No, pal... you got a problem

I want to get stoned tonight. As a special birthday surprise, I got a shit-ton of weed. I can't smoke it when my fella is here. I promised myself I would only smoke it on Friday and Saturday of Bev-weekends. But now it's Sunday. I will hate myself. I will crap all over myself.

I'm trying to break old habits. Change them. But it would be so much fun to sit around and eat and be lazy and not worry about anything.

That's kind of what I do every day, though, isn't it?

*sigh*

More

Yes, things are well.

We are good. We are happy.

We are right.

It's nice.

More love (written by my love)

One year ago this week.

Bev and I moved in together.

 We’ve lived together for a year now.

It’s been a full and busy year. Because in that year we’ve both worked our way through new jobs. We’ve begun a life together. We’ve started a home. Bit by bit rebuilding lives we had apart, but this time together. It was one of those really fortunate things you don’t see as fortunate at the time. But aside from some crappy furniture I had from when I lived alone and Ruby’s stuff (which was always in better shape than mine) we had nothing. We have built things up. And what we have is genuinely ours. It’s really a shared life.

We both were making our way back from some of life’s toughest challenges. Hers was the illness and death of her father. She moved east to be close and spend his final days with him. Me I was tending to a collapsed relationship with my daughter’s mother. My little girl was very tiny when I left, barely a year old. And I was coming back from my father’s suicide. Ruby was just 11 weeks old then and it just sped along an end her mother and I knew would come. Because we just were not right for one another.

But after that and some dating with some nice enough women. And a sincere effort to connect, I found that there was no spark. No fire. No real interest.

Then I met Bev and we lit like a wildfire. And like a wildfire we have had our rough spots while we were dating and since we moved in. But we still got heat. It’s strange but we actually broke up a couple years ago for a while and both dated other people. And both found it to not feel right. Our hearts were tied together. We were still drawn to each other, even miles apart.

We came back together and in a crazy and busy time we just dove in and ahead last year. To the outsider it would have maybe appeared crazy and make no sense and probably not well thought out. But aren’t all great relationships seen that way? Unless you are in it you just don’t get it.

And here we are, we’ve worked our way through. I cannot imagine any other person being in my life but her. This is my family. It’s all I need. I love her and I lust for her. She makes me feel loved, safe and calm. When the hours are long at work or when people wear me down, when I just feel like I got nothing more to give. When my daughter’s mother makes me want to break stuff and when my boss makes me feel about 2 inches tall. It’s coming home to her I think of. It’s in her that I find new strength and time to heal. When I need it’s her that I need.

That’s new. That’s something I never understood or saw in other relationships. I have been used to and been accustom to and I have built a habit. But I’ve never needed. It’s as real as an addiction. When we apart too long I feel it. Except this is a healthy need. Because she refuses to allow me to be crippled by it. Or rely on her. She supports me and pushes me forward, she will not leave me to do it alone. But she will not do it for me. And that’s the greatest gift anyone can give us, the right to fight. The right to do for ourselves. When she gives me the room to fail she gives me the room to succeed.

And now there is us.

The smell of her, the sound of her, her breathing and her voice. The taste of her and the feel of her. The acceptance and the affection. The intense love making. When I close my eyes it is her I see. She is my perfect woman. My perfect thing. She makes me smile and she makes me shake my head. We laugh a lot. We have inside jokes and we laugh at the world. Hell we laugh at you. Don’t worry it’s not malicious. It’s just that we share in a sort of amused view. You guys are a part of us. Not a bad thing at all.

41 years and for the first time in my life, I am truly happy. It’s not the happy I thought people had when they got here. I always pictured some Hollywood version or some song sung in the breathy tones of affection. But a movie is 2 hours and a song is 4 minutes. This is real, it’s life and it’s forever. It is a happiness that is not euphoric. But really I don’t want euphoria. That’s not a realistic way to live. I tried, 20 or more years of addiction was about chasing the euphoria of that first opiate rush. There’s always a price to pay for that. This happiness is a low and warm fire. It is reliable and sustainable. It doesn’t make promises it cannot keep. And it is not scary. It’s not happiness with a warning sticker. One that warns you that it can be swept out from under your feet. It’s real. It’s ours.

I know her. She knows me. And the woman I know is better than anyone. I’d stand beside her in anything and fight for any reason she gave me. Because she would never abuse that faith or trust. She would never ask of me anything but what is important and what is real.

Here’s the truth, if I could just be her friend and know her like that, I’d feel honored. That I get to call her my partner and my woman. That’s like winning the lottery. I got this through no fault or plan of my own. I got lucky here.I won this time.

A year feels like a lifetime and not enough time. And we have a lifetime left. That’s a gift.

Love - My Truth (written by my love)

I usually don’t go along with the whole inner child, things happened to me as a child that affect me today in some way. Which sort of makes me a hypocrite, because I have PTSD that began in my childhood. But I do try hard not to use it as a crutch or an excuse.

I mention that because I want to tell you about my childhood. You see it was violent, it was abusive and terrifying. The abuse I suffered was ongoing and extreme, the kind of craziness they write books, Lifetime movies and psychiatric reports about. It was terrible. Beyond terrible, it was obscenely horrible. I don’t talk about the specifics anymore, it does no good for anyone and it just sparks fires that take me weeks and months to extinguish in my heart and psyche.

Through this all my mother was present. And she was the one person who could have done something…anything. She could have stopped it. She could have prevented it. Or in the least she could have eased the resulting pain and trauma. But that didn’t happen. Instead much of the blame and responsibility was placed on my little shoulders. Often I heard things like “Jeffery if only you would…” or “Well you know what happens when you do that, what did you expect?” or the worst “When will you learn?”. All these things placed the abuse at my feet, my responsibility.

In a tangible and sad way I was abandoned by the one person who could have held me together and helped, in some way.

Much later, the day after my father’s funeral my mother said “I would have taken you and left and protected you. But he’d have found us and killed me’. At that point I was a father myself and all I could say is “So?”, my life, my freedom, my well being are irrelevant when it comes to my child’s safety. It was not a connecting moment, it just hammered home the truth, I was damned from the start.

So I started at odds with the first woman in my life. And that fractured relationship continued with every woman in my life.

Most of my romantic and sexual endeavors have been seeking, someone to tell me, I’m okay, it’s okay, to stay through the storms. To stand when I cannot. To approve of me and show me that I worthy of love. Because the little me was quickly and thoroughly convinced, I am not loveable. Because if I was…These things wouldn’t happen, she’d come to me and save me.

Twist all that up into the result of the abuse, the mistrust, anger, the anxiety, the PTSD and the suicidal idealizations and lifestyles. I was a mess. Romantically hopeless. And hopelessly romantic. Because someday…She’d come the one who’d save me, she’d walk right in and stop the next punch, the next wound, the next heartbreak. An expectation that far exceeds more than anyone should ask of another human being that isn’t a parent. I wasn’t looking for a partner, I was looking for a martyr. I wanted someone who’d bleed for me.

One after another women came into my life and fell in love with me. Madly and in some cases angrily. And I’d run them into the ground or they’d cross some imaginary line and I’d simply stop. Just stop, stop feeling, stop caring, stop participating. But I’d still hang on, because goddamn it…She was suppose to save me! And if there was no love left, well she could still do what I needed.

What a mess. A selfish and cyclical mess. One that would repeat over and over. Two or three co-habitations, a marriage, a divorce a couple engagements and more long term relationships beyond that. It was becoming so that the little voice in the back of my head would respond to a new relationship with ‘How long till you fuck, twist and break this one asshole?’

