Damn all you beautiful girls...

I was sitting across from him.  We were both on our laptops, doing whatever we do.  The kids were in bed for some time and my attempt at blocking life out was not working.

He was deep into what he was doing and I was surface surviving again.  I wanted to talk, but I didn't want to talk.

I shut down my laptop, took a bath, put on a robe and went outside into the apartment.  I stood there and felt my face hot, wet and a headache began to creep in.  I smoked two cigarettes in an effort to calm down, anything to take this feeling away.  I thought about the kids' biological father and his way of using crack to numb it all, and I didn't get it.  These cigarettes were not working.  The drink I had earlier was not working.

He came out side to check on me and I wouldn't face him.  I didn't want him worrying about me.  He had his three kids, his mom who had surgery some time ago and a father who had a stroke just before.  Why add to his load?  Why drag him while he was already down?  He hadn't worked a full time job in a year, his part time brought in the same thing mine brought in.  He has a house in Exuma a family member won't move out of so he can rent it out to make that monthly money.  We weren't making it.  We were slowly drowning.  When his kids' mom called I wanted to scratch her eyes out because, I don't care how long and how well she knows him, I see the angst in him when she calls.  I see the aggravation.  I've been warned by those meaning well not to do too much for his kids, and I find that utterly stupid.  If we are in this together, then how do I not help when I can?  He's taken mine as his own.

I went back inside.  I took down his hunting knife, I took down the homemade one he carved out of steel, I had my penknife.  My mind whirled, if I made some cuts in my own arm, it would redirect my focus.  This is why people cut.  This is why they resort to bizarre behaviour.  BUT, it's like a high, I'll come down from it and will need to do something more drastic for that "fix".

To slice at the end of my own arms, well, I could do that.  However, what about Bub and Jo?  There's no way in hell I could leave them?  Who would take them?  Their aunts' hearts are willing, but whose pocket could take on another two mouths?  Another two mouths that would need counseling because this would be the fucking topper of it all.  Their mother gone?  It would send my son over the edge, with very little chances of returning in full order.  So guess what?

I can cut them too.  With a blade sharp enough, we could all lay down and sleep together.  They're already asleep, so why not?  They'd not know anything, and I can drift off in a blissed out sleep like no other.  Okay, this is a plan, I've already gone in the room and watched them sleep for awhile.  I would have to move one to the other's room, and I don't know if we could all-

He walks in the room and his instinct pricks up, he takes every object laid out in the bed and asks what is wrong.  I say nothing and go out front and find the razor blade.  He has turned off the kids' room lights.  I turn on the laptop, making him think I am okay.  Then he goes in the room to bed.  Somehow, he's back out front and wanting to know why I have all the lights on again.  He's talking, I am talking, I am crying and I am not backing down.  When he puts it together, the hurt in his eyes, it unnerved me somewhere deep in the back of my mind, but I was too far gone to care right then.  He grabbed me by my throat and I told him let me take my kids with me first.  "You wait until I have an attachment to them and you talk shit?"  I told him I didn't care and he slammed me against the wall.

I don't know if my fearlessness freaked him out, but he was in full papa bear mode.  He dragged me in the room and I went back out.  He went to get something and came back and I was laying in bed with Jojo.  He took the razor blade from me and turned off all the lights again and dragged me out of her bed.

I fell apart, I cried and cried.  I couldn't catch my breath, and words tumbled from me I have never said to anyone.  I rambled on and on and just couldn't come to.  I dream about mummy a lot when I am stressed out.  And it's always comforting, and I hate waking up, I want to be with her, I want that feeling of her being around.  I want to tell her what's going on and it's not her making things work or fixing it, it's her presence and just talking to her that I need.  There's no replacement, and even so, they're all dead too.  If I go to sleep and don't wake up, it would be better.  It's less stress on everyone and less worry. Sure, everyone would tsk tsk tsk for a while, and then I'd be just a memory and everyone would go on.  I am tired and exhausted and it hurts all day everyday and I just fake smile and wave and I can't do it anymore.  I got up to go out the room again, he was holding me and I wrenched away.

