Void

Want to know what it feels like, to have a man, that has claimed to love you for over 13 years, sell you dreams, and keep you living in hope, tear your heart out in one swipe? Me too…because right now, I’m not feeling anything. Oh…I know I will. I know that in a few hours, when the shock subsides (not the shock of it happening-just the feeling) I will feel it. I’m imagining it similar to all the other times, but more of Mack truck like effect. Because this is it. The last time.
I know…drama drama drama right? But he ended it, again, and this time it’s done. Not because he says it is…but because I don’t have the energy to keep fighting. Not because I don’t love him, but because I just can’t do it any more. I can’t.
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Right now I’m just a huge messed up ball of anger, and hurt and confusion. Right now I want to hurt somebody, and if nobody gets in my way, I’m guessing it will be me. Right now, I don’t care about anything or anyone, much less myself.
 But in the morning, when I can see clearly enough, process the thoughts that are spinning in an out of control fashion around my head currently, in a weakly diluted (okay barely diluted at all) bath of wine and whiskey…I’m going to feel every single little part of the hurt, and betrayal and loss.17362774_1027317360737433_2339336717897629705_n
Someone said to me tonight “It was a betrayal of love, and a betrayal of you. You fight for love, and he plays with it”. Well, I don’t like this game, and I can’t play it any more. I have fought for too long, to get to the castle, to be told that the game is over before it begins. And the thing with games, is that they come with consequences. If you land on the corner square, you go to jail. If you land on a ladder, you slide down it. If you hurt somebody, that is strong enough to have dealt with your bullshit for 5 fucking years (not including the stint 8 years before that again), you need to expect, that before they are gone, they will show you what it’s like to feel.
17012372_10211245417504954_1407257881_n.pngConsequences. Something he has never had to deal with. Because he trusts that he is loved, and while love has never been enough for him to return, to commit to, he thinks it is enough to protect him.
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He says he wants to be alone, period. So, he can be. And I will make sure of it. Vindictive-sure. Vengeful-maybe. Justice-fuck yes. I’m guessing at this point, there may be a person or two out there, wondering just how much they have under-estimated me, or my affinity for evil? For truth? Perhaps even under-estimated my lack of resourcefulness and memory? And I can say this, because I’m a bottle of wine and half a dozen good (fuck your Scotch) Irish whiskies to the wind. I can say it because lack of inhibition, apparently lets me say whatever I want, to whoever I want (those people know who they are tonight, and I regret nothing!)

But for now, I will sob, and despair, and be fucked up. Let all who wish to judge, kiss my lily-white arse. I deserve to feel exactly how this feels to me. I deserve to hurt and bleed and pine, and ache and long. I deserve to feel what this man has done to me for so long, that I may be able to one day, finally, let go of all of the light and goodness, that I see in him, still. I deserve to grieve and be hurt, and be bitter, and angry and resentful. I deserve to question and doubt, and know that he has done the wrong thing to me, when all I ever wanted for him was good. I deserve to know that I didn’t do this. that I was not to blame. That I have nothing to be ashamed of. That LOVE is nothing to be ashamed of.
5f1e127976647cf347fb3500479d4a93You see, all along, people have said that losing love is like grieving a loss. And I have known both, so not to diminish anything, but…there’s this. This. This is a decision. He decided that love was not enough. that I was not enough. He decided not to choose me. He weighed up the options, of which there are countless, thought about it…and decided that he didn’t love me enough. Loss is not a choice. this. This is a choice. I was not enough.

It is not my fault, I know. But it is my pain to bear. That this person I love so very much, my soulmate, the person I would give everything for, that told me until this week began that he loved me, wanted me…thinks I am not enough for him. He would be alone, over making a life with me. He would choose nothing, over me. Let that sink in, because it’s taking a while for me.
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So now, I’m going to go and try and sleep this off. This initial fucked up knee-jerk reaction to pain. I will wake up feeling sick and worse off for it, and steel myself to go to work and put on a brave face, when all I want to do is be alone and feel the entirety of this…void. And maybe he’ll show enough respect to just explain anything, and maybe he won’t. I don’t know why he’d start now, to be honest. It doesn’t seem that it’s been a high priority to this point. But the consequences…they will come. After all, who am I to stand in the way of a mans true desires?