And that was the state of the union for a very long time. A deficit each new woman walked into. And eventually after my daughter’s mother and I went south and I tried dating a couple times I decided I would no longer do it. I was asking too much and I do not know how to give back.

Into this mess walks Miss Bev. A brave and crazy woman. Because I was sober when I met her and thinking clear I felt obliged to tell her I was broken, I was probably not all there and she’d be crazier than me for even trying. She took it in and responded “Yeah I know. But why don’t you let me decide?”

And she did, at times drawing back when I got too demanding, too wild or too crazy. Or more accurately, I drove her back. We broke and repaired a few times. All the while she made sure I knew she would love me because she saw the real me. And she would love me for the man who has gone to war and come back, scarred and walking with a limp, but still whole. Just a little shell shocked. But she also made sure I knew it was not her job to fix me. To take responsibility for the wounds and misdeeds of others. She would love and support me through the cleaning and clearing of old messes, but she was not going to do it for me. Because she couldn’t, in fact no one could. And I better see that. because this is not an unending offer. She has her dignity and life and if mine starts to erode hers she will protect it.

We’ve struggled much. Let’s face it, life ain’t a three act play. There’s no set up, conflict and resolution. It’s an ongoing thing. And we fall down. She has her times where I find myself wondering who the crazy one really is. But we get by. We get through. Sometimes it seems impossible, but I guess all great endeavors seem impossible at times. But we go forward and we have always had an unspoken (more or less) agreement, we would always move forward and if moving forward means going apart then that’s the way it is suppose to be.

In all of this we’ve fallen madly in love and sometimes madly out of love (but only for a few hours or days). But I have come to know. She is the love of my life. She is the one I’ve waited for. But exactly not the thing I was waiting for. It’s funny how life works. That paradox. The person I wanted was not the person I needed.

I love her more now than ever. And that scares me. So much. It trips me up and shuts me down sometimes. I adore her, I need her, I lust for her (just typing that has caused a stir in my loins), we have incredible and intense intimacy. It’s not sex. It’s just sex. It’s our thing. We have talks. we talk a lot. We are a nation of two. We have no real friends outside of us. We have acquaintances. We don’t need anyone else. No one else speaks our language and no one else knows how our gravity moves us. We fight and we growl sometimes and we say some stupid things. Sometimes those stupid things last longer than they should and pride gets in our way. I ain’t giving in…Well me either. And sometimes we come back together, in an angry heap on the living room floor spent and tired and still mad but not as much as before and in that love making we begin walking together again and the minor wound heals.

Always there’s that little kid me, that hurt and broken little boy who needs his mother to scoop him up and run away with him and run till the monsters can’t find him anymore. To make him safe. That never happened. That fear and fight became my only existence. I learned a hard lesson.

Trust comes easy to no one “I have trust issues” is the great cliche. Hey buddy don’t we all. You either get over them or you get out. But for me. For that little boy. Trust means more than just accepting that she may not decide to have sex with another man or steal my money. It’s life and death.

I trust her. I trust her and just her. I put all my eggs in one basket and I don’t regret it at all. She’s worthy of that and has earned it. Love is to little a word for what I have. It’s a misused and plastic word for a great thing. Calling what I have love is like calling an ocean wet.

She’s my world. And my world is safe in her.

We don’t need it, but if she came home today and said “Marry me, now, today.” I’d do it. Without hesitation or question. Well one…Where we getting the money for the license?…We’re broke honey.

And if she came home and in a calm and sincere voice said “I’ve got to go now, I need to leave here because my life is going somewhere else now.” I’d hurt and break I think. But I’d let her go, I’d even make sure she left as well as she could. because if you care and love someone enough, their needs, their happiness and that place in the world we all are searching for, is all you want. Even if it means they do it alone. Knowing they’re out there in the world finding where they belong. That’s enough.

My truth.

Yeah, I will!!!

Hotel Services Supervisor????

Yes, please!

(Just call me, already!)

This always makes me laugh

Every time I log in here and read the last post of angst and frustration... then I look at the date and realize that everything has been wonderful since then. And every time we have these fights/arguments/squabbles/tiffs we come back stronger than ever.

Is this what a relationship is supposed to be like?

Weird.

Why

That's nice that I wrote all those lovely things yesterday. Today? Yeah, not so much. Today I'm ready to pack it all in, tell him to go fuck himself and die and walk. I already told him to go fuck himself. The rest? I can barely restrain myself.

Five hours. That's how long I've been pissed off. Five fucking hours. Man, if I had somewhere to go I would so be out of here tonight. I'm not even kidding you. I don't even want to calm down. I want out and I want out now, you fucking asshole mother fucker from fucking hell I hate your fucking guts and I'm a fucking idiot.

Remembery

Today I figured something out. Again.

I love to give. In a relationship I am happily tidying up behind him, closing cupboards and drawers, sucking on his penis and giving kisses on the cheek.

Until.

If I feel like I'm not getting what I need, it stops. It used to be dead stop and, while I don't think I'm quite that bad anymore, it still freezes and stalls. I start to resent the things I give because I begin to feel taken for granted/taken advantage of. And I don't want to give anymore.

I always felt justified in that because I honestly believe that you teach people how to treat you. But am I teaching him how to treat me or am I teaching him that, unless I'm getting what I want, what he wants doesn't matter.

Hmmm.

More

It's not all okay again. I mean, it's better - WAY better - but I'm not all in and devoted yet. I'm not pushing anymore, though. That's important. I'm not fighting. And I really really do feel more like myself than I have in a very very long time. Only time will tell where this will go and what will happen next. I'll tell you one thing, though: I'm open. Open to all the possibilities. In ways I don't think I was before. I'm not looking for nos now. I'm just looking. We shall see.

Truth - WFT

I’ve said this before but I was reminded again the other day. There is something Jeff gives me that I have never been able to find before. I always wanted someone who would be straight with me; not mean but observant and able to put those observations into words in a way that would let me stand back and observe, too.

It is no secret that I’ve been struggling lately and, because of that and the strains of Jeff’s health problems, we have been struggling. About a week ago I started a fight with him during which he asked why I can’t talk about things before they get so big that I explode. Interesting plan. So the other day I decided to talk, even though I didn’t know what I wanted to talk about. And he said something that I’d never considered.

All of the successes in my life have been through struggles, the struggles through adversity. I was always trying to make myself stronger, overcoming, striving to find a new way, a better way. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Just, now that I’ve accomplished what I was working toward and found what I was looking for, I didn’t know how to continue. And I was creating adversity because I didn’t know how else to find motivation.

Because I couldn’t go forward I felt myself slipping back and back and back. Into old thoughts, old ways, old ideas and old habits. To go back to that after all I’d put myself through was like a kick in the gut and I was just about ready to give up on everything. Everything. Until he suggested that I find a way to move forward without adversity. To just move forward. To continue. To still learn and grow and evolve but to do it for the sake of doing it, not to fight off some inadequacy or the ghosts of ancestors past.

Something clicked. As if I was finally able to take a deep breath. As if I was okay again. The nausea eased, the ambivalence stopped, the spite went away. I’m looking forward again. Not to get away from something, not to get to something, just forward. I don’t have everything figured out yet but it feels good. And it reminded me why and how he was made just for me.

Despite all my rage...

I'm starting to feel like a rat in a cage. I go forward as far as I can, then I start banging into walls. Bang, bang, not this way, not that way, bang, bang. Until I find an opening, a path. And I forge ahead with all my might. Then I start banging into walls again. I keep trying until I find a new way to go but it's getting so frustrating and tedious. What will I do then? Lie down and die? Or keep trying? When do I get to the fucking cheese already? Does it even exist?

I don't know if there's any cheese.

