Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Nighttime

It's nighttime that brings it all back so real. I lay here in my bed and stare at the spot you stood in and looked at me with confusion and horror. Oh God.

And I wonder if it is all over, if we are all over, is this possibly reparable? My hopeful side thinks of your smile, your laugh, drive-in movie theaters and the way my heart jumps and your voice lilts when you call me baby.

But the last time we talked your anger was what I heard the most. The sound of giving up. Oh god. I don't want to lose you.

Could we start again please?

Monday, July 27, 2009

Poison

I feel the toxicity. Poison.

I woke up with Trent Reznor's words running over and over: "I used to be so big and strong. I used to know my right from wrong. I used to never be afraid. I used to be somebody... I was up above it, now I'm down in it."

I'm starting to understand that I have become used to expecting the worst treatment from the men I choose to love. I'm used to being the hurt one, the victim. WHich is totally fucked up and not a part of my life I think I've realized before. Even though I worked so hard to hide it, to project this image of strength and resilience, unattached to him. Even while projecting this facade, however convincing it may have been to others and to myself even, in our relationship, I was the hurt one. And he fucking knew how much and how often he hurt me and yet made no effort to stop it. And I was so fucking trapped and couldn't leave. Even when I tried to leave I couldn't stay gone because our bond was more permanent due to circumstance. And I never once felt like I could trust him at any point over the years.

And as the brilliant Tom Waits sang, "I did my time, in the jail of your arms". I did my fucking time and I finally started to feel good and like love could be possible again. That a partnership could be real and in my life and that it wouldn't look like a prison.

I'm not used to being the one who would do the hurting. And here it happened. The poison bubbled up and over and it scalded you. And my regret is burning me.

I missed you so fucking much today, A. The ache has its own heartbeat.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

A New You, the Old Me

This is the first post on this blog in 2009, and the first post in which the "you" I am writing to is a different "you" than the one I was writing to before. It has been so long since I have written and in a way I am forcing myself to do this now.

I was so awful to you the night before last. The words I chose to use were the ones I knew would wound the deepest. Why would I strike so hard at the one who has been so dear to me? Why would I act in such a stupid way, a way that would guarantee me winding up alone once again? How could I be such a wretch?

And its these fucking questions that are the reason I'm forcing myself to write this week. Because writing has saved my life - or at least my heart- so many times before and I feel so lost right now. And to try to understand this ugliness inside me so that with hope and vigilance, I can make a real promise to you that it won't happen again.

In a moment of sadness and weakness I admitted my horridness to my mother earlier today. I didn't go into detail other than to say that I was a complete asshole to you, said terrible, undeserved things and that I wished that I could turn back time and take it all back. And then she of course told my father. And hearing the two of them talk to me about what I did to you- the two most frequent victims of the vile words spit by my teenaged tongue - I couldn't lie or minimize the damage I had done. They know me better than that.

My father reminded me that I have always fixated on things that I fear - like vampires and sharks - giving them more meaning and power than they deserve. And he said that I am fixating on my ex and the anniversary of his departure in the same way. I interrupted him quickly and told him that his advice wasn't helpful, but here hours later I think he was on to something. But its not the ex that I am fixated on- it is the carcrash that was me when he left. It is the incredible pain and loss I experienced from time to time on this blog.

So I think my brain is fucking with me. And this certainly wouldn't be the first time I realized that I have walls up that I wasn't even aware of. So the question remains, how do I let these walls down so I can see things truly and honestly? How do I trust? How can I possibly risk loving, which means perhaps losing, again?

I have a lot of love to give. And yet instead it has been injury that has been flung from my body onto yours.