He flung me down on our bed and and held one arm down with his other arm across my chest/neck.  I kept telling him, don't let me go without them, and he got angrier.  His hand slipped around my neck and part of me wanted to goad him on while the other part of me worried about the kids.  He let go as I stared him back eye to eye, unnerved, gasping for air, but not backing down.

Eventually, I sat back, I propped up against the headboard, and I sat still.  I breathed, he laid down, and I still sat.  Then I thawed out and snuggled up under him.  His hand found my hair and all was right with the world for that moment...

Done

I am done.  Spent.  Beyond it.

I will not invest ten plus more years of my life investing in another empty space.

How do I detangle, unwrap, defuse, unwrap my kids' hearts?

I am so fucking tired of this shit.

I am too young and too old  for this all at the same time.

This is just so overrated.

I will never get married again.

I will never give again.

Because, too many times I have learned the hard way, it's not worth it.

Some people find what they are looking for and some don't.

Even the disillusion with the one I had a mad crush on has been obliterated.

So.  Fucking.  Done.

I don't actually...not anymore.

I have had some head spinning epiphanies lately.

One of them being that I no longer believe in love.  Not the way I used to.  I don't believe in the guy that will come along and make it all okay.  That one who will see a future together and make things work.

I move along in this relationship, clearly in love.  The rose glasses have worn away to clear lenses and we both move along loving each other, but the fiercest guards up anyone has ever seen.

The expectations I once I had, no longer exist.  He speaks of the future, he's very settled.  He's calm and cool and quiet and strong about 'us'.  But not enough to ever consider getting married.  I've never mentioned it to him concerning us, but I've said more than once I'd never get married again.  And it's something he's spoken of not doing, repeatedly.

Just two nights ago, listening to a comedian's performance, he made me listen to something that caught his attention. The comedian was talking about answering his daughter's question about her being a bastard, "Now, Boogey, you know I love your mother too much to marry her."  Crowd makes noise, "What?! You don't know me!"  He goes on to to address the crowd.  "Her mother and I are going to be together for always.  Always in love.  Always loyal.  And do you know why?  Because we're not married, that's why! We're like soulmates on permanent booty call."

When he pointed out this particular part to me, when he replayed it so I could hear it, I knew he was just reiterating what we had already sorta kinda talked about.

I miss certain things about marriage.  And then I don't.  I miss the so called security and realized, hey.  That shit was destroyed by a man who did what he wanted anyway despite being married.

I don't respect the paper anymore.  I don't understand it anymore.  It's harder to get it undone than it is to get it done.  It's strange how the government must get in my bed and and determine the deal.  And then when I want to be in my bed alone, there are so many things int he way and so much difficulty, it's daggone crazy.

Apparently, I am now one of those that believe the paper doesn't determine the love, the loyalty, the trust, the security, dependence, reliability.  Just because you stand in front of my family and friends, and get this - GOD - doesn't mean that you will uphold your end of the bargain.  I know my shortcomings and blatant imperfections, I know the struggle within with what's "right and wrong", so knowing that in another human being, where the hell do I get off expecting the follow through of these promises?

I can no longer find comfort in expectations and hopes.  Is this relationship going along without a plan?  Maybe.  I don't know.  Kids are getting older, attachments are growing deeper.  I am careful with this.  There have been changes and what not.  But, eh.

Friends of mine are getting married, and I am truly happy from my toes to my dreadlock tips for them.  I admire what they've found and the lives they are building.  But it's not something I envisioning myself doing again...relationship experiences, not just mine, make me realize so much.  And I refuse to go there to that point again...

Fall Out

I was out a week ago, almost a week ago, and my eye caught someone I knew.  It took me a moment to really absorb who I was looking at.

The walk was the same, but - it had a more pronounced limp.  The features were the same, but - there was more gray in the hair, a gauntness to the face and a tiredness in the grooves.  The body was slimmer, broad shoulders weighted down.

The man I was staring at, that I was double and triple taking at, was my infallible, indestructible, strong big brother.  The man that called me white cloud because our mother would put milk of magnesia on my face for my eczema.  The big brother that tossed me around, tickled me endlessly, laughed when I worked out with him imitating his strongman moves, and let me swing from his bicep.

