a friend. I feel better.

Until therapy at 4:30.

up and now down

I came into work this morning feeling charged and ready to greet the day with optimism and enthusiasm. Then he came into my thoughts - my love for him; my disappointment; my hurt from his betrayal. And my eyes welled up with tears and my stomach knotted up. I wrote him an email which he may or may not read -- same shitty sentiments, different date. But my last line got to me, "You had 10 days off and I got 20 minutes, once. Does that seem fair to you?" That realization made me cry...not just because it was true this time; it's been true every time since he started working there and having those 10 days off. And every year I would cry for him to spend time with me and he had a million excuses, always, but what I didn't know was that he was spending those 10 days off with his new girlfriend in his new home.

No, No, No...I won't go there anymore and cry. He's the shit, not me.

I'm just the fool part way up the hill.  Maybe I need to move to flatter ground.

Promises to myself

I promise to take care of myself - physically, emotionally, spiritually
I promise to minimize the impact on me of the drama of others
I promise to pay attention to my life
I promise not to put the needs of everyone else before my own
I promise not to let "his" issues and lies damage me anymore than they already have
I promise to get my finances in order
I promise to explore activities that I enjoy
I promise to pursue friendships
I promise to love my children and help them heal
I promise to encourage and praise those I love
I promise to lose weight
I promise to laugh out loud
I promise to acknolwedge the blessings in my life
I promise to allow myself joy
I promise to forgive those who hurt me
I promise to overcome my shame
I promise to believe in myself
I promise to let go of my anger
I promise to forgive myself

It seems like way too many promises but really they are just one...
Love myself
and the rest will fall into place.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

who got fucked over the most?

Call me crazy but I don't think it was me. I hurt at the betrayal but I'm not stunned anymore. I'm angry at the betrayal but it's not consuming me anymore. I know I can forgive and I'm certain I will be able one day soon to stop reliving the nightmare of the last six years.

But he can't. He fucked himself over really good. Everyone's angry at him, yelling at him, maybe even hating him. He can't forgive himself or look at himself. He's consumed with self loathing. He doesn't sleep well; he doesn't eat; he is miserable and angry with himself. Should he be? Absolutely. Should his loved ones be angry with him? Absolutely. He was afraid and selfish and desperate and took actions with concern only for himself. He used people who loved him and he lied to everyone, including himself. And he betrayed me, his most loved. It's fucked up, no question.

But I feel empathy and compassion for him. He's not a mean person. He's a weak person. I never realized how fearful he was of life but he is. He took risks and he lost and he blames the world and his parents and his life and he's consumed with all the wrongs that were done to him. Oh, this is all my theory but I suspect I'm not really that far off, if truth were to be discovered. We were both victimized and it's hard when you are no longer young and look back at your failures in life not to blame those that took advantage of you and abused you. We both denied in our ways and we both suffered the consequences. Life was not kind to either of us.

So I understand his feelings of  victimization, desperation and anger. I know right now what is going on is killing him inside. He's living with unbelievable shame and everywhere he turns he is reminded of what he did. Most especially when he looks at me who, despite it all, still loves him and cares for him.  It's a bitch.

I have this anxious ache in the pit of my stomach that he is going to tell me he can't work things out with me. He won't be able to get over himself (again) and move in a positive direction. I write this because he is fragile and weak. He cannot even move and I tend to think it is because he doesn't want to. But really I think he's just too afraid to be alone with  himself in a small apartment where he has to live with the consequences of his actions. Fear is dominating his life . That and the fear of rejection from everyone in his family. But he has lived his life trying to please everyone, commiting to no one, and he's miserable. It's terribly sad.

All these thoughts are what are flowing through my brain this morning. Whether they are true, I have no idea. Whether I will believe them tomorrow, I don't know that either. It's today.

I made a promise to myself (again) that I would not let this nightmarish drama damage my life anymore than it has already done...no matter what ultimately happens with him.

Monday, April 25, 2011

He had a garden

From almost the moment I met him, I found myself telling him how one day I was going to have a garden and grow not only vegetables but beautiful flowers which would grace the tables throughout our home. Oh, such lovely visions I had of us sharing a pot of coffee on the terrace surrounded by a wild eden of gorgeous, colorful, gently scented flowers, vines, bushes and trees.

But, no.  He created his garden and his yard with her, not me. But that was their dream, not mine. I will find someone to share my garden with me...maybe it will just be my faithful dog and the occasional (or frequent) guests. He listens and hey, he never argues with me. Sometimes, he tugs the leash in the other direction but that's about the extent of his disagreement.

What else did I dream of? A library - filled with books, floor to ceiling and a comfortable reading nook where could I curl up and lose myself in the soulful prose of writers, some of whom I have loved for decades; others to be newly discovered. And we would share our finds with one another and our inspirations and our love.

He probably has a library as well. But I will never know and I don't want to know. I made the mistake of driving by his house. I swore I wouldn't do it but I did and now, well, now, I feel totally disheartened and angry.

