Golden Idol

golden idol

Mindfuck
is so hard to deal with.
Senseless stories
Told in earnest
To no reasonable end
For no reasonable purpose
Except to mindfuck.

Hanging onto the past
When it’s dead and gone.
Over….
I’m not your wife
Anymore.

Unable to give up control
Even for your son.
It’s incomprehensible to me.

Bend down on the floor.
Cry, let the tears fill the room.
Reach for the golden cow
That led you into ruin.
Hold it close,
Imagine it is all you lost.
Blame the idol
Or me
Or God
For it all.

Soaked with your own salty tears
On the floor of your prison
Alone
No one there but you
And your cold golden idol.

Does it bring you comfort?

 

By Deborah E. Dayen

Image from Propmonicon, via Google Images.

Sculptor Christian Hartmann

Time to Take a Breather, Apparently

Take-a-Deep-Breath-Whale

I seriously can’t believe how tired I am tonight. I slept ok last night, but tonight I can’t keep my eyes open. It’s only 8 pm. My day wasn’t particularly busy. Went shopping with a friend at Costco, went to cousin’s house to give her reiki. Looked for plane fares to VA for my mother’s memorial for my son and I. It’s a pain because he can only stay overnight, and I’ll stay a couple days longer. Plus we’re not staying over on a Saturday night which increases the plane fares by about 50%.

I sat outside on the deck with the computer looking up the fares on Kayak, Expedia, JustFly….. First time this year I’ve been able to do sit out there. Had some idle memories of sitting out there with S, nice memories, talking, gabbing, listening to his outlandish stories. I wish they had just stayed down below the surface where they belong. It will be good to get to Florida, where that won’t happen. At least, not quite so vividly, not quite so closely. I will be out on the deck there, but a different deck, different furniture, different scenery, different smells. Hopefully nothing to trigger me there, into a memory best left buried.

Whenever we would fight, before she was back, or before I knew about her, anyway, he would always say, “I wish we could just sit on your deck and talk. Things were always different when we could do that.” I wish I didn’t remember that. Because things will never be remedied by an afternoon or evening on the deck again. And truth be told, they weren’t then. Just a bandaid on a huge gaping wound caused by lies, deceit, and betrayal on such a grand scale. Oh how I wanted to believe.

Anyway, it was the first time I’ve used Justfly.com. And the last probably. I kept asking for flights into Dulles in DC. It kept giving me flights into Washington National, on the other side of DC. Exit, Exit.

I was texting my son, who was working, madly, trying to figure out the logistics. Nothing was resolved, and I ended up with a massive headache.

So why I’m so tired I don’t know.

Another thing I don’t know. Like why just now, I left the computer and went upstairs and put my pajamas on. And when I came back, the display had flipped the desktop to read completely sideways. So that I had to turn the computer sideways to use it. I finally got it turned back around, but why in the world it did that I have no idea.

It woke me up, enough to figure out how to fix it.

Maybe I’m so tired, because I can be this weekend. The house is on the market, and all I have left to do for Florida at the moment is get the electric and water in my name. I’ll have to begin to weed my stuff out, and make the dump runs that I’ve been putting off for a couple of weeks now. But right now, this weekend, I can take a breather. And I guess my body is taking one, lol.

Off to bed. Love and light everyone.

Solitary Thoughts on Revenge, Truth, Happiness, and Love

 

your center

I was alone all day today, after my son went to work around noon. I was going to take a walk with a friend from my book club, but after I grocery shopped I was exhausted. I suppose because I only got about 4 hours sleep last night, and worked around the house changing sheets, doing laundry, cleaning windows, until I went to the store. So, I didn’t go for the walk.

I had a text conversation with the new guy from a dating site, and it went nowhere. Boring, lol. Might have been a scammer, Idk. But when he asked what I wanted in a man, I said, “Hmmm, funny, interesting, creative, maybe slightly outside the box like me. Someone I feel a connection with.” And that was the last I heard from him, lol. Literally. Not, “well it’s been nice talking to you”, nothing. Just disappeared. I wasn’t interested at all, so didn’t follow it up. Boring. Self absorbed.

I had asked him why he was single. Was he divorced, or widowed? He said, “Didn’t you read that in my profile?” Well, if I did I forgot….. Geezus, I didn’t memorize it! So when he asked me what I wanted in a man, I said, in the middle of the description, “This is all in my profile too, lol.” Trying to make him look at himself. Apparently, he didn’t like me or me throwing his words back at him.