First out of our mother, named after our father, he was supposed to become so much.  Yet, there is only so much we can instill in our kids and let go hoping they make the right choices.  He looks old and run down now, a result of a life where he tried to get the most out of little regardless of the method, including hurting and almost destroying his own mother.

I often wonder about my children, I see things in them that I know other parents probably see in theirs and live in denial about.  I carry my kids as hard as I do, but they still return to me because there is still that patience and softness of their mother.  If I abused them, they wouldn't curl up under me so.

At 48 years old, he has seven kids.  Two older ones that have no use for him, and five of them I don't know how they are going to make it.  Ages 15, 11, 8, 6 and a nearly 1 year old.  When does he get to "retire"?  When does he sit back and take in life at an easier pace?  At this rate, he will be working to take care of the 1 year old until he, himself is 65.

My eyes watered and I texted a close friend.  She reminded me that we are all living results of our decisions, good or bad.  We are living with the results of paths we've taken.  But that doesn't stop me from grieving for him.  For feeling for his kids, I know how hard it is with my two.  It doesn't stop me from feeling a pang, wanting to help them, but knowing that if I open that door it will drag me down and suffocate me.

This is pure madness.  I feel more like an only child everyday...

Eh

So.  Haven't blogged in over a month.

Things have been, well, things.  Not much has changed, and yet a lot has happened.

Got tatted yesterday.  Interesting experience.  Held my ground, got complimented by the artist for being tough.  I have pictures of my face that tell a slightly different tale.  But there were no tears, no screaming, no bolting for the door.

I am disappointed.  My efficiency sits unfinished.  It sits echoing.  Hollow.  Bits and pieces done.  Not much left TO do and yet, undone.  I am past annoyed.

My stomach twirls and flips and whirls as I think of embarking on my own venture.  Of making the classroom I found plans for that I drew when I was nineteen.  I found them clearing out this very house I now "own".  I teared up.  Is now the time? Is finding this a coincidence?

Lately, everywhere I turn, there's talk of taking hold of who you are.  Of owning your fear.  Of capitalizing on your own abilities and to stop "giving" away to those manipulating and taking advantage in their own way.  What is the difference between someone who "has it made" and someone who "wants to make it"?  I understand the whole taking shitty jobs until you can get to where you want to build your own.  I get that having financial commitments affect the way you can maneuver but quite frankly - when is the time ever going to be JUST RIGHT?

I have something sitting right here, I made my plans to return to school.  Do I waffle on this, or do I grab it and run.  I have just reread the Richest Man in Babylon and one of the words of advice is to grab wise opportunities.  That moments that come along may not come along again and things around you may be telling you that now is the time to run with it.

Stagnant.  Just raw and stagnant.  Bogged down and tearful.  The thought of another trapped situation where I am someone's "go-to" or "right-hand" or dependent on THEIR pocketbook to line my pocketbook, in a situation where THEY dictate to me?  Ugh.  I can't stand it.  I know it's one thing to feel mentally ready, emotionally ready to grab this bull by the 'nads, but am I really really really capable and ready?

In the air...

So, it goes from unguarded to known.  I am a whirling, frantic, giddy child inside.  Relieved, like after holding in the need to use the bathroom so bad, you think you are going to wet yourself.

And, it went better than I expected, and I sit, soaring inside that it's out there, nursing a pang of fear that I don't know.

When I "like", I do so hard.  Oddly enough, I don't want some all out, big time, over the top, "thing".  I don't want a relationship defined in ink now.  But, I am not saying I want the other way that can be interpreted.  It's hard to say what I think.

I am tired of being bogged down.  Of belonging to someone.  But yet, I long to be tied down and belong to someone.  The. Right. One.  However, I want something slow and languishing to build.  I want something, built, stone by stone, not brick, not, rock, but a hand sized stone, slowly and surely worked on.  Gradually looking like it's not moving, but one day realize there's a great structure interwoven with such intricacy it takes my breath away.

I just loved hard and strong and gave my all again fearlessly because I didn't want to be fearful and jaded.  And yet, that has resulted in me being just that.  Fearful and jaded...

Slooooow, I cannot stress that enough.  That is what I am looking for.  A snail pace where time is not wasted or rushed...makes sense?