I am once again living a life of spite. I want to smoke, I want to drink. I want to do things I'm not supposed to do, eat too much, swear, fight. You know why, don't you? I just figured it out as I was writing that. I feel repressed. I feel as if I can't be the person I want to be and do the things I want to do. I am not my own self anymore and it is killing me.

BUT WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT IT???????????

Letter found with my papers, Part II

Maybe what I've been wanting to express but couldn't find the words is this:

No, I don't want to go. But I will if I need to. If I feel pressured to be someone I'm not, if I'm expected to be perfect and to take all the blame. If I always have to be the strong one who is expected to wait in the wings until the next crisis. If I have to defend myself day in and day out, against something I would never even consider doing. If I feel I have given everything I'm able to give without success or progress, then yes, I will leave.

I want this to work. I really really want it to work. But I'm not going to close my eyes and pretend. I don't want to pretend that it's okay that you live your life without purpose. That you won't even pretend there's a future for you. Maybe I should be upfront and tell you everything I'm thinking and feeling. But I am sure that would come back to bite me in the ass. I am caught. Stuck. At your mercy. And things need to change - one way or another.

A letter found with my papers

It's not that I don't like you or love you. But I do feel extremely unfullfiled in my life right now. And that makes me concerned for my future.

I want to sit down and talk to you about this (but how much talking do we actually do without fighting?).

What does the future hold? What are you looking for and how will you find it? Does it even exist? Do you even know? Do you even look for it?

I want things from my life. Specific things. And every time I talk about working toward those things, you put up a baracade.

Right now? I want to laugh more. I want to move more. I want to enjoy my life as I'm living it. It doesn't cost anything to walk by the lake, to sit and listen to the water lap against the shore. Walking and ridding myself of this excess energy is completely free. To have a good day - all day - and not feel like someone is constantly pushing me to be someone I'm not. Especially someone who claims to love me.

In the long run? I want to raise children. It doesn't matter to me if it is my child or not - no, that isn't true. I would absolutely love to have a child of my own. But I'm grounded enough to know that probably won't happen. Either way, I want to foster and mentor. I want to contribute something to the world because, if you don't, why even bother?

I'm not moving in that direction any more. I cry more than I laugh. I fight more than I play. I shout more than I sing. And that's not good enough. And I know it will win if I let it.

Moments too few

There are moments that I really love him, there are moments that I really don't. But most of all and more often than anything, I kick myself for even getting involved in this whole thing.

Yes, it was my path. Yes, I needed to. Yes, yes, yes. I just wish I didn't. Because when it gets right down to it? Even if the emotional / physical connecting was present. Even if the money was a possibility. Would I want to be here? I can't answer that for sure. But if I was forced, I'd have to say no.

There has to be something to the fact that I don't want him to meet my family or anyone I know. Is it just his teeth? Mostly. But is it also because I don't trust him not to be a complete dick? I don't know how he would be. This is silly. I shouldn't be asking these questions about someone I thought I'd spend my life with. Yes, that was past tense.

A big part of this is how big I have become. How I'm allowing myself to swallow my feelings with a big bowl of ice cream or chips. How I'm constantly nauseated, how I want to vomit right now, just from thinking about this.

Put it all down on the table? I don't think I'm supposed to be here. I don't think I want to be with him. In the long term, I don't think I can be the person or live the life I want and need. Why did I do this to him? How could I do this to him? How could I leave him now? And where would I go? And do I really want to start over somewhere else? Again? Jesus.

Assholes

Well, I just called the police on someone for the first time in my life. Dickheads across the street started blasting music at 12:15 on a Sunday night. Mr. All talk and no action is asleep in bed and I'm ready to punch someone. Fuck, he pisses me off. Maybe I should call the cops on myself because I'm five-seconds away from beating the mother fucker.

What the fuck am I doing here? Why the fuck am I living this life with someone I don't even want to be with? I couldn't care less now. Well, I guess I could care less. But I should be caring a hell of a lot more for someone I'm supposed to be sharing my life with. I would just as soon smack him up side the head than kiss him these days.

Now I'm just pissed off. It's a hell of a way to be woken up in the middle of the night when you only have one night of the weekend and you already stayed up later than you should and you have pms and I want to kill someone. Figuratively. Literally.

I literally want to figuratively kill someone right now.

Fuck.

Poet?

I am a child
who wants to run and play
I want to listen to music
and spin and jump and dance
I want someone to take care of me
and hold me when I cry

I am a young lady
who needs to push limits
I want to know everything
but I don't want to learn
I want to shout at the world
and rebel against my keepers

I am a middle aged woman
who fears gray hairs and receding gum-lines
I want to recapture my youth
and live life to the fullest
I want to settle down
and give up

I am elderly and tired
Who cares what I am?
I want to stop the aches
and start again
I want to get to the end
and I want to make every minute last an hour

I am everyone
I am no one
I am confused
I am fed up
I am not the person I am
And I am tired of it.

And the doubt came back the very next day

His surgery is tomorrow. He's kind of freaking out about it and I'm trying to be supportive. But I have been trying to maintain my distance, too. Then I saw this:

and it made me stop and think. 

I know, I know, bullshit horoscope. Trust me, I don't look at it as absolute or prophetic, I look at it as a suggestion to consider because sometimes they make me think of things in a way that I wouldn't otherwise. "A dramatic, life-altering change" might very well be on the way. Does my heart need to be examined? Have I been pushing him away to protect myself?

Let's back up a little and think about this on another level. Because, really? Everything was fine until I posted this and, more importantly, this on my Tumblr. And it was after the break down and phone throwing. It was after the threats to leave and the decision to stay. I sat down and wrote these things about how strong our love is and how much faith I have in us. And an hour or two later, I took them down and deleted every single post that was on my Tumblr. I was acting purely on emotion that day. I barely even knew what I was doing as I took down those posts, one by one. That night I wrote a heartfelt blog-post about my frustration with myself and my world.

That's when the change happened. That was when I started pulling away from him. It caused a few fights and the hurtful words that were said during those fights are what I have been clinging to to justify my behaviour. To justify my feelings. To block my fears and protect myself from him. 

But the confusing part is that we do have problems, I have problems. I've been letting myself go again, mentally and physically. I don't want to live this life of poverty anymore. I want to move forward and I want to grow. I feel that I am being stalled, I feel that I'm giving up too much of the things that are important to me. One by one, I'm letting go of the pieces of the life I've been trying so long to build for myself.

So, this is all just stuff to ponder. I don't have a clear answer right now and, as we all know, if there isn't an absolute yes or a no, nothing changes until one appears. But I'm getting closer. And, if nothing else, I'm able to reach out and comfort him right now during this time of need. It's true: it is possible that he could die tomorrow. It is possible that he has a life-threatening illness and he will die soon. It is possible that everything is fine and he will live for another forty years. Nobody knows what will happen. All we can do is wait.

I found me. Now I wish I'd just get lost again.

I'll be honest with you... I'm over pot. What was such a huge part of my daily life from about 2006 (and my weekly life from 2002) to 2011 means nothing to me anymore. Every time I think about it, I quickly slip into 'yeah, but look where it got me'.

Yes, it fixed me. It helped. I'm a completely different person yet still exactly the same.

It's really him that I'm over. This whole thing. I'm not making rash decisions, I'm not running, I'm not crapping out on this. I'm continuing and moving forward but I'm pretty sure I won't get back there.

I'm looking at things differently now. I'm not high and whimsical. I'm not dreamy and imagining everything I ever wanted will come to me. I'm awake and aware that this is not what I wanted it to be.

It might seem like a quick change from all of my lovey dovey stuff I wrote not so long ago. But it was a slow and gradual change. That culminated with my phone hitting the wall. Along with the shit. And when he swore he wouldn't be here when I came home from work, I was glad. Now I can't let that go.