It's time to carry on with my life. If something is meant to happen between us again, I suppose it will. But I am going to live my life, today and every day, from this moment forward. I love him and in my own way, I pray that he will find his truth and peace. And I pray everyday that I will find strength and wholeness to pick up the pieces and move forward in life.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Grace Happens

What is grace? Can we live a life filled with grace? I don't understand the concept of grace - there but for the grace of god go I. Grace is a gift of god. You can't control it; you can't earn it. You can accept it. You can let go and receive it. I'm not a believer in a traditional Christian benevolent all-knowing God. So this religious weekend I find myself struggling with my own unique beliefs and experiences that connect me to the transcendent nature of the world. How do I define my spiritual beliefs? I don't know yet what my spiritual path is...I'm searching for those answers.

"Life is fresh with the Grace of God." And so it is, if we are willing to see.

Here's what I found on the internet: Grace confounds certain very natural human tendencies. We want to believe we are in control. We assume there are specific moves we can take to ensure that we are rewarded. We expect God's gifts to be doled out according to some recognizable plan.

But grace does not work that way. Instead, it teaches us to let go and let God. Not only are we not in charge, we don't have to be. We just need to stay open to receiving the sacred.

Receptivity, in turn, requires that we give up shame — those persistent feelings that we are unworthy, that we don't deserve all that we have, that we're not as good as people assume, that we've messed up, that our whole life is a mistake. Grace doesn't listen to that litany. It isn't based on a scorecard.

Grace happens.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

twice baked - the other woman

Nancy Calef, Painter
The first time I walked into the relationship with my eyes wide open (and a traumatized mind).  I was wracked with guilt (not so much remorse) over being the destroyer of a marriage (no, not enough to stop me).

The second time around I was deaf, dumb, and blind! And again I will be accused of ruining a six year relationship. There will be no empathy for me, the persistent homewrecker.

It's not me though. It's him. I could say he preyed upon me, took advantage of my weaknesses... but I played the game and I knew in my heart things were not quite right. But did I ever imagine this? No.

Infidelity? Yes, it wouldn't be the first time. But another life, a new home, parents, children, holidays, the whole nine yards? Never. Yes, I had many clues but this kind of betrayal just didn't enter my consciousness. I am good at denial, no questions asked. And I asked no questions.

Friday, April 08, 2011

you've been slammed

I haven't been coping well with everything. Wait...maybe I have been considering all that I have to work through.

Dr. B, who is normally very quiet and calm, was explaining to me that "yes, it is okay for me to be depressed and upset" - after all, I have been continually slammed. And she told me this with great animation. She raised her arm and slammed her hand on her leg (she's a very petitie woman but the point was dramatically made) while she shouted out "you got slammed" and then raised her arm again and shouted "and slammed again" as she slapped her hand against her thigh. Again and again, five times she demonstrated the slam. And I've been slammed way more than five times in the last couple of years.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

It keeps coming

Yesterday, I managed...today, not so much. I woke with an anxious knot in my gut. I decided to stop and purchase a cup of coffee at the new bakery at the bottom of my hill. The baker's husband talked me into getting a fresh-from-the-oven lemon muffin to go with my coffee. The muffin was delicious and it wreaked havoc on my digestive track. I haven't been eating gluten in months and it did not agree with me. My 45 minute drive to work was painful. I thought I needed something to warm my insides and soothe my soul. Ha!

I also came to the realization on my drive to work that my betrayer most likely (I have no proof) got involved with his girlfriend before he ever ended our relationship.  I remember that August like it was yesterday, only it was six years ago. I was being truthful with him about something he did that upset me and I was being kind and loving and he just dumped me. Right there in an instant. Now I understand why. Then he used me as a sexual fantasy plaything for the next year while he went home to his gal pal and probably had sex. So many things I just didn't get and I asked him flat out, is there someone else? And he lied. Oh, what a surprise!

This is all conjecture on my part but I am betting it is pretty right on the mark. I was going to ask him but I don't need to hear his confession or even worse, his lie. It happened and I can't change it and he can't change it. I know that he is remorseful over the whole situation. I just hope his remorse is not over getting caught but rather over hurting someone he loved so deeply.

Could I still be in a state of shock?

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

no tears

I didn't cry yesterday, and that in itself, is miraculous. I just decided I can't allow this betrayal to ruin my life. It was him, not me. Well, that doesn't quite make sense but you know what I mean.  He did the fucked up thing, not me. I'm still hurt and angry, devastated at times but not all times, and able to do a little work again. I do sleep an awful lot and I know that's the escape. He's remorseful and that helps too.

The whole situation sucks.

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

3:33 again

It's going to be alright. I don't know what it's going to be but it's going to be okay. I just glanced at the clock - 3:33. The angels are with me. Today I could breathe and I didn't cry, not once.

I need something - a blessing - in my life. I probably have many that I just forgot about. I am spiritually depeleted. Maybe that is where I should seek my answers and comfort.

Monday, March 28, 2011

acid tongue

How I'm feeling today...