Super Crush?

At this point, I am beyond feeling.  There are a few things that make me respond and act human, I am a perfunctory mess.

If I don't vent this out to the air,  I will surely implode.  I am just annoyed beyond words.

I have had a crush since I was a young teen.  Something I thought I would outgrow.  And didn't know I hadn't until 2007.  Then it blew wide open in the past few months.  Aggravating.  Because this person is someone I know that I will never tell.

We click on so many things and agree and understand so many things.  Finish each other sentences in chat, but I refuse to go there.  Because it has become one precious thing to me I cannot lose and if it means having these feelings from afar?  Then so be it.  But I do know, that when he finally finds the one he is looking for, it won't go well with me.  But, I will never speak.

When it emerged in 2007, I was pregnant, and I saw him after having not seen him in a few years.  And I was surprised at my reaction in my head.  I was pregnant, and married.  What the hell?  I figured it was the rush of an innocent crush with remnants of having gone along in life having not seen him in a very very long time.

And then, the last setting I saw him, I had no reaction and I thought I was fine.

Then the chatting, incessantly, crazily starts.  I know he's social.  And I pretty much have no problem since I have grown up in and out the family's house.  Talking to any of them, has never been something to think about.  It just is, like one of my siblings.  But this, this is not sibling attraction.  And I have initiated a conversation with him maybe twice out of the many we've had.

This is something raw, free, simple, unexplained and nice.  No fuss, no trepidation, intimidation, worries, free speech, unbridled, and in a way pure.  I can free my mind in a way that I never expected to.  And it's unnerving.  And making things worse.

So, I sit online praying he doesn't talk to me.  Which is the exact opposite that would be expected.  It's gotten that bad.

Aside from all that's going on in my life, that one thing, is there, it's sure and I guard it viciously.  I don't want to change the ability to talk to him freely by blurting out how I feel and then being "let down gently".  Because no matter how "gentle", it's a rejection.  And that fear keeps my giddy ass in check...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCT4wRJhPlw

Night 1

After some tumultuous time.  An agonizing teeth pulling conversation.  Screaming matches at least twice a week.  Here I sit.  Alone.

Feels odd. I have decided to blog tonight to capture my mindset now in comparison to when he comes back.

I thought I was looking forward to him being gone and me having a moment to assess where we're at.  A moment to absorb the phone call from exC and analyze my feelings for currentC. The impact of his absence hit me like a ton of wet faeces.  A sick, disgusting, suffocating feeling engulfs me.  What does this mean?

*Shrug*  Who knows.  All I know is, this feeling for him hit me harder than expected which confirms my suspicion that I am not ready to walk away from him.  Tonight is about raw emotion and thoughts emitting from my pores.  Things I dare not say out loud. Even the fact that I am having the craziest panic attack.  Do the long distance thing?  HA!

I needed the conversation yesterday to reconfirm where I stand and who I am to him.  I needed verbal security.  Because to him, your word is serious.  He's not perfect, and eight times out of ten, I will watch him squirm and dodge me than lie to me.  Which is why I am so point blank with him.  Because he knows it will be filed away for reminder purposes later.  And thus, he shut down just when I was getting to the sweet part that I needed.  I left it.  I had to give him props for opening up to me for such a long time, and in such an impromptu way.  I never judged, never squirmed, I remained quiet and even cavalier.  This coaxed him on.  Because I didn't finger wag and make him feel small or stupid.  And I needed that to be my m.o. in order to get where I was headed.

My thoughts have consistently flipped back and forth all day and night.  I cannot even begin to tap into it properly...

I am a gut wrenching wreck waiting on his phone call to say he arrived safe.  And anxiety gone to bed...smt.

Exchange

When I look at people, I often look past what the eye can see.  Especially after a conversation.

The other day it rang clear and pure in my heart, that I tend to look at a person's potential, I see the way their mind CAN work, things they may be good at, and I let this be my guide into whatever relationship may occur.  Friendships, or otherwise.

I looked past so much with exC, simply because I knew his raw, unfullytapped potential.  I did what most wives do, put herself on the line to nurture and love this being into blossoming, hoping the favour would be returned.  All I did, was, hmmm, succeed in neglecting myself. (And that's another blogpost - here I am, at 32, degree-less, inexperienced and totally unhirable - ugh.)