The things he said about me. The way he throws my very soul back in my face when he is mad at me. Or mad at himself, or mad at the world. I still get it. But I don't understand, he says. He had a very bad childhood. It's very hard for him to trust. It's very hard for him to give in. But me and I know the truth now.

I'm as invisible here as I ever was. I just looked at my reflection in him and thought it was enough. It isn't enough. I don't think it's too much to ask to be acknowledged when I walk through the door. To be touched. To feel as if I matter. Not his desperate attempt to win me, to be heard and seen and to be important. To be understood.

It all comes down to that, I guess. It always has.

To be visible. To be understood.

I know, right?

He woke me as he got into bed. Scratch my back. Then talking; about work, about this dude from work who got arrested for a murder he committed in 1978, about his little girl, about her mom. Half an hour he talked. And shook my boob. And tried to reconnect.

I told him about my performance review at work. 27 exceeds expectations. Out of how many? Hundreds? 27 exceeds expectations, 22 meets expectations, 4 needs development. What were the four? And as I began to speak he grunted, some dude gave him too many kiwis and they were kicking in. Then he got out of bed and sat as his computer until he was ready to sleep.

Help

Can I vent here for a minute? Yeah, that's never happened before.

But I don't remember what I was going to say. I mean, I remember what I wanted to talk about, but I thought of a really good way to say it and now I can't remember.

I might be a little drunk.

And so fucking full.

And kinda fed up.

Fed up. Over it. Frustrated. Bored. Fucking full and burping up my food.

Fuck.

Whatever. I'm going to bed.

Frust.me

I'm so frustrated right now, I can't even express myself. Lucky how that makes me even more frustrated. I stop to wonder if I've fucked up my meds, if I'm getting enough sleep, if there is something on my mind that is getting me worked up beneath the surface. No, mostly and probably. Doesn't help. Doesn't matter. Doesn't change anything.

The thing that gets me worried is when I start to wonder why I bother. Hoping. Trying. Living. Living. That scares me. Because it was supposed to be the depression. It was supposed to be the shit in my past. It was supposed to be the lack of love, the inability to love myself. But I'm past all that now and it still slips in from time to time.

Will it always be that way? Probably. Life is fucking hard. Life is so fucking hard. Sometimes I allow myself a little fantasy of turning it off. Then I shed a few tears and get back at it.

How many times have I said this? I need to get out. I need to move, to run, to jump, to vent and to let go. It's the bottling that causes the problems. Sure I try to talk about it or write about it but I can't get it out and, even if I could, there's no one in my life who would understand it. There is no one in my life who wants to hear it.

When I'm alone I let myself cry it out but that's not always an option. The fact that I'm here, writing this with tears streaming down my face while Jeff sits on the couch playing video games says a lot. But it's not enough. It's not working. I know what will work. Why can't I just fucking do it? Why can't I just fucking get up?

Get up motherfucker! Get. Up.

That being said - WFT

I don’t mean to infer that I am some kind of tower for strength and security who is without doubts and fears. In fact, I wrote that the only way I can love is completely last night after reading his comment that we had a bad week and later being shown the post someone wrote about having a “major” crush on him.

It’s not that I don’t believe in his feelings for me, because I do. We have a connection and a relationship that gets stronger day by day; even - or perhaps especially - when we have bad days. But it was a reminder that I’m not his only option and I can’t just sit in a corner with my eyes shut and have faith that no one else will come along and charm him off his feet. 

I wrote that post last night because I could feel the green monster knocking, and my historical reaction to that is to get all self-fulfilling-prophecy-ish and run. I don’t want to be hurt anymore than anyone else does. And, considering the amount of hurt I have felt at the demise of relationships in which I barely made an effort, the pain I would experience if we ended is unfathomable. 

I’m not perfect, not even close. I am just a woman who has learned if I love him with anything less than everything I am, I have no one else to blame if things between us didn’t work out. If I love completely, if I give in and let go, no matter what happens I’ll know that I did my best and I will have no regrets. And, if I’m really, really lucky (which I think I am), I will get to share in a love and a life that is exactly what I want and need. 

The only way I can love is completely - WFT

If there is one thing that my age and life experience has taught me, it is that loving someone part way is a waste of time.

Is it possible to truly love and maintain a relationship in the long term if you only let the other person see some of you? And, more importantly, can you ever trust someone to love you completely if they don’t know what ‘completely’ entails?

I have spent the majority of my life loving with reservation. I showed what I thought people wanted to see and kept the rest tucked away until I was alone and safe. I didn’t feel I was good enough, strong enough, enough enough, to allow people to see me without condition. And I spent far too much time needlessly feeling unworthy and alone. 

For the most part, I blamed the short-comings of my relationships on the other person. I thought they were supposed to care enough to strike down the walls I’d built around myself. I wanted them to fight for me, to work for me, to find a way to make me feel that I was worthy. Only then would I let my guard down. Someday.

Someday someone would put forth enough time and effort to win me, I expected. I didn’t realize, though, that I was waiting for them to work for something I kept hidden. I also spent so much time waiting for them to look inside me that I completely missed the fact that I was supposed to be looking inside them, too.  

Things are different now. Now I know I will genuinely try to understand and be understood, even when it’s easier to pack up and run the other way. I will treat him with respect, consideration and kindness, because that is how I expect to be treated. I will allow myself to stumble and falter, and allow him to do the same. I will fall at his feet, I will expose the most vulnerable parts of me, so that he can open up to me too. Only then will we truly see each other. And only then will our love endure.

Now I am all in and loving without reservation. Partially because I have faith that, even if my heart gets shattered, I will survive. Partially because I see in him what I hope he sees in me. And partially because I finally understand that, if I don’t fully offer my heart to another, it will never be whole.

He said - WFT

• I have never seen a Ryan Gosling movie. Somehow I feel okay with this, I feel like I can get through it okay.
• Goddamn it! I want Greek food and it’s all Bev’s fault. She mentioned how there is no Greek food in town. Now I want it.
• Still I want some Middle Eastern food and there is that in town. But I’d have to put my pants on.
• The documentary Being Elmo made me cry.
• I am now at an age in my life and a point in my parenthood that I really don’t have big dreams for myself. Now I dream about my kid. About what she might be and what she might do. 
• Whatever she does it better be good and pay well…She’s my retirement plan. Instead of RRSP and retirement savings, I pay child support and buy shit for her so she’ll keep liking me…Till she gets big and rich and buys me a nice house…Beside a lake, with a boat and a brick BBQ…And maybe a nice workshop for me to hang out in. Separate from the garage where I will store my classic GMC pick up truck. Just you know….Off the top of my head.
• Of course I could write something again….Someday…Something inspiring…Or funny. Or disheartening and depressing (I’ll work the emo crowd)…Maybe. But no one’s getting rich anymore writing good books. The only money is in shitty young adult lit. that grown women read and fawn over.
• Bev is giving me a good life. Making it calm and stable. And making me happy…The harpy! Blame her! It’s hard to be creative when there’s no great pain and angst. Unless you write shitty young adult lit. that grown women read and fawn over.
• Want to know something weird? I really want to watch the Harry Potter movies. I never have seen them. They actually look like they might be entertaining. But I have not got copies and I can’t justify spending the money to get them.
• We need furniture…Badly. My swinging bachelor shit just isn’t working anymore. But not using credit and having to save for every big purchase means it’s taking forever. Living room furniture, dinette, mattress and a new desk…The list goes on and on.
• Thinking of maybe getting a bicycle too. I think it might be fun. If it don’t kill me…I’m old and fragile now.
• It’s going to be hot for the rest of the week. At work it’s going to be painfully hot…I have to wear coveralls over my clothes. FAAAAWK! Of course they don’t say anything about what I wear under the coveralls…Maybe a Speedo and safety boots will be my play.
• And finally a real truth, no joke, no wiseass. I have never felt as at ease or like I really completely belonged in a relationship or in any place I ever lived for that matter, until I got to this place and this relationship. It’s a good and loved and loving place to be. Sometimes I wish I had of met her 20 years ago and saved myself 20 years of sad and lonely living searching for the thing I have now. But then again maybe it was those 20 years that taught me gratitude and to appreciate what it is I have now. Maybe that’s what the rough times really are good for (they are not good for much else) is they teach gratitude and gladness for the good things, the good people. And maybe it’s one of those universal lessons that life gives us over and over until we learn. Sadly some people never learn, some may even think they do, but they don’t and it’s sad and frustrating to watch.
• But I have learned, I am grateful and I do appreciate the woman and the child in my life I love them both with all I can. 
  
