Some hearts breed contention,
Some hearts breed attention,
My heart knows only laughter,
My heart dreams of what comes after.

   


<< December 2017 >>
Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat
 01 02
03 04 05 06 07 08 09
10 11 12 13 14 15 16
17 18 19 20 21 22 23
24 25 26 27 28 29 30
31



Contact Me

If you want to be updated on this weblog Enter your email here:


blogdrive

Jan 30, 2004
We broke up for a couple of hours but....

I feel a little disjointed. The other night my whole world was turned upside down and then the following day it was righted again. When does that queezy feeling in my stomach go away?
Steve wrote me a Dear Jane letter and hand delivered it to me. To me, this letter seemed to come out of nowhere. He felt that it had been coming for a few weeks. He explained in the letter that he was feeling very pressured wiht life at the moment. He just bought a new house so money was tight, the end of his marriage will be finalized soon, his relationship with his children needs to be maintained and to add to that he had his girlfriend in the same town as he is in and the pressure to please me and his kids and other family was wearing him down. He said he could longer be my boyfriend.
I was in shock. I realized that bits and peices of this had been talked about between us but he always mentioned it all in such a casual manner that it didn't seem to phase him that much. We spent a couple of hours after that going round and round. I was convinced he was wrong to give us up and he was convinced that getting rid of me was the answer. We hugged and cried and hugged and cried and then he finally said we could work this out. He was going to come to dinner the next night and we would talk. I should have felt relieved but the knot in my stomach didn't want to go away.
The next day I text messaged Steve and told him that I missed him. An hour later he text messaged me back saying that he wanted me and loved me and wanted to talk about us moving forward. I was very relieved then. That knot disolved instantly. And yet, a few days later, I still feel less secure then I did before. I suppose some of it is the fear that this could happen again the next time he feels stressed. Some of it may be realizing how close I came to losing him and all the dreams we had together. So, how far does a person go in order to keep the love she has? Is it a healthy love to live in fear of the next time? I already have abandonment issues that go bak into my childhood that I have to come to terms with. Maybe that is where much of my fear comes from still. Losing one of the only good things to ever come into my life is not an easy thing to look at but I need to be reasonable. How prepared am I to let that good thing go if the time comes for that? I fought for him like I have never fought for anything when he told he was breaking up with me. It was a battle of wills that night. I could see the panic in him. I knew not all of it was based around our relationship. He even admitted that he knew he was making a mistake thinking that losing me was going to make it all better. What we have is solid and grounded in trust and honesty. The fact that some of that trust was broken when he brought me that letter makes me sad. He's sad as well because he can see that new sadness in me. He has assured me to not feel insecure. He says he's mine and he wants us to spend the rest of our lives together. I believe him when he says that and I want that hope to continue to thrive between us.
We have been walking backwards in our relationship from the very beginning. We fell in love before we had even laid eyes on each other. We dated without seeing each other from different states. Yes, we met online. Some scoff at that notion and shake their heads saying that that's not a good way to do anything and that kind of relationship can't last. Well, my answer to that is that nothing is a sure thing. I was married for 14 years to someone I never loved. It was wrong to marry him and to stay with him. I could have easily kept my eyes closed and gone on living with him just because we had been together for so long already but how honest is that, to him or to me?  40 years could have passed with us still married and living under the same roof, eating the same food, sleeping in the same bed, but at the end of those 40 years, what would we have had? 40 years of lies and unhappiness.
Bitterness creeps into you slowly. It builds and builds until it oozes out of every pore. 14 years of slowly building bitterness directed at myself for knowing I had made a mistake and had continued to live with it for all the wrong reasons took its toll. I couldn't go on hating my husband because I hated myself. I had to fix this and the only way was to end it. And so I did.
Now I am living in a new state with a new man and I am free to explore who I am and where I want to be in life and to discover where my happiness lies, which is in myself. Steve broke up with me for a couple of hours. That was all it took for him to realize that that was not the answer for him or for me. I do feel a little less secure then before this happened but I'm also glad it happened. He got some things off his chest and we've both seen that what we have is worth the day in and day out struggles. Life is ever changing and we need to change with it or we get left behind. Right now Steve and I are walking shoulder to shoulder as I think it should be. We continue to grow as individuals but also as a couple. The challenges never stop. They are all around us. It's up to us to decide if they are worth the tiem and energy. Steve is worth that to me. I forgive him for being so rash only because I understood where it was coimg from. We have that kind of relationship. We were strangers when we met but we refuse to be strangers now that we are face to face.
Ok. I feel better now. We are still B/F and G/F. We still have our future ahead of us and it's bright. Geez! How corny is that?!?