Today, I sat and pulled from current C.  It was hard.  And annoying.  And just ugh.  On the surface, most would run away.  Most would just think even less than they were thinking before.  In learning not to judge, I have also learned not to knee-jerk react.  I swallowed my quick temper and nudged information out of him that I needed in order to figure out where I am now.

His past is one of typical rowdiness.  Well, let me first explain.  In my house, when the door closes, what I have before me, sigh, is not a rowdy gangster with raw ghetto ways and loose code of conduct.  I have a man that makes me feel special.  A man that adores my kids.  Someone who makes me feel protected in several ways.  A mind that works so near the way mine works I can finish his sentences.

But when I step out of that cocoon and face the harshness of HIS reality, I get anxious.  Today's conversation revealed truths I have to take a minute to assimilate.  Things I knew, and finally got confirmed.

He's expressed himself in ways that are unacceptable.  I won't make excuses, but there are reasons that I understand where he is coming from.  And I demand from him, maturity and respect now, that I didn't put my foot down and command then. 

I cannot clear my head enough to finish this.  I know what I want to say, but I cannot get it out.

Fragments

That's all left of my mind, my heart and my spirit.

Tossing and Turning

I went to the ex's sister's house yesterday.  Awkward mess for me.  I felt like I was on the outside looking in.  Two of his nieces, well one spoke, the other disregarded my existence.  I played catchup with one of his other sisters.  Then kept to myself outside.

Last Monday it was a birthday party for the same sister's grandson.  There's still a smoothness with a few of them.  But it doesn't quiet the rage I have inside for having to sit and "pretend" I am okay being around them.  My thoughts flickered about how he would've been if he'd been there, and how he's missing out on his kids growing so quickly.

Couldn't I have just dropped them off and had some time to myself?  This elusive alone time that every mother needs?

Rage - Maniacal

I woke up in a rage this morning.  Totally pissed.  Emotions raw.  After blowing a gasket last night and lightening my mental and emotionally load, I tucked in a rather mentally spent and emotionally unavailable soul last night.

We slept.  And I reached for him this morning to cuddle/snuggle/be close, because I don't ever withhold affection when we argue, because I have learned that causes more damage.  And we spoke with out words.  His arm slid around my back and he sighed back in sleep.  I dozed off.  There is no other feeling in knowing that despite differences, we can still connect.  Often we learn to shut the other person off and then wonder why they react the way they do.

This morning.  I caved in.  No words to describe it.  I fell apart.  Indescribable rage boiled in me as my kids, my only reason left to live, ran against the morning routine in everyway possible and the only way I could deal was to run out the house and take a brisk walk around the block.  Come back, and they were still not ready and completely distracted.  I often wonder if I expect too much of them, but then again, other mornings, there are no problems.

I announced to the sleeping body, I am not going to work, I am not carrying the kids to school.  Tell the older one to walk the younger one to school.  I. Don't. Care.  What. Ever.

There are beer bottles in the back yard.  Brought by the ex, they are supposed to go to the bottle return center in exchange for 5c per bottle.   They've been there over six months.  You need proper boxes and what not, and getting boxes has been almost impossible with everyone and they mama collecting as well.  Ah well, operation clean-up commenced.  I began to fling them with an almost demonic force in my body, raging, fiery and irate.  And got a thrill with every bottle that broke on the concrete ground.  He heard the noise and nearly came through the kitchen door like Cookie Monster goes through the walls on Sesame Street.

He grabbed me in a bear grip and I screamed.  And screamed.  I wouldn't move, wouldn't give in to his desire to carry me inside.  Here is a man, whose instinct is to protect and care, and I rebelled against that.  With a "Fuck you" I wrenched out and slammed my head against the satellite pole.  I burst in to tears.  And he held me.  Words rushed between us without ever reaching the air and I told him "No".  Let me continue to break the bottles until they are all gone.  Let me do what I want because I am tired of being responsible Kera, sensible in charge Kera, that holds it all together and smiles all the while.

