I was just listening to ‘hate on me’ by jill…. And I realized- the truth is- on either side, the story is the same. We could talk all day long about how the other one didn’t give us what we needed- and the other one of us is telling the same exact story. I was no more what he needed either. And he feels just as wounded, only by different thing, for different reasons. And I promise, he can tell just as passionate of a story and convince his people that ‘he’ is right.
I don’t need to be right anymore. It just hurts. We hurt each other- because we were hell bent on hurting ourselves. Its funny how we find the person who will reconfirm our lack of value for ourselves. Proving that we believed them- whoever they were…. For me…. I had a long line of people who tried to suffocate me with whole pages of their rhetoric. I think for him, he just bucked a culture that told him the individual he was was tainted for not following their lead… and hooking up with me, someone he thought was beneath him, it made him feel bigger and better.
We call things love that love doesn’t even exist inside of… & when we are trying to patch up our wounds- we see the other person as the monster we need to protect ourselves from- but we really need to pick ourselves up- its us that did the wounding.
I could tell you all day long the investment I made- all the ways he hurt me not returning my efforts. But he owed me nothing. People do as much as they want to do. He didn’t want to contribute the way I had. And that was my queue to leave. So, I have some motives to evaluate. Why was I putting so much in? Was it so he would feel like he owed me something? Damn, we have some destructive habits don’t we?
I cant hate him. I think he needs to hate me. Hes repeating history right now uncannily close to our story- & I’m nervous to watch. It makes me sick to my stomach to think these kids have to go through all of this over and over and over until we figure it out.
Jesus, I am trying to figure out my part. I finally get what people mean -that I should be so busy working on me that I don’t have time to think on what anyone else needs to be doing- All of a sudden- being pissed at them is gone- because I have enough in my own life to give my energy to.
Now I’m only a couple of weeks into this new feeling- so be a little patient with me. I want accountability- but I am no saint. I’m sure I will have streaks of jealousy- she stole my life after all. ( I know, I know- no more feeling that way. He gave it away years ago. I should have turned on my heels then. This is really about the way I handle things and not what he did or didnt do. I just have those thoughts sneak in still. Lol)
So, seeing my patterns now- makes life much easier. Its far less energy to let things go and not give more than I get. I was killing myself to invest in someone else. Using that energy for me is like an epiphany. Unattractive huh- How open I am.
Hey- in a few years life is going to feel so fresh and effortless… I’ll just be barefoot in my garden… pulling weeds and watering tomatos and I will have learned what AughaJaan came into my life to teach me. He loves me enough to stay in my heart even today. Can you believe the pain we have all put on his heart. I owe him too much for that. Noone in my life has loved me as big as Augha. I don’t know if you understand what he gave me. I cant even find words for it. I just knew when I would sit with him, that no questions asked, he loved me and believed in me. I was enough.
I’m looking forward to returning that to his great grandchildren. And something tells me harboring any resentments with his grandson would not honor his heart in the least. I never saw him hold a single grudge.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Friday, September 26, 2008
stills
I smile when he calls them- I love how they run for the bed and snuggle up in the covers and cuddle up to the phone… Its medicine. When they were babies and he would fall asleep with them on his chest- I would watch them sleeping and the snapshots are big life size portraits in my brain. He would shower with them and hand them out to me all slippery…
A lot of what you love about a person is those snapshots sometimes… of things like the way he cried when they handed him Naz- No before they handed him Naz- his tears when I was 5 months pregnant and my water broke and they were taking me up to Christiana Hospital and Id had already been thru that with Elijah and him just seeing me cry made him cave. Or when I think of the wrinkle in his nose when he would do the ‘sniffy snooty’ with them and they would just giggle like it was the best trick ever invented. They were so easy and he was their favorite person on earth… He is still their favorite person on earth.
There were plenty of stills for me to close my eyes to over those years- Him coaching their soccer or carving pumpkins at their school… One of the saddest is when he waited in the car outside the clinic when they told me I couldnt have Addy… Nazy sleeping inside that daddy cuddle that belongs between fathers and daughters of girlies under 2... sweaty hair stuck to the face and that wet slobber spot on his shirt the size of her head, times 2.
And I have visions of terrible things- like the condom wrapper that fell out of his robe last year when I was stepping into his bed- or the shame on his face nights 1 thru 17 when I waited up for him and he just didn’t care to come home- she was more interesting than my heart was valuable. And thank God- I didn’t have to see his face when we said our goodbyes…
I went kicking and screaming, when I had hoped I would go with grace, peace and love. That boy has some images in his brain… and sadly- me crying, pacing, devastated- will replace the visions of me painting his house or telling him thank you for it - him standing on a latter and my mouth finding his warm… I guess when you over stay it like we did- you lose the 3am- passionately poised- nursing mama cowgirl moments and his grandfather kissing my hands, my hands. And god I had hoped the countless times we were up to our elbows in good music, even better food, the worlds best people and laughing- happy kids were the pictures that were going to keep him up at night.