Goodnight Kids. Don’t let the bedbugs bite. Or Karma.
V

 

The red pill or the blue pill?…

red-pill-vs-blue-pillI was given a book to read this week, by a friend. They thought it would be beneficial to my current circumstance, perhaps help me move forward with greater conviction and courage. To see the world anew, or to create a new one.
Attached to the cover, was a sticky note. Just a small blue piece of paper, tapped gently onto the top left hand corner, written neatly and purposefully. I stared at that little note for a while and put the book down. I picked it up again and read the note again, replaced the book on the counter, and went on. Finally I picked the book up and flipped it open. I only made it through the intro intact. The note read…’The red pill or the blue pill?’.
(For those not aware…”You take the blue pill, the story ends. You wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.”  The term redpill refers to a human that is aware of the true nature of the Matrix.)

On page 10, was the line ‘We’ve purposefully made the tone of this book humorous, to distract you from the very real and overwhelming feelings you’re having right now’.
ca97f47154575c6a5798e0693e122b7fMaybe they’re onto something, I might pick it up again, if I can. When I can.
You see, the problem isn’t with knowing or not knowing the actual truth, it’s in which truth you wish to know and believe, but still having to accept all of the truths simultaneously. And more importantly, applying your own truth to the mix.

I know that there is also truth to many of the words I am being told, including those I don’t want to hear. I know that I deserve more. I know this man is flawed and complicated, and largely untrustworthy. I knew those things all along (intuition is great isn’t it?). I know that he has caused me much heartache. But… I am in love with him, and also love him still, because I also know that people in general, and love itself is flawed and complicated. It was the risk I took, well aware of the consequences, yet still hoping that a better truth would prevail. That he too, might see hope in the truth.

He is the first person in my life that I have struggled, and persevered, and tolerated with, through all the problems. Somehow this, he, is different for me, than any other. That is what I can’t let go of. The undeniable connection I feel. He has made me a hopeless romantic. I don’t want to settle. He is my Fish. Yes, I understand what he has done, yes I know what you all see, and yes…I would rather spend a lifetime missing him, alone, than betray my own feelings. And perhaps I will, but at least I know it will be true. ‘Moving on’ is all well and good, and unavoidable. I will travel, and befriend, and experience, and live…but the experience will be that much poorer in comparison to what could have been.
12341103_861836303914305_5978606474863632995_nTo those that suggest I would be sacrificing my dignity and self respect, I say, it’s not a question of either of those. I am well aware of the situation, what I do and don’t deserve, but continue to ‘choose’ what I want, love and have passion for. If I am wrong to do so, it wouldn’t be the first time, but I’d rather be wrong than have regrets. Essentially, doing what I am told, what is expected, or what is ‘correct’, is itself, a sacrifice of a part of who I am.