God I can’t put up with crap, at all, any more. Geezus. Be real.

When I said it, what I wanted in a man, I was actually describing all the things I loved about S. Too bad he balances it with all lies, deception, unhealthy living, not being able to stand in his story, not being able to own his actions. And casting blame all around him rather than look it in the eye and deal with it. Too bad he can’t recognize and accept love, given to him just because he was. Too bad he had to assign motive to it. Well, there was a motive, then. To help him to be happy. That was all. I already was, am. I loved him enough, just to want him to be.

I doubt that he is, happy. I doubt he has what he wants, and I doubt he even knows what that is. I don’t think it’s what he professed it to be, or his behavior would have been different. He had some pie in the sky thing that was going to make him happy, but it wouldn’t have. Sooner or later he would have fucked it up again. Because he couldn’t/can’t be happy on his own. He couldn’t/can’t love himself. Neither she nor I, nor both of us together at the same time, could love him enough for him to love himself. No matter if we both loved him with every fiber of our being. It would never have been enough.

It makes me hurt for him. But it doesn’t make me want to unblock him on my phone. I can’t do it again with him. Even if that’s not on the table, I have no way of knowing, and I am not going to take the chance.

I talked on the phone to Montana, my friend who lives up there, this afternoon for about an hour, maybe longer. That was nice. She had me google these Arched Cabins. They are pretty cool, I gotta say, and inexpensive. We talked about books, about dating, about our men or lack of, about our abusive ex’s, our kids. Covered a lot of ground, lol.

But then I was alone again. I have to stay busy when I’m alone, that’s when it would be easiest to crack the door open to S again. Just unblock him to see if he tried to reach me. Or just leave him a message. Or an email. Or a text, to see if he’d answer. Or carry on a conversation with him in my head that I will never have. It’s when I’m home, and alone, especially if I’m tired, that he starts creeping into my psyche again.

So, I vacuumed. I washed the floors. I made some buffalo wings. I cut up some fruit. I fell asleep for about 20 minutes on the couch.

Now I’m watching Wild, which was such a wonderful book, and the movie is very true to the book. I’ve seen her, Cheryl Strayed, many times, mostly on OWN. She is one amazing woman.

She undertook walking the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail, the west coast equivalent of The Appalachian Trail on the east coast) because her life was a mess. She ruined her marriage cheating on her husband with anyone she met. She was a heroin addict for quite a while. So she walked this trail, by herself, about 2000 miles. She ended it a different person than she began.

I hope S can find his PCT, his journey out of the darkness. It’s my most sincere hope for him.

I know he thinks I posted the truth about our January together as revenge to him for saying he didn’t want me at his house. But it wasn’t revenge. It was for her, it was all for her, so she would know the truth he would never tell her. So she could decide, with all the facts in her hand, whether or not she really wanted to be with him or not. Maybe she did, maybe they reached some common ground. Maybe she walked away forever. Maybe she’s still stuck in limbo, loving a man who would screw her over because he has no center, no ability to make a good decision. No comprehension of right and wrong.  Loving a man who will always pick immediate gratification over the long term repercussions.  He’ll always deal with those if and when they show up.

I know she loved him. I know I loved him. Like I said before, it would never matter how much someone loved him. Until he can find his own light, and let it shine, no one can love him enough.

So I posted it for her. It had nothing to do with him. It was for her, I hoped she’d read it, and at least know the truth. I knew it would hurt. But not as much as finding out you’ve made a decision based on the lie that poured out of the mouth of someone you loved and wanted to trust. My mistake was thinking that love and trust went hand in hand. They should, but they don’t. Or didn’t, in this case.

He said all the right things to me during that short time. About changing, about living honestly. He confided many things to me that he had not before. I really had hope for him. Then the moment he was under pressure, he defaulted back to that underhanded man who can’t own his actions, who can’t stand in his story, who has to not be at fault for a situation he created.

And I knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I couldn’t have him in my life, no matter how much I loved him and wanted his happiness. I knew that at the end of the day, there would never be anything but endless pain for me if he was in my life.

It was small, compared to the betrayal of last summer. But it was the confirmation I needed. I needed to see if his words were real, or contrived to keep me in his bed, while he pulled himself together and figured out how to get her back. I got my answer. She told me, he can’t stand to be alone.