But he chose to hate me instead.
And no matter how hard I try- its still EFFORT for me to hate him. I wish it was natural. I wish it was effortless.. But its just impossible.
So plan B has become to protect myself. Because I’m powerless to loving him. Every time I look at those kids- I see him wrapped up in us like pretzels…grubby, long hair; a little CSNY; and my head fits right under his chin and his breath is still my lullaby.
I just have to avoid him. I’m 2 states away and seeing them run for the phone and cuddle up in bed with him on the line just makes me come undone. He loves them. I have to get past this soon. They need me to. Watching them love him makes it even harder sometimes. It reminds me of what isn’t mine anymore.
A lot of what you love about a person is those snapshots sometimes… of things like the way he cried when they handed him Naz- No before they handed him Naz- his tears when I was 5 months pregnant and my water broke and they were taking me up to Christiana Hospital and Id had already been thru that with Elijah and him just seeing me cry made him cave. Or when I think of the wrinkle in his nose when he would do the ‘sniffy snooty’ with them and they would just giggle like it was the best trick ever invented. They were so easy and he was their favorite person on earth… He is still their favorite person on earth.
There were plenty of stills for me to close my eyes to over those years- Him coaching their soccer or carving pumpkins at their school… One of the saddest is when he waited in the car outside the clinic when they told me I couldnt have Addy… Nazy sleeping inside that daddy cuddle that belongs between fathers and daughters of girlies under 2... sweaty hair stuck to the face and that wet slobber spot on his shirt the size of her head, times 2.
And I have visions of terrible things- like the condom wrapper that fell out of his robe last year when I was stepping into his bed- or the shame on his face nights 1 thru 17 when I waited up for him and he just didn’t care to come home- she was more interesting than my heart was valuable. And thank God- I didn’t have to see his face when we said our goodbyes…
I went kicking and screaming, when I had hoped I would go with grace, peace and love. That boy has some images in his brain… and sadly- me crying, pacing, devastated- will replace the visions of me painting his house or telling him thank you for it - him standing on a latter and my mouth finding his warm… I guess when you over stay it like we did- you lose the 3am- passionately poised- nursing mama cowgirl moments and his grandfather kissing my hands, my hands. And god I had hoped the countless times we were up to our elbows in good music, even better food, the worlds best people and laughing- happy kids were the pictures that were going to keep him up at night.
But he chose to hate me instead.
And no matter how hard I try- its still EFFORT for me to hate him. I wish it was natural. I wish it was effortless.. But its just impossible.
So plan B has become to protect myself. Because I’m powerless to loving him. Every time I look at those kids- I see him wrapped up in us like pretzels…grubby, long hair; a little CSNY; and my head fits right under his chin and his breath is still my lullaby.
I just have to avoid him. I’m 2 states away and seeing them run for the phone and cuddle up in bed with him on the line just makes me come undone. He loves them. I have to get past this soon. They need me to. Watching them love him makes it even harder sometimes. It reminds me of what isn’t mine anymore.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
our house is a very very very fine house- CSNY
It takes time to honor the depth and honesty in which you’ve loved and contributed to someone…. And sometimes, to do it right, you can’t just peel out of the yard in reverse, while the house burns to the ground; racing down that old dirt road with a cloud of dust behind you. There is a respect that commitment requires.
I’m sure you’ve seen the smoke, it was smoldering for years before the flames consumed everything… He limped away leaning on the ear of a damsel who thought she was in distress- don’t think she realized how well he plays victim. I hear they don’t come up much for air- but when the dizzy of his lies subsides, and she wipes the smudges from the glass- the clearly she sees will open her eyes to the ‘it takes two’ of it all.
I understand that neither of us could clap with one hand. I’m content in a home full of reflections for the forward of this journey. Its going to take time to sift through these ashes. He is no more a monster in all of this than I have been.
I was in his arms 2 weeks before I left, kissing the corner of his mouth and he said, “I’ve hurt enough…” and my immediate thought was “loving me shouldn’t have to hurt…” and I made love to him like it was the last time. (But it never is.) He was in her arms the next few days and I laid awake thinking- ‘You haven’t hurt near enough to equal this pain.’
But the truth is- we have nearly killed each other calling it love. For what? To what end? To watch our 3 girls re-play what we called love in their own lives. And that would be our Karma. A consequence I am not prepared to live with.
So I choose time. I may be 13 years and 3 kids too late, but I just want to stop in my tracks and grow the fuck up! I want to offer them an example of an individual that is strong, full of love, with a life that amounts to amazing- not just SOMETHING. I know the love I have in me. I have a chance to teach it to them in a way that honors them.
I cant change Sam and his inability to be alone and therefore he brings a different girl into my kids life every time the sheets are empty- but If two people are at war- it only takes 1 to stop it. I can be that one. The way to start is understanding that the problem isn’t the flavor if the week. Its been that I’m still in it enough to care about the flavor of the week.