Perhaps people who have never experienced this feeling, which starts unexpectedly in your stomach like butterflies, makes your whole body quiver with nervous anticipation, and smile foolishly when you see a person, makes you crave their touch (even when they are right next to you), and miss them uncontrollably when they are gone from sight, don’t know it even exists? I admit, I thought I knew what raw, true love felt like…until it really happened. And then I knew without a doubt that all other feelings, failed in comparison to what I felt for this man sitting right in front of me.
beau11.jpgHe makes me feel like too much, and not enough. He makes me want to be a better person, yet I like to believe he once loved me for who I already was. I admire who he is, despite and due to his duplicity, and his strengths, and yet I want to keep him safe, and show him that there is so much more to the world, and living, beside the right person…
13524538_840170119452159_2288477524924573198_nI worry that I will live with the feeling of missing him always. I know I never stopped for the first ten years, and despite what he has now in the last few again, I miss him still. Some days are worse than others, and there are days when I almost feel nothing at all, but this is always there in my mind. In the silent moments, the loud ones, the funny ones…and when I turn to share or talk, love or smile…he is not here. I get this distinct moment of sadness each time in that realisation.
13450751_835557149913456_7253757091669370436_nSo, after major digression…the pages of this book are supposed to help. To help me proactively change the way I feel, and see the world. The stories of anothers struggle and victory, claim to be healing, and maybe they are, if only for the fact that they instil a sense of not being alone in the world. They will say I am not the only one to ever feel this way, and yet I know undoubtedly that I am. But, that said, words are powerful, a very special art form, and they can be used to hurt or heal. And some may resonate…
86df8fc8863dfb232e615a0b11e84907In a moment of drunken out-casting of inhibition I wrote this earlier in the week, and sent it to a friend. I reread it with my face in my palm the next morning, yet they claim to approve, so I will share it here, despite feelings of inadequacy to find the words to convey the depth of inspiration, and the primitive gushy, repetitive, romantic nature of it. You’ll just have to deal with those parts (and the typos are disgraceful-I know).
Don’t judge too harshly though, I rarely share my personal writings with anyone, and whatever inspired me to write it, might well bite. I am a harsher critic of my own, than you could all ever be collectively.
Always remember…Never judge another until you have walked a mile in their shoes. That way you are a mile away…and you have their shoes 😉
pretty-words
Goodnight Kids
V

 

 

Truths

b11f8b78b4835d640e40e2e56d2cdd0cThis morning I woke up. It may not sound like much, but that in itself was my first achievement for the day. I neither wanted to, or was sure of the fact I would…but I did. And in many ways, too many to count, I wish I hadn’t. Today, all waking up did, was set in motion the string of events that followed…resisting the urge to even look at my phone, and then numbly moving the length of my house, through a myriad of painful rooms, to end in a kitchen I didn’t want to be in.
The journey back to feeding my girls, no less painful, past a closet full of unopened Christmas and Birthday gifts, paintings and through a bedroom, to a table. Everything.
65966bf685d0d68c40d77ee535634cedI stared blankly past a hammock into a backyard while they ate, before even realising that my twisted my ankle was hurting too.
I got asked at the shops twice if I was okay, by strangers, who at second glance, knew they shouldn’t have asked, and fell silent. I walked halfway home before I realised I hadn’t got what I went for and turned back.
6501944db6e4349708997ea14703bffeA friend sat and listened while I calmly spoke about things that one shouldn’t speak about, because she knew that even if I didn’t say them, I would still be thinking them. And she watched helplessly, as I held back tears and focused on keeping my coffee down. I am grateful that she knew not to voice the pearls of wisdom, and ‘platitudes’ that run through a mind when they see someone in distress…’it will get better’, ‘time heals’, ‘you deserve more’… no. Just No.
12463864_1657797597804393_790195381_nI turned on my music player, but couldn’t hit play. I picked up my phone and put it back down, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to speak. I tried to reassure my girls that it would all be okay….but I know they could see it in my eyes and hear it in my voice, that I don’t really believe that. So they brought me their toys and rested their heads on my lap, because there’s nothing else they could do. There’s nothing else anyone can do.
9b09457f2a61ddb347fe6f4727965cf9I was supposed to start work tomorrow…but I’m not. I need to finish my latest work in progress, but I can’t. I need to start packing some things away where I can no longer see them, but I don’t want to. I should think, but there’s too many thoughts to even make sense of. I have to give up, but that goes against the grain of who I am. So right now, all I can do is be.

Because I don’t want to think past anything. That might take me forward to tomorrow morning, when I have to wake up and feel all of this again.

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Thanks for listening Kids.
V