When you have a #dirtywindshield at your fingertips?
I have to be strong so that he can be weak. Well, at least that’s the long and short of it. He’d rather not be here either. But we’ve just done the back and forth so many times. Had it ever worked out, we would have stayed. Honestly, had he never asked me to go with him to Tenerife in 2009, we still would probably be in Italy. Well, I would. Maybe it would all be different…
I happen to have lots of problems. I don’t know if it’s because of this or in lieu of this, but I seem to gather about me women with just as many issues. Whereas my problems are continuous – and generally kept under wraps – it seems like their lives, on sporadic occasion, blow up in their faces.
All at the same time.
Another sleepless night. Another night where what I thought I knew I didn’t, and what I wished I didn’t, unfortunately, I do.
Another night when I thought everything was one way, or rather, dreamed it, I realized it was just what I was afraid of.
And again I am lost. I was so tired, my eyes heavy, my head sinking into the pillow. I even drifted off to another blissful world for a short time.
But here I am now, returned to this confusing, waking world, my soul so tired but my head no closer to sleep. All I want is to sleep and feel safe, but instead I lay mostly half-awake in my bed, the anxiety crawling under my skin like bugs. I fear sleep.
And I can’t deal with this sheet shifting off the bed leaving me breathing in itchy mattress.
Sorry for the psychobabble. It’s late, and I’ve already slept for the night.
As you lay there in bed and address me gruffly one last time before turning your back towards me, I wondered, again, what it was that I had done? What had I done wrong? Did I disrespect you? Did I ignore you? Did I offend you? Did I break your heart?
I think to tap you on the shoulder and question you about it. I think to tap you on the shoulder and
For a while I have understood that I am in a codependent relationship. Perhaps to begin to work on my issues (or, even, distance myself from them), I have been reading material about similar situations, what they mean, why they happen, and their consequences.
My research has brought to light many things I didn’t know – or, perhaps, I did know, but I convinced myself that I didn’t (in order not to suffer them so profoundly). There are the normal concepts – fear of abandonment (both of being abandoned as well as abandoning my partner that is hurting), the feeling that I’ve held on so long that if I just wait a little longer it will all get so much better and have all been so worth it, letting myself be convinced that I deserve the treatment I’m receiving because he’s having a bad day (everyday), fixing all of his mistakes because he doesn’t care about consequences, and letting myself be controlled by the fear of what he’ll do and the mistakes he’ll make if I ever truly leave…
But what I wasn’t considering,
was the fact
that I have boundaries.
At what point do you admit that if it’s you against the world that you must be wrong about something? If you are constantly angry, if you constantly feel slighted, if every day is a fight – at what point do you stop to think:
I must be
about something —
For every four days of fighting, you have two of apologies and one that really doesn’t seem so bad. Then the final night passes, and it all starts again from the beginning like a broken record that keeps spinning the same lilting melody. Your life becomes this daunting, unfulfilling thing, and you can’t help but to wonder why?
I’m on Youtube absorbing videos of Woodstock. Janis’ words,
Music’s for grooving man;
music’s not for puttin’ yourself through bad changes.
You don’t have to go take anybody’s sh*t, man,
so if you’re gettin’ more sh*t than you deserve,
you know what to do about it, man.
You know, it’s just music;
music’s supposed to be different than that —
just ring so true. I can’t help hating that I missed out. The music, the freedom, the love, the party. We don’t have anything like that anymore. Continue reading
I’ll never understand why my mother feels the need to belittle people around her when she is feeling inadequate. This is something that she has done since I was a child, and, unfortunately, it was something that I had learned from her (as well as a host of other socially unfortunate behavior).
I think I never understood the adverse effects
teasing could have on people –
until I did —
I would like to talk some about what it means to be an American in the eyes of people I have met around the world and how it differs drastically from the way I feel about my heritage.
First of all, let me just say that while I hate being in the USA, I don’t necessarily hate my country. I just don’t fit in here. To put it simply,
a crappy American —
I’ve never fit in. I’ve never really had friends. I’ve never been “cool.” I’ve never been like everybody else. Unfortunately, I come from a beach part of the country, and I am just not made for the beach. Even when my weight was no longer an issue for me, I just can’t stand the sun. It’s hot. It’s uncomfortable. It’s the sun. Don’t get me wrong, I am a water sign, and I love the water, but I just can’t stand beach culture. Or, for that matter, heatstroke…