Just so you know- the Introduction to My Life Party Kicks off Sunday November 16th, 2008 - 4pm. The cost is $40 a head and RSVP by October 4th.
I’m sure you’ve seen the smoke, it was smoldering for years before the flames consumed everything… He limped away leaning on the ear of a damsel who thought she was in distress- don’t think she realized how well he plays victim. I hear they don’t come up much for air- but when the dizzy of his lies subsides, and she wipes the smudges from the glass- the clearly she sees will open her eyes to the ‘it takes two’ of it all.
I understand that neither of us could clap with one hand. I’m content in a home full of reflections for the forward of this journey. Its going to take time to sift through these ashes. He is no more a monster in all of this than I have been.
I was in his arms 2 weeks before I left, kissing the corner of his mouth and he said, “I’ve hurt enough…” and my immediate thought was “loving me shouldn’t have to hurt…” and I made love to him like it was the last time. (But it never is.) He was in her arms the next few days and I laid awake thinking- ‘You haven’t hurt near enough to equal this pain.’
But the truth is- we have nearly killed each other calling it love. For what? To what end? To watch our 3 girls re-play what we called love in their own lives. And that would be our Karma. A consequence I am not prepared to live with.
So I choose time. I may be 13 years and 3 kids too late, but I just want to stop in my tracks and grow the fuck up! I want to offer them an example of an individual that is strong, full of love, with a life that amounts to amazing- not just SOMETHING. I know the love I have in me. I have a chance to teach it to them in a way that honors them.
I cant change Sam and his inability to be alone and therefore he brings a different girl into my kids life every time the sheets are empty- but If two people are at war- it only takes 1 to stop it. I can be that one. The way to start is understanding that the problem isn’t the flavor if the week. Its been that I’m still in it enough to care about the flavor of the week.
Just so you know- the Introduction to My Life Party Kicks off Sunday November 16th, 2008 - 4pm. The cost is $40 a head and RSVP by October 4th.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
domesticated
I hadn’t ever paid attention to how unattractive being the domestic type is in the perspective of a man. At the tail end of June, I was camping in Payson with My Pal Pete. Now, Pete, he wasn’t trying to leave that impression. He was just making conversation about different women in different friends of his lives and how months or years into the relationship, Domestic is kind of what they settled into- and that settling sort of summed them up.
Until that walk on the rim that day, I had considered my efficiency in the home one of my finer qualities- ( some of my other finer qualities are not to be mentioned on blogs) and I was rather proud of things like my French Onion Soup or my baked potato in a sock trick to ward off an ailing ear infection in a crying baby… Nope, ends up all that stuff is rather unattractive to the greater part of the male persuasion.
That sucks. The house I keep, the dinner I put on the table, the 2am advice on ear infections and always being available at every party in attendance, or not, to manage everyones kids- it had become who I am. I was vying for Martha Stuarts job- and I was glad to be in her dust.
Jake enjoys confidence in a woman. Sometimes down right cockiness. But what I’m confident in isn’t business or someones bottom line- I don’t know about dividends or the rules at office parties. I’m so unpolished that Sam was embarrassed to take me to his work parties all those years. He would leave me home telling me wives weren’t invited.
I’m just not your girl for coffee talk. Really. I am too passionate about most things to have some passive opinion about either individuality or family- history or my take on where we are headed as a country or the world… you really cant take me anywhere.
Ive noticed about myself lately that I’m not as well read as I’d like to be and that probably has a lot to do with the fact that dinner- for the entire neighborhood- really is at 5- and you can believe it will be made from scratch… with some fly by the seat of my pants secret recipe- and I wont have shaved my legs to serve it either.
Id like to re-direct my energies to a more sexy line if living- but I just cant bring myself to abandon the parts of me I like the most… And feeding all those people is my favorite part of myself.
Now Pete wasn’t calling me unsexy… we have too much fun when we’re together for that… he just showed me the other side of the coin. “Not every thing is for every body” as Jill Scott says… I’ll stick with single then. I just wont be able to force myself into that other box.
Until that walk on the rim that day, I had considered my efficiency in the home one of my finer qualities- ( some of my other finer qualities are not to be mentioned on blogs) and I was rather proud of things like my French Onion Soup or my baked potato in a sock trick to ward off an ailing ear infection in a crying baby… Nope, ends up all that stuff is rather unattractive to the greater part of the male persuasion.
That sucks. The house I keep, the dinner I put on the table, the 2am advice on ear infections and always being available at every party in attendance, or not, to manage everyones kids- it had become who I am. I was vying for Martha Stuarts job- and I was glad to be in her dust.
Jake enjoys confidence in a woman. Sometimes down right cockiness. But what I’m confident in isn’t business or someones bottom line- I don’t know about dividends or the rules at office parties. I’m so unpolished that Sam was embarrassed to take me to his work parties all those years. He would leave me home telling me wives weren’t invited.