I don’t know if he is alone now or not. I am, but I’m ok with it. I can make myself happy. I have a rich full life without a man. Friends that call, that will go out with me. Things to do, things for which I have passion. I feel like I have a place in the world that I’m comfortable with.

I wish him well. I hope he finds some happiness, true, real happiness within himself before he dies. I hope she is well. I hope her heart is healing, and isn’t broken again. She’s still showing up on my FB page, I like to think that’s because we are friends on another level.

I suppose, considering the connection that I have always believed S and I have, that he and I are friends on some other level too.

So this blog has stretched out, lol. I guess I had a lot on my mind. Hope everyone has a nice evening. Or whatever it is, wherever you are. Love and light.

Trying to Find My Courage

courage vs comfort

I have so much to say this morning, and feel like I should just not say a lot of it, at least not right now.  Talking to Scott dredged up a lot of old stuff, that I’m hoping will settle back down where it was.  Not longing, but anger, disappointment, confusion.  My head is spinning, my emotions are a little raw again.  And I don’t want to write anything that can be taken wrong, that might cause pain to Betty, that will fuel a divide that is already huge.

He said that Betty told him I was still in love with him.  It sounded as though she said it not in a jealous way, but kind of as a revelation.  I told him, well that’s not news Scott.  I told you I will always love you, and I will.  But that doesn’t mean I can be with you, or accept your behavior, or would ever trust you.

He asked me what I wanted from him now.  I thought about it….but nothing.  I want nothing.  I want to move on, I want to fall in love with someone who can love me back as passionately as I can love.  I am happy that we talked, even though it came to no good end yesterday.  I hate cutting off communication with anyone, I don’t think that refusing to communicate ever eases anything. Not that I want to be communicating with him the way we used to, constantly.  It is just easier to know we can communicate, than thinking that  we can never talk.   Especially with this frigging connection that we have, or at least that I have with him.  Sometimes I feel compelled to let him know what I’m feeling, and it’s nice to know I can, especially when it has to do with his health.

I have to talk and write, to work things out.  I had to stay silent in my marriage for so many years, just to stay safe, just to keep the sleeping dogs sleeping.  If they woke they were vicious.  I refuse to do that ever again.  It almost killed me then, really. When I left that marriage I was diabetic, way overweight (I’ve lost about 40 lbs since then) and my heart was beating irregularly, pounding in my chest.  I prayed every night, literally, “Please God, don’t let me have a heart attack while I sleep.  I can’t leave my son with his father as his only parent.”  Thankfully, that prayer was answered night after night.  When I moved out, it stopped the very first night I was alone, and it’s never come back.

I started writing during that time.  I started writing down what I was living with because I just thought, “I have to write this down.  No one will ever believe this.”  I discovered the therapeutic benefits of writing it out.  My ex didn’t know I did this, though the journals weren’t hidden.  He went through my room a number of times, to see if I was hiding money, because once he found $85 I had squirreled away.  He had to see the journals when he rifled through my drawers and closets, but ignored them, because for whatever reason, he was not interested in my thoughts.  Until I brought them to court, and the judge showed an interest.  Whatever.  I wrote them for me, but they had a bigger benefit than I ever imagined they would.

I won’t go there again.  I’ve learned to have the hard conversations.  Scott asked what he could do now,now that he’s done all this damage.  And he apologized.  I thanked him for that, I told him it was a good first step for him to recognize and feel remorse for the damage he did.  But what could he do now?  He seemed genuine, as if he wanted to know.  I said, “next time you have a choice to tell a hard truth or a pretty lie, choose the hard truth.  Just choose the truth.  Practice it.”

I’d like to tell him to journal his day, to look back and observe his behavior, to see where he was selfish, and where he stood up for something.  But that’s my method, it’s not his.  Even though, I’ve read bits of things he’s written and he’s very talented.

