Which Will You Be?

strength acourage

Strength

Measured in lies

Measured in pain caused

Measured in lives destroyed

Is weakness.

Is less than zero.

 

Strength

Measured in open hearts

Measured in joy given

Measured in lives connected

Is power.

Is heaven on earth.

 

Courage

Measured in willingness to lie

Measured in willingness to deceive

Measured in willingness to devastate

To crush, to harm

Isn’t courage.

It’s cheap cowardice.

It’s emptiness of a soul.

 

Courage

Measured in Willingness to to be honest

Measured in willingness to trust

Measured in willingness to show oneself

And be seen, truly be seen

Is courage.

It is wealth of spirit,

It is fullness of soul.

 

Which have you been

The weak morally bankrupt coward?

Or the courageous, powerful rich spirit?

 

Which are you?

 

Which will you be?

How to Keep From Falling into the Abyss

It was a roller coaster ride today.  But, as it turned out…I feel much better tonight about everything.

I had sent that text this morning to him, and another one…yeah, I know, what am I doing?  Then I sent him one saying, just please ignore those.  They are waves of pain and anger washing over me, and you can just ignore them.  A bit later, at 11:30 AM, I got a voicemail from an “unknown” number.  I usually listen to those, in case they are about a credit card, or something….so I listened to it, it was him….

Saying he wanted to talk, but there were no avenues open to him, since he was totally blocked.  He went on to say it wasn’t true that he didn’t care about my feelings….I was crying when I listened because he was that calm sweet man that I fell in love with.  I only listened once, because it was too upsetting to listen twice.  So I didn’t get it all. I answered via text…that I can’t talk yet.  Maybe some day, but not yet.

A couple hours later I went up to my room to change out the closets, and take a nap when I was done. (This was after I spent two hours power washing the deck.)  I was exhausted. I looked at my voice mail, there were two blocked ones, from him.  This time, not unknown, it was his number.  He asked me to get in the car and drive down to the beach (I don’t think he said his house but he might have) and we could talk.  He said at the very least, I could have  “nice day at the beach.”  ??!!  It was far too late to even think about that.  Besides, I don’t want to meet with him.  I can’t…without losing it.  I don’t want to go there with my emotions.

I texted him, and told him what a nice afternoon at the beach would be to me.  And what he suggested was not it.  I told him I would unblock him so he could text, but  to please don’t call, please, I am not ready to talk without breaking down.  Apparently he had read my blog in between, where I said he was like a juvenile 14 year old in texting me to tell me he was back with Betty Boop.  So what I got was an angry text, “Would that be the same texting as the fucking 14 year old juvenile…?”

Yes, I answered.  It would be.  That was a man I adored, breaking up with me like an adolescent, that he had a new girl, and was too busy to talk to me about it.  NOT like a 66 year old man.  It wasn’t texting I objected to, it was the use of it, to devastate me and run and hide.  It was childish, and juvenile, and cruel, and I will stand by that til the day I die.  I also told him, if he can’t own up to the repercussions of the way he told me, we have nothing to talk about.

I have not heard from him since.  I assume he is not going to own it.  I assume he can’t be responsible for his actions.  For the decisions he makes that hurt others, because he has not responded.  He is angry, I could tell from his text, that I  publicly called him a juvenile 14 year old.  I am gonna say, every single person I have told this story to, has responded, wow, how immature. No one needs to hear from me that it was a childish, adolescent thing to do.  What I stated here was the obvious.

I am not supposed to speak the truth here.  I am not supposed to say what is on my mind, what hurts me, what I need to work through.  I am supposed to sweep it under the rug, to pretend it didn’t happen.  Apparently.

So, the end result is, I am not angry.  But I see him more clearly, and see that there is nothing we have to talk about, that he is not the man I thought he was, and is not the man I want.  So, I feel stronger in my resolution to just get through this, and to get over it. Right now, it still makes me uspeakably sad, but I at least see that the path I’m on is the right one for me.

I am leaving Betty Boop out of the equation.  She has nothing to do with the relationship between he and I, or the repair of the damage that was done that day.  She may have been the catalyst, but he is the one who chose the path of devastation with me.  I remember wondering where she was this morning, that he was free to talk to me.  But only fleetingly.  I was glad she was not there.  I was happy I was on his mind, because I missed him so much this morning.  Because I loved him so much this morning.

I feel stronger tonight. I still love him, but right now it is not the debilitating kind of thing it was earlier today.  I would guess I will always love him, but the baseline between us, whatever our relationship evolves into, or doesn’t, is that he has to be able to own his actions.  I don’t have and don’t want a friend who can’t say, I’m sorry.  I was wrong.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.  All of my friends and I have apologized to each other at times, for misunderstandings.  We ALL own what we do.