I’m just not your girl for coffee talk. Really. I am too passionate about most things to have some passive opinion about either individuality or family- history or my take on where we are headed as a country or the world… you really cant take me anywhere.
Ive noticed about myself lately that I’m not as well read as I’d like to be and that probably has a lot to do with the fact that dinner- for the entire neighborhood- really is at 5- and you can believe it will be made from scratch… with some fly by the seat of my pants secret recipe- and I wont have shaved my legs to serve it either.
Id like to re-direct my energies to a more sexy line if living- but I just cant bring myself to abandon the parts of me I like the most… And feeding all those people is my favorite part of myself.
Now Pete wasn’t calling me unsexy… we have too much fun when we’re together for that… he just showed me the other side of the coin. “Not every thing is for every body” as Jill Scott says… I’ll stick with single then. I just wont be able to force myself into that other box.
Friday, September 19, 2008
beauty
He justified his betrayal in a quip so sharp it stung to my bones. Made me itch from the inside with need to relieve the sting.
" but you always said you wanted me to be with a beautiful woman."
There are right answers to those sorts of things when it comes from the mouth of a woman and honestly the right answer was- "Ive spent the last 13 years in the arms of a beautiful woman..."
Instead, he felt slighted. Like in the diviing up of portions, he was short changed in the partner department. And where I might have summed up my beauty to the times he lay behind me while I was nursing our children- he was more afflicted by his embarrassment that I wasnt a girl he could be proud to take to the club.
I ripped into her after he spoke those words to me.
"But she isnt a beautiful woman. You had me Sam. Me. My skin. The love I give to your family. Learning your language. Cooking the food. The mother Ive been to these kids. The respect I had to EARN from your grandmother because I was a foreigner to your family. You had my love. MY LOVE. And you call HER a beautiful woman? She is plain. Young. Insecure. She doesnt know Who She Is. God, she doesnt stand tall and she puts herself down in front of strangers. She has bad skin and yes a great behind- but she leaves her kid alone all night- to party with you- keeping you from your kids. And Sam, She doesnt have passion. But you call her beautiful over me? You spent 13 years telling me I wasnt your equal and you ask for my blessing to be with her... You ask for my blessing and then you fuck ME. again. and again. and again... the same week. While she is the beautiful woman you want to be with and you would sum me up by the end of the month as a parasite.
So enjoy your beautiful woman. A beautiful woman is what I've always wanted for you. I'm glad you've finally met your equal. I'm sure you'll make bliss together."
And I think he is enjoying her... It aches from time to time- the way he let his children go for her. And there is a kinder woman out there who would let him forget it- but not me. I send him packages from his kids in heart envelopes and pictures of them sleeping in their beds... not to be kind to him... To remind him what he gave up for her.
In all of my childrens lives I have continuously been complimented on the amazing people they are and I am cocky with the taking of the credit. Sam has played a very small hands on part with his children. He actually asked for a divorce when I asked him to work less nights so they could have more of his time.
Maybe he'll give it to her... He plays house with her son, Carson.
In my world there are very few people I dont find beautiful and sadly- perhaps fueled by jealousy- she is not someone on my beautiful list... People are on it for all sorts of reasons, the way they love their kids or community, sunglasses in their hair... or flawless skin at 67... some of them have receding hairlines and several are full of curves... But each of them glow with confidence.
His attraction to her is how small she is... in expectation, mind, effort and personality. I guess he figures he has room to mold her. She's young enough to not express abrasion the way I do. I'm just too far along in the game to let the bullshit slide.
It still stings that I stayed so long with a man who was embarrassed of me and uses my own heart against me in request of my blessing. I do want him to be both with his equal and a beautiful woman... and while she may be his small minded equal- that doesnt qualify her to the honors of beauty.
Thank god, that remains in the eye of the beholder.
" but you always said you wanted me to be with a beautiful woman."
There are right answers to those sorts of things when it comes from the mouth of a woman and honestly the right answer was- "Ive spent the last 13 years in the arms of a beautiful woman..."
Instead, he felt slighted. Like in the diviing up of portions, he was short changed in the partner department. And where I might have summed up my beauty to the times he lay behind me while I was nursing our children- he was more afflicted by his embarrassment that I wasnt a girl he could be proud to take to the club.
I ripped into her after he spoke those words to me.
"But she isnt a beautiful woman. You had me Sam. Me. My skin. The love I give to your family. Learning your language. Cooking the food. The mother Ive been to these kids. The respect I had to EARN from your grandmother because I was a foreigner to your family. You had my love. MY LOVE. And you call HER a beautiful woman? She is plain. Young. Insecure. She doesnt know Who She Is. God, she doesnt stand tall and she puts herself down in front of strangers. She has bad skin and yes a great behind- but she leaves her kid alone all night- to party with you- keeping you from your kids. And Sam, She doesnt have passion. But you call her beautiful over me? You spent 13 years telling me I wasnt your equal and you ask for my blessing to be with her... You ask for my blessing and then you fuck ME. again. and again. and again... the same week. While she is the beautiful woman you want to be with and you would sum me up by the end of the month as a parasite.
