Wednesday, November 28, 2012
For Slappy And Haz
Wisdom of friends both far and near
"Forget the past, move on," they say
"Love you will find again someday."
Their words ring loud and true, yet still
My heart declines to follow my will
A hope misplaced still longs to gain
The love of those who caused me pain
Yet I cannot live within the past
Slave to love which did not last
I cannot stay in bondage to
A love that proved itself untrue
And if for this my heart a stone
Becomes, to continue on its own
Then so it must be, unstained
By love or hate or joy or pain
But one sweet day true love will make
The heart-stone crack, and finally break
And arms will hold, and lips will say
"Your love is here, and here will stay."
And though I never will forget
And love's first pain may pain me yet
What is past is forever gone
And love will paint a bright new dawn
Why Do I Not Bleed?
But that's really only part of the reasons, I would say. I hardly know myself well enough to know them all. Another one is that I do have friends that I can talk to to ease the pain before I take that last bloody step. And for the most part, I do. Although I fear relying on them too much. I have this tendency to go from distrust to deep friendship rather quickly sometimes (although I'm picky about who with) and I think it overwhelms people. Being my friend is not easy. I know that. I'm trying to make it easier, but it is still difficult. I want to be loved, and in opening my heart to give and receive that love I think I tend to give out more of myself than people are prepared to handle. Anyway. Bit of a rabbit trail there.
I did try cutting recently. The stress was just too much for me to handle alone. And, you know, it was just as good as I remember. Better even. It gave me such a high that I had to stop much sooner than I expected. And for some bizarre reason it did not hurt at all, not even while it was healing. But I realized when I did it that this is not who I am anymore. Sure, I still want to cut, almost all the time. But I've come too far to return to being the cutter I once was.
And I don't want to be alone. I don't want to tense when someone gives me a hug for fear they might bump unhealed cuts. I don't want to be unable to be active or do things because a sleeve or shorts leg might ride up. Cutting saved my life once, or many times, but now I have outgrown it. Now it would hinder my life, not help it.
Life is too short to add fear on top of pain.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Thoughts From Church
If God had not created hell nobody would ever go there.
Non Christians find fulfilment in those very things that Christians say they found unsatisfying. Perhaps it is not a fundamental of human nature that cannot find fulfilment in everyday life, but a fundamental of those natures that are drawn to the idea of a supernatural.
I hear so many people applauded in these churches because they left promising careers in the world to devote their time and energy to the small circle of people that is American fundamentalism. But if they truly wished to minister to people, an opera singer at the New York Metropolitan Opera can reach far, far more people than a traveling pair of Christian singers or even a pair of voice teachers at a Christian college. They did what made them happy, and threw God's will on it to make them look spiritual.
I think perhaps the one thing that Christians simply cannot understand about me is that it is the supposed sovereignty of God that forever drives me from following him. If God existed and was sovereign, he would be no God I would want to serve.
It is one of Christianity's biggest sins that it keeps its followers content in this life with promises of the next that it has never and cannot ever prove that it can deliver.
Visiting my home church is like watching the blind following the blind and shouting "hallelujah" and "amen" as they fall into the ditch.
I used to get really caught up in the whole Covenant/dispensationalism argument. Now it just makes me shake my head and chuckle.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Music
I know the words to that song
Though the harmony's wrong
And the instruments all play out of key
Come to think of it too
The melody's not true
And the dance not what it used to be
One of those times when a few phrases start banging at your head demanding you make them into something.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Choices
The last time I stayed in this room was shortly after I made an offer that would change my life. I knew that then, of course, thought if I had been aware of exactly how my life would change I would have been more hesitant to make such an offer. But I did. That was, if I had to put a number on it, the first choice I made that contributed to this tragedy. Others made their own choices of course, but I do not bear responsibility for theirs, only mine. My next choice was to allow myself to fall in love. I do not regret this because I fell in love with a wonderful person - smart, beautiful, trustworthy, dependable, a person who loved me in spite of all my flaws, for I had not hidden them from her. And my husband and I both saw these things, and together we invited her into our hearts and our home. That was the third choice, and though it was shared it was my own choice. In many ways I do not regret it, even now. It was an unwise choice, yes. But I risked much in hopes of gaining much, and I thought, and still do think, that what we all stood to gain was more than worth the risk.
The fourth choice was less conscious than the first three, born of pain and confusion. In the wake of unexpected and unintended betrayal I allowed myself to withdraw. Without intending to I pushed my two Loves away from me. It was this choice, I think, that most of the tragedy rests with, this choice and the next. Because the next choice was the stupidest of all, the most idiotic choice I have ever made. Ignoring all I knew of myself and of them, I chose to leave ("but wait," you say, "you said you were kicked out!" Patience. I'm getting there). I talked of finding a lover who loved all of me. I never spoke of breaking up with my Loves because I did not intend to. But I spoke of moving out. I searched for apartments. I almost managed to get one. But then I stopped, and remembered who I am, and who I loved, and what was really important in life, and I realized the stupidity of what I had nearly done. And I chose again, this time to stay, and to rebuild whatever damage I had caused because of the last two choices.
There is much I could say at this point. I will sum it up this way: there was pain and anger and sorrow had by all, and it was too late. And so I made the final choice. I did not want to make it. I made it slowly, begrudgingly, against my will. I made it kicking and screaming and throwing things. I could have stayed where I was unwanted and unloved, where I had been asked to leave and told my presence caused only pain. My name was on the lease, I had just as much right to remain there in my home as they did. I could have stayed there, yes, causing people I did and still do love misery until they left or found a way to truly force me to leave. So in a sense you could say I was not kicked out, and that would be true. But though I left, I did not want to, and would still have been willing to work things out, so in a sense the opposite is true as well. Foolishly I would still be willing to work things out, because in spite of everything I still love them. But in the end, rather than perpetuating a situation that made all our lives nearly unbearable, I made the unwilling choice to leave.
These are my choices. I bear the joys and regrets, the pride and shame of them myself, for I made them all. In the same way, I do not and refuse to bear the shame or regret of your choices. You made them, not I, and you must bear their weight yourself.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Reality
And you know what? I'm starting not to care. I should never have cared. I should have stopped caring at the very first inkling that love might be conditional. It doesn't matter your side of the story, it doesn't matter if you feel a victim, it matters not to me in the least. Because it is your choice to remove me from your life, and therefore your opinions ought have not one bit of power over me.
So if you think me selfish, go ahead. If you think sharing my heart with you and trusting you for years is manipulation, go ahead. If you think me not sincere or a liar, go ahead. I hope it makes you feel better.
I have been holding off on saying this because of the love I still held for you, but that love is fast becoming buried by reality. So I will say this: I hope your life is everything it ought to be, and I hope you live the life you have given me. But whatever life you do live, I am not responsible, I am not to blame. When you move past your honeymoon phase and discover each others' true selves I hope you still love each other, though I would not guarantee it. As you continue to feel overwhelmed by parenthood I hope you remember how you judged me for being the same. I hope you learn the truth about yourselves, and I hope that when you do, you will believe it.