It’s what I have come to feel.
She hurled hate at me. She blames, blames, blames, but has no desire to know the truth. She hides, safe in the bubble of familiar.
She watches me. Pretty odd for someone who doesn’t give a shit. I care, but I don’t. I will never set myself up to be punished by her again. Were she to try and contact me, I don’t know how far I would be willing to go. I will never turn away someone I love. Make no mistake, I love her, but I also will never let a dog who bites, bite me again. I am also very , very unlikely to bring her around Mr. Yummy. I keep him safe. We may have been through some shit this last year, but we are finally talking. There is finally some fire burning again, and he is…above my abusive and abusing past.
I feel less and less for her, because that is what SHE wants. I don’t know if I would ever turn it around or could trust again.
This is not what I ever wanted, but I am OK with it, because I have to be OK with it. Unlike her (you, because I know your eyes or someone else is checking in) I don’t stalk. I am strong enough to face anything. Surviving the losses I have survived the last five years, has taught me this.
So the hate she invests in me, is not hurting me. I don’t feel it, seething and eating away and robbing her soul of peace. It doesn’t hurt me, not like it hurts her. It has actually started to fade, because I have no choice.
I took a new step yesterday. It’s one I have been thinking of doing for a few years, to ratchet up that Spiritual journey.
Sometimes baby steps are actually micro steps.
Yesterday was one year since you let out your final breath as you arrived at the end of your journey.
What have I learned since then?
I realize that in a way, I’ve sort of grown up a bit. All those fears and issues I would have with life, you know the ones that we would always come back to in conversation, have had to be dealt with on my own. I didn’t have the safety net of you; the one person I could say anything to.
At first it was chest grabbing and crushing. I’d feel the panic start and that buzzing cycle that runs through an ever thinking brain, full of “what-ifs”. I have sort of learned over the last year that when I can’t reach out to you, I won’t explode. My world won’t explode but, I’ve had to resolve MY issues, on my own. That, or suffer the consequences of the cycle of obsessive thinking.
Over time, I’m learning to actually walk the rope of life on my own. Some days it is hard, other days, “I got this, girl.” Always though, I miss you and am grateful for you. Regardless of every thing you did and didn’t do to yourself, my hurt, anger, sadness…you have taught and continue to teach me much. I know I’ll never have a fill in for you, but I will always be a better friend, because of us.
I don’t feel guilty anymore for how I feel about your kids. They are mine now. We will always have a bond because of you and I will always be a tie to you, with them. I’m pretty sure you would be OK with that. Living, and watching your children grow and live, will honor you.. I will never be you to them, but I am Auntie and I will there when they need a mom figure to turn to.
The plus one day…
I woke up this morning, went out back to smoke in the frosty darkness. I thought:
So I, am 1 today. One year ago today I woke up to live without you holding my hand. I’ve been doing it one my own for a year and a day now. I’m pretty sure I am going to make it. It does feel like it will be ever so much longer without you here. I miss your laugh and you quick witted, cutting humor. I miss your love, though I know it is still there following me, as mine still does you. It’s the loss of physical you. It’s made me feel so selfish because all of this grief has been about me. My sadness. My loss. My feelings. Me, me me.
I still cry, just not as often. I just went to get a tissue to wipe my eyes and saw your ashes in the slender vile. I had taken them out the other night because I was debating them taking you with me on the one year day; to have you close to me. Instead I left you here. When I saw the vile I began to really cry. Holding the vile close to try and hug what I have left of what physically held your beautiful soul and then tucking you back in my safety place.
I also realize that everyday, the randomness of death touches someone. If you are lost, wandering, not knowing how to deal with your grief and reading this… I am so sorry for your loss. There is nothing I can say to you to make anything make sense, or stop hurting, but I do understand grief, and I am sorry you are here. My only words I can even attempt to share, the words I hang onto in the darkest moments are that Love…never dies. Physically, it changes how you live it, but it never dies, because it’s pure energy. I know that Melissa’s energy went back to beginning so it didn’t just die. It absorbed back into where it originated from. I originated from this place, and so did you. I just haven’t always recognized the moments that it still touches me, but a few times I have. Those little moments keep me going.
So, one year, plus one day. I still love you.
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.
I want to choose the word carefully, because there is a big difference between them.
I just realized today is the 18th. That means it is my 3rd trip around the sun, since I went crazy. Anyway…
I don’t necessarily feel empty, but I do feel drained. This situation has been going on since I moved in with my sister and the way it played out wasn’t pleasant. I just need it to be over, need to have a little distance, and need to get a good breather in so she and I can talk again.
I can’t say that the guy who hacked her, wouldn’t have done it, even if she didn’t draw things out, or even if she had been more honest with him. We will never know this, but I do know, it wasn’t long after I moved in, that I started getting weird vibes from him.