So enjoy your beautiful woman. A beautiful woman is what I've always wanted for you. I'm glad you've finally met your equal. I'm sure you'll make bliss together."
And I think he is enjoying her... It aches from time to time- the way he let his children go for her. And there is a kinder woman out there who would let him forget it- but not me. I send him packages from his kids in heart envelopes and pictures of them sleeping in their beds... not to be kind to him... To remind him what he gave up for her.
In all of my childrens lives I have continuously been complimented on the amazing people they are and I am cocky with the taking of the credit. Sam has played a very small hands on part with his children. He actually asked for a divorce when I asked him to work less nights so they could have more of his time.
Maybe he'll give it to her... He plays house with her son, Carson.
In my world there are very few people I dont find beautiful and sadly- perhaps fueled by jealousy- she is not someone on my beautiful list... People are on it for all sorts of reasons, the way they love their kids or community, sunglasses in their hair... or flawless skin at 67... some of them have receding hairlines and several are full of curves... But each of them glow with confidence.
His attraction to her is how small she is... in expectation, mind, effort and personality. I guess he figures he has room to mold her. She's young enough to not express abrasion the way I do. I'm just too far along in the game to let the bullshit slide.
It still stings that I stayed so long with a man who was embarrassed of me and uses my own heart against me in request of my blessing. I do want him to be both with his equal and a beautiful woman... and while she may be his small minded equal- that doesnt qualify her to the honors of beauty.
Thank god, that remains in the eye of the beholder.
Mark my words.
Even if its an absence of my voice-
in every room you are in you will feel a little alone without me.
And in the spaces of breath where we fill wants bill,
you will shudder with remembering why you always stayed.
I heard it in your voice,
between our words,
just yesterday.
and
I filled you.
Again.
Its why you stay away- from even our children.
Sometimes I imagine the bargain you made must have been signed in blood-
and I wonder who's we spilled for your goodbye...
Its often-
when we are in a room-
that i catch you holding your breath as if to practice for my exit.
it wont be long now before rooms will overflow with how i feel
you will reach for my ghost in her arms
and the air will be thick with gone.
in every room you are in you will feel a little alone without me.
And in the spaces of breath where we fill wants bill,
you will shudder with remembering why you always stayed.
I heard it in your voice,
between our words,
just yesterday.
and
I filled you.
Again.
Its why you stay away- from even our children.
Sometimes I imagine the bargain you made must have been signed in blood-
and I wonder who's we spilled for your goodbye...
Its often-
when we are in a room-
that i catch you holding your breath as if to practice for my exit.
it wont be long now before rooms will overflow with how i feel
you will reach for my ghost in her arms
and the air will be thick with gone.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Post year 1.
He used to tell me he didn’t wear his wedding ring at work because it would get caught on the trays. This was back when he waited tables… and even after he was done waiting tables he never wore his ring again… not since 1998. And I bought it.
Even after I went in the restaurant one day - and a server- her name was Heather, Heather was cute as a button. Petite. Short blonde hair. I was 4 months out of my last baby and not feeling very perky… Now Heather, she comes up to inform me- “No matter what you might hear, I’m not having an affair with your husband, we’re just best friends. " That’s funny. I thought ‘I’ was his best friend. But, I let it roll off my back.
When I look back on that day now- I realize, I wait tables, divorced, but still wearing his wedding ring- just cause I like how it feels on my hand- and it NEVER gets caught on a tray. Not once. In fact, its actually very nice every time the wood grain slides over it and I get to remember that its there.
I got 2 compliments on it today alone and I only had 3 tables. It’s a nice and heavy, chunky square silver ring that I got as a set for our 1 year anniversary. Mine I outgrew a while ago. His is mostly too big and it spins around my finger. But with it, I can flirt and people think I’m harmless and married. I am harmless just not so married.
He told me once that he knew within a year we had made a mistake- and the love was gone. He claims to have stayed together for the children. Math would suggest he had other motivations. I mean, he did wait until 6 months after his 'citizenship' to ask for a divorce. he wasnt so worried about the children by then.
I dont agree with staying together for children. But it has taken me waaaaaaay a loong time to live doing what is best for my girls to see. And I'm sure wearing this ring is one of those things I need to get past- which is why ts on my thumb most of the time.
I am a person who speaks deliberately. Sure, I kid and I dont make sense too much of the time... But people are not often confused about how i feel for them. I want to meet a man who speaks in a straight line. That would be my equal.
( Gemini's need not sign up.)
Even after I went in the restaurant one day - and a server- her name was Heather, Heather was cute as a button. Petite. Short blonde hair. I was 4 months out of my last baby and not feeling very perky… Now Heather, she comes up to inform me- “No matter what you might hear, I’m not having an affair with your husband, we’re just best friends. " That’s funny. I thought ‘I’ was his best friend. But, I let it roll off my back.