I went to a cobbler
to fix a hole in my shoe
He took one look at my face
And said, "I can fix that hole in you"

I beg your pardon
I'm not looking for a cure
Seen enough of my friends
In the depths of the godsick blues

You know I am a liar
You know I am a liar
Nobody helps a liar

Because I've been down to Dixie
And dropped acid on my tongue
Tripped upon the land
Until enough was enough
I was a little bit lighter
And adventure on my sleeve
I was a little drunk
And looking for company

So I found myself a sweetheart
With the softest of hands
We were unlucky in love
But I'd do it all again

We build ourselves a fire
We build ourselves a fire
But you know I am a liar
You know I am a liar

And you don't know what I've done
By the rolling river is
Exactly where I was
There was no simple cure
For unlucky in love

To be lonely is a habit
Like smoking or taking drugs
And I've quit them both
But man, was it rough

Now I am tired
It just made me tired
Let's build ourselves a fire
Let's build ourselves a fire

Saturday, March 26, 2011


I hurt every second of every minute of every hour of every day...repeat day after day, week after week.

I can't bear it anymore.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

the hurt is too much

I can't believe I allowed this to happen to me.  How stupid am I?  I can't take the pain. I can't focus on work. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't stop crying. I hate men - all men. They are all self-absorbed, self-centered, selfish (are those all the same things?) and sexist. If they are not physically violent, they are emotionally abusive. They use women for sex and if what they have isn't good enough, they find a different one. They abandon you with their children to run off for something they perceive to be better and once that woman ceases to meet their needs, they move on. And so it goes...generation after generation. Surely, there are decent men in the world? I don't know if there are. Every woman has to make huge concessions to keep her man. Oh, don't kid yourself. Even the most wonderful men force you to take a back seat to their needs and desires. Yes, they are cunning. They can lead you to believe that they do what they do out of the deepest of love. Yeah, right. They call it sacrifice but they have no clue what sacrifice is.

Okay, I have vented and expressed my anger and hurt. Can I stop now and move on to better times, better emotions? I sure hope somehow I can. I suppose I wasn't being fair but maybe I was. I don't know anymore.

I don't really want to die.

At least I hope not.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Still living

It would be terrible if this blog became a two-year long suicide note. I hope not. I went to therapy last night and although I cried my eyes out, I did feel better for just a few minutes. But today I'm no so good. I told Dr. B amid teary sobs "something is really wrong with me." I felt lost and beaten...not unlike so much of my life. I wanted to give up. "Yes, there is something wrong with you but there's not something REALLY wrong with you. What's wrong with you is that in your young adulthood you were abused and had no tools or support and you moved forward in your life with that as your foundation. What's wrong with you is that in your childhood you were abused and had no way of coping or support. What's wrong with you is that you were a victim of countless abuses and violence and you disappeared because you had no other way of dealing with your life." Yes, it's sad. I wept a little more and mourned the little child and young adult who was so betrayed by all the adults in her life.

"But why did all this come tumbling down on me now?" My father dying, my lover betraying me, his girlfriend calling me, my memories coming back, confirmation of the physical abuse, coming to grips with the systemic sexual abuse in my father's family - that's just the last three weeks.  Dr. B reminded me that the last two years have been hell -- the realization of the sexual abuse in my mother's family, the abuse of my son and daughter, my son's mental breakdowns and hospitalizations, issues with my lover (which I now understand but had no idea then) and probably more which I can't place right now. But that's enough.

Dr. B shared a wave analogy with me which I can't quite remember.  But the upshot of it is that the wave, the tsunami, would not have hit me full on if I didn't have the presence of mind and skills to ride the wave to shore.  And that, my love, is what I am trying to do.

I hope I don't drown.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

it is just too much

I wish I was dead.

In between agonizing thoughts of abuse, betrayal, secrets and lies, I have begun to contemplate the ending of my life. You know, those suicidal ideations are back and they scare me.

If I only I would just fall asleep behind the wheel zipping down the highway 60-70 mph, it would just be an unfortunate and fatal accident. But how do I do it without hurting anyone else? How do I do it without ending up alive but severely injured? Maybe it needs to be another way. Deliberate. But I don't really want to die.

I just want the pain to stop.

Famous last words...

Monday, March 21, 2011


Depression has dragged me down, deep underground and it sure feels like I've entered hell. There's no place to turn that is calm or peaceful. I spent nearly 36 hours in bed this weekend, numb, angry, sad, and crying my eyes out.  From 7 p.m. Saturday night until 5:30 this morning when I forced myself up and out of bed to go to the gym and work. I still feel so tired. I don't want to be awake. My left eyes is hemorrhaging again. I guess I don't want to see what I must look at.

Oh brother, and to think six months ago, I thought I was on the fast track to healing. Life was zipping along in a good direction. The derailment was not anticipated but I suppose without my years of SE work, I could have sustained far greater injuries in the crash.

I succumbed to a major depressive episode this weekend. It felt awful and I wasn't sure I was going to get through to the other side. I'm not there yet but I still have a little of the fight left.  Thank goodness! Sometimes the pain of all the betrayal in my life overwhelms and I think that yes, perhaps, death would be a godsend. But, again, I'm not ready to give up.  Not at this moment anyway.

What blessings do I have in my life?

