Math = better

I feel better since I got all of that out this morning. I don't know what is going to happen. To be honest, this could go either way. Okay, I'm pretty confident that it is going to go with me going back west. Home. I don't know when, where or how but for the first time in a very long time I feel like I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. I hate to leave, I don't want to give up and it kills me to hurt him but it's my life and my life is going to be a hell of a lot fucking better than this. Thank you.

The math

Although I consider this blog more of a dialogue with myself, I think it's time to have a talk to him. Inside my head of course. Where I can figure things out without pressure and comments from the peanut gallery. I really need to get this out. And, in my weirdly logical way, it's gonna be in numbers. Not pros and cons, just points.

1. What do I hate most in the world? Hypocrisy. Who is the biggest hypocrite I've ever known? You go it. 

The things you say out loud are world away from the things you write and claim to feel. If I've learned nothing else in my life, I know that true happiness can only be achieved with the things you keep inside you and the things you let outside you are in sync. Be who you are, be who you say you are. You aren't. You are not. Not by a long shot. You preach with the wisdom of a man who has been places and really lived, you live as a man afraid to leave the womb. 

2. I can't count on you for support. 

I used to see you as someone I could turn to, someone who would be there for me when the going got tough. You told me you were that person and I believed you. (See above point.) But what did you do when I was at my lowest point since we met? You yelled, you called me names, you discarded my needs and you considered only yourself. And left me with a bruise on my neck that I can still see, even though it is long gone. I can still see it because it is a symbol to me, a symbol of the chance that I'm taking with you that I don't really even believe in anymore. Yes, you say you made a mistake but who's to say you won't make the same mistake again when I need you even more? And a mistake is a one time oops, it doesn't last for days on end. 

3. I'm not attracted to you.

I'm sorry, I'm not. I can still get a glimpse of the man I thought you were, I still see the man I hoped you would become. You aren't that person. That man would take care of himself. That man would have teeth. Yep, that's the biggest issue. You promised you would get that fixed. You brushed it off by saying when you had insurance you would take care of it. You and I have both had insurance for over a year now and you have yet to even speak to anyone about it. I don't want to introduce you to my friends and family, I don't want you to come near my work, I don't want to look at you sometimes. It is very unattractive, it pisses me off and it's just another promise you broke. 

4. Speaking of promises, how many have you actually kept?

By my count: none. Teeth, marriage, therapy, no physical contact in anger. You let yourself off with everything because you had a rough childhood. Get a fucking driver's licence, get a pardon, get a better job, do your taxes, get some teeth, get a backbone, get a life. You aren't a child anymore. Be accountable and dependable for a change. 

5. You don't challenge me. 

One of the things that excited me most about you was that I thought you would challenge me, I thought you would push me to be more but you actually push me to be less. You brush off my achievements (although I admit they have been minimal lately), you won't let me go anywhere alone, you don't want me to have friends, you won't even play fucking Words with Friends anymore because you don't like it when I beat you. What the fuck, man?

6. You want me to be less than I am.

You discourage every attempt I make to better myself. I'm sick of writing this already. 

7. I hate it here.

I hate this province. I hate this city. I hate this apartment. I hate that you treat me like a maid and expect me to clean up after you and your kid. I hate that you don't say thank you when I do something nice for you. I hate that I'm expect to be all of these things and you get to complain when I'm not, yet you sit on your ass all day and preach to the internet about being good and loving one another. What bullshit. 

8. Did I mention you're a hypocrite?

You spend so much time bitching and being disgusted by people you don't know and who have absolutely no bearing on your life whatsoever. It's infuriating. 

9. Could you try to be positive and not a dick? Just sometimes? For just a little while?

I didn't think so.

I know you want this to work out between us. I know you have these ideas of what and who we will be but I think you're living in a fantasy world. Those things don't just happen on their own. They need to be tried and molded and we aren't doing that. We are sitting still in a world that continuously moves forward. That feels like going backward to me. 

I'm sure you're wondering through all of this - as I often wonder - if things are so fucking bad, why don't I just leave? Since we're all about numbers today, I'll give you two reasons.