It took a while, but I had to give up, he's physically stronger than me, he managed to drag me to the kitchen door, after I flung my sunglasses across the ground.  He got them and me inside.  I reiterated that the kids won't be going to school, and to call my boss.  Eventually, my son was sent, simply because he always walked, but my daughter was tearful.  Miss school?  Is you crazy?  She was so hurt. (He ended up carrying her, but an hour after everything started to calm down. lol)

I grabbed a bag of chips, the rest of the bacardi in the half pint bottle and some kool-aid.  Breakfast of CHAMPIONS, bulla!  I had called a close girlfriend and asked her if she wanted to shoot the breeze with me today.  We talked and she tried to reason me out, she talked to him and they tried to cmoe up with a plan.  By this time, the bacardi was acting.  I told them both to back off.  They couldn't understand why I decided to snap now, how could I be the encouraging voice to both of them to hold tight, but here I am, seams loose.

Basically, my ability to give a f--k disappeared this morning.  My house is unfinished, bills are high and piling, money is not coming in to cover them, and life just feels like a shambles.  When I was told to remember the kids I kept saying I was holding on for, I announced, "Ah yes, a son who will turn out like his uncle, and a daughter who will turn out like her aunt!  Yes, people, THIS, THIS, is what I live for.  I forgot."  Insert sarcastic sneer here.  Well, my life passed before my eyes, because the rage that boiled in him became evident as he tightened his grip on my arms and swore he will never hear me talk like that again.

So here, I lay, across the bed.  Not liking stuff on fb so as not to be detected.  Wondering how to deal with this, because, I lied to my boss.  And now I feel guilty because the housekeeper who I usually help do her work, will have to work alone and watch the baby.  Yet, I cannot get myself to move.  I have vacation coming up on the 25th, yet I am still unmoved.  Another day I would have accepted the title ungrateful, today, no.  I am beyond frustrated.  I am beyond feeling right now.

Things came out from him I knew, but it sounded different coming from him.  The way he's holding on to his sanity in order to preserve mine.  The way he's pushing feelings and hurt and frustrations down in order to take care of us and be there and here I am, losing it.  I told him to let go and come for the ride, lose it, he'll feel better.  But I know better, his rage is uncontainable and many are bound to get hurt physically if he lets loose.

I am exhausted...

Stupid

I am beginning to think that he is stupid.  Or I am. Somebody is.

After clearing my mind this morning and informing him of his sucky communication skills.  He goes and does it again.  Disappears to go one place, and apparently lands in another.  Doesn't text or call.

Hmmmm.  I did articulate as best as my limited high school education would let me, in small enough words that my sarcastic inner bitch could muster up, as calmly as a woman on the verge of slicing your neck open without warning.  And apparently, I made the mistake of thinking I was understood.

How wrong was I...

So back to the debate, who's the stupid one?

Tidal Wave

It came in a surge.  An odd mix of emotions, thoughts, fears, wants, needs, just a ball of ohgoodnessisthisreallyhappeningandamireadyforthis?

I miss talking to my mummy.  And I have had frantic dreams about her recently.  I know what she would say about part of it.  But that's not what I want to talk to her about.  I just miss talking to her about daily life.  Conversations with others are great, but not the same.

Sometimes just to hear her say she's proud of me would be filling a hole in the recesses of my soul.  It gets me down some days.  And to know Mrs. Ferguson is gone too...

I digress...

He came loaded down.  Bearing his belongings, cherished things being picked at by young vultures with no respect for themselves, much less others.  And they are here.  Along with mine.

And tonight he brought more.  I felt this fusing, for awhile.  There's still an awkwardness within me.  Things we are discovering daily about each other, but nothing that has yet driven us off the path to be together.

I am healing, this is the number one thing my friends have worried about.  Healing.  Time.  Doing me.  It's happening.  Maybe not the way I planned it out last August, but it's happening.  And there are realizations knocking the wind out of me some days...hmph.  Amazing.

There are scars.  We all have scars.  We all have baggage.  We are all compilations of experiences, reactions and thoughts.  Despite mine, I am a sucker for love.  I am a sucker for settled life and contentment.  And this is where I have been burned.  Severely.  As well as in "religion".