All of this pain, every bit of it, could have been avoided by the truth.  Well, ok, I still would have been hurt and sad to lose him, but I wouldn’t have had all the other emotions around it.  I would have gotten past it, through it.  All of Betty’s pain, and his current pain, would be non-existent.  I acknowledge that the pain I would have had, I could have just looked at myself, and taken responsibility for it, because I dismissed 100 red flags because I didn’t want them to be true.  I loved being in love, I loved him beyond reason, and refused to accept anything that said to me, “NO, not now, Deb, not this time.  Don’t do it. Stop…..”  Because I thought he just wanted to be alone, and work things out, I thought too, that someday he’d not want to be alone.  If I’d known he was in love with Betty, I would have let go.  Quickly.  It’s the one boundary I will not cross.  It’s the only one I ever set.

Yes I’m a little fixated, as was said in a comment to me on my apology blog.  I need complete understanding to let go of things, or as much as I can get.  And really, I had it, I will have it again, I will gain clarity again, once all this stuff that was dredged up settles back down.  I have been moving away from it, in small, but steady steps.

I am looking forward to my lunch date today.  We’re going to a new Mexican restaurant.  It will be fun to meet this man that I’ve been talking to all week.  I have no expectation though.  It has been nice, so far.  Sometimes meeting in person makes it better, sometimes you find out there’s no connection.  But it’s a brave thing to do, to put myself out there again.  It’s a step in the right direction, toward where I want to go.  Brene Brown says that making yourself vulnerable is the most courageous thing you can do.  I think she’s right.

Love and light.

Adder:  My date is off.  It’s fine.  He had a what appears to be a valid reason, and said maybe we can meet after work one day next week.  But I knew when Scott’s energy got thrown back into my life that this date might not happen, it’s just the way it is.  I was not focused on meeting a new man, I’ve been, obviously, focused on still working my way out of this old relationship.  That’s the way the energy ripples out.  I have some work to do still, and until I get it done, nothing will work out the way I dream about.

 

Still Waiting…..

Waiting-

Maybe I’m just tired tonight. It’s getting late for me, because I’m up so early. Maybe it’s because I was alone all day.

But I’m sad. Just, sad. I miss him, and I don’t. I remember how I loved him and I don’t anymore, but I miss loving him. I used to be able to call his name in my head, and I’d hear from him. I don’t now. I think about calling him that way, and then every version of the conversation that could possibly take place runs through my head and it’s never good, it never serves any purpose except to re-open old wounds.

I wish I could just let go. I wish I had no connection to him except the 18 months that I knew him. I wish I never knew what he felt, and I wish I had never called his name and had him answer. I wish he’d never said to me, “if something happened to you, I’d know. I’d just know.” Because if that’s true, he knows right now how my heart aches. And I believe it’s true, that he knows. Because I know when his does.

Right now, I know he doesn’t blame me, he doesn’t hate me. But he never wants to talk to me again, because it reminds him of how utterly stupid and self-absorbed and self-centered he is. And what he lost because of it. He knows he cannot hide from me, because he knows that my soul and his recognize each other over the lifetimes, even if he says, “We can’t know that…” Instead of me reminding him of the light that shines somewhere under all those layers of darkness that he hides under, I remind him of how he put his own interests ahead of everyone, and ended up with nothing and no one. A barren landscape that once held so much promise.  I never wanted to bring him shame. 

Why do I even care? I am strong, independent. I have created my life so that I can live it out the way I want to, and don’t need anyone. But I wanted him, I think that has gone on for a very long time. I knew this when we met, I knew that I already knew him.

I read a couple of old blogs from the 3 days over which the truth became known in November. I don’t know why I read them, maybe I was just trying to keep the memory of my disgust, my amazement at the depth of what he did, alive so I wouldn’t miss him, so I’d see how utterly without conscience he was.

I remembered all of that, but then I also remembered when I loved him. I also remembered when the end started, and I also remembered how I kept asking him to just let me go. I remembered how it unraveled slowly all summer and then he let it build back up, he pretended we were going to be together in the way I’d dreamed of for months. He let my emotions crescendo, maybe because he wanted to feel how much I loved him just one last time, just before he destroyed me.  It’s hard for me to imagine that he didn’t purposefully cause me all that pain.

I found this poem I wrote one week after I last talked to him, the day that she got my letter and I told him he was dead to me.  I’m going to put it here again, because I think it’s pertinent to the way I feel tonight. It’s called “Awaiting Transformation”

Day dawns,

First light glows the horizon

Soft pink

Where heaven meets earth.

The sky still indigo directly above,

With one solitary star still visible

On this cold clear November morning.

The trees are bare,

The earth in New England settles down

For a long winter nap.