  And Bev should always know this. That I love her very, very much…And so does Ruby. Ruby is so honest with her heart and she shows love and affection only to those that matter to her and I know that she is with Bev like she is with no one else. She has let her inside.
  
  I have too.

Hot diggidy dog!

I'm in love. Even when he's irritating me or pissing me off. Love.

It's nice.

Not so much tasks as deeds

Next time I apply for a job, I'm changing the details of my work experience from tasks to deeds. Should I personalize it? Or would that seem like story telling? A mixture? Word.

I can't not feel this anymore. (I may or may not have purchased a philosophy book in the recent past.)

Alternate title: I may or may not be stoned right now.

Yeah, you guessed right. The glory and the doom walking hand in hand. The thing is? I can't feel it if I'm not stoned. Not this way. Not looking past everything and seeing... which brings me to my second point. I can't think or reason about it when I am stoned.

But let's give it a whirl! (I think the real reason I like writing this stuff down to myself is that I know when I'm reading it tomorrow I'll be busting a gut. Or at the very least thinking 'what a weirdo' or some variation of that word.)

My foster-sister, Lacey's grandfather passed away today. I feel that stuff to the core now. It hits me in a way it never had before. A woman I work with says it's because I'm still grieving Dad but, while I agree that may be true, I know I'd be feeling it anyway. I said to Mom that I wish I didn't know how this feels. But that's not completely true.

I have more patience now.  I have opinions and I I feel more. Not just deeper but more. Not just more frequently but for more people, in more ways. Funnily enough, I also need it less. Pot. Emotional breakdowns.

Whatev, Kev.

Okay where do I start?

I remember waking up one day and it hit me - it was me. All of my problems were me now. Officially. At the time I told myself I was kind of beyond caring on a grand scale but it was a pretty devastating realization, to be honest. A realization I didn’t want to even think about. But it put the question in my mind: is it me? Oh, shit, what if it’s me?

I was in my early thirties and had just bought my first home. I was winning. I was standing up for myself, finally living my own life the way I wanted to live it. I’d left  an unhappy relationship, severed the ties that were keeping us both away from what we really wanted. And, damn, life was going to be good.

I was working lots but it was stuff I wanted to do. I was making money but I was also very fulfilled in my work. I was depended on, responsible. I made enough to get professional facials every eight weeks and spend $200 on my hair. I was living my life, fooling around, excited to continue. I was old enough to know better but still young enough to do it if I wanted to. The reasons for being unhappy were gone now. I wasn’t trapped in a relationship that wasn’t making me happy. I was financially independent for the first time in my life. I was going to find the man of my dreams and be thin and quit smoking for good any day now. I believed in me and I believed life was amazing and I was going to rule the fucking world. (Excuse my french, Nanny!)

Oddly enough, I spent my first New Year’s in my new life on the floor of my closet. Why? You ask? Because, I don’t know. That’s just the way I did things. I would become a puddle, fall completely apart when life got overwhelming. But that’s not important right now.

Because I met him. The man I wanted to be with. Just like everyone said, one day he would just be there and he was. Online shopping for a relationship. I love online shopping, you get to pick every thing you want and just put in your order. Sometimes what you wanted is on back order and you have to wait a little while. Sometimes it’s really hard to find exactly what you want for the right price, the right size, and you have to go looking for it. Whatever the reason or season, I found him. And everything was going to be wonderful.

But it wasn’t. I fell apart again. Work went to shit, I didn’t want to do any of it. The bills were starting to pile up and I was struggling to keep them under control. I didn’t lose any weight. It was supposed to just fall off now because I had everything I ever wanted but it didn’t. I tried and failed and tried and failed. And I was sick of trying, sick of caring. I fucking hated my life. Eventually I started hating him, too. I was an idiot to think anything could ever work out. It was obvious. There was proof everywhere. What kind of idiot was I to not see it? And I’d lie in bed for a few days, shattered.

Eventually I’d accept my fate and pull myself together. I fixed what was wrong with work and it would get better. I started saving money and getting on top of my bills again. Decided I wanted to try again with the man I’d ordered and ask him to come back. And start the whole cycle again.

Life was going to be awesome, life was awesome, life really kind of sucked. Then it got good again. Then it got bad again. I tried and I tried and no matter what I did, I ended up alone and unhappy. No matter how much I tried, no matter how much I believed, no matter how much I tried, I always ended up at this point. When I was 15, throughout my teens, early twenties, mid-twenties, now my I’m 30 and my ‘I’m going to rule the world’ idiot that always got sucked into everything persona was finally dead.

Whatever was wrong with my life was inside me. It was me. No matter how much I believed, no matter how much I tried to fix it, no matter how much I did to make it all better, it was me. And it was bad.

Oh! I totally forgot to tell you!

We did it. I don't know how but something changed and things are going really good. This is what I was looking for... we are creating a solid foundation. And I love him and hope we spend the rest of our lives together. And I'm kind of floored that we got here.

Bitch

Yes, I'm here to complain again. Things are going great with Jeff and I, we really seem to have turned a major corner in our relationship and I'm so glad. Is that why I logged in here, though? No. I don't want to talk about good things, I want to bitch. But I actually don't want to bitch, I don't want to say anything. I'll shut up now. For a while. Weirdo.

"The Beginning is Near"

One way or your mother

Tonight he asked if I still want to spend my life with him. I said I don't know.

I don't know. Honestly, right now I'm closer to no. I wish we could work it out but I just don't think we can. I had such high hopes for us but now he just drives me up the wall.

They all drive me up the wall eventually, don't they? So maybe it is me. Maybe I will be alone for the rest of my life. And I think I'm okay with that. I know I won't be "alone". I'll date, I'll have sex, I'll have company. But maybe I won't get married and do things the way you're supposed to. Maybe I will. Who knows?

I'm struggling right now. I don't want to hurt him but I don't want to hurt anymore, either. I can't keep fighting, I have no interest in continuing to put up with his selfish, self-centered ways... especially since he is no closer to recognizing he is that way. So what am I supposed to do? Move out on my own? Move back to Vancouver? Start again? Again??? I don't know.

The answer hasn't presented itself yet, which means I do nothing right now. Eventually I will know. Eventually there will be no question and life will fall into place, one way or another. I'll get there. I'm still moving forward.

And the struggle

between logic and emotion continues.

FML? Probably. Probably not. Just waiting for something to work itself out.

Searching

Is this what life is always going to be like? A constant stream of unanswered questions, unrest, epiphanies in the middle of the night, torturing myself by trying to make the best decision for everyone?

I don't want to live like this. I need to commit myself one way or another. But I know that if I was pressed for a decision right now I would go. But I don't want to go. But I don't want to stay. I want to see into the future and know which is the best choice. That, however, is not an option. For some stupid reason.

