I really…

…don’t wanna be bitter.
But my ex husband’s new girlfriend of very vocal about the great man that he is. And I can’t stop thinking about how naive she is. There is always the possibility that he has changed… I just have such a hard time buying it. I’ve seen too much from too many men- him especially- and it makes me very cynical. And it’s not just about him abandoning me as a wife, though there certainly is that. More than anything, it’s watching the pain in my sons’ eyes- the same pain he put me through. Kill me all you want, but destroy my children & this bear comes roaring alive inside of me! Seriously, it’s gotten to the point that I debated for several months the idea of having his parental rights stripped. By what I read, I could have done it because it took over a year and a half to ever see a child support check. Then there was the craziness that was his barely-20-year-old girlfriend of a month.
I believe in second chances, people changing, etc (I have to- or give myself up for lost), why is this one thing so huge to me? Am I wrong in this? I believe that if a man cannot truly be trusted with a child that the sort of man he is is seriously called into question. If a parent does not give their all for the children that they have, their worth as a person, admittedly, means very little to me. And it’s not just him either. All those who I struggle with feelings of hatred toward have hurt children I love dearly- not once or twice (we’ll all do that, often without even meaning to), but repeatedly, often blind to the pain they cause.
I feel so strongly about this that I told my current husband before we married that if I or anyone/anything (besides God) were put before his daughters, that we would be over. The wife should be wooed the rest of your lives, but also, the children should be pursued as much, if not more, than any lover. You should seek to spend time with them & cherish that time. You should let them know every minute of every day that they are precious to you!
Perhaps my standards were set too high. But I know the story of my best friend. His wife essentially kidnapped their children when she divorced him & left him stranded without a car, yet he overcame all obstacles and chased after them. He has pursued his share of women over the years, loving each desperately & passionately, never forsaking his children along the way. Pursue others, love others, yes, but never lose sight of your first loves, those who rely on you for everything, for love, for guidance, etc. You are the one who sets the standards in their lives. I really believe they are more likely to settle for second best (or third, or fourth) when that is all they have known.
I hold so little hope in most people in this area & I hate that hopeless feeling. I feel I should believe in others more, but it is so hard with all I have seen and lived through. My current feeling is that I am through looking for a man to be daddy to them. Most daddies I have intimately known may as well not exist for all the investment they give.
I just don’t think I will ever see him as changed until his children are put first. And I hold no hope for ever seeing that day.
They have me. The fact that I am all they truly have is the only thing that keeps me going some days. I refuse to be just another person to drop the ball in their lives.

The Heart in Shock

Maybe I do give up too soon anymore, but if you knew even the half of what I went through before, could you blame me? I don’t know… I’m not looking for absolution so much as I want to be understood. It still bothers me that I bear the blame for things I did not actually do, and I wish it didn’t. Who cares what other people think? It shouldn’t matter as long as someone knows the truth (other than- but including/starting with- me). Probably has a lot to do with how I despise lying & hiding…

 

I’ve realized recently that all I was ever doing was giving into guilt that others imposed on me & trying to escape that, to find peace. To most outsiders, my life was normal, peaceful. I mean, I grew up in the church with two parents that are still together, the apple of my mother’s eye, the spoiled baby of the family, living as an only child (brother 14 1/2 years, sister 17 years older than me, roughly). I myself have only recently realized how deeply the other, unmentioned, unseen stuff affected me; parts of my life were really just trauma, mounted upon trauma until I was so numb that I thought these things that happened to me were normal.

