Love goes on and on....

[honeyspur]

My partner is Buddhist, as I have mentioned.

And he does prostrations - a kind of military push-up - every day on his journey to enlightenment.

He mentioned yesterday that once my mom moves out he wants to practice in her room.

 

At first I said, "I'm planning on leaving that room the way it is...." thinking about all the work I'd just done remodeling it and how I didn't want to dismantle it.

"Oh..." he answered, voice trailing off.

 

Then he went in the living room and stared out the window for awhile.

We were supposed to play COV (I've not been playing for some time now) and I asked him after about 15 minutes if he still wanted to play.

 

He relectantly got up and trudged into the den.

 

I thought for a minute about my decision and reconsidered - I guess since it's just going to be me and Jay here, I should ease up a bit on this house and let him do what he wants. Moving all that stuff into the basement would be ok.

 

"So tell me what's up..." I said, sitting on the bed in front of my laptop.

 

"I just need a place to be able to practice that's my own."

 

"Well you need to be clearer - are you asking for an empty room?"

 

"Yes!

 

"Ok then - we'll just have to move that stuff out of there - it's going to take some work."

 

He looked like he realized what I was saying and started to rethink it.

 

"I get the feeling that you don't want me to have a place..." he said, suspiciously.

 

"Well you're wrong - I do..."

 

We got into it some more, bringing up old details too hazy to rely on.

I had asked him the day Anna moved out, if he'd like to use that room.

He didn't seem thrilled and refused since eventually it would be remodeled and he couldn't use it.

 

NOW, of course, he was upset that I offered it to Mrrr, who uses it as her art space.

He easily brushed over my reminder of his earlier refusal, explaining with convoluted flair, that somehow I had made it clear I didn't want him to use that room and he had picked up on that at the time.

 

Old words.

 

What value do old words really have?

 

Somewhere in this part of the conversation he began to turn it around. I went into a long monologue about how confusing he is and it leaves me feeling stupid. Something seemed to sink in.

 

"I just wish you could communicate with me - not see me as a bad guy first - so we can work things out -"

 

"I don't think you're a bad guy..." he said.

 

"Then what was that about just now?"

 

"I wasn't angry at you - I was angry at the situation..."

 

??????

 

 

"A situation that has to do with me..." I added.

"No..." he said.

"Then what does it have to do with?"

 

He was beginning to look caught. I tried to make it a littler easier....

 

"Jay, I'm not saying you're wrong about me...."

 

Still the deer in headlights look.

 

It almost looked like he shut down. His eyes glazed over like a robot losing power.

 

"I just..." he tried "I just want a room - any room..."

"No...." I jumped in "I OFFERED you an empty room - you refused...."

 

He was beginning to look cornered. He clearly forgot about that detail and was flailing.

 

"I just want you to know I'm on your side." I said firmly. "To believe it - that anyting can be worked out. To know that before you get upset with me..."

 

"I wasn't upset..."

 

 

OHHMYGOD! My head was going to start hurting.

 

At some point we played the game. I went through the motions then got off.

"You don't want to play anymore?" he asked in a voice that tried to say 'I didn't just have a stupid fight with you.'

 

"No." I said.

 

"Why are you upset now?" he asked.

"Are you really asking me that?"

 

We stared at each other.

 

Jay was now engaging in what I like to call "The Escape".

This is an old game from our disfunctional early days. The days when we were "bed buddies" - not an exclusive couple.

 

The game goes like this:

 

Jay is upset and speaks to me rudely.

I counter-attack with my own rudeness.

We start fighting.

At some point I realize we are fighting and try to stop it through logic.

Jay realizes what I'm saying and sees his mistake.

I offer up my own part in the fight willingly in hopes he will follow suit.

He is either too embarrassed or too unsure to admit to anything and turns it into "no one" being responsible in hopes he can escape the argument before owning up to his part - leaving me open and vulnerable - having owned up to my mistakes. Leaving me the one at fault.

 

 

Now don't get me wrong - I know I contribute to the fight - so it's my fault too.

But this game is ten years old now and it always plays out the same way.

 

Unless I break down and cry.

 

Then Jay is able to admit out loud his mistake.

But I'd be lying if I said that I didn't resent that. Why do I have to break down and cry to get Jay to own up to his responsibility in the fight?

And how can you change behaviour if you can't admit to it?

 

"I just think we should be honest here..." I kept trying.

"What do you mean?" he asked, already losing clarity.

"So this doesn't happen again...."

 

He looked irritated AGAIN so I went to bed....

[honeyspur]

It's a quiet day here.

 

I'm getting used to mom being gone and it didn't take long for me to get a big wake up call.

 

Jay and I absolutely do not know how to manage our money.

We both went over our limit and habve been scrambling to keep our checking accounts out of the red. I've fed 300 dollars to the bank and Jay has fed at least 200 by now.

Something tells me he's still in the red, but has given up checking out of denial.

I have .47 in there now.

The phone bill is overdue for both the landlines and my cell.

 

I am trying to get over the fact that I gave up the one thing that kept me stable and just get back up on the horse.

I used to keep a strict ledger every time I wrote a check. I always had money to last to the next check.

 

At some point, I felt I had this under control and could just figure it out in my head.

I think it may have worked for awhile, but at some point I clearly lost my grip on reality. And I ruined my credit this way.

 

My mother was my crutch.

No frills - no excuses - it's the truth.

 

Although I always paid her back, I always fell back on her money.

And it only got me so far.

Her first month gone and I immediately have problems.

 

So there it is.

 

Time for me to step up and get it together. And today is the first day.

 

As for my fiancee, I guess I just have to not worry about him as long as he's paying me what he agreed to pay me.

If I need help from him, I can only ask him and accept his answer.

 

Money is the number one reason for arguments in romantic relationships.

Boy, do I get that now.

It takes a lot for me not to dump all my anxiety on him, judge him and basically lose faith.

 

Does that have to do with the fact that i make more money than him?

I feel a glimmer of truth there - but something is obviously blocked.

Clearly, it shouldn't matter...

 

So that's all have to say today - later I might be back to talk about the latest twists and turns involving Jay, Buddhism and where I fit in.

Also, big news with Ron, my ex in New York.

 

Till later.......

[honeyspur]

I have a fear of bats.

 

It stems from an old experience playing hide and seek in my father's attic when I was 11.

 

Jay told me once that bats are "always around" at night.

"No matter where we are?" I asked, fear welling up in my heart.

"Right...."

"I don't believe that!! How do you know?"

"Well," he went on "if you hear anything that sounds like birds late at night, it's not birds, but bats, making their sound-wave chirping...."

I was white as a sheet...remembering this sound and always thinking it was birds.

"Those...aren't......birds?" I asked again, staring off into space.

"No, think about it...why would birds be carrying on like that after dark? Bats are nocturnal...."

"But that means..." I almost cried out.

"Yeah.....that there are LOTS of bats flying around...." he finished.

 

So I'm never safe... I thought, a twinge of anger ringing along my spine.

No matter what I do....

 

Now, as I sit here late at night, listening to the bat chorus fluttering above my neighborhood, a different revelation comes to mind.

 

Those things we fear are always present and yet, we survive and live peacefully in their midst. Fear really has no power or life of it's own.

Like the old scolding your mother would give you about the bees in the garden, "Leave them alone and they won't bother you.", so it is for fears we feel lurking near at all times.

 

Letting go of fear and learning to co-exist with it brings a kind of reconcilliation to one's heart.

Like these bats...they are peaceful creatures. Not the dark menace I always felt they were.

Seeing one up close still sends ripples of terror through me....but at least now I can watch them on TV or read National Geographic stories with ease.

 

The fears not so clearly defined....fear of success, fear of change.....they will always be there as long as success and change exist.

I can be like my parents...fighting both and live in this tiny box, watching the world outside from a claustrophobic shelter....

 

Or I can co-exist....learn to accept it as my neighbor and live, explore and progress despite the anxiety it brings.

When regarded that way....are fears really bad? Or something very good?

 

 

Hmmmm...........

[honeyspur]

Here's the latest....

 

Last week, my fiancee went to a Buddhist retreat. He's been going to the temple regularly and generally doing well sticking to the important rituals his particular sect promotes.

 

The day before it ended, he called at around six in the evening and left a message on the machine. The retreat was going really late and he probably wouldn't be back till the next day.

 

I was pretty upset because he told me specifically this wasn't going to be an issue and he'd be home every night.

I didn't get much sleep - but basically told myself, "Wow - what's the lesson here? You are really uncomfortable being by yourself." and tried to get over it.

 

The next day I felt pretty drained after putting myself through some pointless hell, and got busy on my jewellry to pass the time.

 

At some point, Jay called again and left a message. But this one sounded way different. It sounded like he'd been drugged.

 

"......I had a pretty weird night......" his voice was slow and.......guilty?

"...and it's why I didn't come home last night......was wondering if you're mad....I should be home soon.....this is the last day and then everything will go back to normal....."

 

Wow.

My feelings switched around and now I was dreading him coming home.

 

I mentioned everything to our roomate, Mrrr and she said it could mean a lot of things and to just wait and see.

"But that does sound weird." she added.

 

So Jay did come home that day. And was basically a sight to see.

 

"Why are you wearing someone's else's clothes??" was all I could say, as he shuffled in, beard stubble thick and covered in dust.

 

"I got really drunk..." he grimaced "and threw up all over my clothes..."

 

At a Buddhist retreat??

 

"Yeah..." he said, tears weling up in his eyes. "We were just sitting around listening to the lecture....just sitting you know? And they started walking around with whiskey, filling the glass....and I just kept drinking...."

 

I listened to his story. He was obviously horrified.

 

"Was anyone else there going through that?" I asked.

"No..." he chuckled sheepishly "it was just me.."

"Did they take care of you?"

"Oh yes....they took care of me, of course...."

 

This isn't the first time he has had a seriously embarrasing drunken experience.

Back in our early twenties, he came over to my house one night, went directly to the bathroom and didn't come out.