When I look back on that day now- I realize, I wait tables, divorced, but still wearing his wedding ring- just cause I like how it feels on my hand- and it NEVER gets caught on a tray. Not once. In fact, its actually very nice every time the wood grain slides over it and I get to remember that its there.
I got 2 compliments on it today alone and I only had 3 tables. It’s a nice and heavy, chunky square silver ring that I got as a set for our 1 year anniversary. Mine I outgrew a while ago. His is mostly too big and it spins around my finger. But with it, I can flirt and people think I’m harmless and married. I am harmless just not so married.
He told me once that he knew within a year we had made a mistake- and the love was gone. He claims to have stayed together for the children. Math would suggest he had other motivations. I mean, he did wait until 6 months after his 'citizenship' to ask for a divorce. he wasnt so worried about the children by then.
I dont agree with staying together for children. But it has taken me waaaaaaay a loong time to live doing what is best for my girls to see. And I'm sure wearing this ring is one of those things I need to get past- which is why ts on my thumb most of the time.
I am a person who speaks deliberately. Sure, I kid and I dont make sense too much of the time... But people are not often confused about how i feel for them. I want to meet a man who speaks in a straight line. That would be my equal.
( Gemini's need not sign up.)
Monday, September 15, 2008
cause im a w-o-m-a-n
Tonight was the first time I’ve cooked in a few weeks- Corinne Bailey Rae playing in the background and some iced tea brewing just to layer all the notes with home… and I finally feel like a part of ‘me’ again.
This not cooking for my kids and Trin and Phil and whatever neighbor follows their nose- it bucks who I am and it depresses me, much like Scottsdale did.
People grow up and become more of who they are… the more I become myself- that person needs a full table, whether we know the people or not- and the lovin- it has to be big lovin, between people who can handle how big it gets.
Last night, a friend of mine told me- “ you know you're better off without that guy, he's not a man until he can be confident in what he loves, but you Amy, you are a woman- you need a MAN.”
I thought all day on what that means to me. What a relationship of equals would look like- and the first thing I realized is, I would meet this man at my own table.
Jorge had me sit down and watch “Under the Tuscan Sun” last year; and wanted us to watch it again this summer when I was leaving. I go back to that house and her energy several times a day. ( If I only had her legs.)
This next year my life is going to evolve into “ The Broken Road” times 3... And a little at a time I am going to claim pieces of my life I didn’t know were missing. A job I love, a house I can paint and remodel with my friends -where everyone we could ever dream of knowing will have a place to sleep and a plate at the table and the music- god we are going to climb trees to watch Lisa Hannigan- while we have more front row seats to Sunshine and Ms. Spring… and
it wont be long before I don’t even remember what he looks like when he’s walking away…
So put in your requests- there will be French Onion Soup for Christmas and I’ll sing barefoot for a hug any night of the week. I am a woman confident in what I love. I want to share it. No, I overflow with the ‘need’ to share it-
to share me.
This not cooking for my kids and Trin and Phil and whatever neighbor follows their nose- it bucks who I am and it depresses me, much like Scottsdale did.
People grow up and become more of who they are… the more I become myself- that person needs a full table, whether we know the people or not- and the lovin- it has to be big lovin, between people who can handle how big it gets.
Last night, a friend of mine told me- “ you know you're better off without that guy, he's not a man until he can be confident in what he loves, but you Amy, you are a woman- you need a MAN.”
I thought all day on what that means to me. What a relationship of equals would look like- and the first thing I realized is, I would meet this man at my own table.
Jorge had me sit down and watch “Under the Tuscan Sun” last year; and wanted us to watch it again this summer when I was leaving. I go back to that house and her energy several times a day. ( If I only had her legs.)
This next year my life is going to evolve into “ The Broken Road” times 3... And a little at a time I am going to claim pieces of my life I didn’t know were missing. A job I love, a house I can paint and remodel with my friends -where everyone we could ever dream of knowing will have a place to sleep and a plate at the table and the music- god we are going to climb trees to watch Lisa Hannigan- while we have more front row seats to Sunshine and Ms. Spring… and
it wont be long before I don’t even remember what he looks like when he’s walking away…
So put in your requests- there will be French Onion Soup for Christmas and I’ll sing barefoot for a hug any night of the week. I am a woman confident in what I love. I want to share it. No, I overflow with the ‘need’ to share it-
to share me.
Friday, September 12, 2008
the world
Ive been reduced to tears.
I just read a quote- " When you're laying your head on a guys chest- he has the world." Well. Ive missed a lot of life I think- because Ive never been a guys world. Hm? I dont think I've been more sad or embarrassed or empty in a very long time. I was reaching for his warm- to crawl inside him and fill him somehow- but I only left him empty... and I could have sworn that I love larger than life. But I dont. And that wasnt something I was ever prepared to know about myself.