All of the the past year’s leaves and flowers

Lay on the ground

Ready to begin their transformation.

We mourn their passing,

Yet

At the same time

We know at the first breath of spring

They will arise to become

something once again beautiful.

I will rest with them

Let my heart

Heal in the warm unconditional love

of the universe

All the pieces I have so carefully put back together,

And the ones I have not found yet,

Will meld together again,

Become whole once more.

I will leave the old hurts in the ground with the leaves

Covered in the blankets of snow

Knowing that the spring will come.

Awaiting transformation.

 

Update

I had emotions today ranging from pure anger at the bold-faced lies I was told, to that feeling of great sorrow for him.  It seems that the height and depth of the emotions are evening out.  None of them last long anymore.  Thought about sending him the song “Forever Young” by Bob Dylan.  Because I think at the end of the day that’s what I wish for him.  But I ended up on middle ground, knowing that the journey which he needs to take is one he has to embark on himself, and take by himself, and choose by himself, and I need to not add my energy to the mix.  He always said to me he’s never been alone, he’s been in relationships for 40 years.  He has the opportunity now, to do some real work.  I hope it’s what he’ll choose.

It is generally exhausting for me anyway,  our connection has always been so strong.  I have a couple of crystal pendulums and when I’ve received strong energetic messages from him they have been confirmed for the most part.  I am learning to let them come and go.  I am trying to pay attention to what I need, and let the rest go.  I told him he was dead to me, because I don’t want any on-going communication, and because I can’t take finding out one more untruth.  But I think I will always care for the man I loved, the one pre-Betty who was trying to be someone.  I will always love the child who steers the riverboat.  He was headed for the deep, but now he’s in it, and he has to find his way back alone.  I hope he can do it.

 

 

It Wasn’t Revenge

He thinks it was revenge.  Revenge for breaking my heart.  Does he not know that a broken heart stems from love?  Does he not know me at all after all this time?

He said he will never forgive me. I said “why would I care if you forgave me?”

It us only important whether or not I could have forgiven myself for standing by, watching, an not doing anything to prevent any more heartache. 

It was for her.  It was because I saw someone getting the crap beat out of them every day, by a lie they were unaware of that was growing daily.  How do you stand by, when you see someone getting set up for the kill, against their own wishes, and do nothing?

It was for her Scott.  It wasn’t about you.

You devastate me, and then wouldn’t let me go.

As the weeks went on, I saw what you were doing to her.  You were still telling me you didn’t want a loving relationship. She obviously thought she was in one.  She had no idea, none, that daily you were laughing inside, as you tried to get me to see you Sundays, Wednesdays.  And if it wasn’t me, because it wasn’t, soon enough it would have been Samantha, or someone. Because you don’t know why you can’t have whoever you want whenever you want.

Your dream, to have a different woman every night of the week.  Your fantasy.

Her fantasy and mine, to have a man who loved them, and was faithful to them, and building something that bordered on miraculous.

It was for her.  I couldn’t stand by and watch you play with someone else the way you did with me.  I couldn’t watch as you set someone else up for a fatal blow at a time of your choosing.  You know I cannot remain silent, and watch someone get hurt. If you don’t know that about me, it’s because you didn’t pay any attention, you just took what you could from me.

I told you, if you want to be loved, then be lovable. Your actions are not separate from the person that you are, they are a physical manifestation of who you are.

Who you are, right now, is not lovable, because you used two women for your own purposes, oblivious to the pain you would cause.  I told you to stop acting wounded.  You have no idea what a wound is.  You didn’t love either one of us.  You are incapable of loving someone.  You are only capable of stealing from them, to bolster the empty hole that is your heart.  Stealing their pure love, their energy, their lives, so that you can believe you are valuable because these two women love you.

I have told you 100 times, I saw your soul.  Maybe 1000.  You know it was true, you know I knew things about you I shouldn’t have known because you didn’t tell me.  I told you your value is within.  Find it.  Take this time and find it.  Stop leaching off of me and her.

It doesn’t matter what happened to you when you were a child.  It doesn’t matter what you did yesterday.

It matters what you choose to do today.

Try loving yourself, enough to acknowledge who you have been, and to try to be the person you want to be.  The person you think you are when one of us took you to our bed and adored you.

We deserved to be adored back.

It was for her.  It was never about you.  You and only you are responsible for your life.