Crushed

I feel lost. I know this isn’t a new feeling... but it is where I am.

I feel stuck in an in-between. I’m trying to let go of something… and trying to grab a hold of something. I’m trying to learn new things... while still impressing upon the old. I’m trying to be happy... and embrace new power and temptations without submerging in the moment.

All of me is struggling. Little me, big me, old me, and new me. I want to be better. And yet, I look up sometimes and I see all the weaknesses I always had. I see all the struggles I thought I’d overcome. I want to be strong enough to walk away. Not just walk away because I need to, but to walk away because I fucking can... and that knowledge is my power.

It’s like I just flung my body into the deepest water I could find. And maybe... I'm drowning.

At twenty-seven... I’m beginning to wonder if I will ever be the person I want to be. Happy, successful, in love, with a family, and confidence… real confidence... for once in my life. Not this bullshit I spew to make them believe or potentially even fool myself into believing. But for once, whole, sincere knowledge of my value.

My insides feel crushed today, paralyzed by emotions I just don’t want. I never know when it is safe to trust myself... let alone all the others.

I open so completely... I open myself to the pain. When will I learn. Learn to stop letting myself be hurt and choked by my own saliva. Crushed by my own desire for more.

Like everytime I cross the road and I envision myself being struck by a car. I know what it really is, I know it is my own dangerous thoughts... and I allow myself to cross. It's just my imagination. It's all in my poisonous fucking head. All this fear. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I'm sick of holding back. I'm sick of being the person with logic.

What if I let go? Fuck... what kind of bullshit am I trying to spin? I could never fucking let go!! Wrapped up tighter than a balloon string... I could never be free like that. Instead... I just hurt. Instead... I am crushed.

Upside Down...

I wonder why I am sitting here... a quater past midnight. I wonder why I can't stop sobbing. I wonder when might these bouts of fear and doubt go the fuck away?

You're probably wondering where the hell I've been and what the hell I'm talking about. Approximately Christmas time I met someone. Everything was magical and pure.

I am pulling my same usual bullshit of running away. Why the hell am I running from something so completely magical?? Why do I seem to find every reason under the sun to be mad? There is nothing to be mad about. I have him. I have a wonderful, loving, honest, and giving man. ... But I'm still mad.

I have begun an intensive form of therapy to begin working on the things I need so desperately to fix about myself. To fix all the wrongs I learned as a child and have clung to as an adult. I want to be better than that. I want to be better than a string of poor excuses. Rape, incest, abuse, neglect... no matter the poison I must choose to be better than that. I must choose to live for me, for now, for life... and let go of all those pains.

This weekend I pushed him away harder than ever. I packed my things and called my mother for a ride. I stormed past him repeatedly taking my bags to the car one-by-one. I refused to make eye contact. I needed him to stop me.

My therapy has brought me upon a new topic I'd rather not approach... my father. I love him dearly. I see so many good things in him. We have had moments where I felt our bond was unbreakable. This is not that year. When I was 8 or so... I fell off the rocking chair in the living room. I cried out for him in the kitchen... he chose not to come. Lying on the floor in tears, this is how I seem to always be. An inexcusable mess of a human being unable to pick myself up without someone else telling me I am okay. My father didn't come... and when I told him I had fallen his best console was that I probably wouldn't use the rocking chair like that again... would I?

The mess applies in my relationships. I tell him the story of my father... and that very night the situation presents itself. A small fire starts on the stove and I yell for him... twice. The child beside him on the couch teaching him to play the video game says to him, "she's calling you". He stays still. Once I have the fire out and I have the pasta drained he strolls into the kitchen. His best response, "what could be so important about draining pasta"? I look at him with darts of hurt diving through my heart and out of my eyes into him.

I walk away. I eat dinner alone. I sleep on my edge of the bed. The next morning he walks in as if nothing has changed. "You coming with me to get the Brat?". ... that's what I get. Not an apology for his choosing to ignore me in that moment and through the night. I tell myself that I can't need him because I need him more than he is willing to be needed. I decide I must end all dependency. He leaves and I pack.