 

Four years ago yesterday, I met a man that would forever change my life- I like to think for the better. It is not that I was completely unaware of anything before, but I had forced myself to become desensitized for survival’s sake that by the time he met me, I was broken (I thought, thoroughly), had submerged inside myself… and no one was none the wiser. I really don’t know how to describe what I felt that day in a way that someone who has never been through this kind of thing could understand, but it was as if my very soul was in a deep slumber until I heard his voice. The second I heard his voice, my eyes snapped open, the glass prison walls around my heart shattered & something inside me swelled with desire- something I had not truly felt in a long time. Desire for life, discovery…

 

Just moments after I heard him speaking from behind me, he sat within my view & joined the conversation I had been immersed in prior to this moment. He and another continued to speak while I sat staring at him, completely dumbfounded. I must have engaged in the conversation as well because he had no idea what I was going through inside at the time. He did not notice my stares, my shock, my immense curiosity. I did say before than no one had ever seen than anything was even wrong with me. I have this tendency to continue to go through the motions of life while I myself am somewhere else entirely. It’s like a song you know really well; you can absentmindedly sing the lyrics or hum the tune. That was life for me. But that moment would mark the beginning of change for me.

 

Not only had I been jarred back into reality as if shock paddles had been applied to my heart after it had stopped beating, but I looked at his face and saw the face of someone I had known for a very long time. My gaze met his and literally the first words that came to mind were, “It’s you!” preceded by a soft, gasping, oh! It was as if I had been waiting all my life for this moment, to see my best friend again after a long absence. I spent a very long time after that trying to figure out just where that impression came from- still am in a way.

 

This is not a post about our relationship necessarily, though I wish I could convey to all those who have been confused by the way I feel about him just what he has done for me. If I never saw him again after that moment, I do believe that my life would still never have been the same because of that awakening. He broke me from the unholy reverie that threatened to thoroughly destroy me and has been doing it over and over again ever since. You don’t just slap that kind of soul across the cheek or spit in the face of Love by letting this kind of person be forgotten.

 

In the months immediately following, I kept trying to force myself back inside myself because the flood of emotions that opened after that moment seemed to be too much. I was not used to feeling pain to this intensity anymore. But I could not. I began cutting again, and while most either didn’t notice or dismissed what I was doing, he cried with me and told me that I would not always feel this way, but that I would again find hope and someone who loved me for all I was worth- which I am still fight to see as being very much.

 

And this is the kind of person, the kind of friend, I have desperately wanted to be for someone since.

 

I wish I could say I have been, but I just don’t have that endurance yet, and even now I am barely discovering everything that has made me who I am, in hopes that some day I can be.

 

“I feel like I’ve been lied to all my life!” I recently lamented to David, because it is true. Even as the absolute best of all the friends I have given the title “best friend” he had no idea just what I had meant because our relationship was more about dealing with recent (or current) hurts, including him being the only one to never fall away after the violent rape (on top of every other soul-shattered event) I endured in 2009 (this is the main reason I feel I was as alone as I was in the beginning of 2010 when I was at the lowest I have ever been- what those things did to me were just too much for people to bear after a while… but I digress).

 

I have since recounted horrors of my childhood, after which he said it was a wonder that I had any faith at all after all I had endured. I had to go on to explain the encounter I had when I was 14, when I became Victoria, which has been the core of any shred of faith, hope, and love I had left when we had met (a story for some other day). I have been left to drown a lot of times in my life, and I have sunk quite a few times. But even at the bottom of the ocean, I held my breath.

 

I feel I am at that place again- sinking, clawing at liquid walls, trying to find my way back to the surface. Only this time, I am not alone. There are others sharing the breath of life with me as I am suspended in freezing waters which threaten to force me to fill my lungs with their icy elixir of death .

 

I may give up on some things easier than people think I should, but having lived some of these things before, I know that I cannot stay in this place. I cannot stay around those who would take the air from my lungs rather than give it. I can’t choose what kind of person another will be in my life, but I can choose whether or not I let them be that to me.

 

Life & death are before me. And I choose Life.

Suppressed.

I am tempted to call this one “emotional constipation” (seems crude) or “writer’s block” (too cliché), but the short of it I have been realizing lately that what I thought was healing may not be. I recently rejoiced over being able to discuss certain events from my past without getting too emotionally involved in them & yet I have been despairing because I cannot write as well as I used to. I still write well, I still write often so many don’t realize that anything is lost, much as a few years ago, no one realized that I had completely checked out of the world. I function so well that the average person cannot tell that something is seriously wrong in me. I have been suppressed… a part of my soul has been submerged & I long for it to be reawakened.

