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.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Friday, January 25, 2013
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...
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...
Thursday, January 17, 2013
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.
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.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
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.
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.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
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.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
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.
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.
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