We spent the weekend apart. The first since the day we met. We have not spent hardly a pinch of time apart, not one full day. In the beginning he told me he loved that. He loved that I always wanted to be with him.

He didn't call. He didn't write. He didn't come... I cried. I cried sopping wet, fat tears into his shirt desperately sniffing any smell I could between sobs. I cried wishing he would come. I cried wishing I hadn't left. I cried praying I didn't just fuck up the best thing that had ever happened to me. Sunday afternoon I emailed him... without response. Monday morning I logged on to find more silence. Finally, I couldn't stand it...

"So this means were done then?"

No... we're not done, I hope. He spent the weekend relaxing with friends and pleasuring himself without me. I feel sick. I feel so completely sick! I feel useless, replacable, broken, and so fucked up!!

I try to tell him it sounds like he had a good weekend without me. He says... "Should I have sat around and cried all weekend? I know better than to waste my time being miserable, it doesn't help."

I try to tell him how replacable I feel. He says... "if you keep saying it, I'm going to start to believe it".

I try to tell him how... un-special I feel. He says... "how?"

I try to tell him I don't think he wants to be here with me. He says... "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be".

... Really? Not one word of reassurance. Not one... "I love you more than you will ever know! Yes, I hurt this weekend, but I had to go on for my kid. I hated being without you... only you." I feel empty. He tells me he can't reassure me all the time and that he can't always says exactly what I need to hear. But where does it end? I know I am demanding ... but throw me a fucking bone!!! Make me feel just a little like I matter because right now, I don't! Not one little bit!!

I lay in bed clothed, a very very rare occasion as you might guess. He asks why, and I tell him I don't feel safe yet. I tell him I don't now how to explain it and he warns me of farts. I tried again to talk... to tell him. He tells me to try, but I've tried, over and over. I can't right now, I have nothing left to give. All I can do is turn over and sob because somehow... I know I did this. I turned us upside down.

Honest to fucking god... how should I feel? It was magical. He made me feel real with kindness, hoesty, and loyalty. He made me feel heard. He made me feel special and one-of-a-kind. But what now? I love him so much! But now... I just feel upside down. Now... I don't know if it's fixable. The weekened I spent sobbing... I needed him to fix me.

A Whirlwind Of Everything...

For the last week I've had fleeting thoughts dance through my head about what I wanted my next blog topic to be but nothing has been able to stick. I commonly speak of a passion I need in order to write. Something that fires up inside of me strong and hot to keep me compelled. Recently I've found myself climbing a rock... and I have reached the spot where not one of the damn foot-holes near me feels right or safe enough to move forward up the rock. But I also can't stay stationed in the middle of the rock panicked by the gamble of a wrong move. So, on I go.

My last week has been a mixture of so many things. It has included so many thoughts, so many feelings and emotions, topped off with a slew of insane activities. It all started with my ex serving me with divorce papers. Not .... here we are, this is the time, this is the place we call an end... but throwing things, torn, and broken across the living room - this is the end. All the love that ever once was... it was stomped out in anger and hate. Not saying that the love could ever go away, because I don't believe it is possible to turn off all the feeling you have ever had for a person. At least I know I can't. But this wasn't a good finish, a good end.

So that's where it started. A race to get through this week. With love, pain, anger, resentment, frustration, confusion, joy, memories, accomplishment, and sorrow all mixed together in big fucking bowl of alphabet soup.

And besides all the emotion I was already feeling there was all the normal day-to-day stuff. In other words... men. I will probably meet at least two new guys this weekend. I've already met one. I see things in them I would hold onto if given half the chance. But I think most of them have decided to live by the all too common, 'my life is too busy' manslogan of the fucking year! I guess my question is... too busy for what? ... life? Because that is what we are talking about here. And when they are old, gray, and starting to wrinkle... is that when life can begin? I am being harsh here, merely because I have heard this same lame statement from guys over and over. I wonder how it is they can find time for my lips but nothing more.

My life feels like a cluster-fuck. So, although I will rarely do this. I feel I have done my blog readers an injustice by writing with such a lack of focus. Let this video explain how I am feeling. And most of all... enjoy the happy awesome beat behind it all. She's a great artist.