I’ve been songwriting with my “musical soulmate” again, when reconciliation occurred unexpectantly after 2 years, yet… I’ve needed his help more strongly than ever just to carry some old works that he had not yet seen and make them something. This was what woke me to the realization that a part of me had disappeared again. I should have realized it though when, rather than feel empathy for a woman whose story I somewhat share, I found myself instead feeling hatred- an emotion that I’ve almost never felt. It was an intense hatred even. I want to feel passionate, but not in such ways.

I’ve been guarding my heart in destructive manners…

And I want out of that.

I want to regain my empathy. To be as my friend David who, when I began crying, also began crying, though I never even said a word about what was on my heart. My pain has been wordless lately. I need the words. I want to write about the broken spirit I have been seeing in others around me, but I strongly feel that this means I have to remember what it feels like to be broken. Truly. And I am afraid to. But of what? Judgment? Been there, done that. Losing everyone? Again… Nothing new.

I really, really, really have to tell my story. The whole thing. Without fear. Without quivering. Let that come later, while I wait for my world to crumble. I’ve lost it all time & time again. I need to stop holding so tightly to my new beginnings that I know only fear. I need to relive my pain to reach out. This bone did not set correctly. I must allow myself to be broken again. And maybe this time…

Oh, God, make me desolate. Destroy me. Perhaps this is what I need.

Rebuild me from the ground up, because I am clearly not who I should be…

Little versus Big

Why does forgiveness of the big things actually seem easier for me than forgiving the little things?
My mind did the random connect-the-dots thing that it mind has the tendency to do (finding links between events that others don’t), and a seemingly innocent event like accidentally stabbing my palm with a knife while cutting something caused me to realize that I still haven’t forgiven someone who wronged me by a lack of common courtesy a couple of years ago! (He accidentally sliced his hand open in the beginning of the incident if you wanna know the connection!)
The event already seems fairly petty, at least for a grudge lasting beyond the day, or beyond the “sorry” in any case, but considering what else this man has done in the few years I have known him…! Let’s just leave it at the fact that many of my friends refuse to forgive him and often beg me to dismiss him from my life (often forgetting the offenses they have committed which prompt him to say the same thing about them of course, but I digress LOL) I have forgiven him of so much, bigger, life-altering events.
Maybe it is the same thing that makes a small cut hurt more than a far larger wound, or maybe it has to do with repentance being for having hurt me and not actually for committing the offense (shouldn’t that still be enough?)

It certainly makes me wonder about all those I have hurt in my life. One friend dismissed me over hurtful words spoken out of my own pain while accepting the man she knew was cheating on her so I know that I am not the only one who suffers from this… I still have one friend who refuses to speak to or make eye contact with me or my husband despite our years of insanely loyal friendship, just because he- what? blames himself for what we did? Our offense was not against him so it is confusing.
All these things wrapped up make me wonder just how it is do we let these little things go, the offenses which really should no longer plague us, had no lasting effect other than our unforgiveness (whose fault is that part?). How do we keep ourselves from being so wrapped up in something that we miss out on many other blessings in life?
And more importantly, what can I do to make right some of my wrongs? If it is the little things that hurt so much more, how can I even be aware of what I have done when the ones I have offended will not even let me know? Does this absolve my guilt, release my responsibility?
Knowing really is half the battle…

Mortal: The Balance, The Vapour, The Fight

Where is the balance? I still haven’t found it. I was more than fine, most of the time, with who I was as a teenager, chasing the globe and all… Adulthood has been another story altogether- so much more to balance… though what I have been juggling has changed over the years.
I like to think I prioritize as best as I can, but I don’t get enough time with those I need to. As long as the petty games exist though, I won’t, and the only one I can change is me. I need a way to make it all work still.
Giving up truly has its appeal. It is so much easier to spend time with those who truly love you and want you, versus those who it feels would much rather you be erased from existence. I get very few moments with those who love me, and long for more. I know I am loved, but sometimes it can be hard to feel that…