After twenty minutes, one of the many friends we had over, threw caution to the wind and opened the bathroom door.

There was Jay, his pants around his ankles, passed out with what appeared to be bloody vomit everywhere.

We called the ambulence.

 

They took him away after a brief struggle.

It turned out that it wasn't blood, but a cranberry drink he'd had a party somewhere downtown.

He was diagnosed with alcohol poisoning and didn't get back until 5 in the morning.

He slept for the next two days on our couch.

 

"It was like that time....long ago at your house...." he was saying now, crawling into bed.

"So when you called last night...." I said, realizing.

"....I lied because I didn't want to tell you I was that drunk....I'm sorry I lied to you..."

 

I nodded.

I didn't say it was ok because it wasn't.

But I didn't stay upset because he told me the truth. And when he walked in the house...well....it was pretty obvious what had happened.

 

Saturday came and I went to my cousin Chandra's bridal shower in Jackson.

I am the Maid of Honor.

Chandra's mom, Brenda was hosting it and it was at there new house they had built.

I used to be really close to Brenda. I grew up with her as an active part of my life.

But when Chandra graduated from college, she sort of became a stranger.

It really felt strange and I'm not sure why it happened.

 

So now I was going to see them...after a long time.

It felt odd.

 

They lived in the country, surrounded by fields.

The house was smaller than their previous one, but fine-tuned to Brenda's tastes. She was very warm and sweet as she'd always been - but the gap was still there.

 

Her house was spellbinding. Like something out of a magazine.

Because I've been remodeling my house, I spent some time marvelling at the details, commenting on how proud she must be having designed the house her husband built.

 

Her husband is not Chandra's father. That relationship was over long ago when I was a teenager.

Her husband today is Tom Travis, formor Fire Chief and the rowdiest, loudest redhead within 40 miles of Jackson.

 

"LOOK WHO IT IS!" he was coming towards me, a genial smile on his face.

"HI FREE!! HOW ARE YA?"

A big bear hug.

A couple sarcastic comments swapped back and forth.

And then the deer.

 

"See em out there?" his voice coming down to a dull roar and he pointed off in the distance. "They like to come out and check us out...."

 

In the distance a family of deer watched us curiously, dipping their long necks down to graze now and then.

 

Chandra arrived soon after and we began setting up.

 

"Beautiful day...." Jenny, one of the bridesmaids said as the breeze tossled her blonde curls.

 

The sun was warm but the breeze cool.

 

"Perfect for an outdoor party." I agreed.

 

The guests started to arrive and it was like being in a time warp. All these people that dropped out of my life. Brenda's parents, Chandra's childhood friends, old friends of my mom and dad's......

 

I mingled and munched on chicken salad.

 

The punch was spiked hard and one glass was all I could drink.

 

The bridesmaids all sat at one table. Except for Jenny. Who sat with her mom far away from everyone else. I sat with Chandra's loony great grandmother, J.J.

 

"How is your mom?" she asked, bits of mayonaise smeared all over her mouth as she talked.

"She's good...she moved to Oregon...."

 

Chandra sat down next to J.J amd started chatting.

At one point, J.J began coughing uncontrollably. For about 5 minutes straight.

To my amazement, everyone ignored her.

I struggled with it but basically played sheep and ignored her as well.

 

I thought about the days I used to see these people weekly. Picking Chandra up on the weekends to go to my house in Ann Arbor and hang out with all my friends. Staying the night in Brenda and Tom's house, waking up in the morning and eating pancakes, going swimming in their pool, picking beans with Brenda in her garden, the bright sun on our backs.....

 

The bright sun....

 

"You need to get in the shade." Chandra said, alarmed.

"Oh yeah?" I said absently, checking my shoulders. They were bright pink.

"Oh my GOD! Freedom, you're really getting sunburned!" someone else said suddenly.

 

It was time to eat cake. I always hate this part because I really don't like birthday-style cake.

"I LOVE this cake!" Chandra said handing me a fat piece. "I love the frosting!"

My stomach was starting to feel queasy. My head was beginning to pound. And OMG - the sunburn hurt like hell.

 

Somehow I made it through the rest of the party. Through the gifts, through the clean up, through packing the mountain of gifts into Chandra's car.

 

Jenny approached me with the ring of bridesmaids.

"So....is it ok that we stay at your house for the bachelorette party?" she asked.

"Yes, of course. I have room for about six...."

"well...there's 15 of us. Do you have room for more if we just bring air mattresses?"

I was almost in shock but recovered.

"Sure." I said, imagining the chaos.

 

Everyone seemed pleased and I got in my car and drove home.

 

When I got home, Jay was there, recovered from his drunken binge.

He tried to hug me, but I pushed him away.

"What's wrong?" he asked, almost demanded.

 

"I think I got heat stroke."

[honeyspur]

The wedding was last month.

 

And when I got into the car with Chandra, I was impressed with how adult she was. She felt more adult than me with her spotless town car, sensible fashion and manicured appearance.

We drove through Jackson, which looked no different than it did twenty years ago.

 

"Ok, we're going to go by the church," she said "so just don't freak out..."

Puzzled, I asked her why I would freak out.

"Oh you'll see..." she gave a knowing laugh.

I knew Chandra was getting married at a Catholic church despite not being religious at all. And I knew it was downtown.

But as we drove up the hill, a strange flickering of pink and blue hinted what was to come....

 

"Oh my god....." I balked.

"Oh yeah" she agreed.

 

The church was on a busy corner of downtown. And surrounding it on all 4 sides, on every inch of the lawn, were hundreds of pink and blue anti-abortion flags, flapping angrily in the wind. Each one printed with a moony-eyed baby face, staring emptily back at us.

 

"Holy crap!" I was aghast. "What did you say to them about it?"

"They can't take them down! They said the anti-abortion people were "mean" and they couldn't touch them." Chandra laughed, defeated.

"No..."

"Hey - they are a Catholic church....." she shrugged.

"Well, ok, but even Catholics wouldn't want a million anti-abortion flags in their wedding pictures..." I said matter of factly.

"True..." Chandra said, the idea just now dawning on her.

 

We went and got green hydrangeas for the pews from "the cake lady".

A little white house on top of a little green hill. And when the door opened, a little red faced woman appeared, laden with cottony green flowers.

"You are a lifesaver!!" Chandra beamed as the cake lady emptied them into our arms.

"They dried beautifully." she commented.

The house swelled with warm, golden cake smell and a small, grand-daughter type looked up at us as we excanged goodbyes.

 

To the reception hall, where one of the two Jenny's in te bridal party met with us to decorate. Little yellow and green candles, tall white lillies and sugary table place cards adorned the room.

"That's good." Chandra nodded in satisfaction as we surveyed our efforts.

 

On to the rehearsal.

 

Inside the church, the priest, round and cuddly, shook our hands.

He was so enthusiatic about marriage! On and on he went about how wonderful it was to marry people. I couldn't help thinking about the endless scandals I'd heard about the Catholic church.

Was he just like those priests? I wondered.

His pep talk now over, the rehearsal lady rounded the bridal party up.

"Here's where you'll be getting ready..." she led the way.

 

"Here" was a tiny niche under a stairway with no air conditioning.

We all gasped and she nodded gravely.

"This is a very male chauvenistic church..." she pointed out. Like we needed it pointed out to us.

 

My crazy stepmom Leslie had arrived and followed us. But blessedly, she asked in the most polite way, "Excuse me, but when are they going to take the flags down?"

Everyone else chimed in but the rehearsal lady looked frightened.

"Well, " she fidgeted. "we tried to tell them, but they said we had to leave them up...."

"Maybe we could call them..." Jessica, one of the brides maids offered.

"No..." reheasal lady was shaking her head, face turning red. "I think we can hope the take them down tomorrow morning...they said they'd be back..."

"It's just that it's so sad for a wedding..." Leslie interjected.

"We could take them down..." Jessica persisted.

Reheasal lady lifted her hands in a peaceful gesture. "We will do what we can...."

 

And at the rehearsal dinner it was the topic of conversation at every table.

Everyone plotted over chicken or fish and the growing consensus after several alcoholic berverages was we were going to storm the front.

Did I say we?

Well, almost.

Poised and ready, Chandra and I sat in her truck as the entire wedding party skittered accross the church lawn, plucking out flags one by one.

"40,000 DEAD!" the baby-killer flags screamed under the dim street lights.

But it took almost no time to get rid of them all.

The lawn now clean and gentle looked as if nothing had ever happened.

 

The bridesmaids rushed to the car. The groomsmen faded into the night.

 

"Jenny's really upset." Jessica said as she hopped into the backseat.

"Why?" Chandra asked, surprised.

"Her basement flooded." Jessica said. "For the tird time."

And then the Jenny in question, Jenny V from Chicago, got into the car, tears streaming down her round cheeks.

"Andrew just left to go home and try and salvage everything......" she wailed. "We just got back from China and bought all this furniture!!"

We tried to console her.

"I'm sorry Chandra.....I didn't pull any flags...."

"It's ok Jenny!" she assured her.

We pulled away from the church slowly, watching it's clean, bare grass sway in the dark.

"You know we did that because we love you, right?" Jessica tossed out from the back.

"I know..." Chandra said. And we headed back to Chandra's parent's house and the fields and the deer.

[honeyspur]

The weeks have gone by.

 

I started working hard on breaking my nail biting habit.

This is something i've done since childhood. I even remember the day I decided to start....

 

 

I was about 3 years old. And playing on a tire swing. At some point, during the mad frenzy of swinging, my pinky swiped accross the rope and my fingernail ripped clean off. My three year old mind went into overload at the sight of so much blood and I ran into the house screaming like a wild banshee.

 

My mother, thoroughly annoyed by tears and fits, hurried to clean it up and show me it was only a tiny area that was damaged.

"See?" she snapped as I investigated the small strip of raw flesh. "You're fine - now just relax!" she put a band-aid on and sent me back outside.