I don’t know her new guy, the fiance. He lives East of the mountains here. I understand when the bitter ex went whack-o on her, that it scared her. I wish she wouldn’t have so easily run off, leaving me know nothing really for so many months. I’m sad about stuff, and believe she and I will work it out, but I am just drained and really trying to come to terms with being here at Mr. Yummy’s house. I’m breathing though.
I have so many things to do still before Sunday, yet I awoke with an icepick jamming into my left eye. I took my very last migraine pill which I have been hoarding forever and stayed at Mr. Yummy’s. I saved this pill specifically to use on my last migraine ever. Guess this was it. I don’t have body aches, so I am pretty sure it is not the flu, but I have been feeling run down lately. I just keep hoping once I make the move final and have everything out, I can take the days that I will not be working due to the holidays and rest. I will worry about what to unpack and where to cram things later.
Maybe I will even stop worrying that one day Mr. Yummy will look at me and ask, “Jeebus, what have I done?”
In a way I am scared shitless because I got exactly what I asked for. I DID ask the Universe to bring him back to my life. I love him in a way I have never loved anyone and I feel this need to protect him, from me. Does that make sense?
Here I have moved in, but I don’t know what we are doing. I asked him if I had a time line I had to be out by, he didn’t answer. I don’t want to unpack every single box I have, set up like a happy little couple and pretend we are going for it if I have to pack up and leave here, and him. I don’t want to offend him and take his offer of help, as something he might not be looking for. Do you see how the neurotic takes over and starts to “what if” me?
I know my favorite time of the day is bed time, when I get to spoon up next to him and breathe him in as I fall asleep. My least favorite time of day is 4AM, when I get up and have to crawl out of his bed and start my day, and yet I love my job, where I go, what I do.
In time, I will have to meet the fiance, but I won’t be talking about the things that have rocked my world the last seven months. These things are my sister’s choice and well…I don’t need my words on a blog being used against me again by anyone in my family…so I just hope that time and distance from all the drama will help this feeling go away.
I am grateful I reacted to my life’s traumas three years ago, by going crazy. I am hopeful that everything I went through so intensely during that spiritual awakening, is helping me make the right choices as I navigate, instead of impulsively reacting to things. I know I have handled everything this last year in a way I have never been able to do, and mostly, it was without great effort. I DO NOT want to go back to that person again. I will not step back into being that person who allowed fear to control my life.
So, here I go. Lets see how long it takes me to do this other I want to do.
I used to say I am a liberal, then progressive, and now I just strive for aware.
I used to say I am Chicana and Indian, then Mexican and NDN or Native, and now I just say I am an indigenous human being.
I used to say I was a kid, then youthful, then a grown up, and now I just think of myself as a student.
I used to say I was a daughter, sister, mother, now I just think of myself as spirit, housed in a female body.
I used to vibrate at an angry, fearful and, hateful level. It was so painful. It kept me isolated from who I am and what I am meant to do and be. Now I live in love. It too can be painful at times, but I am no longer isolated and I am living with an intent I never knew I could possess.
I used to say, think and, believe, “I can’t”. Now I believe I can, so I do.
There is a line in a song, it reads like this:
Love, was never meant for me. True love, was never meant for me. Seems somehow, we never can agree.
I honestly felt that, the first 47 years of my life. (Bonus points, if you know the artist, song, and album)
I have been crazy, abnormal, fucked up, abandoned, hateful, abused, abusive, lost in what seemed like never-ending hurt. I have been medicated, desperate enough to feel good, that I checked into a psych ward. I have been hopeless, defeated, and accepting of it all.
The only thing I ever worry about is that I actually might be just crazy. It still amazes me that I went from such hate, to such love. I wonder if I am just tricking myself into a state of…placebo. Make sense?
When it comes down to it, I don’t really care, because I am living the kind of life I always told myself I was not capable of doing. If this is crazy, then I am OK with it.
I DO believe the shit I spew to you. I AM love and life is meant to be good.
Do I have everything I want? No
Do I think I ever will? It depends on how limitless I can let myself be, or if I will hang onto the few roadblocks I am aware of.
Does the fact people I love won’t accept me, stop me from loving them? No, it probably makes me love them more unconditionally. Is it hard to love a person who could care less if I took another breath? Sometimes, because it hurts to love without the return, but then at other times, it feels good to love someone in spite of that. There is still a joy at loving someone, because I love them.
Am I crazy? Yeah, probably, but there is such sanity in it for me.
I can sit here, pause, look out my window to see the trees, the birds in them, the sky, which leads beyond to the Universe. I know I am a part of every single part of it, both good and bad, and I can feel love and be love.
You know what?
OK with that.