This is why I value my true friends as much as I do; friends remind you of what it is like to have a huge fight, but come back from that because you love each other, not because you have to.
Family has a tendency to have too much obligation instead of desire, harbor too much bitterness instead of hope…. why? Can anyone answer that for me? I understand dry times, where obligation has to carry you until you find desire again- these seasons are where most people call it quits because they make those seasons last too long; they stop looking for the desire. Fighting for something of worth is far from easy. Merely existing, tiring as it can sometimes be, is easy.

I long to be Mortal. To know life to it’s fullest.
I AM Mortal. I live, I love, I laugh, I bleed, I cry, I feel… Oh, God, feeling can be torture some days, but I feel. And those who have truly known me for years remember when I did not feel. They were the only ones who knew when shadows had claimed me, and fought to bring me back again. I hate the pain, but I will not erase the joy that has to go if I forget the pain. You have to die, before you understand life. You have to be brought to that brink- and then never to forget how it feels- to appreciate what life really is.
There is value, even in that soul-stealing vacuum that prompts the ghost from your body in raucous screams… when you come to the other side. You appreciate every moment then… even the ones that hint of that vacuum- even in malice, omission, loneliness .

So hate me. It hurts, but when I feel your darkness, I remember that I don’t have to be a part of that anymore. I am no longer one with that pain, so familiar with it that I am numb. That pain just reminds me that I LIVE! And that I have something worth fighting for!
Today, I am weary of fighting, but if there is anything I have learned from the art of the sword, it is that even now- especially now- if I stop fighting, I am only guaranteed a loss! My only desire is that people stop attempting to make themselves the enemy, because I have no desire to hurt you! Instead, can we not fight together to keep the Vapour from claiming us?

Many eyes are watching… ten being some of my personal greatest inspiration… I feel I need say no more.

Love: 1 Corinthians 13 through the eyes of my heart

I could speak in every language existing in heaven and on earth, but if I and my words have no Love within us, then what I say will not not be melodious. Instead we will alarmingly and annoyingly screech, giving way to covered ears.

I could know the future, decipher and solve any mystery or problem, know instantly how to work everything out for good, but if I refuse to acknowledge that Love is the ultimate hope, I have solved nothing. I and my solutions alike will be quickly forgotten.

I can give all that I am and all that I have, and kill myself doing good for others, but if I do it for any reason other than Love, it will all have been in vain.

Love knows when to wait, and has the strength to do so.

Love is full of respect, compassion, and mercy- even when it is undeserved.

Love does not have a heart of greed, seeking to take from another what is theirs.

Love does not lord his power over anyone, or brag of what he has accomplished to make others feel badly.

Love does strive to make others jealous. Love does not keep others waiting while serving himself. Love does not purposefully inconvenience, kick, shove, beat down or trample over others in seeking his own satisfaction.

Love does not become angry on a whim, does not bitterly recount your sins to your face, or make up stories behind your back to save his own reputation.

Love does not celebrate when things go wrong for someone they dislike, or for someone who has fallen, or praise the ones who hurt others, even when meaning well and executing poorly. Love instead throws a party when these and other evils are seen for what they are, when the light brings about a confession, or truth bravely takes that first step forward to seeking restitution.

Love will always hold you under his wings to guard you, envelope you with trust, believe in your when no one else does, hope in you even when you don’t, and encourage you, stand beside you, holding you when you’re about to fall.

You won’t have to wonder if love will come through for you. The future will change, the world end, voices be made silent, and knowledge be erased from every mind- all the world will be thrown into utter chaos, yet love will remain.