 

I hung myself halfway through the tire, feet dangling as I swayed solemnly back and forth, realizing with grave seriousness what happened.

"Well, that's it," I resolved in my mind. "My nail's gone forever - guess I screwed my self there."

 

The next day it was back on the tire swing, donned in a blue demin fisherman's hat, shading my eyes from the autumn sun. I was curious about my new naked fingertip and pulled the band-aid off.

With utter amazement I saw the nail had grown back almost completely overnight.

I can't really explain how - but my mind immediately went to biting them off. I wanted to see if it would happen again.

So my nibbling began.....and while my parents drifted around the house, in their ghostly drugged fog, it became my secret pleasure.

 

And accompanied me through the years, passing away boredom, calming agitation and snapping me out of the numbness that developed at the end of high school.

I dropped over a hundred pounds by the time I was 22. Everything improved with my new athletic lifestyle, my skin, my hair and my moodiness. But my nails were still my sacrificial sweetheart, constantly regenerating for my addiction.

 

Sometimes I bite them till they bleed. And some have no nail - just a rough callous to remind me that it's still my fingertip.....a vague memory repeating itself over and over from long ago on that tire swing.

 

But as of the last 3 weeks, I have chosen a select few to not bite and for the first time in 30 years, I see my nail as it was meant to be. Smooth, hard, protective. Never was one to shield myself from damage. It is strange and I think I keep a few to bite because it's going to be clear I'll have to cope with things differently once all the nails are back. And I'm not sure how I'll do that.

I gave up drugs, I gave up food - hell, I even gave up cynicism. But nails are the very last thing.

 

The difference between the untouched nail and war torn nail is stark. Nothing drives home the torture I put myself through than seeing the two side by side. Right now, they ache slightly, reminding me I am here in this reality and not lost in my own inner planet.

[honeyspur]

Have I mentioned how much I hate cleaning? HAVE I MENTIONED THAT TO ANYONE YET?????

 

 

 

Jeez, dust has got to be the natiest, nitpickiest stuff around. The way it collects in your sinus - tickles the back of your throat and never really seems to go anywhere but back to where you cleaned hours afterwards.

 

That is some bunk!!!

 

I have such little patience for it and I wouldn't say I grew up in a messy house, really. I remember our homes being "pack-ratty" but not covered in dust or filth.

 

So now that I have a four story Victorian to clean - the reality of dust is really pissing me off.

I have only learned in the last 4 years or so how to clean daily and it's still only one or two rooms - not the whole house. But dusting seems to be the last thing on the list. Having 5 cats doesn't help.

 

Oh yeah. 5 cats means 5 litterboxes on each level of the house. Good times. -_-

 

 

Tonight is the "craft night" that my girlfriends and I have once a month.

 

I'm pretty psyched, but am also worried because I am So strapped for cash right now!! I might not have enough gas and will be scraping my change bank for just a few dollars to get there and back.

 

I'm making "Hazelnut crunchers" right now - here is the recipe:

 

Ingredients:

• 1/2 cup butter or margarine, softened
  
• 1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar
  
• 1/3 cup sugar
  
• 1 egg
  
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
  
• 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
  
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  
• Pinch salt
  
• 1 cup vanilla or white chips
  
• 1 cup chopped hazelnuts or filberts, toasted

Directions:

 

In a large mixing bowl, cream butter and sugars. Add egg and vanilla; mix well. Combine dry ingredients; add to creamed mixture and mix well. Stir in chips and nuts. Shape into 1-1/2-in. balls; place on greased baking sheets. Flatten to 1/2-in. thickness with a glass dipped in sugar. Bake at 350° for 10-12 minutes or until lightly browned. Remove to a wire rack to cool. Yield: about 2 dozen.

[honeyspur]

Life really changed around.

 

Jay going to truck driving school has given me so much privacy, I'm back to trying to keep myself busy.

 

I haven't practiced my singing lately because Mike, the contractor working on my house, is here with a couple guys every day working on the library.

 

Crazy Amazing lentils

 

1 cup lentils or split yellow peas

 

2 cups water (more as needed)

 

1 teaspoon of turmeric

1/2 teaspoon of cumin

1/4 teaspoon of ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon curry or garam masala

1/4 teaspoon of red (cayenne or chili) pepper

1 teaspoon of salt

 

3 tablespoons butter or ghee

 

3 whole cloves

 

1 onion cut into slivers

 

4 carrots peeled and chopped (optional)

 

1 to 1 and 1/2 tablespoons of brown sugar

 

Get a large heavy bottomed saucepan.

 

Combine lentils and water in saucepan and bring to a boil

Turn heat down to low and add spices and salt.

Partially cover and simmer until almost all of the liquid is gone. Add two more cups of water. Continue simmering until almost the liquid is gone. Repeat process until lentils are soft, splitting and thickened. When the lentils are a smooth pastey texture, turn off heat and leave partially covered.

 

In a frying pan sautee onion (and carrots if desired) and cloves in butter/ghee, until vegetables are soft. Add to lentils and combine. Sprinkle brown sugar on top and mix until combined. Add more salt or brown sugar as necessary.

 

Wrap in tortillas or any warmed flatbread. Serve with chutney if desired.

 

 

 

 

The first time I made this I had the heat too high and made a big mess on the stove - second time I kept it lower and things stayed clean. Took about two and a half hours overall.

[honeyspur]

Well, The time is ticking by and Jay should be on the road in a giant truck fairly soon. Yesterday, he seemed kind of irritable. Snippy and impatient. Our friends Pete and Ingrid are coming over tonight. I hope he cheers up a bit before then. We have a couple movies to watch - the one thing that seems to even his mood! I'm worried about money. I don't get how Jay is supposed to get out there and just not spend anything the whole time. And I'm still supposed to deal with everything here. Including Jay's parents who are coming to stay for up to three weeks with their dog!!! Jay is usually here to spend time with them and care for the dog (his parents do a crappy job). I really think I could live with them just fine - but don't really want to. They are so fragile and destructive - always on the verge of flying apart. Both highly aged despite their years - the seem at least ten years older than they are. When I think about that generation - the drugged out sixties - I feel so bad for them. Their bodies were hit so hard at an early age then they worked hard for the rest of their lives - they seem so used. I guess we will suffer from obesity, so we will get our own taste of absurd fate. This American generation, the one I'm from - were raised by the 60's generation who barely learned to take care for themselves. Parked in front of TV's, a lot of time spent alone as our parents worked and not encouraged to be physical as a routine I think made one country full of fat kids. It's an uncomfortable veil over everything now when you see how being overweight is the majority of our population now instead of the other way around. I constantly telll myself how I broke free of obesity years ago, so I can't get caught up in the ridiculous chain of overeating our society and families promote. I remember how as a child, I was scrawny and malnourished. At some point, my school called my parents in to explain the shape I was in. I got yelled at for it anyway. "What do people expect you to do when there's no money?" my stepmother grumbled driving us home after the meeting. "Don't talk about our life to anyone, ok? If anyone asks you anything just say you don't know." My father, frustrated, said later. "If they came here they'd find out what we do and we could go to jail." I was shocked as this was the first time in my 3 years of living with them he'd admitted being a drug dealer was illegal.So the nights of no dinner - the no breakfasts and a year later, no food at all for long stretches of time became something I got used to and cared little about. It makes sense but also seems stupid that I became obese 5 years later. And I do remember it really sneaking up on me since it was combined with puberty and normal growing changes in my body. I started to grow and grow and within a year I had to go to plus sized stores - where the clothes are more expensive by the way! And then, being obese became something I just accepted and thought I would be forever. At least now, I understand it's all about boring numbers (reading calories on things) and being physical. It's really brainless, in fact, which is why I never liked it and ignored it's importance. Anything that easy was not worth it. And also believing that athleticism is some godlike superpower and not a talent embedded in all of us just waiting to be practiced. After kickboxing, bellydancing and generally running around like crazy, I saw the truth of working out. They were all things I wanted to do anyway - so it wasn't hard. Then concentrating on reading every label of every thing I ate - I started to make different choices at the spur of the moment. I ate very little but continuously all day long because I knew exactly how many colories I was eating. It was simple. And 15 pounds came off in two months. That's two sizes. I think about my family - all obese except for my grandmother - who started it all with her cooking. It's interesting how her fierce battle against her own obesity in these last ten years has lengthened her life and kept her relatively healthy, while my grandfather teeters on the edge of cancer. I hope my mother, who is out there now taking care of them, takes it a little seriously - she's pretty big - I'm not even sure how much she weighs at this point. and even though my grandmother limits her own eating, she still pushes food on everyone else like it's thhe Apocolypse we're living in! >_

[honeyspur]

Ah...a moment to myself.

 

it is two weeks into Jay's job as a truck driver. His parents, Barbara and Marvin are here until the 17th of May.

 

Already I have been through the emotional wringer with his mother.

 

Barb started out as an orphan. Her mother gave her up at a late age - 4, but had an abusive start with her, causing her to feel unloved from the beginning. Her father came to take her back at age 10. In the orphanage, she was also abused. In her teens she was sent to a therapist, who again, abused her.

 

By 17, she met Jay's dad, who got her pregnant and then married her. Jay's father, a violent drunk in those days, tore the marriage apart and divorced her, believing she had cheated on him, something she denies, but I suspect is true.

 

They had 3 kids, Barry Jr., Julie and Jay. Young and uneducated, she gave up the house and her rights to Jay's dad. She then lived in her car for a period of time and became a factory worker for Ford Motor Co, where she was employed until her recent retirement.

Feeling at fault for everything, she vanished from her children's lives, leaving no explanation for several years. This was ultimately the trigger that set Jay's father into physically abusive mode with his kids.

 

Around Jay's puberty, age 11 or 12, Barbara returned and set to make things right between her and her children. While Barry and Julie were cautious and somewhat resistent, Jay became very close to her, taking on a confidante role. He soon became her "favorite".