I started a quest some time ago, delving into "other" or "lost" books of the Bible.  I was curious.  Curiosity - not satisfied.  There are more questions.  Religion, in and of itself no longer interests me.  The constant failure and imperfect nature of man has done me in.  And mainly because, all religion, and spirituality and moral and ethical teachings are things passed down through man.

My belief in God is not lost.  But it has changed.  My outlook has changed.  And here I am shacked up yet again...right?  I am not acting out.  And one does not like to be "involved" with another while papers still float around stating we belong to well, you know, other people.  I just feel like I stand in a weird spot these days.  With two kids watching my every move.

This man has invaded my life.  He's here, I am laughing, but we are not without our dramas.  There is so much to sort out around the fact of us having a strong connection.  I never thought it could be this crazy.

And yet again, another entry and I am unable to explain what is in my head.

A Couple?

I have been in an odd state of some weird denial for some time.

He and I are a couple.  I guess, the nights together should've tipped me off?  I don't know.  I find myself in a panic more and more as we move forward.  Yes, it is what I wanted, and yes I know we are creating something.  But I am blown away.  Somehow.  Some way?

I look at pictures of the ex.  And it seems like eons ago, sometimes it feels like it didn't happen.  What I fought for so hard, what I tried to work at, it breaks me to think of it as a waste of time.

And this, what I have now, is so not perfect.  But it's still good.  Cause I wasn't really looking for perfect, just something stable where both people take it serious enough to work at it.

Truth is, part of me wanted to go to the prison to see him so I can get my personal closure.  So that I can finally walk away the way I need to.  So I can look him in the eye and REMIND him that it's over.

There are references to him daily by either kid, mainly my son.  It doesn't really bother me, I am glad they know who their father is.  My daughter gave him a note that said I love you, and mummy.  Like I was an afterthought.  Too cute.  I am glad she's getting along with him.

I am not as angst ridden as I was.  I do still have one or two trust issues.  But, life is something I am taking one millisecond at a time.  I just wish words could do justice to what I feel most days...

When my friend calls and says she wants to do a couple thing next month at her house.  When we stood outside talking to his friend and friend's girlfriend.  Just oddest moments.

He still hasn't told me he loves me.  But, has told the friends by us last night in conversation, "I love her right, so..." and he finished the thought up.  I stood there, half frozen.

Hyperventilating...

I got a joyous call yesterday.  It informed me of a surprise, both good and bad.  Because I had so many things on my mind that could be bad, I begged to be told what it was because I wasn't for bad news.

His car is in my yard.  My car is in my yard.  And when I got home last night, so much angst came running back that I realized I didn't want my car anymore.  I couldn't stand the sight of it.  It choked me.

We sat outside listening to him starting his car and playing the music. He was like a Cheshire Cat.  A comment to me yesterday made me laugh inside.  He told me that I think he's playing around when he sleeps by his parents.  I told him no I don't.  Insert cheesy grin.

He's made some references that have unnerved me a bit and cut my breath.  Like "our kitchen" and referencing that a certain someone is not allowed back around the house despite the kids.

I feel the building, I feel the coming together.  I feel so much and over it all, I feel terrified.  I am scared...I can feel him in ways that words aren't coming to mind to say...

Anniversary...

He kissed me tonight when I came home.  Just greeted me with it and I stood there, schoolgirly...

He's been here all week.  I love it and I hate it.  Because, when he isn't here, and there are things to be done, I miss him.

I've given him room.  I've not pressured him, not pestered him, not asked or bothered.  I don't want to ever be that woman who nags and wheedles and whines.

He's put in all of his stuff for Bimini.  And I am just blown away.  He seems determined to go, even happy.  And I know that for all the things going on with him, he has to work.  He NEEDS to work.  He wants so much out of life and it keeps kicking us both down.

I truly get it, I just wish that the whole...sigh...this sucks...good night.

Along...

I miss him.  Badly.  There are times, when he's here, I sit and look at him.  I try to do it sometimes when he's unsuspecting.  Other times I just catch his eyes and sigh.

It's weird.  This shift.  This change.  This new old thing.  His persona is so big, it wraps everything in it.  And there are smiles all around.