I want a man who can man up.  I want to be able to talk these things through, not to sweep them under the rug and pretend they didn’t happen.  Not that he wants me anyway.  But even in a friendship, even without the deep-seated love I have felt for him, you have to be able to own what you did.  I have so many times apologized to him for misunderstanding something he said.  I don’t want to hang with a 14 yr old.  I want a full grown, adult male.  If Betty Boop wants the 14 year old, and likes sweeping this stuff under the rug til there’s a lump in the rug and someone trips and falls on their face….she can have it.  It has nothing to do with me.  I would guess it’s one reason he chose her.  I don’t run from this shit.  I don’t bury it so that it makes me or him sick, or the relationship. I will always do what makes me stronger, I will fight the good fight, I will have the hard discussions.  And if I hurt someone, I will do everything I can to make amends. The Sunday before, two weeks ago, we carried on an intimate text conversation, about feelings and emotions, and for the first time I felt like he got me, and could be with me without being defensive. It went on for a couple hours.  It’s a wonderful thing to be able to talk about these things with the man you love.  It’s sexy, it’s a turn on.  And he liked it, too.  He told me at one point in that conversation, “I think you need to tell me that about a dozen more times.  XOXO”  He doesn’t use that, XOXO much.  It meant something to me.  I would have loved to tell him what I said, again and again.

I will tell him, now, since he is still apparently reading my blogs.  It was because I loved you, that it worked.  It was an expression of my love for you.  Love changes everything.

I hope some day he can see that owning your actions, and the fall out from them…is a mature grown up way to deal with things.  I hope some day he will see that pretending it was something other than it was, and didn’t ripple out the way it did, does nothing but ruin relationships, and will make you sick.  The anger he feels at me at this moment, for making him look at it, will make him sick. If he could own it, and make amends for it, he would only free himself, and perhaps (not saying definitely) allow us to at least be friends.  What he did to me….doesn’t make him unworthy.  Which is why I told him even today, I still love you. He is worthy of that because he exists.  But it does keep the bridge burned without any ability to rebuild even a friendship.

I couldn’t go to the beach and pretend that I was happy to see him.  He hurt me, more than I have ever been.  I still cannot have a conversation with him without breaking down, which is why I said I would text, and I know even that may be a mistake.  I don’t know if he even wants to build a bridge between us, for any purpose. It would seem to me that yes, he does., based on his 3 voice mails today.  I could be wrong.  But the foundation of a bridge for any purpose, if one is to be built, will be the ability to own one’s actions and the consequences.  Or it will just fall into the abyss with the first footstep that goes over it.

How Do We Measure Our Strength?

How do we measure our strength? I don’t mean the ability to bench press 500 lbs.

I mean emotional strength. Is strength the ability not to cry when you are in pain? Or is it the willingness to say I hurt, I hurt so much I think I might die, but I’m not going to stop feeling, or loving, or become something ugly.

Is strength the willingness to hide who you are and all your feelings behind a wall? Or is it the willingness to take the wall down, brick by brick, so you can travel past it, even with no reassurance what is on the other side?

Isn’t vulnerability an incredible strength? Doesn’t a willingness to put yourself out there, fully, not knowing the outcome, demonstrate strength?

During my divorce trial, my ex’s attorney approached me on the witness stand where I spend a full day and a half, and said, “You’re making your ex look pretty bad here.” I said, “Look, I just want it all out on the table, for once…and what happens from that is what happens.” (He didn’t need any help from me to look bad….)

But yeah, I was willing to just tell it like it was, not knowing the outcome. I was sick of secrets, sick of hiding things, sick of having to stuff the emotions that he engendered from me, stuffing them out of fear of his temper. I was willing to be vulnerable, vulnerable enough to let the truth out.

With S, I was the first and only one of us to say “I love you.” I think that makes me strong. I want the truth out on the table. What is protected by hiding the way you feel? And when it falls apart, as it seems to be, I know I gave it my all, I know that I laid it out on the table, I know I held back nothing. (I want it to be clear here, that S never misled me. He is an honorable and decent man. The truth was always on the table with him.)

As I work through the emotions, that so far have alternated between sheer anguish and pervasive numbness, I know I am strong. I was willing to say it, not knowing the outcome. I am strong enough to sit with my emotions, and work through them. To learn whatever lessons are here to be learned, and most importantly, to continue to love him, unconditionally.

Because love, love….is what we are here for. It is what life is all about. I am so grateful that I can feel so deeply, can be so passionate, can hurt so much because it means I can love so much. I’d do it again, I will do it again.

Unless, of course, I find someone who is more willing than me, and beats me to it.