To win Barry's love, she allowed him to drink and use drugs on their visits, while she went out and partied. Barry fell into alcoholism. Meanwhile Julie, who was 15, got involved with a 35 year old man and remained in that relationship until she met her current husband at 19, Dave.

Barb went through a series of boyfriends who used and provided little stability.

 

When Jay was 21, around the time he and I first got involved, Barb was heavily into American Indian Spirituality - believing as most white people in America do - that she was a descendant of American Indians. To Minnesota she went, to a large festival and Pow Wow that was being held on the reservation. Jay went with her.

There she met Marvin, her current husband. They had an awkward courtship and Jay realized his mother had finally found true love.

 

When she returned, I ran into her at the annual town Art Fair.

She spotted me sitting by a stage and approached me, telling me how much Jay adored me and had missed me on the Reservation. He and I were still in difficulty at that time and it was that conversation with his mom that convinced me to pursue the relationship.

 

Now Barb is untangling herself from the pain of her childhood and the mess she made during her parenting. She is a manic, manipulative personality. Imposing and unable to master impulse control. She is overly accomodating, often running out of money, then lying her way to the next paycheck. Her husband - an amazing story in his own right - gets money from the state due to mental disfnction. He is unable to work. He is also a recovering alcoholic and ex cocaine addict. He is also a gambler. They often gamble money away - unable to afford their bills. Before Julie started keeping watch over their finances, they would have their electricity or water shut off periodically.

 

So these two are with me day in and day out - restless and frustrated as they wait to move out to California where Julie will take care of them.

They've already borrowed a hundred dollars from me and so far, it looks like I won't be getting it back. His mother follows me around and talks a million miles a minute about everything from family gossip to past memories of her maddening life.

 

She lies to her children on a daily basis about money - then tells me the truth, asking me not to tell them. I always tell Jay, but keep her screts from Barry and Julie.

She tries to talk to her family continuously throughout the day and they largely ignore her calls. She is unable to respect my privacy and I've had to lock doors and ignore her calling in order to get anything done. Before she would just walk in - whether I was clothed or not.

 

So now it's a series of get togethers with the families until Julie heads back to California with Dave and their two year old, Violet.

I'm not going to the one at Jay's dad's. That's too much. But will most likely be hosting one here with Barb and Barry's family. THAT should be interesting.

[honeyspur]

With the end of May, comes a brief moment of solitude before my younger cousin, Leah, comes to stay.

 

Cousin leah is my uncle's daughter from my mother's side. Heavily Fundamentalist, she is a giggly, bubbly personality. Fullfigured and short, with dark hair often cut in a cute bob, she has large, lashy eyes. I've often hoped she'd come to stay once she was old enough and now that's she's finished college, it's about time!!

 

The last week of Jay's parents really proved to push my limits. Barb was in full neurotic swing, battling with Marvin and getting in her last bits of medical testing and frivolous money spending. Her daughter, Julie is now fully moved into her new house in California and sent me a check for $220.00 so I could take her to Sunny J's and get fitted for a proper bra.

 

"Thank you so much honey," she rasped over and over throughout her 5 weeks stay "now that I'm old, I've been losing a lot of confidence over my looks......"

Because it was my idea, really.

I just thought she still has this great figure, but like all busty types, gravity takes it's toll on the breasts. And let's just say, for a 5 foot 2 woman with size 5 1/2 feet, she has some tremendous hooters.

 

"Size H." I read outloud as we snapped the bra in place behind the curtain of the dressing room.

"Kind of embarrassed....." she said. But as she surveyed herself in the mirror, it was clear Barb saw what she'd been missing all these years.

"Never! Never have I had a bra that fits - not even when I was young!"

 

Size H!!! Not sure it was easy to get a size H bra back in the 50's. I guess I shouldn't talk since I'm hauling size F's around every bloody day, but my LORD - can't imagine the number it does on her back!!

 

Now Jay is getting ready to go back on the road after being at home for the Memorial Day weekend.

Healthy doses of "Big Brother" and sushi have passed the time and I'm both sad and happy he's leaving.

 

Sad for obvious reasons and happy because I'll be able to get a lot more done. With no distractions I hope to start my jogging routine.

[honeyspur]

It really is true that other people do not want you to change and get caught up in their own personal image of you. Everything I read says don't let other's reactions sway you. So I decided to pick up this journal again and get some of my feelings out.

 

For years, I've partied with my friends. And I've always gone through bouts of isolation because we have such a "party party PARTY!" style that I am getting tired f it. I don't mind a few drinks with a few friends - but a big gathering of 12 people combined with cigarettes and booze - I'm done. In fact, I am really beginning to embrace and turn towards the idea of giving myself more of what I need and not looking to others for validation. Before I could never seem to separate the concept of keeping friends and being myself. I really do see now that perhaps I may lose some friends, but being myself is better than feeling the need for validation.

 

I have had a desire to be by myself for awhile. But maybe this is the way to get that need fulfilled. My friend for the last 28 years has moved off to San Francisco.

This had an effect on me as one might expect, but it caused an uproar in my circle of friends and set off a huge tension in my relationship. In the end, all I really wanted was to spend time with my friend in a way I could cherish and enjoy. Not in a fog of the intoxicated crowd. But that was somehow not ok with ome of my friends and they are irritated with me.

 

My friend who has left for out West probably is living her new life - doing exactly what I should be doing - living her life and giving herself what she needs. It might even feel like a vacation for now.

So I am thinking this a fresh start - for me as well - to live this life as best I can and try to learn some self nourishment.

I am so hooked on validation from others it is hard to get the motivation to go out there and do things on my own.

 

So I will focus on the upcoming autumn season and get out in the country and start enjoying nature. The leaves will turn soon and before you know it the earth is frozen and bare again. I will fill up on what nature provides and breathe some new life into myself.......

[honeyspur]

The beginning of my day stars now, even though I've been awake for a few hours. After hugging Jay tight before he went to work and telling him I loved him and would miss him, if even just for the day, I sat down with coffee and television. I still watch a lot of reality tv - it's the only tv that keeps my interest - otherwise I'd probably be listening to cds I got from WCBN to review. Outside I can hear the grabage and recycling being picked up, making it's way through the steady patter of rain. This winter should go down in history as the the most UNwinter of the century! It did snow - but bright sun. mild temperature and rain was more the order. Basically Oregon in the Midwest.

 

Life with Jay has been very good after a long time of boredom and strife. We went to therapy finally and started getting a structure on how to be good to each other. It was based on theory I believed in strongly, so going at it as slowly as we did was hard, but it definitely saved our relationship from ruin. So we have spent many hours together and very little with anyone else. I'm not sure but I feel a transition of my whole being taking place. A sort of "freedom" from social anxieties. It's a little nice and a little weird at the same time. I am a social person and it does drive me and get me moving in life. But my home always suffers and in turn, my self esteem. I don't have this ability to transition between the two. One has to take a backseat for the other to flourish.

 

But the nice part has been connecting to Jay as much as I have and feeling more and more like I want to be his wife. Strangely enough, him just saying certain things has lifted years of resentment and distorted thinking off of my shoulders.To hear him actually say things like, "I want you to feel like you can be yourself with me" and "I don't care if we have anyone else in our lives - I know we could have a great life with just us" makes me feel a sense of comfort and relief.

 

These walks Jay and I have gone on really feel like that - like we are the only two people anywhere and all this beauty and grandeur is ours. Yesterday we went to Highland Park, it was unseasonably warm - almost 70 degrees - and we wandered lazily about, as if under a spell, floating and drifting through the bramble and brush. I became so snap happy with the camera that I lost my shoe in the mud trying to get a good shot of something. Jay ended up pulling it out and I had to wear it anyway, since we had only just gotten there and it was a 45 minute drive back home.

But it wasn't long before I forgot about the wet shoe and just felt Jay's arm around my shoulder and that peace settling over us that was now routine. We've been doing these hiking loops for months now and I swear they are equally responsible for us getting back to our romance and unity. Something about all the space and wild things. The unexpected ground that takes so much concentration to walk through. The route and having to find the way back to the car without getting lost - it all takes so much teamwork - it's no wonder Ingrid and I only got so far - she is a good friend but not the lifemate I have in Jay. The person I can depend on to care for me and care for my physical well-being.

 

Jay is at work now - a big corporation that centers itself around the military. He works with mail and email, but so far it is one of the slower jobs he's had. When I think of how Jay enjoys having to concentrate on speedy things, it's no wonder he struggles with his moods over this job despite the huge pay he's getting. He makes as much money as I do, yet it isn't taking long for the shine to come off the job. It's a very different image than who Jay is. Very corporate and conservative. Jay can look the part but is mystified how so razor sharp of an appearance can get such little work done in a day and I have to agree. All the effort goes into the image? It makes me wonder....

 

More coffee and more dishes done. That is always how I start cleaning the kitchen. All the dishes, the counters, the stove then anything else - like cleaning the inside of the microwave or scrubbing the wall behind the trash cans.

I'm better at cleaning regularly than I used to be but dusting is still the one thing I never do. I really need to get this habit going since they make disposable dusters now. That's why I never got dusting in the past - it just moved it around.

 

Lately I've been making jewelry again as the last remnants of my old band are beginning to shake off of my memory. I really had a lot of emotion tied up in it even though it was my first band ever. Watching everybody get frustrated by me made me realize how much I've changed. And how much you really have to believe in something if you are willing to risk everything. At some point, I knew I might lose the band over insisting we share our creative space, but I knew I had to take a stand with it. After checking around, I saw it was very hard to be dominant in a band of guys - and most women get outvoted and overridden by their male bandmates. It was no surprise that just one or two guys is easier to communicate with that 4 or 5.

 

Now my life is getting back to where I started before the band, except part of me doesn't want that. I don't want to lose music and being a musician. But it seems to be like all things in my life - something that passes in and out on it's own choosing, not mine.

 

This my general mood today I think - this Debussy piece. I feel like things are quietly hurried. Like things are always calmly pushing and prodding until you are about to fall off a cliff. That I can never keep up the pace with anything or anyone. And it all seems so natural to everything else. The only time I perform at par with Everything is when I am ver detached emotionally and things seem more vacant than normal.