Posted at 12:22 pm by mistorie
Make a comment

Dec 26, 2003
Life has officially begun Pt. 1

I changed things earlier this year. I shed my little lost girl skin and decided it was time to be a grown up. The first layer of skin I removed was tricky. I stepped out of the box I allowed myself to be nailed up in. There were rusted nails that had been pounded into the lid from way back, nails that had been put there by my mother. She didn't place the nails in any recognizable pattern that would suggest an organized mind. No. There was no pattern at all. There were nails around edges, in the center, groups of nails and even sprinkles of lone nails in random places. While the lack of outright control was evident in her display, it was inside the box where the real damage could be seen. The pointed ends of the nails were strategically placed so that if I moved or fought too hard I would be punctured at random leaving me with just enough pain to settle me back down and kee p me  quiet in my stiffling prison.
The truly tricky part about getting out of this box was the fact that even though there were nails all over the lid, not one of those nails had actually been pounded in to make contact with anohter corner. So, the whole time, the lid had always been open. All I need to do was open it and step right out.
After stepping out of the box I recognized the next layer of skin that had to go, the cling wrap that was my mother's best defense. I had always assumed my mother had had some secret special power that had allowed her to see inside me and spot my weaknesses. The truth was simpler and much more believable then that. When I was born, I wasn't born with skin. I was born with a layer of clear plastic cling wrap that covered my body. I think we are all born that way. With careful nurturing and understanding we all find the strength to grow our skin thicker and impervious to prying eyes. In my case, however, I was neither nurtured nor encouraged to grow thick skin. I did grow a form of skin but it was never thicker then a one ply piece of toilet paper held up in front of a bright light. It didn't take much for my mother to see right inside me and know my weaknesses.
Somewhere deep inside I felt a sudden shift. My skin began to itch and twitch and stretch. It also began to thicken. I was becoming less vulnerable to my mother's attacks and she could no longer see inside me. This scared her to the point where she tried using other people to find my weak spots. She tried using my mother-in-law, my husband and my few friends. She pleaded for them to find out what was wrong with me. Why didn't I want to see her or talk to her? What had she done wrong? Growing thicker skin seemed to give me a new secret special power. For the first time I could see inside her. What I found when I looked at her was a cold, shriveld black lump that may or may not have been a human heart. There were very little signs of life in it. It would convulse for a few moments then stop and shrink back inside itself. The rest of her cavity was filled with spider webs and spider woven cocoons filled with the remains of vicims she'd used and set aside. Each cocoon had a small name plate attached to the sticky web which entrapped them. I noticed there was one small spot where the web had been torn. The cocoon looked as though the vicitim inside had burst free. There was a faintimprint of a body inside where the cocoon's ragged ends flapped open. The name plate was still attached but just hanging by a thread. I angled my head to match the angle of the name plate. It was me. Or it had been at one time.
I reached inside and plucked the tiny empty cocoon from its once prison and examined it carefully. Nothing remianed inside, except for the small outline, to even indicate what or who had once been there. I rolled the tiny thing up into a small ball the size of a spitball and flicked it across the room. I watched it bounce off a wall and land in a small gathering of dust on the floor. From where I stood I couldn't even see it it blended in so well. The sense of freedom I felt from thatlittle mental excerise  was over powering. I had crossed a new boundary. I had begun to find me.




Posted at 01:38 pm by mistorie
Make a comment

Dec 19, 2003
Meet Mistorie

My life has never been an open book. I have kept the book covers glued shut. The secrets I've kept inbetween the pages of this volume are dark and sinister and poisonous. My soul has been twisted and tortured and driven to the brink of madness over the years but the secrets I have maintained nonetheless.

I have a happy, shining side that is on display most days for all to admire and draw close to. I also have a darker, subdude side that lingers just behind my eyes. I hear the sounds the darker side makes as it claws to be set free. It rips at the back of my eyes ferociously, tearing at the soft tissue with vicious intent. It wants to hurt me and make me be true to it's nature. I fight it by keeping my eyes open and pointed up into the light of the morning sky. I reason that light fights the darkness.

As I struggle with my dual sides there is a hope that keeps me aware of what makes me human. The hope is in the shape of a man. He fights his own demons as I do but together we are a force to reckon with in our determination to be free. As we lay together in the darkest hours, in each others arms, we let our inner demons fight each other. We confess our sins in hushed whispers and listen as our imprisoned torturers roar in pain and anguish and outrage over the honesty we embrace.

I hear my dark side grumbling even now as I let one secret out. What will it do when I open my mouth and shout about what I have survived? Will it begin to shrivel and fade? Or will it gather strength and use its teeth as well as its claws to try and conquer me? Will it deny the truths I tell out? Will it stay quiet and try to trick me into believing it has gone? Will there be enough time to let all the secrets out? I suppose only time will tell. Time is not my judge and time is not my enemy. My enemy lives within my bosom and lurks behind my eyes. But I am strong.

Posted at 07:28 pm by mistorie
Make a comment