I am learning to chill about the nights alone.  Learning to hear me in those moments.  To begin truly assessing and emerging from a whirlwind of hate and pain.

I am at the laundromat, listening to him talk.  And fully aware of how his presence comforts me.  We walked, with a million pieces of clothing, tucked in hamper, pillowcases and rucksack.  Kids ahead of us, dollbaby and stroller, race cars in pocket.  We strolled.

And I washed.  He didn't help, and I really didn't want him to, he asked about something and I shooed him off.  When all were dry, and almost all folded, he held the pillowcase for me to stick the last set of things that seemed unending and I packed it all up again to go home.  He once again shouldered the hamper and two pillowcases as I carried the rucksack.  Both kids ahead of us.

My ex-husband's sister passed, hailing the kids.  And taking in the full view of this tattooed, cornrowed, bushy faced man.  And I smiled to myself.  Life has gone on...and I owe them nothing.

Dancing

Ours is an awkward one.  A shuffle, a two-step, a slide.  We hold hands, let go, intertwine, step back.  It's the most unrhythmic rhythm I have ever moved to.

There are things, if I had the foolish youth I once had, I would harp on, or make an issue.  There are things that have hurt me in this.  But what I find is, we are both feeling our way.  Though we know each other, we are standing aside to watch the other move.

It's a silent ritual.  This concern.  This giving.  It makes me peaceful inside to feel that care the way I do despite the other bullshit I worry about.

Daily, I feel like we are friends.  Just friends.  There's a level of dependence I can entrust to him, and he can in turn get back from me.  And to me, that's odd.  This feels like a two way street.  And I think that unnerves me.

I watch the care for my kids interspersed with the care of his own.  I watch the way he gives of his time and himself.  The way he demands the kids to give me the time to myself I need.  His way of disciplining them, talking to them. 

Our lives are intertwining, to my impatient self, in a process that is dragging along.  But when I think of other things, I try to put my self in his outlook and calm down.  He's bruised.  Badly.  Broken and angry.  I can be those things, but I don't have the energy and I wait to see when he will realize he's wasting his on it all.

1 January 2013

So here we are.  A new year.  The kids return to school tomorrow.  Work continues.  Life pushes on.  Standing in the crowd at Junkanoo I wondered, why is the comraderie so intense at places like these, but we hate each other so in daily life?

I rode a wave of screams and laughs as we all hollered for the Saxons.  We swayed and sang.  What a rush. There were couples on beat, and bleachers bowing under the weight.

Just before this, the Valley went past and THAT was also a rush.  It built momentum to want to see what the Saxons would do.  But, the crowd cheered for them as well, and I joined in the sway.  Below us, he was telling Jojo to never bring a Walleyboy home or she will get put out.  I was crying in laughter.  One woman was saying it couldn't be that serious!  I told her, boy look here, he ain even bounce to dey beat.

And I have watched him.  At the rushout in August last year, he barely bounced a muscle to any other group, he ain bat an eye and I was jigging constantly.  When the Saxons came out, he was in the center of the street with his shirt off, limber waist "outta control".  I wasn't "with' him then.  I watched from a distance and felt the rush as the tune played and the crowd picked up along with it, "...three little birds, beside my doorstep, singing sweet songs of melodies pure and true..."  My mind raced back to that today.  Same song playing, this time the WHOLE group rocking and swaying Bay Street with awesome costumes.

Earlier, I saw him out the corner of my eye point me and the kids out to some guy he was laughing with.  They were jabbing at each other being from different groups.  I heard him say "My kids".  I don't know why, but this tickles the fuck out of me every time.  That's the only way to explain it.

And again when we were walking to the buses to get home.  We were running at each other like big kids, fighting over a cup he scored.  We stopped to hail people on and off and he introduced me to an old schoolmate and they reminisced and made me laugh about life back then for them.  And how quickly it has passed.

What made me ache last week and this week though, were the lack of those words.  It bothers me out of the blue and I keep shirking it off.  But a text that says "Happy New Year, baby" seems so nekkid, and I for one, even though I beat him to it, wouldn't be putting the "I love you" or "Love ya" behind it.  Those are words that will never come from me again.  Well, maybe if he said them...I don't know.