At about 5:30am today I awoke with an epiphany, an answer. I had told myself to stop trying to decide what I could live with... because, I think we all know, I can put up with a lot. I decided to start looking to see if there was something I couldn't live without. Apparently it came to my subconscious and my subconscious woke me from my sleep. The answer should not surprise you. Affection. Compassion. Tenderness.

And I cried. And I moved on to the next stage - how, when, where.

But then he came home and fucked me and I was confused again. Not confused. Unsure, maybe. I say he fucked me because that's what we do. And I like it like that. But should there not be a point where he puts his arms around me? Where he leans against me? Where I feel comforted by his presence? I don't. I want to. I wish I did. I don't.

During the pivital scene of The Notebook, the lead guy asks the lead gal simply "what do you want?" Not what does everyone else want, not what should you do, not what will be easier or hurt others the least. Simply, what do you want. Take out all of those elements and what do I want? I want to go home.

But is it only because of the green grass?

But, honestly,

I don't have an answer right now. I can't give an absolute yes or no. I'm leaning toward going home but I'm not ready to discount the possibility that this place could be my home some day. I'm not ready to walk away from this and I refuse to live wishing I could. I'm just going to live. Wait. And see.

Who knows? No one.

Especially not me.

Be me

It's not that things are so horrible most of the time. I mean, we fight a lot more than I'd like but it's not all bad. In fact, when we are here together and his work isn't involved, we get along quite well. It's just the volatility. It's the ups and down. It's never knowing when the shoe is going to drop, when the text are going to start, when he will cross the line again... and maybe worse this time.

That's a big part of this, isn't it? It was beyond fighting, it was complete control and ultimate chaos. No, not complete and ultimate, but certainly a glimpse.

At this point I don't see myself wanting to be with him in the long long term. And if I'm not in all the way, why even bother? I know that's the way he feels, too. I seem to pull away a little more all the time. He senses it, he knows it's happening. My theory is that he almost wants me to go so he can shout a big "I told you so" to the universe.

I'm starting to feel the way I did with Ian. Like nothing I do is enough for him. Nothing will placate him. Like I can't be the person he wants me to be and I don't feel like trying much anymore. He would say that isn't true but he hasn't had an honest glimpse of who I want to be, has he? Maybe I should just be that person, then he'd see. But he would say I'm just doing it to push him away or to get a rise out of him.

He said he thinks that I do things to piss him off intentionally because I want the attention. Good god, dude. That is so not who I am. I want calm. I want to just be. Why can't we do that? Why can't we just have a little faith in each other and carry on with our lives? Would it really make a difference at this point? Probably not.

My theory is that the things that break relationships are apparent in the first three weeks, if not sooner. Yep, that applies here.

And I don't feel it would be going backward if I went back to Vancouver. It wouldn't be a failure. I left because I needed to know something. I felt there was something I was missing, something important. And I just wanted to see. Who I was, I guess. What life was like outside my bubble. And it's fine. There's nothing wrong with it. I don't need to be stoned, I don't need to cry my heart out constantly, I don't need to hate myself or anyone else. I can just be now. I can just be.

Be what? Good question.

Tonight's internal dialogue

I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I can survive this. I don't know if I want to.

Prol'y not a good day.

The proof is in the pudding

And now we know why I keep these mental breakdowns to myself. I don't really feel that way. I mean, I did feel that way last night. After consuming a bottle of wine and some cider, after a shit day that started with an argument and ended with frustration with those fucking month end reports at work. After too many glances at the mirror, after sighs of exasperation and frustration, coupled with a nice bout of PMS and things exploded.

That's the way I do things. I think perhaps I let it boil up too much, I think I have a lot of shit not going right in my world currently but I also think that I need to not beat myself up about feeling not amazingly perfect at every moment. Things could be better, things could be worse, things are what they are. I need to fix what I'm able and willing to fix and find a way to accept everything else. Or at lease accept that life is a work in progress and that's what it always will be.

I'm far too fat for my liking but I don't seem to want to give up eating shit, so that's the consequence. I'm broke out of my mind but I don't want to work any harder than I am right now, so that's the consequence. Jeff drives me up the wall frequently but I love him and I love Ruby and I'm where I want to be, so that's the consequence.

I've done enough running away, enough starting over. I'm going to continue continuing. I know I'll get to where I need to go in the long run. Thanks for listening, though. I couldn't do it without you.

Ironically

Ironically, being this miserable at this point in my life is making me want to avoid pot more than need it. What kind of bullshit did I convince myself of in my constant inebriated state? Fuck.

Is this really the look you were going for, self?

Actually, and I'm sad to admit this, I look about 50 pounds lighter than I am in this pic.

Fucque.

I don't think

I don't think I can do this anymore. I don't think I can handle it. Do what? Handle what, exactly? Life. This life I'm living. After all that I've done and all that I've been through, this is fucking bullshit.

Why am I living with this man who constantly whines and complains and bitches and freaks out? Why am I so fat, with my hair falling out, my skin looking like crap, wearing fucking welfare clothes? Why am I so unhappy, crying most of the time, completely pissed off when I'm not?

What was I thinking? What stoned fucking fairy tale did I conjure up and think I could make come true? It won't. It's not. It's bullshit. It's shit.

My life is worse than ever. Every day is a struggle. Every day I have to get up and listen to him complain, and tell me how I'm hurting him. And what I'm doing wrong.

I have to live in his home with his stuff and his boohooing and his kid and his way and his everything. I am not me anymore, I am an extension of him. An extension that needs to be severed.

Don't you see how gross I am? It's disgusting. And I know it's a reflection of the life I'm living. I keep trying to fix it, I keep hoping but it's just not making a difference. I am seriously in hell and I don't know what to do anymore, I don't know where to turn, I don't know how to fix it. And I'm scared. That I'm sacrificing my life for his.

And I'm starting to hate him.

And I'm starting to hate him.

How will I get through this alive?

We're back

Okay, I think everything is back to normal now. I didn't think we'd make it through that... it was about a month of constant fighting. Not petty bickering, out and out yelling our heads off. Things are a little different for me now.

Do I still love him? I guess. Do I want to stay together? Sure, why not.

I'm in a holding pattern right now. He said some pretty hurtful things. He also took back all of the things I had been feeding off of to get through the crap... like that he wasn't committed to this and whatnot. He also got more physical than he's ever been, and more than I want anyone to be. He got in my face a couple of times and yanked on my ear so hard that I have tiny blood stains on my pillow to remind me. And him. I told him not to do it again. But I have to say, there is less trust there now.

But, in a strange way, this might be better in the long run. He's trying again. He's making an effort to give me the affection and respect that are so important to me. And I'm trying, too; I'm just not as giving as I was. And maybe that reminds him that this isn't bought and paid for... there's still some issues that need to be addressed. And time... we need time. I need time.

I've been pretty strung out about money, too. I keep commenting to him about how shitty he is with money but when I sat down last night to figure out where the hell all my cash is disappearing, I realized that I've been spending about $300 a month in take-out and booze. And $300 is about all I have extra. Plus I'm pushing maximum density here. And I don't have enough money to buy bigger clothes! And I don't want to. I finally got my hair cut the way I like it. I need to buy product but what I want will cost about $100. Fucking samples got me hooked. My skin is driving me crazy, too. I need to get more Peau Vive so I can get back to how it's supposed to be.

Been pretty stressed out about not having a car - to the extent that I applied for a higher paying job. But today I decided to suck it up for a while longer. I love where I am, I love what I do, I love the benefits, I love the hours, I love wanting to go to work every day. I'm not giving that up for a few hundred extra bucks a month. I just have to learn to live within my means. And once the weather warms up again, getting around won't be such a hassle. Although I do dread the extreme heat this summer but I will cross that bridge when I no longer feel like swimming past it.