A woman looked at a picture of him with the girls the other day and just says, "He was never meant to be yours... " It was that easy for her. And I'll let go in time. And she, she is his world when she is on his chest... without nursing his children or loving his Grandmother or holding him while he slept, counting his breaths... not knowing if he would still have air in the morning. She will just be enough.
But me, I held the world when I had him in my arms... and I cant sleep at night for trying not to taste him. I fall asleep trying to imagine I'm in another mans arms- I tell him about my day and ask him about his kids... he whispers me the stories of their hearts, bigger than continents and we laugh a little... but by 3 am I'm back in his arms and alone. If I could just wake up 1 day a week and not smell him on my skin it would be a gift... But every night, i find him in my dreams.
I doubt I haunt him- not because I'm forgettable, but because he doesnt invest. And I sold myself that cheap for that long.
That night in the back yard, on the air mattress, under the stars- candles burnt to the ground... I lost myself as an individual. I dont know how to un-fuse from that abandon. I just dont know whats left of me that doesnt love him.
I just read a quote- " When you're laying your head on a guys chest- he has the world." Well. Ive missed a lot of life I think- because Ive never been a guys world. Hm? I dont think I've been more sad or embarrassed or empty in a very long time. I was reaching for his warm- to crawl inside him and fill him somehow- but I only left him empty... and I could have sworn that I love larger than life. But I dont. And that wasnt something I was ever prepared to know about myself.
A woman looked at a picture of him with the girls the other day and just says, "He was never meant to be yours... " It was that easy for her. And I'll let go in time. And she, she is his world when she is on his chest... without nursing his children or loving his Grandmother or holding him while he slept, counting his breaths... not knowing if he would still have air in the morning. She will just be enough.
But me, I held the world when I had him in my arms... and I cant sleep at night for trying not to taste him. I fall asleep trying to imagine I'm in another mans arms- I tell him about my day and ask him about his kids... he whispers me the stories of their hearts, bigger than continents and we laugh a little... but by 3 am I'm back in his arms and alone. If I could just wake up 1 day a week and not smell him on my skin it would be a gift... But every night, i find him in my dreams.
I doubt I haunt him- not because I'm forgettable, but because he doesnt invest. And I sold myself that cheap for that long.
That night in the back yard, on the air mattress, under the stars- candles burnt to the ground... I lost myself as an individual. I dont know how to un-fuse from that abandon. I just dont know whats left of me that doesnt love him.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
the kiss
I have been kissed on the forehead once, and only once, during the deed.
Fathers Day, 2007.
And of all the moments that Ive had- enjoyed- remember-
that will maybe be one of the most sacred.
He loves me.
And that kiss - that afternoon will always confirm it.
I came for him,
deep inside of me.
Ive never cum from that place before or since.
It was the kiss.
I'm a forehead kisser.
He killed me with my own love.
Fathers Day, 2007.
And of all the moments that Ive had- enjoyed- remember-
that will maybe be one of the most sacred.
He loves me.
And that kiss - that afternoon will always confirm it.
I came for him,
deep inside of me.
Ive never cum from that place before or since.
It was the kiss.
I'm a forehead kisser.
He killed me with my own love.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
knees
February 25th, 2003.
- on my knees in the kitchen,
begging a mans addiction
‘feed my throat a promise’
and he finished without even a kiss.
a lie never tasted so damned good.
- on my knees in the kitchen,
begging a mans addiction
‘feed my throat a promise’
and he finished without even a kiss.
a lie never tasted so damned good.
truths
At times ive been such a hypocrite I don’t know how I could look in the mirror- I asked for more honesty than I could personally give… and expected more commitment and growth than I had demonstrated- so being alone- for a looong time- its to correct that about myself.
All the ways that I’m fair and giving- they don’t undo the places I’m selfish and want more than my share.
My heart has been serving dual masters- but not me. And the truth is- its served both greed and lust… but self? Not self. And That man I love, he serves himself. He wasn’t while he was with me, but that he just claimed a life for himself- it was right. He will have to live with how he went about it- but he is right to let me go and find his own life.
There are truths I’ll never tell- the harm would be too great; but I will rewind myself to back when I served loyalty and faithfulness before anything else.
I have accountability to my inner circle. I always have. And ive shifted some relationships this past year in a huge effort toward my actions finally honoring my heart…
I’ve always called myself an open book. It will only be more true now. Ive made my apologies where I havent lived up to my standards with people… and I’m looking forward to this change.
On the other side, the love is going to be better… and Jill will have a new album out… and she will sing songs about renewal… and we’ll all be painting my new house to her wisdoms… the food will hit the spot and we will laugh into all hours of the morning, falling into beds of future...
loved.
All the ways that I’m fair and giving- they don’t undo the places I’m selfish and want more than my share.
My heart has been serving dual masters- but not me. And the truth is- its served both greed and lust… but self? Not self. And That man I love, he serves himself. He wasn’t while he was with me, but that he just claimed a life for himself- it was right. He will have to live with how he went about it- but he is right to let me go and find his own life.