I am always needing a "downtime" from everyone and life itself. I've resigned in some way that work and domestic duty don't get a vacation - but the social activity and whirlwind definitely does. Especially when that begins to feel emptier than this huge old house that needs repairs and attention. I feel like people can't relate to why my home is so important to me when we are becoming more of a "throw away" society. The old rock solidness of the by gone days is losing favor with the world. As America is now - it's still one of the few places you can own land with ease. And yet - no one seems to care about that or see the incredible experience you have when you know your money is going into owning and not disappearing into a bottomless pit of some random person's wallet.

 

But it is tedious and kind of exhausting cleaning a big old house. Everything is LARGE and intricate. All these little spaces and nooks. When my mom came to visit a few months ago, I had a few minutes with her in the attic about what to get rid of and what to keep - and it was shocking how much space there was back there and how full of weird stuff it was. I imagined how big it must really be but it was a storage unit from the start. I keep having to remember my original intention for the house was to have many lodgers - so I could potentially do some cool stuff in here once everything is cleared out.

Like making my own little recording studio and learning how to do some real handiwork on the computer like my friend Alex does.

 

The next real task to conquer is to have the gutters cleared out. Something I've never personally called to set up - only paid for after my mother had dealt with it. so that is the next thing on the menu - then most likely having the chimney swept or the heating ducts cleaned - very large, messy jobs. Hopefully Jay will see that with him being gone during the day and I have to deal with the actual task and repair person - it's a good set up because it could be the other way around. It really is easier to just pay for it and not deal with any of the actual issue - and he'll see the benefit, I hope - unless he is truly a control freak.

[Sim54]

I know this comment is from way back, but I've just started reading your thread/diary, and I noticed this.

This stupid thing with the beads, set off a long thought process about how I feel like I help him at every turn and even drop whatever I'm doing because that's what being in a relationship is for.

 

Why do you feel like that?

If this is the case for you, but not for him, then can you reconcile it?

Believing the above is, to my mind, a recipe for over extending yourself, and then wallowing in resentment.

This is your script, and your belief, but not a fact about a relationships, and not a belief that everyone shares.

I for one, don't get angry when my partner is unavailable, I just accept it, and move on. I also don't expect them to always help me. I'm capable of taking care of myself, as are you.

You could also just ask him for help but i'm guessing that having to ask isn't the point, you want him to volunteer to help, as this would prove his love for you?

Am I close to the mark?

[honeyspur]

You could also just ask him for help but i'm guessing that having to ask isn't the point, you want him to volunteer to help, as this would prove his love for you?

Am I close to the mark?

 

 

Not terribly considering this was such an old post. But no worries. However your point is very true and a philosophy I believe in

Since that post and since about 6 months ago, we've been seeing a therapist and a lot of what you wrote is getting instilled.

[honeyspur]

In the science world, a theory is being proven over and over that empathy for others and compassion is a necessity in order to SURVIVE.

 

Many people have mentioned over the decades that they are amazed I survived all the trauma I endured. From my earliest memories - I was interested in others and what was going on inside them. What the body language and facial expressions meant. What people weren't saying and how it was expressing what they were really thinking. And the day my father pulled me onto my little bed and wept that he wanted me to come live with him and not my mother - I litterally FELT his pain at that moment - a strong and powerful chemical reaction went off in my brain - and I UNDERSTOOD his love for me was true. It may have been fragmented, it may have been distorted - but it was true. That was the day a light switched on - that listening, watching and feeling what others were experiencing was a pathway to knowledge.

 

AND this is why I thought it was necessary and I CHOSE to stop talking about myself and start listening and feeling what other people were experiencing at such an early age - otherwise I would've gone down with depression at probably a toddler level after all the hospitilization and my parent's divorce. It became a driving need around 7 or 8 when I started journaling - something in me said clearly to ask ask ask what people's lives were like, how they felt, tell me your troubles, etc. I never would've made it otherwise. My brain KNEW even THEN CHEMICALLY I had to start developing empathy and compassion. I always wondered why because I didn't read anything about empathy or compassion in those early years of psychological study. But it was like a pull that i just followed and really came into fruition by puberty. By then I knew I was skilled at it and had confidence in it.

 

One belief is that you change your thoughts - which I've been doing non stop these last few months in rediscovering "inner honesty and authentic self" - every time I have a weird thought, stereotypical judgement, etc - switching it - at first I had a lot of emotion and shame - anger at myself for having negativity I did not truly believe in - but that is slipping away and getting easier now. I have less of them and when I flip them to positive I don't tear up or get choked up as often. It IS really important what you think - judge - and it shouldn't be dismissed or even coddled. It was helping me to give myself some crap over these supposedly minor judgements because they can be reconditioned.

 

This cognitive stuff is what my therapist specializes and practices in. This is what she meant about anything you do is ok as long as you allow yourself to avoid shame and grief. And it's the reason going to talk to someone has always helped me so much because I have a tendency to over empathize and not seek empathy for myself. It must be why I'm attracted to people who don't empathize, don't ask what's going on inside me or ask about my life. I'm always honing this skill and I burn out. Then I get resentful, stop trusting and feel alone in a crowd.

 

this idea that labeling your emotions "just applying a word to describe an emotion" helps to reduce the feeling on a physical/chemical level - it is why why journaling is so helpful or even writing fictionally, as some people do. This connects directly to the concept on Indian Sanskrit - where they felt that language and the ability to speak things in words made things "real".

 

It really is a puzzle that all fits together and why the memory is so so powerful and probably the most important aspect of the brain itself. Now I see why Alzheimers study is so incredibly impoortant - your memory gives you a good quality of life depending on where it takes you and how you use it. And all that negative stuff is necessary as long as it directs you to the positive somehow. Now I see how "dwelling on negatives" helped in a way because it drove me to get out of it.

 

It's also clear how people who have poor memory (which is debateable to me now - I just wonder if they developed skills to put things into their unconcious) benefit from "letting go" of objects or things that remind them of painful memories - whereas people with good memory need to use other skills since the image or sensory feeling is always with them.

 

And guilt has it's purpose as long as it takes you to the self discipline and habit of changing or eliminating the bad behavior/negative thinking. This sounds crazy to an atheist - but I see why Catholicism focused on guilt as a way to train people out of bad behavior/negative thoughts - you NEED it to change. You can just be stuck there too long if you aren't careful. This is it - this is the key - to use all these things you are supposed to avoid for an appropriate amount of time.

 

I would've kept cheating. Just like I would've kept up one night stands when I was single. Or why I would've kept overeating. Or why I would've kept smoking too much. The guilt was an aid and I had to stop it before it became a habit and reversed the effects. I would've kept lying inside if I didn't start training every nook and cranny - even the most minor of lies.

 

I saw a guy on the street awhile back - a kid I knew in high school. He spotted me, called out my name and reached out to shake my hand.

"Freedom - I didn't see you at the Community High reunion - why is that?"

 

As I let go of his hand and passed on, I looked him right in the eye and told the truth. "Shy."

I never would've done that before I did this truth telling thing. I would've told myself it didn't matter enough - it was minor - who cares why I didn't go. He raised his eyebrows and nodded - like he knew anyway. That's the thing - people will believe what you say - so why lie? Especially in something that fleeting.

[honeyspur]

It pains my heart to think that my love's belief in Buddhism may be his only way to peace. Because it seems clear that he will not live with me and practice this at the same time. Relationship skill and Buddhist teachings - on the surface seem to contradict. Support, assurance, attention, care of another, protection of another and giving to another. I'm not saying Buddhism doesn't promote these things. I'm saying HE does not seem to see that. Otherwise he would be able to get through all this pain without leaving. And without being on the attack.

 

He said he lost who he was. But from Buddhism philosophy "everyone is lost" - me, you, everyone. I am so positive - I must use every discipline I have to not label him as negative.

I am romantic - emotional and the two coming together is nothing but beautiful in my opinion. But to my love, it is constricting. I feel that expressing my romantic notions through objects, tears, words, touch and planning is freeing, unifying and amazing. But time and time again - he has expressed that it feels embarassing, imprisoning, demanding and needy. The idea that 6 hours at the end of a day should be split between us, so we can both get what we need out of a relationship, angers him and seems unreasonable. Exact fairness on a basic mathmatical level seems agonizing to him and so constraining, he often does not see the simple logic in it. He sees it as me being needy and will not appreciate the time he gets to himself. Therefore whatever time I give to him - he will not recognize and I get labeled as having not given it at all. I end up feeling like he is crazy or selfish or childish or blind! I wish there were a camera so we could rewind and he could see by some manifestation that, yes, he got his 3 hours!

 

The idea that life is short doesn't seem to translate into why it's so important we both get what we need. And the idea that my need for 3 hours a day of conversation, attention and focus is naturally going to be different from his needs for solitary time, tuning out and separateness doesn't motivate him to give it. The logic is lost.

 

I had an affair, and in my weeks of guilt and shame and beating up on myself, he desperately, sometimes aggressively tried to get me to stop and forgive myself and focus on "love" only. Once I did that, he flipped and became an angry, accusatory mess, using any need I had as a pathway to rake me over the coals and shame me for having the affair. This Jekyll and Hyde is nothing new for him - before the affair this happened and reinforces the theory in relationship "science" that a couple will always switch like this in order to maintain a balance. It is implied that there is nothing that can be done - it's automatic. Therefore, it's hard for me to believe at this point that there is any hope. If I heal from my wrongdoings and discipline myself from the inside to change the very fundamental behavoirs that caused me to cheat - I cannot be loved by him or treated kindly. If I take on the cloak of shame and despair over it - feeling pain and guilt - I get anger as well because I need to snap out of it and get back to regular life.