1. It's not all bad. There are times that I like you as a friend. 

2. I'm so fucking sick of starting over. And, quite frankly, I can't afford to start from scratch again. Not that I couldn't, I just don't want to. Where would I go? What would I do? Who would I be? I don't know if I have the energy or the gumption to make another go of it. Part of me just wants to wither and die. Which makes the other part of me extremely pissed off and completely shocked that I let myself get here again. 

Maybe I was right, all those years ago. Maybe I can't live with anyone happily. Maybe I need to go and be happy with myself. 

Rubbing the wrong way

Oh fuck. I'm so over this. This... life, if that's what I'm supposed to call it. The other day I thought to myself "what the fuck is wrong with me? I strove (is that a word?) to get the job I have but it's not good enough, I worked to get the man I have and he's not good enough". What is it going to take to make me happy?

Right now I feel like I have nowhere. There is nowhere I belong, nowhere I fit. But isn't that the way I felt before? Is that was drove me to make all of these crazy changes that got me where I am right at this moment?

I feel like I'm losing all that I worked so hard for. But I can't help but wonder... were all those things I hoped for and dreamed of just pieces of my stoned brain working over time?

I don't know.

I know I'm staying where I am. There is no quick fix. There is no turning back and there is no running away. Maybe some day I'll get there. Wherever 'there' is. Maybe someday I'll be the person I want to be and live the life I want to live. But it's not now. And, quite frankly, I'm really fucking sick of trying.

I think he's rubbing off on me.

And I don't think that's a good thing.

Piece out, whore.

Time flies

It's been a while. I kinda killed my computer. Not on purpose but definitely in a rage. I pushed the TV table over and it landed smack-dab in the middle of my laptop monitor. Crrrrrack. I thought it was working otherwise but today is the first time I've pulled it out in a few weeks, I connected it to Jeff's monitor and it's giving me all kinds of trouble. So, buy a new monitor or wait until I can get a new laptop? Yikes. That's gonna be a really really long time. 

Anyways. Completely besides the point, I guess. 

It's been a while. In November I got this really great idea to go off my anti-depressants. Things were going okay at, Jeff and I were never better, money felt reasonable, life was good. I figured if there was ever a time to do it, that was then. Turns out I couldn't possibly have been more wrong. 

I didn't tell him at first. Not that I didn't want him to know so much as I didn't want every mood, feeling and issue to be chalked up to 'she's a nut bag' and ignored. He found out by mistake, I don't really remember how. But, shock of all shocks, he was quite supportive. At first. 

It didn't take long before he was doing exactly what I didn't want. And I was in a rage all the time. I felt so out of control and out on the edge. I remember feeling that way pre-Wellbutrin but it was a million times worse. Back then I didn't know how to express my feelings and kept everything bottled up. Well, seeing as I just spent five long years teaching myself to get things out, I was a complete and total nut bag. Okay, not complete and total.

I wonder how things would have gone if he didn't fly off the handle at me that night. Somewhat before that and completely after he acted like a dick. Just mean and cold. He said things to me that still bring tears to my eyes. Maybe I am a lightweight and I'm supposed to be able to take shit like that. Doesn't matter - it was uncalled for and unnecessary and so beyond unsupportive. Did I tell you he grabbed me while we were fighting? I had a bruise on my neck for a couple of weeks. 

I honestly considered leaving him then. I told him I wouldn't make any decision until Christmas was over but I was pretty sure I was gone. And then Christmas was over and I wanted to go even more. So fucking inconsiderate and self-fucking-centered. But aren't we all? Probably me more than most. 

I'm still here. We are getting along fine now. He had a meltdown when his ex didn't bring the little gem last week and I was supportive and helped him get through it and somehow it fixed what our problem was. 

You see, the thing is... that's all fine and dandy but what about the next time it happens? And the next time? I told him there won't be a next time. He asked me to give him six months to prove that he can change, that he won't act like that again. I told him I would give him forever, but if he touched me -or even attempted to touch me- in anger again, it was over. No discussion, no chance, no way. 

That all went down about a month ago. On his way down melt-down lane last week he started getting on with his bullshit and I warned him. I will go. And he stopped. Which is something, I guess. 

The fact is, even though I sometimes don't want to be here, there is nowhere else I want to be. I love the mother-fucker. Even if it kills me? No. But we'll see. 

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.