Also I found myself crushing on Steve again more than I was comfortable with but I seem to be over that now, too. To be honest, if I wasn't with Jeff, I'd rather just be alone. I honestly don't know what the future holds. It is unclear but I'm listening to my instincts and moving forward... and that's the best I can do. And my best is my best.

A thought

The problem with living with an opinionated man is the tendency to listen. It's not so much that I take his opinions as my own - I've always been strong and level headed enough to make my own decisions. It's that you eventually start avoiding the things he has a strong opinion about because you just don't want to listen to it anymore.

Today I asked a simple question. He was watching a show about UFOs and I asked if he believed in them. And he went into a spiel that lasted an hour at least. The thing is that it always becomes about how he is so much better, so much smarter, knows so much more than anyone else; how everyone else is living their lives wrong; how the masses are idiots.

I'm all for opinions but I don't understand how someone with such strong thoughts and ideas can't see that others have equally strong thoughts and ideas. And his are not always automatically right. But he doesn't listen. No one else knows the way he knows.

The irony is that when he talks about other people's narcissism and/or closed mindedness, all he's saying to me is that he is closed minded and narcissistic. And that's just sad. For someone who is so intelligent, it is sad that he can't see beyond his own thoughts and ideas.

Another problem with living with an opinionated man is that you start avoiding things you like and want to do so you can avoid the conversation. I don't want to hear about how shitty my taste in movies and music is. It's what I like. I don't need to read your books, I don't need to feel the same way, I don't need to become anyone's shadow.

I need to stop doing that. I need to do what I want, go out when I need, move as much as I can, cook and read and listen and dance and pick my nose whatever way I want and if he has a problem with it he's going to have to find a way to deal with it.

It saddens me that I'm here again. This is where I was with Karl. But the difference is I don't need to run off and be alone. I need to be me, no matter where I am. He can do the running if he wants... I'm sticking.

Something in between

I don't understand you. You think you're so damn intelligent and I'm not denying that you have some smarts but in some ways you are downright stupid. Did you really think I would keep doing everything for you and not expect something in return, even the slightest gratitude? Do you honestly feel that turning into a basket case because I don't reply to a text but then ignoring me when you know I'm not out doing whatever it is that you think a whore like me does when you're not home is going to make me love you more? Is waking me up at 8am on fucking Sunday fucking morning to tell me I don't love you and I'm probably in love with someone else and asking if I am I going to leave you is really the way to make me want to stay? Do you think that not touching me, not letting me touch you, denying the fact that you don't touch me and then still not fucking touching me is what I'm looking for from you? You think I don't want that more than some fucking Valentine's gift? You live in some fucked up world in your head that has completely different rules that I don't understand but I'm supposed to figure it out myself and be the perfect woman at all times? Fuck you.
***

You know what, me? I think it is me. Last night I was wondering if maybe the reason I keep ending up with men like this is because I'm doing something wrong. And I am. I'm getting sucked in by words and bullshit and when I'm left here with my heart dangling off my sleeve by a thread I snip it and walk away. I so fucking want to walk away right now. When he gets on like this it drives me out of my fucking mind. But I'm not going anywhere today. I'm sticking this out for a while longer, if only because I don't have much of an alternative.

Goddammit, I can't believe I fucking did this to myself again. This is the last time, I'm telling you. The last time. The next man is going to give me some fucking respect and consideration and not be such a damn dick all the time. But he also won't be a wimpy sap. Something in between, I just want something in between.

Motherfuckingfuck

Fuck.

Prophesize this

He said I don't love him anymore because I didn't fold his underwear before I put them away. And because I stopped sending goodnight texts. And because I didn't want to put cream on his back yesterday. But apparently waking me at 8am on Sunday to tell me this and then blasting Family Guy on the bedroom TV will make it all better. Fuck me. Christ.

What happened?

Where did you go? What happened to the man I fell in love with? Is he still in there somewhere? Or did I make him up? I miss him and I want him to come back. But I'm not even sure if he exists anymore. And that's what scares me the most.

"That thing"

Love, Loss and What I Learned

This is a post I read on a website I discovered today. She talks about "that thing", that doubt that can creep into a relationship. This is what scares me most after the fighting Jeff and I did last week, especially the commitment talk. I'm afraid I will catch "that thing" again. And I don't know if there is a cure for it.

Happiness

The secret isn't getting what you want, it's wanting what you get.

The problem?

I was going to say that maybe the problem is me but that's too obvious. Of course the problem is me, but not in the way I used to think it was. Not in the way it used to be. I think too much. And I spent too many years in a drug induced haze, thinking everything was wonderful, concentrating on all the good, avoiding all the bad. I believed in him before I knew him. I fell for him before I checked him. And I think I might have been wrong. And it's too late to take it back.

But haven't I been down this road before? Before the drugs, before the jump, before the anti-depressants, before the unemployment, before the move and the next move and the next.

Do I expect too much? Do I expect him to be perfect? Do I expect me to be perfect? I'm so sick of thinking and worrying about it. I need to just live. And right now I live here. No matter what else, right now I live here. And I need to make the best of it.

The struggle

When I was looking at Tumblr earlier, I was shocked to see someone that I've always liked and care about making an abomination of a choice. And it brought to mind what Jeff said in his post the other day about condoning someone's behaviour with my silence. Obviously this isn't my choice and it's not my place to tell someone else what to do with their lives but holyfuckingjesuschrist. Cause and affect are completely obvious in this situation. And that makes me very very sad.

So, do I continue to silently condone? Or do I unfollow? Let's look at it this way: if I was going through a terrible hardship in my life and someone who had always supported me through my ups and downs was to walk away just because they didn't agree with something they really didn't know anything about, how would I feel? But if I sit here in silence and don't take even the smallest stand for what I deeply believe in, what does that say about me?

Just sometimes

Sometimes I doubt that we are going to make this work. And that makes me sad because there is nothing wrong that can't be fixed. And I love him, I really really do. And, in his way, I believe he loves me. But he doesn't want to relinquish even the slightest bit of control. If he won't open the door, I fear soon I will stop knocking. And I fear even more that that's exactly what he wants.

Look around

I'm sitting in the living room of mine and Jeff's apartment. As I was writing the last post and stopped for a little teary break, I started to look around and something really caught my attention. There is nothing here that is mine. I have some books and dvds on one shelf of five. My throw blanket is on the back of the futon. That is it. Literally, in my home that is all that is mine. He says we bought pictures together but the truth is we only paid for them together, he picked them out. And everything else is his. And that's the way he likes it.

Deal breakers

Obviously there is good and bad in everyone, in every relationship. And, whether we acknowledge them or not, we all have our own absolutes that we can't live with or can't live without. Infidelity, dishonesty, religious beliefs, physical attributes; hell, according to Seinfeld, even the size of someone's hands can be enough reason to call the whole thing off.

I've been thinking about deal breakers lately. Some of my deal breakers in the past? Well, Karl was a jerk and with him I was someone I didn't like very much. Fabian couldn't love me; Ian couldn't like me. I couldn't stand what a pansy Rob was and the day I saw him interacting with his brothers was the day I knew without a doubt that I didn't want him in my life.

I haven't had any deal breakers with Jeff. It's been close, recently it was very close on a couple of issues but I'm hoping we can work them out. But there's one thing that we just can't seem to find a balance with. Affection.

It's not that I want him to be all over me all the time but do I really want to spend the rest of my life barely being touched? And I'm not talking about sex; our sex life is fine. Although even then, except for the rare oral foreplay, we barely touch anything other than genitals.