There are truths I’ll never tell- the harm would be too great; but I will rewind myself to back when I served loyalty and faithfulness before anything else.
I have accountability to my inner circle. I always have. And ive shifted some relationships this past year in a huge effort toward my actions finally honoring my heart…
I’ve always called myself an open book. It will only be more true now. Ive made my apologies where I havent lived up to my standards with people… and I’m looking forward to this change.
On the other side, the love is going to be better… and Jill will have a new album out… and she will sing songs about renewal… and we’ll all be painting my new house to her wisdoms… the food will hit the spot and we will laugh into all hours of the morning, falling into beds of future...
loved.
Friday, September 5, 2008
love ridden- fiona apple
Love ridden
I've looked at you
With the focus I gave to my birthday candles
I've wished on the lidded blue flames
Under your brow
And baby, I wished for you
Nobody sees when you are lying in your bed
And I wanna crawl in with you
But I cry instead
I want your warm, but it will only make
Me colder when it's over, So I can't tonight, baby
No, not "baby" anymore -
if I need youI'll just use your simple name
Only kisses on the cheek from now on
And in a little while, we'll only have to wave
My hand won't hold you down no more
The path is clear to follow through
I stood too long in the way of the door
And now I'm giving up on you
No, not "baby" anymore- if I need you
I'll just use your simple name
Only kisses on the cheek from now on
And in a little while, we'll only have to wave
No, not "baby" anymore- if I need you
I'll just use your simple name
Only kisses on the cheek from now on
And in a little while, we'll only have to wave
I've looked at you
With the focus I gave to my birthday candles
I've wished on the lidded blue flames
Under your brow
And baby, I wished for you
Nobody sees when you are lying in your bed
And I wanna crawl in with you
But I cry instead
I want your warm, but it will only make
Me colder when it's over, So I can't tonight, baby
No, not "baby" anymore -
if I need youI'll just use your simple name
Only kisses on the cheek from now on
And in a little while, we'll only have to wave
My hand won't hold you down no more
The path is clear to follow through
I stood too long in the way of the door
And now I'm giving up on you
No, not "baby" anymore- if I need you
I'll just use your simple name
Only kisses on the cheek from now on
And in a little while, we'll only have to wave
No, not "baby" anymore- if I need you
I'll just use your simple name
Only kisses on the cheek from now on
And in a little while, we'll only have to wave
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
itch
She wanted to call him so bad her fingers were itching.
Just to ask how his first day of classes was.
To encourage him. But she knew better.
Just for the fact that hearing his breath hit the phone
and the image of his tongue behind his teeth-
it would make her fall in love again.
And this 1100 miles was supposed to be the end.
She penned her heart on the edge of a brown box
and rest in what she imagined her best friends arms.
Said her goodnights to his memory and
wept.
August 26th, 2008
Just to ask how his first day of classes was.
To encourage him. But she knew better.
Just for the fact that hearing his breath hit the phone
and the image of his tongue behind his teeth-
it would make her fall in love again.
And this 1100 miles was supposed to be the end.
She penned her heart on the edge of a brown box
and rest in what she imagined her best friends arms.
Said her goodnights to his memory and
wept.
August 26th, 2008
Monday, September 1, 2008
ironin things out
He said- “after all these years you’d think you’d’ve learned to iron…
Hm? To me, after all these years, Love might have learned to talk in a straight line.
But that’s just me.
I still cant iron for shit- however you can hold me to my word… and those last weeks, oh he held me to my word. After he left me on the side of the road all night I told him “Fine, you want me out- ill go!” and while I tried to find somewhere for the girls and myself… every time I found it hard to get out with three kids in less than a week- he would say, “I’m asking you to keep your word…”
I’m good for my word. I’m gone. Not by the end f July… It took me 3 extra weeks to get to Texas. But we are gone- and he has his life to himself- and maybe her love will iron his shirts for him- and cook his dinners and do his wash and massage his feet and suck his…..
But I’ll be over here where they talk in straight lines- love requires no ironing here. ( unless it might be to iron out the lies.) Perhaps if one talked in straighter lines there’d be less to iron out.
No?
Hm? To me, after all these years, Love might have learned to talk in a straight line.
But that’s just me.
I still cant iron for shit- however you can hold me to my word… and those last weeks, oh he held me to my word. After he left me on the side of the road all night I told him “Fine, you want me out- ill go!” and while I tried to find somewhere for the girls and myself… every time I found it hard to get out with three kids in less than a week- he would say, “I’m asking you to keep your word…”
I’m good for my word. I’m gone. Not by the end f July… It took me 3 extra weeks to get to Texas. But we are gone- and he has his life to himself- and maybe her love will iron his shirts for him- and cook his dinners and do his wash and massage his feet and suck his…..
But I’ll be over here where they talk in straight lines- love requires no ironing here. ( unless it might be to iron out the lies.) Perhaps if one talked in straighter lines there’d be less to iron out.
No?
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