I have to work one that one because I do know there are many -- my thoughts, however, are clouded over with darkness right now.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

a very sad truth

Four men - one father, two husbands, one love of my life

All four of them were major influences in the paths I walked down in my life - or crawled, or fell down, or danced blindly, or tiptoed -- it didn't matter. They all pushed me in a direction that was suitable to them and although I didn't always follow their orders, they definitely impacted the choices I made.

  • Dad - abusive, alcoholic, angry, violent, disliked women (except perhaps to fuck and control)
  • First husband - abusive, alcoholic, angry, violent, hated women
  • Second husband - abusive, psychotic, angry, violent, hated women - didn't trust any female
  • Lover - kind, gentle, loving and a liar, emotionally manipulative, doesn't respect women
Number 4, my lover of 20 years, was not violent, not physically or sexually. I guess that's a plus (or a positive twist on an otherwise blistering hurt).

Friday, March 18, 2011


I have no energy, no desire, no motivation, no caring, nothing. I can barely muster up the energy to breath...good thing it happens automatically. If not, I would be on the floor here by my desk turning blue. It is an effort to lift my fingers to type and my boss expects me to be brilliant and creative today. No such thing is going to happen right now or later today. I just want to sleep and sleep some more.

Maybe it's depression. I suppose the stuff that has been happening in my life could bring on a dose of depression. I really really don't like this. I have worked so hard to get away from this state of mind and here I am again -- because of lies and secrets.

It's all SHIT.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

my future died

I'm not so sure I can survive these latest betrayals. It has just wreaked havoc on my emotions and I feel stripped down to a very frayed core. There is no more protection and my soul is way too vulnerable. Why would anyone want to hurt me? I really am a decent person - not perfect but geez, I'm not a liar (okay, sometimes a fibber and I guess that's a liar, just less intense and hopefully less hurtful). Maybe it's all bullshit, everything, everywhere. How does such a major breach of trust heal? It never did for my father and me. Of course, he never tried until the end and it was too late for any substantial healing. I guess I have to accept what I was given. Now they are all dead and all the little girls are safe. No more daughters to abuse and abandon. And maybe it started with my namesake. I was cursed from the moment I was given a name. My beautiful sweet daughter condemned. And now I am facing the ultimate betrayal by a man who I believed was the love of my life. It fucking hurts.

Why did you, of all persons in this world, choose to betray me and cause me unbelievable hurt?

Tuesday, March 15, 2011


It's been one hell of a week or two or three. I spoke to Dr. B tonight and poured out all my miserable heartache. Systemic, she said. The abuse that went on in my family is systemic and has traveled through generations. I didn't stand a chance nor did any other female in the family.

I told her that my issues with the liar were the same as the issues with my family. I never stood a chance with him. They (my family and my love) both lived lies and kept secrets and left me thinking that there was something wrong with me. Sometimes it was a ruse to "protect" me from the hurt -- I suppose it was easier than admit to being the cause of the hurt. My family pushed me into marriages with abusive men -- then all attention was off of them and it was my fuckup, not theirs. And the man I loved the past two decades, he had issues and rather than look at his life honestly, he lied and kept secrets and blamed me for our failings. And I believed him, wholeheartedly, and worked so hard to try to make things right. I didn't stand a chance against the lies and secrets.

Oh my god, I really did name my blog appropriately. I had no idea.

Oh no, I am going cry.

I can't take it anymore.

Monday, March 07, 2011

it's not over till what???

The fat lady sings? Well, I'm not singing. I'm still crying and seething with anger. I'm still trying to understand how someone I loved so dearly betrayed me and used me.

I walk around with a crippling pain in my lower back and burning emptiness in my gut. And he's the victim. Did you know that? He's the hurt one - he feels so guilty and shameful for what he did. In typical fashion his answer is to become overwhelmed and unable to deal with the hurt and devastation he threw all around him.

I feel so used and abused. It isn't a coincidence that the two men who were most influential in my life, Sherman and my father, both fucked me over - literally and figuratively. And it came to a "head" (proper choice of words again) during the same week. God help me, please, to see the light and never tread in those dangerous waters. I don't have the fortitude anymore for this kind of emotional torture. I am definitely not waltzing out of this trauma and dancing down the streets of denial in a fools cap.

I just didn't see it coming. Not this.

Monday, February 28, 2011


Well, my questions have been answered. The LOML is no more. I just learned from his girlfriend, yes, you heard it right -- live in girlfriend of the last five years -- that he's been living with another woman for years. Does it hurt? You betcha -- more than I care to write, even if I could manage to find the words about how much this bastard betrayed me, humiliated me, and lied to me...for years. I will say this - he was one damn good liar and I was one big fat fool.

A piece of me died last night when he finally confessed to me at gunpoint.

So, farewell blog. You served me well.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Who was he to you?

Dr. B said, "Don't think about who your father was, think about who he was in relation to you."

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

screwed in life...

and now, screwed in death by dear old dad.

I asked my sister today if she thought our father left any provisions for his first set of children in his will. It is a sore topic, not just for me. She made some clumsy vague excuses for him, saying she wasn't surprised that he didn't think of us. I told her I thought that was bullshit and of course, he remembered his children. If we are excluded from his will, it wasn't because he forgot we existed. It's not surprising that he remains a prick in his death but I had really hoped he wasn't. Maybe the will hasn't been distributed. Maybe there is something but we just haven't been told. My sister intimated, "yeah, right, when pigs fly..."