 

Nevermind the fact that I DO feel guilty and I DO worry I can never be free of the chains of that kind of mistake. And nevermind the part of me that feels KNOWING that person I had the affair with is NOT a mistake because he is a good person, who, outside of the "luridness" of it all, taught me a great deal. Just the humaness of him will stay with me forever. That I can never be ashamed of.

The carelessness of my actions, the lack of self control, the letting it go on too long and the anger at him for suggesting we go through with it - that I have to overcome. And that guilt seems logical to me. Why not feel guilty?

 

I saw our relationship therapist in the parking lot of the grocery store earlier and of course, immediately brought on tears. We tried so hard and she was going to work tirelssly with us to get through this and stay together.

"But he didn't want to keep going, I'm sorry." I told her after she hugged me.

"You can't overcome this kind of thing being apart that's the point - you need to do it together."

"I know - I agree." I stressed.

But I could not fight anymore - I was getting so gunshy. All I could focus on was keeping him cool - anger in the therapist's office, anger at home - it's too much anger! That results in me getting cussed out and called names - a level of arguing I will not accept in my life. You want to go around and around WITHOUT that level of disrespect - I can handle it. Some loud voices, some angry tone - some going to separate rooms and letting it go for a few hours - that's all right with me. But the human punching bag crap - no way. The human punching bag, done enough times will get me fired up and I'll just give it right back. If I deserve to be cussed at - then so does he because he's "got issues" too - he sucks too - he makes mistakes too. And what does defending yourself really mean? Keeping that level of lashing out stuffed inside you then laying down and going to sleep next to them?? I tell you no - it festers and burns a hole in your stomach - you wake up with those nasty names and a whole crop of colorful terms springs up about them. Holding it in only works the first ten times you get cussed at - then it all comes out and gets thrown right back in their face.

 

There isn't enough journaling to get through this - there aren't enough pages, not enough screentime.

[honeyspur]

The absolute for this moment is that going against what matters to me - nearly took me out. That sounds a little dramatic, but it terms of shutting down and nearly vanishing - it is the truth. I have tried for some time - to allow myself to be different and concerned myself too much with what my loved ones thought and wanted. I think, though I am not positive, that no one wanted me to change. This sent me down a secret path, where I felt being hidden was the only way to get what I needed and keep everyone else happy. Once there, I couldn't turn back or find a different way.

 

Imagine being two of yourself. Sometimes I think we want this in order to do more, enjoy more and help more. But it got to a point for me where I couldn't enjoy things honestly or be genuine all the time. Only when I was trying to make up for where I disappointed myself did I seem to be free of it. So I have had happy times in these last few years and I am constantly reviewing them in my mind, to stay ahead on anger and listlessness. The recent bombardment of claims that I was suffering depression, still makes me laugh. After serious, clinical depression, which led to suicidal thoughts and planning, from decades ago now - this is definitely not that. Most people do not remember me at that time. My own mother seemed oblivious, possibly going through something of her own at the time and only acknowledges it now because I've talked about it so often since overcoming it. Which was a real triumph for me I might add. And something I always feel proud of. To hear people equate what i was going through a few months ago to that - they obviously have never been there.

 

This all residing under the headline of : PTSD. It makes sense to me now. Letting down all defenses is probably not the greatest thing to mix with PTSD - but where else was I supposed to go? Back in a shell. Back in a double identity? And this brings me to the case of how to manage it and my issue with pills. It is not that I don't appreciate medicine for depression on a general level. I wouldn't get rid of meds if it were up to me. But for myself - what I like about myself and admire - is that I am able to work through things, process them, understand them and come out the other side.

 

Some people would never feel "good" about going through this kind of stress and agony purely on willpower and patience and problem solving. But that's the thing with me - maybe I thrive on that. And that's the thing that continues to push me on and help me improve and break free of behavior I don't like and want control over.

And now this leads me to romance and my goal of being able to experience it and give it. I would say - giving it and seeing the joy some people receive from it is more enticing than just receiving it. And why i've struggled so much in relationships. On more than one occasion with several different people, I've expressed my romantic feelings and gotten embarassment, discomfort or simply nothing back - which always leaves me baffled. I've done nothing unkind, nothing intrusive, nothing really outrageous. Even on a platonic level, being romantic is gratifying. Doing something personal for your best friend or an acquaintance - heartfelt and full of passion. It is like creating art.

 

What is broken in me that I don't find people that truly appreciate this? Where I'm always looking and finding the ones who don't get it, don't want it and won't return it? I am under the crazy assumption that everyone likes romance and expression. And it's just not so.

 

Earlier today I put in 4 hours at the local charity for the hungry. I had a wonderful time talking and learning about the guy I was working with - a guy passionate about animals. He talked extensively about different animal rescues and all the programs and animals he'd encountered. He spoke of charities that failed and charities that succeeded. I am strange in the sense, I can work quickly with people there, talking or on my own. There is something about sorting through things, feeling the shape and texture and counting. So this kind of work, tedious to some, I really enjoy. I asked to work in the garden though - which will most likely be challenging. Working hard is good but I have to manage it or I will burn out quickly. After i had filled all those boxes, my body ached, but my mind was ready for more. But I knew if I was going to be able to do it again tomorrow and the days to come, I had to go home and eat, rest and do something mellow.

 

Nothing seems to exhaust me though. And when I lay down to sleep - some terrible wave of something shakes me awake.

[honeyspur]

Well I can testify today that 3 1/2 hours is all you need to clear out a good sized squash bed. I got to work in the Food Gatherer's garden for the first time today. As I was driving in - the leaves of autumn were painting a pretty picture and the weather was a perfect temperature. I didn't see anyone in the garden, so I went into the warehouse and checked the schedule. The parking lot was the fullest I've seen since I started volunteering. But the warehouse was surprisingly empty and it was lucky I heard Marz say, "Hi" in a small voice or I would've thought the place was empty.

"I was supposed to work in the garden today..." I said awkwardly.

"Ah I wrote something else in there-"

"It said 'carrots'"

"Yeah, I won't make you do carrots..." she smiled "I'll check with Dan who is feeling a little under the weather today..." and she went to the phone and started dialing.

Workers started milling about and I could see down by the bread/pantry aisle a group of volunteers working through boxes.

"Ok let's go out and I'll show you what to do for today..." Marz was saying "then we'll go get the tools you'll need."

 

The Food Gatherer's garden is gorgeous and lush. Very fine and healthy looking.

"So you'll just be pulling up these weeds alongside these peppers." she pointed down a row of green pepper plants. "And as for the squash....I guess you'll be getting all the old squashes and rolling them down the hill there." she pointed behind us, to a long green hill that stopped short of a red and gold canvas of trees and shrubs. There was a pile of garden refuse wilting and crumbling against the line of trees.

"Ok." I said simply and Marz trotted off.

The first part was easy enough and went by quickly. The garden is so meticulously tended, that the weeds came up with little effort, the soil rich and soft.

"How ya doing out here?" Marz appeared, squinting against the sun.

"Ok..." I said, standing up and brushing off.

"I spoke to Dan again and he said that all these squash?" she fanned her hands out to the busy squash bed. "Can just be pulled up. The whole thing."

I looked at the mass of tangled vine and leaves and my eyes widened. "All of it?"

"Yep! All of it. He said the squash is all done for the season, so it can just get taken out."

As I looked closer, the process had already been started - about half taken out, damaged squashes tossed to the edges of the yard.

"Ok. Cool." I said, surprised that a job like this was for only one person. All I had was a wheelbarrow and the gloves on my hands. But I discovered that it was in fact, quite easy and fun to yank on the long fuzzy vines and pile them into the wheelbarrow. The hard part was wheeling them down the hill and coming back up. But each time I did, I was met by a breathtaking view of the northside of tree town - fall colors blazing and blue sky shining.

Someone came out to their car and thanked me for "wrangling" the squash and I was cheered up by it. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to do it - but I finished all of it on my own. I figure that a few people would get it done in half the time, but admittedly, I enjoyed being out there alone.

 

"How's your back?" my cousin asked on the phone, when I was telling her about it later.

"Um...surprisingly ok." I said, thinking about it. But that might be because I sat in a massage chair an hour earlier when I treated myself to a pedicure. We'll see how it is tomorrow. I could definitely feel it when I was nearing the last two whellbarrow's full.

 

Being out there, the smell of the earth, the vines grazing my arms, the breeze blowing around - really made me feel in touch with the women in my family. My late Grandmother, Bev, my aunt Brenda and my Mom. My step-mother too, growing blueberry bushes on our Textile rd. property back in the day. It felt like I was with them again, only this time...I was enjoying myself instead of feeling clumsy and lost.

So that is what I'll be doing once a week and it is possibly my favorite thing to do there, we'll see, as I still haven't tried all the different jobs.

 

Things are feeling better lately. I still have crazy dreams and I still don't feel particularly thrilled with life, but I get up every day, I work hard and I come home and work hard some more - on my basement floor.

I'm surprised at whatever the heck the guy who owned the house before me was thinking when he carpeted the very damp and chilly Michigan basement of this house. The floor is very uneven, but instead of cementing it level, he did some sort of hodge podge - I remember him saying to prepare it for his mother in law. Originally it was an add on in the war times for the soldiers. But later he redid it in a rushed way and it shows. So now I'm on the floor, chiseling away with a putty knife and hammer as it is like a rock, the left over glue and some sort of chalky fill in - a lot like plaster.

I get about three feet done a night - I figure it will take about a month to get as much up as I can. Some just won't come up - it's too thin for the knife to go under. At times, I feel like giving up and calling in someone for hire - then I remember I can't afford it and move on!

 

I figure aside from moving all the leftover junk out of there - this floor will be the toughest task in refinishing. I hope the tiling will be less back breaking. I know this basement task is for me to potentially rent it out, but after all this work, I may want to move in there myself!

