Category Archives: Yummy
So, the other day I got pissed at Mr. Yummy.
He’s never around, he never lets me know if he’s off on a bender, hanging with family, or doing something I don’t want to know about.
I guess it was out of anger, I told him I would be gone Tuesday through Friday. I must have surgery and will stay somewhere else (where he doesn’t have to care for or help me out). He kind of stopped packing his firearms and ammunition and asked very surprised what I needed surgery for? I sort of surprised myself because I became hostile and told him I didn’t really feel like telling him WHY, because it doesn’t fucking matter. We both said a few other things. Mostly I said, to have felt so dismissed and ignored has hurt and I am at the point where I just don’t give a shit anymore. He quietly said, “I don’t want you to feel like that.”
I didn’t really say anything to that, because I’m hurt. It would have been mean and more of the same.
For a year, I have been trying to put my mother fucking life back together. I lost Mel, I have lost Mr. Yummy and I lost a good friend and daughter, because she thought something I posted on Facebook about Mr. Yummy, was about her.
I’m fucking tired, and I am tired of losing people and honestly, I don’t fucking care anymore. Fuck it. Everyone wants to go away? GO AWAY!
True to Yum form, he took off for a few days. No response to me saying “you hurt me, it sucks and I can’t give a fucking shit anymore.” He knows I am looking at moving. This all sucks, but I don’t care anymore. I can’t. Maybe it won’t be a pretty little hate garden, but it’s not a fucking love festival.
So imagine my surprise when he comes in last night, drunk. He climbs in his bed, next to me, and rolls over facing me and loosely snuggles up to me and starts touching my feet and toes, with his feet and toes. he knows I like this.
I was mad. I don’t want to trust it. AND WHY THE FUCK NOW, after I said I don’t fucking care anymore. I feel like I was naive and gullible with him and I don’t trust much with him now.
Go ahead, go the fuck away.
I’ve been so angry the last week or so. I don’t like being angry at her and I know it is part of the natural process, but it is the fact that I have to go through it and process it before I can say and feel, “I am not angry and have forgiveness for all that has happened.”
I also realized that I need to get back to the path I was on. This thing with my skin, is all part of this trauma. I have all these little red bumps that itch, and I scratch, then they get really dry. They are EVERYWHERE. It’s horrible.
I have tried no sugar in my coffee, along with reading labels and cutting down on sugar you don’t even know you are eating. Apple cider vinegar on my skin (with the mother in it) as well as taking a few shots. I”m on a 21 day cleanse now, and taking Zyrtec to block the histamine. I take it at night, so at least I am sleeping well. Like a LOG. No waking up crying here. The desire to give in and scratch is maddening. I may need to take an Epsom salt bath. Those seem to help. I believe once I am “at peace” with Melissa’s death, it will stop. I really think this is because I am not at the point of being accepting and at peace with what happened. I think I probably have a raging case of PTSD.
A week or so ago, Mr. Yummy brought up a name. Karrie. Crazy Karrie with a K, to be more specific. She texts him a fair amount. I don’t want another Shan. I can’t do that, it would break my heart beyond belief and I believe after Melissa, he is the only one capable of doing such a thing. I must have this relationship with Sean, on my own. No Mel to run to when I panic. He told me he tried dating her, but that it wasn’t happening. She asked him to go to her church with him, he asked her why he would do that because he is an atheist. She cried. He said he didn’t sex her, so I am assuming she just has a crush on him, because, well, he is Mr. Yummy. But he’s got me living with him, and I sleep in his bed every night, so I am trying to relax and not make something out of nothing.
I do know him and he does know me. We each know that the other didn’t go into any of this lightly. It may have taken us five months to start sleeping together, but we both knew once we took that step, we were in it. I didn’t expect to be living with him so soon. I had hoped we would date a while, and then eventually he would ask me to move in. I want to be able to relax and not have the death of Melissa hanging over everything.
I really wish I could just say, “OK, I’m done being mad”, and put it away, but this is something I can’t fake because I feel it so deeply in my soul. She wasn’t my lover, but she was my best friend. She was my confidante. She was the keeper of all my secrets. She was my soul-mate and I feel like no one gets that, or how devastating this loss has been. Part of me is missing and she’s never coming back. I just have been trying to swallow that, and though I know it to be true…my heart is broken in a way I have never known.
The anger comes, from feeling like her death has blocked me.
I don’t want to be blocked.
It took most of the day, but I did it. All the boxes I wanted, not just needed, but wanted to unpack, have been unpacked. All of the kitchen stuff I want to get at of mine, has been married in with his stuff. I organized his kitchen cupboards and did what he said a girl needs to do…nested.
He hasn’t seen it yet, but I am pretty sure he realized what he would be coming home to since I was looking through his cupboards containing pots, pans, and baking things and he asked what I was looking for. I just smiled and said, “Something to organize.” He smiled.
I went through my room and rearranged things so I was no longer bumping into stuff, and could find things.
You know what I feel like as I begin to let go and reclaim my life?
It’s OK for me to fly again. It’s OK for me to be excited about feeling secure and doing this thing Mr. Yummy and I are doing. To me, it all feels right. It really shook me when he said, “I know you, you dwell on things and you will use it to hurt yourself. I try to be nice to myself. Then he snickered and said, “Most of the time. And you should be nice to yourself too.”
This morning before he left, I thanked him for being selfish and self-centered and not letting me do anything. He smiled at me and said, “A girl has gotta nest.” So, nesting is what I did. I asked Mel, to please understand my need to get back to the now. I think she would. She would feel pretty shitty if I let her death derail the tracks I was trucking on down.
Till we meet again, my love.
After all these years, I am almost ashamed that I crammed so many of the wonderful essences that make you, you, into a dark corner of my mind and literally tried to forget them. I think it was because it hurt too much to see what I wasn’t ready for, and
walked ran away from.
But I couldn’t have totally forgot, because I knew that I loved you like no other, knew that I never would find what I had with you, with another, and never got over you. I mean NEVER. Not a single day went by that I didn’t think of you. Sometimes I would become wistful, others, hurt, others, angry, but always there was love.
I’ve just come home from you. You are by now on your motorcycle, heading East and I am at home, smelling you and your shower on me in the most delicious way. My heart feels so full, like it’s dripping just for you and me. My eyes are moist and I have this urge to just let it go and escape as the residual effects of you, course through me.
Does any of this make sense? And will I ever tell you of these moments, or let you know of these privately public musings of you? You make my whole body tremble, and I always finish by kissing your third eye. Do you notice this?
Did I have to fall in love with humanity as a whole, in order to able to have this falling in love with you? Even though I never totally fell out of love with you? It could remain unspoken for eternity, and I would still know it. I see how you look at me, and feel how you touch me, in the simplest acts; like bandaging my finger after cracking crab, or how you wash me in the shower. Ever so tender, loving, and attentive.
There is still a small part of me that is scared shitless, because you make me want it all. I don’t mean the dress and the name, but I mean your heart and your soul; forever. Till the day your body, or my body takes the last breath. Even then, I will continue loving you, and I know this. I’m not so much scared that you will never feel the same, it’s more so the absence of the fear of believing that I don’t deserve you or you will find out somehow I am a fraud. I know that I have shown you who I really am. This, feels rather ballsy, for lack of a better word.
I remain so fucking grateful.