Money is always nice but acknowledging that we existed would be even nicer. My sister offered up the excuse that maybe his wife and their son somehow convinced him to erase any responsibility or love of those other children.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

It's the evening before a holiday and no one's home but me. I've spent my day working on web stuff, frustrating myself, trying not to eat my sorrows away. It's been difficult. My love is angry and I'm struggling to stay in communication with him because it depresses me. (Oh, he's not angry with me.) My cholesterol is too high and my vitamin D levels are too low.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Not your typical Valentine's dream

I had a valentine's dream last night but perhaps not what one would expect. I dreamed I was dreaming that a cushioned manilla envelope was delivered to me. I opened it and pulled out this long, very sharp sword with fresh blood dripping off the end and little bits of human flesh. As I held the handle of the sword, I had the vision of the sword being thrust into this person's back (a male) and being pulled back out again, killing the person. I felt the excrutiating pain as the sword was jabbed into the flesh and withdrawn. I dropped the sword. Later in my dream I was telling my love about this dream with the sword but he wasn't interested. I went and got the envelope and brought it to him and asked him take the sword out but he wouldn't. Again, I reached in and pulled the sword out to show him the fresh blood dripping off the end of it, but before I could I collapsed in horrific pain from feeling someone else getting a sword blade ripping through their flesh and piercing their heart.

And I dreamed this dream more than once in one of those many layered dreams.

weight woes

"O, woe is me, T'have seen what I have seen, see what I see!" - Ophelia.

Poor, poor, overweight me! I went to the doctor last Friday and she very seriously stated, "Just imagine carrying around a 50 pound sack of potatoes with you everywhere you go. It weighs on your joints." Yes, it does and it hurts them joints! I don't have 50 extra pounds but I got the point. I have gained 45 pounds since I was 30 -- that's above and beyond the normal weight gain that comes with age. Start with 25 pounds, she said.

Woe-is-me that seems rather daunting but I am taking it with the utmost seriousness. I don't want my joints to deteriorate under my poundage and end up needing joint replacement 5-10 years down the road.

I have seen and lived through too much. I don't need to protect myself anymore with layers of fat hiding my otherwise voluptuous curves. I keep telling myself this; maybe now I need to believe it. It is a challenge but one I'm up for.

Monday, February 14, 2011

It's a celebration I may soon want to forget

The party in memory of my father has the potential to rapidly evolve into a frenzied free-for-all of derisive commentary fueled by too much alcohol, too little sensitivity, and a household filled with self-inflated, pompous, know-it-all drunks. Just like daddy dearest, I fear. Of course, we will all love one another, because really we do. But the competition is fierce to be the funniest, loudest, wittiest, and, of course, smartest of everyone. There will be the outsiders who will look on and laugh until they realize how sad and painful it all really is. I must stay sober and not get engaged in the family rivalry.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Dr. B said...

Dr. B really pushed hard on me to remember more about what went wrong in my relationship with my father. I related to her the time my mother told me my father wasn't coming home. This was after a summer of being away from home and returning to learn of my father's departure.

"How did you feel when you found out he left?," Dr. B inquired. Relieved. Happy, not angry. I believe I may have smiled and my mother got angry. "This isn't really a laughing matter." I wasn't laughing though I kept my mouth shut. No kidding, but I was a huge sense of relief.

"Well let's go back to that dinner table discussion. Do you remember why you felt relieved?" Yes, because I didn't like him and I didn't want him near me. "Why didn't you like him?" Because he called me a whore and accused me of banging three guys when I was 13. "Is this the first time you remember being so angry with him?" No, I didn't like him before that. "Why?" I'm not sure. I didn't like the smell of him. He stunk like stale alcohol and garlic and just disgusting. Thinking about it makes me nauseous - I feel like puking. "When did he smell like this? All the time? Were you in a specific place where you noticed his odor?" Oh, I know what you're getting it. I don't know. I just don't know. I can't remember. I can't. "Okay, how are you feeling?" Just fine. No, I'm not. Oh my god, I'm detaching. I can feel myself leaving. Holy shit. "Okay, breathe. Let's get you grounded. Feet on the ground...find that spot in you that is comfortable or at least not hurting." I'm not hurting, I'm numb, I'm gone. "Okay, look around the room. It's Thursday, February 11th, 2011, you're here with me. Look around the room, see what catches your eyes. There's lots of colors and textures."

And on it went until I could calm down and get grounded again. My breath slowed down and I felt a very slow re-integration of myself begin to emerge.

Wednesday, February 09, 2011

and life goes on

And life goes on, even when your emotions teeter on the edge. Death - my mother, who is rapidly approaching the age of potential, is terrified of just that - dying. She's obsessing about the impending death of her husband. It's hard to tell whether it scares her or she's anxiously awaiting his demise. I think both. She doesn't want to go to my father's memorial service. She has no feelings or so she says.