[honeyspur]

After a productive morning at Food Gatherer's and a delicious chicken pasta lunch. I've found myself listening to lectures about the connections of emotions and development in the brain. This is something that helps me relax, believe it or not, because often, I'm uncomfortable or impatient with my emotions. It's like a whirling top that I can't stop and going in circles over the moral and ethical implications of my thoughts. I make mistakes like all people but it's hard to say sometimes which mistakes are really detrimental to my life and which ones are harmless. Listening to others, I've found, only complicates things and isn't necessarily helpful. However, I think advice can really save you and shows a level of openness that can help an individual learn important skills.

 

One thing I'm more impressed by since I started working so much, is how quickly I can learn how to do things and how quickly I can perform them. Today at Food Gatherer's, I realized I had memorized the way certain foods feel when they are past their prime and so I was able to go through the boxes in half the time. Because of that (and the help from Linda who was volunteering also) we finished exactly on time. If today had been my first day, I would've had to stay longer in order to finish the whole thing, I'm sure of it.

I'm sure it is like that with everything and if I can keep that in mind, I should have less anxiety in trying new tasks.

 

I've been thinking about how different my life is now that I am not terribly social. An advantage to this is getting more done and having motivation to do more. The disadvantage is, the natural learning that comes from others gets slowed down. Now I get why we invented television and radio. A way to continue this learning without interacting by some kind of reenactment. The same with computers. I think this really connects to the theory that people evolved slowly from other mammal types - it's natural to learn.

 

My preoccupation with romantic love and all the emotions it entails is a constant wheel turning in my brain. It goes into overdrive around other people. I'll find myself thinking about it with the most irrelevant people. People I'm not interested in or hardly think of when I'm away from them. Sometimes I wonder if I should have been a matchmaker, because I'm always looking at people in that way. I'll think "Oh - those two would be good together!" or "This person seems like his/her type - I wonder if they are interested?" It really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, so it's a little irritating. Sometimes I feel like my own thoughts are intruding on my progression. At least half of my thoughts that get stirred up, I'd rather not think about at all. Then I spend a few moments trying not to feel bad about it since thoughts just go off - like fireworks. Once they go, that's it - you can't undo them. What's really interesting is that I'm able to perform manual tasks while all this is going on, something you'd think would get shut off.

 

I am still feeling discouraged by this floor. Staying positive is failing me today. Getting injured has a dampening effect.....

[honeyspur]

"Oh, I'm so glad you're here shopping!" one of the women from the Goetz Farms buzzed as I picked up some green beans.

 

It was about 9am and the Farmer's Market at Kerrytown was busy as usual. Goetz Farms always gives so much to Food Gatherers. And I needed to make a potato salad today, so I had to stop here.

Goetz and Donahee usually donate the most. And wouldn't you know it - they are the most cheerful and friendly. But everyone there has this spark - it's something I've noticed the more I go.

 

"Have you seen this movie......you would like it if you haven't....called "The Gleaners and I"?....it's a French documentary-" the women from Goetz was saying when suddenly she saw a customer had left thier bag of food tokens behind. "Oh my God....I have to go find her!"

 

I walked past the stalls of plush, richly colored veggies, soft, hearty breads and cakes and shiny, rosy fruits. Couples holding hands and families with bouncing kids streamed by. I bought things from each stall, carefully looking for that particular "look" that caught my eye. Like the carrots I got that are gigantic. Tiny little cucumbers and dark green, leafy basil bunches.

I stopped by all my favorite spot and tried some new ones. I looked longingly at the fish stall, but it was outside my budget. Because most of my meals this week will be vegetarian. That didn't stop me from buying some great looking sausage and hamburger though - great prices for meat at farmer's markets - I really urge anyone to take a chance, go out of their way and buy your meat at a fresh market.

 

I had gotten most of what I wanted on my list, but a small pair of earrings - one star and one moon - caught my eye. I came up to the table and several meticulous shapes were before me - leaves, a ship, a bird - all smooth and glossy.

"Aren't you the girl who picks up the boxes for Food Gatherers?" the women at the stall asked.

"Yeah later today."

What's your name?"

"Freedom. What's yours?"

"Nancy."

She told me how all her jewelry was porcelain and I bought a couple pairs of earrings. Porcelain always sounds so delicate and lovely - makes me think of beautiful dolls. After my stash of yummy sweets was bought from Sheri's ("I'm not a big blueberry pie fan - but lotsa people like em 'em, so I do it right! Try this blueberry bite here....") and the new french style bakery stall that opened a few weeks ago, I went home and watched "The Gleaners and I" - which is a breathtaking film - and felt invigorated to go do my shift.

 

"Hey Freedom - we are out of banana boxes as you probably know from working at the warehouse, so we have to use these. The vendors really hate them, but just apologize, tell them we hate them too." the driver of our truck told me. The banana boxes are sturdy and the top lifts off easily. The boxes we had today were wax covered and fold top. But as I dropped them off - not a single person complained and it didn't seem to be the issue that had been presented. Everything went smoothly, but less was given today - hopefully that just means business was good.

The Food Gatherers pick up at the Farmer's Market will be ending soon - usually mid to end October. But the Farmer's Market goes all year round - so I will at least be able to come and buy tasty locally made goods through the winter.

 

"What are you doing later today?" our driver asked as we loaded up more boxes.

"Working on my basement floor" I answered in a deflated tone, realizing my fate.

"Oh yeah? Are you doing a project?"

"Yeah, I'm tiling the floor but I have to get all the residue up off the cement first."

"That's a lot of work!" he acknowledged.

"Yes....it is....." I agreed. My agreement was a frown.

"It would be nice to hire it out but-"

"Yeah not a luxury for me unfortunately." I finished for him.

 

I came home, ate some awesome fresh food and watched some more documentaries on the food industry in America. Aside from the annoying phrase of "epidemic" being applied to the obesity issue here in the U.S, I agree with most of what these documentaries say. However, this is the problem with documentaries. It's too easy to be affected by them and take them as gospel. When, in fact, they are simply one take on the issue. It's true that we developed a very detached, weird relationship to our eating and food and that is a major component to obesity. But it is also true that it's a free country here - that is ALWAYS the case regardless of how much we want the government to take care of us. The choice will always go to the individual. And how they raise their kids. so if you don't want to be obese - YOU have to do something about - plain and simple. Even if you are a kid.

 

When I was obese, around 13 and 14 years old, it came on very quickly. But it was also exactly when my "pickiness" of food disappeared and I started making choices. Choices to reject my mother's home cooking and go for what tasted good and seemed "safe" emotionally. My mother also got lazier herself and started making more foods I would eat in order to not argue. I mean - my mom grew up on an apple orchard - she knew how to eat healthy. But I would not eat stuff she prepared - it freaked me out at the time. The smells were bizarre, and she was a meat freak. She came from that old school world of "rare" meat - which I still don't care for at all. But you know, she ate liver and onions, this weird stuff called "scrapple" that is basically pork and cornmeal cooked in a big vat-like style - so I couldn't deal with it. And started to live off TV dinners, canned foods like Chef Boyardee and frozene chicken food - like chicken patties and chicken nuggets. And spaghetti. Lots and LOTS of spaghetti.

 

Now I'll still eat this stuff now and then - I am not saying it should be banned or it's really terrible. I still think Stouffer's is the best frozen food you can buy. But after going from 135 pounds to 215 pounds in a single year, I think it's safe to say this is not a healthy daily diet. This is how i lived throughout my adolescence. And I just continued to gain weight. Because these things were so easy and I didn't have to rely on my Mom - I never learned how to cook, when I could have gotten a headstart, instead of learning later on in my 20's. I got to 270 pounds before I started to lose weight.

 

And what did it?

 

Falling in love.

Yep - you heard me. Falling in love is what satisfied my hunger.

 

Looking at these words now....a key is unlocking a door.......this is part of my constant obsession with love. Love is more powerful than food. I remember those days too - being in love with my now ex, and he didn't even know. And when he finally showed interest, I was not hungry. For an entire month. My mind was too busy spinning in bliss. Within weeks, I dropped a size and was so surprised, I just decided to eat less and pay attention to what I was eating and how much. I realized I ate at least 5 times a day - anything I wanted. And it hadn't even crossed my mind. I wasn't conscious of it AT ALL.

 

My whole life changed forever after that. Perhaps that is why i am always going after love and as soon as i feel it ending - I'm off hoping I either run into more love or seek it out actively. And if there is lots of love going on - I feel content, my heart and my mind don't wander.

It is no wonder - that we as humans - try to create and practice self love. Because everything else is just filler. Self love - if you can master it - constantly fills you. You don't have to rely on anyone else. And it can definitely become narcissism - so how can we stay in that comfy, healthy space?

I know I need to because I don't have control of anything outside of myself - so if I don't, I'm screwed.

 

So many things make me happy - but they are so temporary - it is almost exhausting to try and provide them all on my own. I love all kinds of material things, all kinds of practices, activities, relationships....but when none can be found or all sources have been depleted, I'm back on the road to depression. And then it's just willpower day to day - until a good day comes along and uplifts me.

[honeyspur]

"Now I want Indian food....." said the volunteer I was working with today. We were sorting breads and she was investigating a handful of Nan bread in plastic casing.

'Me too' I thought. 'And I'll be making some when I get home.'

It feels good to work well with someone, fast and efficient.

"I get daily migraines," she said at one point."and I take medications for it but the one side effect is has is.....it makes me sweat."

I am surprised I haven't gotten migraines for some time now. I was getting them at least once a week earlier in the year, but of course, that's when my whole world turned upside down. I am grateful though because I doubt I could do as well of a job if I was dealing with them. They really are like being sick with the flu - you might as well just lay in bed - at least the kind that I got.

My partner for the day had left for something momentarily, and Dan, the gardener, was passing by.

"You know, I never thanked you for all the work you did in the garden last week...." he smiled. He always smiled.

"Yeah it was my first time doing something like that, so I'm glad to hear it-"

"Yeah it's going to be more of the same tomorrow basically."

This was a relief to hear. I was slightly worried I might have done some damage since I was just yanking on vines with wild abandon. It was a lot like wresting Cthulu.

I asked him about how to save my lettuct for tonight's freeze, then soon after my bread partner in crime returned.