I need to be with someone I can hug, someone I can lean against and snuggle into in bed. I want to be kissed, I want a hand on my knee or a head in my lap, I want to be with someone who doesn't feel like it's a chore to put his arm around me or give me a kiss on the cheek. I guess what it really is is intimacy. You might want to say that he just doesn't want to let his guard down and I do hope it will get better in time. But what if it doesn't? What if what we have is all we'll ever have? And how long do I wait to find out? Honestly, the thought keeps me awake at night. Far too frequently for my liking. And I hate that fucking pillow.

Poop

Okay, well, I just opened this up because I wanted to talk about something but I can't seem to remember what that something was. I might be losing my mind. I might have already lost it. And it's kinda bugging me.

Surprise surprise

This isn't turning out the way I thought it would, he isn't the person I thought he'd be.

Remind me

Remind me of the time when I first moved to Newfoundland that I didn't think I'd survive it. How I cried so hard that I thought my head would explode. How a big part of me wished that it would. Remind me that I made it through, that things got better, that the hard times passed and, after a long long road, living there was actually pleasant. Oh, please... oh, please remind me. Because I don't know if I can make it through this.

Discuss amongst yourselves:

The part of him that he thinks will eventually make me leave is the very part of him that makes me want to stay.

Go.

Truth is

He's bugging me. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be around him. He hurt me the other night... did he hurt me? No. He irritated me. And I couldn't believe he was saying some of the things he was saying. I've never known anyone who is so insecure and full of himself at the same time. He sees the world differently than I do, he sees the world differently than I thought he did. I thought he had an internal strength that I'm not so sure exists anymore. I thought he was a doer but I'm starting to wonder if he's just a whiner. I don't know. Whatever. It will pass. Or it won't. Only time will tell.

What I wish I could say

You people are driving me nuts with your moaning and groaning and poor-me-ing. Give it the fuck up already. Here's the deal - you have a problem, you figure out whether or not there is something you can do about it. It will either be beyond your control or there will be a solution out there somewhere. If it's out of your control, let it go. You have to let it go and accept that there's nothing you can do to fix it. If you can fix it, then fucking fix it already. What are you waiting for? Do you enjoy bitching and whining, moaning and groaning? Because, if you do, have at it... but I have no interest in sticking around to listen to it.

Hitting A Home Run

- taken from January edition of that coffee talk or whatever they call the thingy they have at restaurants.

We've heard it all, the inane question asked by sports commentators, "How did you hit that home run?" Followed by the equally inane answer by the player, who, fearing that the real answer will not be enough, gives us an elaborate, meaningless diatribe on what we have just seen.

It's safe to say that we have all met those who are unhappy with life. They blame their government, their union or professional association, their co-workers or competitors, the banks or international trade. Anything but themselves.

It is also safe to say that five years from now these people will be singing the same tune, only some of the words they may have changed. The life they lead will be the same, they will still be unhappy and will have had an affect on as many people as possible; "misery loves company". The reason they are that way is that they are not participants in life, they are spectators. Oh, they do the work they are doing, but they watch the changes happen, not make them happen. To have a life in which you are happy you must play the game.

So, how do you hit a home run? The answer that the ball player didn't give, the simple answer is... "I stepped up to the plate, focused, swung the bat and the rest is history."

Sometimes you'll hit a single or double and occasionally you will hit a home run. But nothing happens until you participate. Only then will you become a winner. We are all meant to be winners, we all have the ability. So step up to the plate, swing the bat and participate.

Love and life and learning

It bothers me a little how I talk about Jeff here sometimes. I hope you understand that I mainly come here to vent, bitch and complain. I come here to say the things I don't want to say anywhere else. I need to get the poison out but I also know that the moods and problems and complaints pass.

I love this man. In a way I've never loved anyone. It's weird. Sometimes I look at him and wonder... why. What makes him different? He is special, there is no denying that but what is so special about us? Where does this magnetic attraction come from.

But you and I both know that it's something that will never be answered. It just is. Fate. A freak union. Amazing combination of values and traits and life experience. He's the one. The love of my life. And every time it gets bad, it immediately gets better and better. He's my mate, my lover, my sparing partner, my other half, my best friend. He's everything. And I hope for many many years together.

Damn you, MN

Mother nature is a mean spirited whore! She makes me horny as fuck but turns me into a moody bitch so no one in their right mind would do me anyway. Although no one could ever claim that Jeff is in his right mind...

*sigh*

I feel like dry humping my hand. Even my own cleavage is turning me on. You know how a cat in heat comes at you ass out? Yep. That's me today. And it's fucking hell.

Sucks to be me. I guess I'll get over it. Can't stop laughing at the irony of my Tumblr post the other day saying that I'm sexually satisfied for the first time in my life... haven't had sex since. A week. A WEEK!!!!

*sigh*

Guess I'll go eat something.

*sigh*

And the winner is

The problem with getting high is that it's virtually impossible to quiet your mind. I could see why this stuff drove Jeff crazy, because his brain was working at that speed already. The added spin would sucked.

But you know what's funny? When my mind starts going, I have a different voice. A negative voice. But I can not fucking keep track of anything for more than a damn minute!

This is what made this happen... this life that I'm living. This person I am now. Getting stoned brough out the other voice and the yes and the no fought it out. One was saying no you can't and the other saying fuck yeah you can. And that's all fine and dandy. It's great in fact. But someone had to win.

Yessuh

I'm stoned again. I like it. But I don't like it. My brain is going a million miles a minute and I can't turn it off. Not thinking anything particularly different or new, just uncontrollably jumping from one to another. This is why I was so good at Sudoku when I was stoned. I could think of an exceptional amount of things at the same time. That's why it's hard to get down to the problem at hand, isn't it? It's probably also why my other journals are barely readable. Because - What was I just thinking about?

Anyways, the problem with Jeff. I don't know. He's... there's something about the way he treats me sometimes.  I wonder if he's subconsciously treating me the way he saw his dad treat his mom. Because we do that in fun, that's not him being the boss. It's both of us having a conversation and coming to a mutual understanding. Or not. The thing is I'm always the one who backs down. He flips out or... you know what? It'll work itself out. I do need to be more straightforward with him but it's going to take some easing into.

He says I'm always questioning him or something. Disbelieving. But I'm just disagreeing. That's what we do, we discuss. And it works out great most of the time.

But I don't want to be his mother and I certainly don't want him to be his father. Is it a lack of respect? Or is it insecurity that causes it? You know what? It truly doesn't matter.

I don't like his attitude. His blatant negativity. I don't care if you're grumpy sometimes but everything is not crap every time.

I don't like how he talks to me. I understand he's curmudgeonly... he's even prideful about it. But it frequently feels like it's directed toward me. Like I'm intentionally trying to bug him. Or I can never do enough. I speak when I shouldn't have or say something he didn't want to hear. He calls me names. I fucking hate that. I do that enough inside my own head. He's supposed to be the one to take those names away.

Like everything, though, it needs time. We are working toward something. Why do I feel afraid that he's not working toward the same things I am?

Frust

I laughed when I read the last post. It wasn't a happy silly laugh, more eye-rolling yeah right. We've been getting on each other's nerves pretty much since the day I wrote it. Well, he's been getting on my nerves at least.

I don't even know what to say about it because I'm pretty frustrated and he's sitting across the room from me. He's going to work soon. I'm trying to decide whether or not I want to get stoned like I did on Friday night. Calvin sent me 7 doobies for Christmas but I don't want to go back to being stoned all the time. But, then again, part of me wants to do exactly that.

Damn, I'm frustrated right now.