"Do I have to say 'sorry for your loss'?" Well, it is the appropriate thing to say but you don't have to say anything. "Well, I don't feel sorry for their loss." Okay, then, say nothing. She's dreading going. I tell her that there will be no sorrowful displays of emotions, at least not while sobriety exists. But I suppose that won't be long.

So, I mope around feeling a little disoriented, a little more sadness, and quite a daunting dose of anger. I am trying to process but I just feel let down and yes, maybe I even feel abandoned again. It feels silly to write that but it's an issue that has taken seed and grown over many decades. Death doesn't kill the emotion.

It will be an interesting weekend - not one that I am particularly looking forward to but I will see some long, lost cousins and that I hope will be positive.

Saturday, February 05, 2011

no rest for the weary

It's 2:44 a.m. and my soul is steeped in anguish and torment. There is no peaceful rest happening in my bed tonight. I don't know what's happening but it sucks and I'm very tired.

Friday, February 04, 2011

Another Friday night

and I'm home alone. No drinks with the upstairs neighbor which in some respects is for the best because the alcohol, although it tastes yummy going down, invariably leaves me blue the next day. Not hung over just dull minded.

I ate a rice cake with salmon cream cheese and a dark chocolate bar for dinner. Can we say "fat" and "sugar" addictions?

I asked my love to stop by tonight so that we could discuss vacation together. I was so nervous that he would distract me from this conversation with sex that I had all these rehearsed responses packed up in my brain. But I didn't need them. He listened and fondled me and hugged me and seemed genuinely interested in the Honduras vacation idea. I hope he was sincere. I think so but time will tell if he chooses to respond or not.

I need a vacation...with or without him but my preference would be with him. It is always my preference but one which I rarely get.

Thursday, February 03, 2011

I AM an addict, am I?

Okay, this subject rears its ugly head again. A year or two ago I addressed this issue with myself - addiction. Don't know if I ever posted about it because it was, at that time, a very troubling topic for me to even admit to. So am I an addict or do I just have these obesessive habits which I use to deflect my feelings or not deal with stuff at all? Or is that part of being an addict? But I can stop, except for my sugar & fat addiction. Does it still count as an addiction if you can give up one bad habit (or addiction) only to switch to another ill-fated habit?

I'm going to look up the meaning of addiction in the online dictionary. Just one moment.

the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma
Geez, that's all I need -- one more thing in my life to cause severe trauma. No, I don't think I'm an addict. But wait. Does eating myself into poor health and low self-esteem count? If so, then YES I have a problem.

I have a couple of questions. Can you be addicted to lying or being perpetually late? Lying, I would think, goes hand in hand with an addiction. I ate bad foods and then I lie about it so no one will give me grief about it. Of course, I'm not fooling anyone, most especially myself. Just look at me or just look in the mirror. Instead you could avoid friends - more lying - I'm sick today; I have no money; I have too much work to do...the lies never end. And, of course, avoiding mirrors and wearing extra large clothing so nothing feels so tight helps.

This is not my first addiction; hopefully it will be my last and I will be able to disengage myself from this unhealthy habit of overeating sweets. Again, I conferred with Mr. Dictionary and a "habit" can be defined as an "addiction." Mine would be a BAD habit.

I'm still not perfect. Oh well.

maybe it's the winter blues

Maybe it is the winter blues. I surely feel in the dumps lately but it is that time of year when sunlight is scarce and I spend way too much time indoors. It's not that I couldn't go out but I just don't feel like it...not even to walk the dog.

I quietly cried in my car this morning on my way into work. Why? I'm not really sure but I chalked it to those darn blues. A few minutes later I blamed my newly found self. I don't have to deal with all the issues that continually bombarded me for decades. Oh, I still have plenty of issues but I can face them and address them while being totally present and conscious. It's certainly not the old me but it leaves space in me that needs to be filled. And quite honestly, I don't know how to fill that space or what to fill it with. It's a little frightening. I have ideas but I am frozen in stagnation. I have excuses but I don't buy them.

And I am very very tired. I just want to sleep and then sleep some more. Maybe it's a low grade depression caused by the winter blues. I keep going back there and I think it's a contributor but it's not the cause. The cause is my freedom. I am freer than I have ever been to take care of myself and do for myself and I don't know how to do it.

For example - we had an ice storm yesterday. I spent hours de-icing my daughter's car and chipping away at the ice around her car so she could get out. I didn't do mine and this morning in the bitter cold, I am outside with the ice scraper trying to dislodge two inches of ice from my windsheild -- with no gloves on. My neighbor scolded me when she came out, "you're not setting a good example for your children." She smiled. She's very good at taking care of herself.

Monday, January 24, 2011

an unfortunate incident

So, here I am existing in this rather raw emotional state and I decided to venture out of the house yesterday and go to the grocery store. Not my favorite thing to do at all under the best of circumstances but the need for nourishment overrode my distaste for shopping.