She had a mass of very healthy looking auburn curls that hung down around her shoulders and I remembered the envy i had for curls growing up. My mother has naturally curly hair and i always wished I had the same. Now of course, not so much. But it is still quite lovely to look at.

 

So after a lot of bread, I fought the urge to go directly to my nearest bakery after my shift was up and went home to my current schedule of basement floor scraping and documentary watching. I've decided, at least for now, I will try and educate myself some on politics and politicians since the election is next month and I figure there is a reason our entire country runs on this ridiculous system. I'm not a very political person - it bothers me for the most part. It seems to get tangled with basic human emotions - good and bad - so things always seem more complicated than just passing a bill or taking this or that side. But I love this country, so it's at least good to try and know what the hell is going on with all these scandals, all this war and all these freakin' laws.

 

I remember, in first grade, Reagan was running for election. Our little class decided to have a mock vote and I was sitting right next to two boys who thought Reagan should be President. They were up against a majority of first graders who didn't agree, including myself. But I also remember thinking the whole thing was stupid since we were first graders. When asked what we thought of these candidates, most answers were "My Dad likes him" or "My dad hates him". So it seemed silly. I didn't like Reagan for the same reason. Why should we be voting - even if it's not real?

Playing. That what it still seems like sadly - a lot of playing - a lot of knowing surface facts, but not being in Washington, never actually being the President and not really knowing enough. If everyone got the chance to be in these political roles, for a good year - I bet most of their original views, would change. Nothing like living it, to make you know a much broader range of something.

 

I also understand - which is why I am not a politician - how most people working in highly public, important political positions, start to get frustrated with the general public and their opinions. The general public is not doing their job, not under the same pressures, not having to adjust mentally to all that power. So how do they know the weight on their shoulders? They can guess all they want and they can speculate all they want about how they'd do a much better job - but they don't know.

 

Now, as I sit down to my vegetable curry, and consider between my book or another documentary - I miss my ex. It's not quite the panic it was last night. Like a tidal wave breaking me into bits and scattering me all over the floor, but it is still there. A dull, quiet cloud. A blank kind of sadness.

 

I miss a lot of people at times - but when I think about it - when I was with them - I rarely felt like I was there. Like we were not connected and enjoying each other. That part of me got lost somehow - years ago - and I started living my beliefs, not feeling them. People are good, I care for them, they deserve care...yet I just don't feel anything really. I wonder if that's all love is - something you create - not something that really exists. Sometimes now, when I'm laughing or thinking how the atmosphere, the people, the vibe, is good. It just seems good logically. The feeling is either out of reach or not there. I just know this what good looks like, sounds like - so I can't deny it. If I do feel - sometimes at work or here at home - it's like a butterf ly - flitting around me, but too fragile and quick to catch and hold onto. Like I should just watch it come and go because if I tried to hold onto it, I would crush it beneath my fingertips.

[honeyspur]

I resisted the urge to call my ex this morning. I really hate that word "ex". I almost want to say "former" instead. I woke up thinking about him, thought about our last time walking through the park and the chain of events. How much i wanted to get together again and realized the truth was, I couldn't lie and act like we were just buddies and I didn't want to reunite. I cried for a minute, remembering how nasty things had gotten, the names he called me, the accusations of my character and realized...there is no point. And didn't call.

 

Everything I wanted to do always came with another outcome and I thought, how would I ever get to the point where I felt ok about him again? Was it futile to think we could get to the point of enjoying each other again - making it work? All these years - nearly 2 decades of building our love and only getting to a point of competitiveness, judgement and distaste?

 

Sometimes, I will do something completely uninteresting, like buying a certain brand of food I know he didn't like - and I'll worry if I should of bought it - like he's still with me, still here to judge me, critisize me for it. Then I realize he isn't but I still don't feel better. Maybe it is true I started to think his opinions over such harmless things were defining me. Instead of just being me and realizing it's ok to have different tastes.

If it were someone else, I would tell them not to care. 'Be yourself and be proud' I would say.

 

I thought to go to charity walk going on downtown - a 5 mile walk for those in need. The weather was not so great and then it occurred to me it would probably go past all the walks he and I used to do, when we were working so hard to stay together. Could I hold back the tears? I'd be going by myself - no one to distract me. If we passed a particular view, tree, bench....would I just come apart?

"Don't push yourself...." my mother offered when I mentioned the walk. Now, waking up feeling so affected,I decided against it.

 

I read my book, made tea and worked on my blog. My mom called to help. I made another dish for tomorrow's entry and marvelled at how calm everything seemed in the world around me, despite how hard the winds were blowing. This Nicholas Sparks book has proved to be extremely good - "A bend in the road". At first I thought it was just a well written love story, but there is mystery and action too - like a good movie should have.

These things pass the time - but memories, images, hypothesis...swims around in my brain all the time. Nothing seems to block anything out.

 

I've been thinking about stress and society's standards compared to what is actually healthy for your body. Months ago it's hard to imagine how much my body was suffering. I felt guilty enough that it seemed appropriate. It was still startling, but fitting somehow. How else could I deal with it? Everyone around me said I should get over it, it wasn't so bad, etc. But none of them had made my decisions, done my actions, held in my thoughts and feelings inside their own body....they were just ideas they had based on what I had not only done, but how long ago I had done it.

I saw a documentary recently about how culture expects so much more out of you than your body can physically put out. How your mind can keep up, but not your system. That's why it's so easy to push yourself past the point of sensibility and how culture admires us when we do.

I feel it a lot - even though my body has stopped feeling the effects and stopped having the crazy reactions - I still feel the expectations. I am often aggravated, but sometimes flattered that someone would think I can endure so much.

It seems like another big contradiction. If you complain about your life, you get labeled 'ungrateful' and 'unappreciative' but if you talk about how great your life is, you are suddenly 'naive' and 'unrealistic'. Also if you complain about something in your life, they just assume you don't appreciate it - instead of realizing all the different parts and aspects to a single individual's day, let alone their whole life. A huge kaliedescope of events, places, people, experiences.

I feel that way a lot. Complaining about my life gets a lot of grumbling. But holding it in get criticism too. "You try and do everything alone." people have said.

 

I feel sometimes like the only person alive who feels like a lifetime is so vast and huge, there is room for everything. Every outlook, every style, every position. How can you recognize all the variety of life, otherwise?

[honeyspur]

The pattern goes round and round. I have some clarity about the way I felt mistreated and disrespected, then I realize something i did wrong in the relationship, a memory of disrespecting him, being impatient or unappreciative, I feel bad and want to apologize, then I realize he did the same thing back, get angry enough to not miss him so much, then remember something I did wrong...round and round and round.

 

I wonder if the same thing goes on with him?

 

I do miss being with him - miss doing simple things, like cooking him a meal, snuggle him while he plays a game, watch a show we can both connect over, wake up next to him in the morning and rub his arm, kiss him and say "I love you" and hear him sleepily murmur it back. I miss seeing him happy or enjoying himself. His laugh, his smile.

What I miss most of all is being outside, playing frisbee or walking in the parks. I miss telling him about my accomplishments. I miss hearing about his day at work.

 

Earlier, when I was scraping the basement floor, I had this hilarious but sweet vision of us at Frankenmuth, a Bavarian style tourist town a few hours away. But I saw us walking around the shops, eating at German restaurant and going to the giant Christmas mall - laughing, enjoying things together.

 

And of course, after awhile of thinking of all these romantic things, I feel like a fool. Knowing that he so angry and hurt that he flies into rages, wants me to feel pain and just generally wants less and less to do with me. No amount of happy memories can change anything.

 

"It will just take time."

 

This phrase is becoming increasingly more disheartening. Time seems fleeting and not something to waste. And what our couples counselor said many times rings off in my brain - you can't learn to get along while living alone. This idea that we lost ourselves by doing too much of what the other person wanted is hard to believe in considering what a fuss would kick up if we tried to get what we wanted from each other. It feels like we didn't really do much for each other.

 

I can't get far in having hope. I'm always back to where I went wrong, how passionate I am about not giving up and the fact that I'm alone, so all I can do now, is think.

[honeyspur]

"Them looks are real..."

 

I just want a faith in myself again. Because I can't change the rest of the world - nor should I need to. But to wake up and know I can get through the day - feeling, missing , loving, crying and things are going to keep improving - that life is going to get better each day - then it really wouldn't matter what everyone else is on about.

To have a relationship with my brother. Something I have never had - simply because I never felt any love from him. It is something I've always wanted - even in his earliest days as a toddler where he just seemed irritated by my very presence. I do remember one day when I was babysitting and we went to the park and pretended we were pirates getting treasure and putting it up on our pirate ship. That was probably the only time we had genuine fun together.

Both of my brothers went through so much. It was a rel ief to hear my brother, as a man, talking about his perspective of our family and the style of our parents. It broke my heart to hear his feelings about being cheated on by his no w ex-wife. And no matter what my experience was - there is a thin veil of judgement on who I am based on his experience.

 

"I cried a bunch of times today!" he declared when I said it was amazing to me he could be so composed , having the stress he had and dealing with his own traumas and pain. It is hard to bel ieve, but I have no choice but to be l ieve him.

I love him and with all he went through - I was not able to protect him. Not to mention - he really didn't like me much for awhile there.

"I was just selfish..." he kept saying. But I know, at least for a time there - he wasn't happy to see me.

"Then so much time had gone by, I didn't know how to get to know you." I admitted through tears "I wanted to but....I just didn't know how ."

He seemed so oddly unaffected - but perhaps I am the odd one. Always feeling overcome...what I thought was being vulnerable, sometimes just feels automatic. Like I do not have a choice but to cry or get angry or go silent. All those years of just acting like I was not affected. A thought that would sweep in and whisk back out, that I could cal l them and they would want to come visit . 'No, they pro bably wouldn't - we aren't close. ' I would immedia tely think.

And then I wouldn't make a move.

He offered to help me with my remodeling. I will have to call and not be a fraid.