We know a little now about ourselves, about others, about what could be, and see a little of what is to come, but all of that will fall to the wind and blow away in the face of the perfect love we don’t yet know. We can still grow. As a child, I spoke as one still learning, yet thinking that I knew it all. In my adulthood, I see how fragile I really am, and am made strong in the knowledge of what Love can make me. Right now, it’s all a distorted reflection, backwards, confusing, and muddied, but one day Love will show his face, and clear my sight, my soul, and my heart in the process that I may see Him as He sees me, until I become a reflection of Him. I know so little about it all, but will fully know and be known, until what I think I know now melts away. In all the darkness that surrounds me in this moment, faith, hope, and love remain seen. And Love- great, sweet, perfect love overpowers and outshines everything.

The Jealousy, the Pain, the Story I Must Tell

The past couple of days have been hard. Unplanned, I found my story being required of me, and as it has a lot to do with what I have been going through, I told it.
But you have to know, I don’t want to. The only times I feel safe sharing what I have been through is when I am trying to tell a hurting person that I can relate, because I know what it’s like to feel alone, and no one should have to feel that way, and sometimes an “I’ve-been-there-too” feels like a much-needed hug.
…and because I have been hurt more by the sharing. I looked for help, and instead of getting any, I got betrayed by everyone I went to for help- pastors, friends, family, everyone. Some took advantage of knowing my weaknesses, some merely dismissed me, some outright turned their back on me.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped trusting. I got myself in all kinds of trouble because I stopped looking for help, convinced there was no one out there. Seriously, when you come to from trying to commit suicide and realize that no one had even blinked, the world you already thought was turned upside-down feels solidified, while you feel like a vapor passing through, a ghost trapped someplace where no one can see your tears or hear your screams. A part of me screamed, “I will prove you wrong!” Another part sobbed that these who hurt me weren’t worth what was being made of me as I gave into the pain. And yet a third part whispered, “even Death cannot help me.” In any case, the choice became life, but not because I felt life.

It has taken a long time for me to come to the place where I have chosen life because I feel life…

But the past few days have triggered a lot of that ghostly feeling all over again.

Trigger 1. The people to which I wanna say “I’ve been there, too” have no reason to believe it. They only see what they want to see, and no one wants to see the girl who filed for divorce as having felt the pain of that horror, because the reasons for that divorce are unknown by most, and assumed by those same. Same time, many are still in that “let’s talk crap” stage that I wanna stay away from… I am one of those who can thoroughly relive emotions simply by talking about experiences, as one of my best friends knows too well from all the times he has had to tell me to stop, breathe, snap out of it, etc. and the bitterness (both of myself and of others) lends power to the deja vu. God has also been dealing with me about honoring people that may not always even seem to have honor, for their role in my life (parent/caretaker to someone I love or to me, the one who forced me to grow up by what s/he did… whatever). Trying to keep all these things in mind while sharing can lead me to keeping things to myself because it is just easier!

Trigger 2. Depression also returns as I feel the weight of trying to make this crazy life work, and uplift others who are going through unseen or misunderstood depression of their own… this one is far more involved than can possibly be summed up, and often has little to do with my own story, so these things are not mine to share.

Trigger 3. The need to get out of the house that I have had for the past 2 years is not understood, and between the misunderstanding and the low funds and/or in general just not having anywhere to go, I find myself wandering aimlessly, searching for someone I can hang onto… one of those many lingering symptoms from the crime committed against me and my defense mechanism for the fear that ate me alive for two months and gnaws on my soul occasionally even now.

Trigger 4. The afore-mentioned story-telling, if for no other reason than I was unprepared.

Anyway, this can all be summed up as “I am going through a lot.”

Fear has been striking again. Pain rears as I  think of the pain of others due to being slightly empathic. Fear, pain, and depression being summoned by the discussions, and the pressures of life.

And the jealousy… that’s a loaded one, but frankly, I have been jealous of everyone who gets the support they need because I both never did, and feel mostly alone in my struggle now… But the now has much to do with assuming, and hiding because of the assumptions, the fear of history repeating itself, the fear of returning not only to that feeling of death, but the dark person I let it all mold me into. I don’t want any of it anymore. But… that means trusting enough again, deliberately, even when I don’t feel trusting, to say, “I need help.”