I was just about done and cruising down the dairy aisle, having just picked up a small container of cream cheese and I was assaulted by a friend's (actually ex-friend's) husband. He took me by surprise as he approached from behind. He looked at me and offered his condolences (dad's death). As  I thanked him, he reached over with one arm, pulled me toward him, and gave me mighty hug, lingering a bit longer than needed. I stepped back and thanked him politely. Then he looked at me with tears in his eyes and started telling me about his mother's passing last year and I realized he was totally wasted drunk.  He proceeded to grab me with both hands and yank me again into a bear hug. He wreaked of booze and his face was just inches from mine. I managed to wriggle away from him but I was blocked in the aisle. He started pointing and talking about the items in my cart and then reached over and latched onto me again. This time a woman a little further up the aisle caught my eye. I know she sensed my feelings of uncomfortablenss and entrapment and interupted the man and forced him to backup his cart. Without a word I made my escape.  As I came down the next aisle, I saw him with another woman trapped against the freezers (although he wasn't hugging her).

I didn't realize how much it bothered me until I was safely in my car driving home and burst into tears. I don't need this shit. I should have given him a swift knee to the balls. Thank you, ma'am, for butting in and sparing me further humiliation. She knew.

It rankled me and turned me dreamtime into a nightmare last night.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

it was a tough day yesterday for everyone

My emotions were all over the map yesterday. I cried, I chuckled, I listened in disbelief. I had poignant conversations with my sister and touching email exchanges with my brother. I felt like my head was going to explode. It was a day filled with sorrow. Sleep evaded me until about 4:30 this morning and I was able to stay unconscious until about 7:30. Needless to say, I am kind of tired this morning but I have work to do.

I spoke to my love yesterday morning. He wasn't handling my father's death very well and expressed to me the awful feeling in his gut that he couldn't shake and that he wanted to be rid of and never feel again. Well, guess who put that feeling in his gut? Yes, none other than me, again. So what was to happen...silence from him. I tried calling at one point in the afternoon just to hear his voice. He wouldn't answer. Later I sent an email - no response. Early afternoon turned to dusk and I tried calling again. Nope, no answer.  And as night fell, I tried emailing one more time. Mission failed.

I turned off my computer around 10 p.m. and went to bed. This morning there was an email from 10:45, "I love you" is what it read. A short time later a second email came telling me that his day yesterday was pretty miserable; he couldn't get his work done because he couldn't push my stuff out of his head and then he got drunk on wine and passed out.

I haven't been able to respond. I don't know what to write. He tells me I should cry and let my emotions out but just not around him (this is what I surmised by his response). I know he wants to be supportive but he just can't be. He needs to work on those boundaries. You cannot be supportive if you take on everyone else's emotions. It quickly becomes overwhelming. I need him and he's just not really available. He  wants to be there and he does try to the best of his abilities.  It's just ...

Today, I am going to clean my apartment. I went on a bit of spending spree last night, buying plants and other stuff I don't need but I needed something to change. I suppose I could have gotten drunk -- I have a gigantor bottle of vodka sitting in my kitchen and lime but no tonic water.

Maybe I'll go to the grocery store today. It's frigid outside.

Saturday, January 22, 2011


Well, my father was cremated this morning...nothing remains but ashes and memories.

I cried.

Friday, January 21, 2011

talk to me, please

Lying in the dark last night I found myself whispering to my father.  Please, dad, wherever you are, come to me and tell me the truth. I won't be angry. I just need to understand. I just want to know the truth. What happened between us? I begged him to come into my dreams and just give me something to help me come to terms with our relationship.

He didn't come...not yet, anyway. I will ask again tonight.

Perceptions can be so diverse. My cousin just called me - my father's brother's son. All the men in my father's immediate family are dead...dad and his twin brothers - all crazy, all alcoholics, all dead. My cousin shared all these fond memories of my father and he was sincere. My father was fun and charismatic and charming and all those other adjectives that are often used to describe him.  But not to me, he wasn't any of those things and if he was, it was so fleeting I don't recall and it didn't make an impression.

I grew out of a very intelligent and creative family which was also deadly and very dysfunctional.

It's unfortunate, I guess

Yes, mother, it was an unfortunate death. What does that mean? That's what dear ole mom said when I called her right after learning that my father had died. I think I was in a state of shock when I called and that was not the response I expected. I just fell silent. I spoke to her again last night and she related some of her conversation with my older brother. She was so surprised that he was so upset. "I just wasn't moved at all by his death." But I guess he is your father so I can see it might upset you. Gee, thanks, mom, for understanding.

My mother who thought the world revolved around my father. My mother who dropped out of college, married my cheating, angry, drunken father, had five children and 20 years of a life with him. Yes, that man, mom, who shared in the neglect and abuse of your beautiful children and left them all struggling to make sense of their lives.

My older brother called me yesterday. He was clearly distraught over dad's death. It's such a numbing yet emotional wave that washes over us all. He was abusive and cruel and completely insensitive. We all craved love from him and none of us got it. He ripped into us in every way imaginable but at the same time had expectations for all of us as his children. It was a no-win situation. He was an angry man.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

He did do harm

He caused untold harm to everyone he had a relationship with, and now he's dead. It's shocking and numbing. I was prepared to deal with his mental demise but not really with the finality of death. He was, after all, in perfect health - no heart disease, no cancer, no old people's ailments except, of course, Alzheimers. I know, that's a big one. His blood pressure just dropped so low that he died. Low potassium levels combined with a high dose of haldol finished him off I guess. My brother called it "serendipitous malpractice."

My love suggested I pray for his soul. If anyone needs his soul prayed for, it is definitely my father. He was a mean-spirited, hot tempered, abusive, self-absorbed and cruel alcoholic. What makes his death so sad is that in his deteriorated mental state he finally became a gentle, loving man. Maybe that was who he really was long before he endured a childhood of cruelty, neglect and abuse. We pass it on, right?

No more. My promise.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Threes are all over

Maybe I am nuts...crazy for threes (not eights). I was driving the other evening and I happened to glance at my odometer. It read 123321 and I thought, omg, it's all 3's or totals to 3's and it's a palindrome to boot! How exciting is that? On Saturday I filled my gas tank. The pump clicked off at $33.03. Hmmmm. I started the motor and reached over to set the trip odometer back to zero and it was at 333.3. Maybe threes have always been here; I just haven't noticed them. But right now, it's 9:50 - no 3's.

My anxiety levels are sky high. Leaves me feeling super hyper and highly agitated. I do need to get back to the gym. All this angst leaves me exhausted.

My love and I made love Saturday night. I was really nervous. It was beautiful and hot and satisfying, as I expected. But it also had my emotions flying all over the place and he did feel that energy coming through. He was at times concerned but not enough to turn him off or away. That's a good thing. The best part? Lying in his arms afterward. He didn't jump up to leave right away and we had a little time to just be. It's been a long time.

Of course, now there's confusion and an array of emotions that run the gamut from joyous to sad.

I don't understand why we can't figure this out. Maybe it's me. Maybe it's not.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

from my favorite rambling self-help guru

In what way exactly can such an apparently life-giving connection with another human being actually be a sign of a death-wish, a desire to stop living? Because living is individuation and conflict. Because we do not agree with anyone about everything. Because we are not completely known by anyone. Because if we seem to be in complete harmony, someone is lying. And to find ourselves in such harmony is to find ourselves back in a false womb, seemingly cared for but in fact neglected, feeling selfless and actually lost, having become a part of someone else's body.

Of course it is a glorious feeling to merge with someone else, and who's to say that heroin does not have its attractions, too, but without our boundaries we die. We cannot survive skinless. When you remove your clothes, that is one thing; but when you remove your skin for a man, you are more than naked; you are vulnerable to the wind, prey to all predations of nature.
Cary Tennis.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

news reel

December 30th - My nephew had a psychotic break and ended up in the emergency room. He was hearing voices and needed to find the cameras and microphones that were spying on him. A very inept psychiatrist found him sane enough and released him.

January 1st- My nephew lost his grip on reality and a full fledged psychotic break occurred. He had a Master Plan for 01/01/11 and after tricking his brother into going to the store, he took an axe to his father's motorcycle and destroyed it. He then turned the axe on his mother's motorcycle and left the blade embedded in her gas tank. This was followed directly by an attack on his mother's car with a saws-all. After smashing the windows and lights, he proceeded to extricate the roof from the car and then destroyed the dashboard looking for the spy cameras. And he found one - the bluetooth microphone. The police were called and he was peacefully taken to the hospital, where he was admitted and fortunately, not immediately released. I told my daughter and she just collapsed in tears. Too much sorrow; too much mental illness in the world.

January 2nd - My son called completely distraught. He hadn't slept in two nights because of what had happened to his cousin. Mom, what will prevent this from happening to me? I've had a life of trauma and there's lots of mental illness in your family and my dad's. How do I know I won't snap in five or ten years? I told him he was already being treated and had spent a lifetime thus far in therapy. He stood a much better chance of surviving and defeating any sort of psychotic break. But I could certainly understand both his fear and his uncertainty.

January 3rd - My mother spoke to my daughter and told her she was off the hook for what happened to her grandson.  She went through her family tree and said no mental illness existed on her side of the family. It was all my father's side of the family. I rolled my eyes. Denial. Denial. Denial - a very familiar theme.

January 4th - My son's car broke again and I had to drive him to work and pick him up. It makes for a lot of extra traveling each day.  This continued on for a week and made for a lot of irritation and tensionnot to mention exhaustion.

I've been having lots of unpleasant dreams again and haven't been sleeping. Dreams of being dressed by women for a wedding in which I didn't want to be the bride; women trying to force me to marry my ex... No one to help me; no one to believe me.

8:40 p.m.- Last night - I met my love at the train. He spoke briefly about his therapy and informed me that he felt like he was one of my children in that he was traumatized by me and was frightened of me which is why we are where we are. I left him upset.

1:50 a.m. - I woke up with a wickedly upset digestive tract. It was painful and lasted for 3 hours. The strange thing was that along with this vile tummy ache, my hands and feet turned bright red and itched like crazy. I didn't know what was happening to me and it was beginning to freak me out. Finally I fell back asleep.

9:30 a.m. Spoke to my love. Told him that when we parted ways the night before, I was upset with what he had said. I also briefly told him about my digestive upset during the night. His response? I know, he said, followed by silence until he stated that he had to get it together to go to work. Okay.
Do I expect too much?