Married, alone, and frustrated (again).

Things happened.  Weird things.  And I decided to try monogamy and to work on my marriage one last time.  And, it’s been mostly okay… except for the times that it’s royally sucked ass chunks.

I’d gotten into the habit of emotionally leaning on my lovers.  They were my outlet.  I could do anything with as few or as many words as I wanted.  I could completely unload and vent without judgement.  Or, I could avoid everything that was going on in my life and just indulge in them and their presence in my life.  They were my therapy.  And, they worked pretty well.  Until they didn’t, but that’s a different post for a different day.

Now, I only have him.  He’s emotionally invested and completely impartial.  I can’t vent to him about him.  It would piss me off if he added his two-cents and it would piss me off if he had no response at all.  So, I just can’t vent to him.  And, our sexual history with each other is tainted.  So, even though he’s attractive, I just do not want to have anything physical to do with him.  It’s so risky that it’s a downright turn-off.

So, I’m stuck with these negative emotions from an all-too-familiar, unnecessarily long argument and all I want to do is message one of my lovers and vent.  And, to be honest, I want to be fucked, too.  I’m on my period, so it wouldn’t happen.  But, I just want to let go and escape.  I’d even had the thought that I want to leave the country for a few days.  *sigh*

Maybe I should throw myself into something productive.  Maybe I should throw myself into a work project.  But, I really, really want to call up one of my ex-guys, talk his ear off (or not), and give my body over to him…. just escape.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He asked me why I’m still upset about the argument and I wanted to ask him if I’d fucked someone, would he be over it 2 days later.  Heaven help me if this happens one more time so close to this surge of loneliness/helplessness/longing/stuckness, we just might get a real-world answer to that question.

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Music, so heavy on my heart

As my marriage dissolves… or rather, transforms from an almost tangible thing to fleeting memories and shadows cast across my heart… interactions that are strained and intimate… sharing almost-kisses… flinching from the pain of experience and knowings… Thank you, Sam Smith.

And, for good measure:

From this, I know that I’ll never recover.

Depressive episodes & my “-ism” of choice.

So, the thing about depressive episodes is that they don’t give a flying fuck about your theology or your inspirational quotes or your positive thinking.  Sometimes, they just have their way.  You have to grab the fuck out of them and hold on tight until something else, anything else, comes within reach.  Then, you grab at that something else with both hands, knowing that anything is better than staying on that ride.  If you miss and you fall, then you just fall and it’s over.  If you get a grip on that other something, then you can reevaluate your circumstances from a new perspective.

I’m blessed in that I know that something always comes around and I’ve mastered the art of getting a good grip on it.  I know that I won’t fall & that simple knowledge keeps me from doing just that.  So, I surrender.  I’ll retreat into myself & feel those awful feelings.  Eventually, the cry that is burning my soul, lamenting its prison, growing, and demanding to be ripped from me will have its way.  And, something will come along for me to grab ahold of.  It’ll be the slightest incline, but enough to make a huge impact on my psyche.  And, I’ll be okay.  The cycle, and it is a cycle, will reset and, hopefully, the episodes will be fewer and farther between each other.

This, believe it or not, is what is considered to be “optimism.”  I firmly assert that I’m a realist.  Shit has the propensity to get very “real” and extremely ugly before it upturns.  But, apparently, the mere fact that I believe in an upturn makes me an optimist.  To that, I propose that the fact that I understand that things are, rather, cyclical, makes me a realist.  I can choose any perspective from which to begin or end & I choose to “end” on a happy note.  But, that’s only for the cycle to begin, again.  It’s not a true ending.  It never ends.  Things will be shitty, again.  And, then better.  So on and so forth.  See?  Not an optimist.  I’ll grudgingly accept pessimist (for the “gothy,” dark cool-points).  But, really, I’m a realist.

 

 

Because labels are very, very important.  😛

A parting gift from my brother to me.

As most of us human beings do, my brother was dealing with hardships.  However, on his last night, he was online and being bullied.  Although, I’m not sure whether or not the bullying contributed to his death or influenced it in any way, I’m positive that it did not help.  Now, the sociology of online behavior interests me a great deal more than it ever did before.  Since his death, it has taken me years to be as comfortable as I am communicating with anyone online, especially strangers.  I’ve made progress since his death, but I am always guarded.

Lately, however, I’m going through substantial hardships of my own.  My emotions are being tested, in my mind, to their extremes.  I find myself almost inexplicably drawn to the comfort of strangers and people that I only know in cyberspace.  With my e-friends, it doesn’t feel as though I’m burdening them with my problems.  And, I feel more able to escape the stressors of my reality.  Although I wish that my brother hadn’t turned to his e-community in his time of need, I get the draw.

To be honest, I always got the draw.  I was mildly cautious but fairly active in online socializing years before my brother passed away.  My skepticism was a result of the emotional trauma that I incurred when he passed. I may never embrace online socializing with the almost reckless abandon that I did when I was in my early 20s, but maybe that’s not a terrible thing.

The thing is, I need a hug.  And, I need one from someone who isn’t attuned to the personal stench of my pain.  I need a hug from someone that can sympathize or, better yet, just blankly and emotionlessly embrace me while I exhale.  Empathy just makes me feel guilty.  I get that that may have been where my brother was when he detailed his suicide-cocktail to his online community.  While I’m not suicidal and can’t see myself going down that path ever again, I will admit that I have surprisingly few things keeping me tethered to this plane of existence.  They’re powerful, but few.

Anyway, this new set of hardships inspires me to beg the question, “Why?”  I kind of hate that question.  I ask it, a lot; but, I hate it.  The timing sucks.  The situation sucks.  I mean, there’s never a great time to go through a break-up/separation/divorce, right?  So, I suppose that’s the wrong train of thought– just a distraction.  Back to, “Why?”  Maybe, it’s to build empathy.  I’m not usually a fan of it being directed towards me, but maybe I’ll need to have it for someone else in the future.  Or, maybe I’m just supposed to survive.  Maybe I’m supposed to be an example for someone of how to live through the situation.  Hell, maybe I’ll thrive through it (eventually).  Maybe, this dissolution won’t happen and I’ll be my own example of how to work through impossible shit.  Maybe, I continue to choose wrong angles with which to look at this situation.  Who knows?  “Why?” & I are working partners, but far from friends.

I do know this, the hardships that I’ve already lived through… things that made me think that my young heart would spontaneously combust at any moment… things that, for no logical reason, made me believe that I wouldn’t live past the critical age of 25… they’ve prepared me to at least bear through my present situation.  It’s still not an easy situation and I feel every teardrop as if its a razor, slowly and concurrently making mirroring slices down my heart and soul.  But, I’ll live through this.  And, as macabre as it is, I can attribute some of this fortitude to my brother’s infinitely more painful and horrifyingly untimely death.

Mourning, just about every Sabbath

Today is one of those days.  It’s heavier than most.  Filled with loss and longing, with thanksgiving sprinkled in for good measure.  I tried to fight it.  I was listening to music and distracting myself with a geometry game, but then 3 songs in a row came on… I skipped the first one, skipped the second, saw the third and said, “You’ve got to be kidding me?!”  So, I did what was clearly being asked of me (probably by the spirits)… I rewound back to the first one and let all three play through.  Then, I took it a step further and created a playlist.  The playlist was overdue.  But, heaven knows that I didn’t expect to cry today.  After all, I had a massive crying fit just 5 days ago.  It’s the same bullshit stuff over and over again, too.  I’m mourning people and mourning the past.  Since it can’t be changed, I’m not sure that I want to have to “feel” it.  But, such is life.

I thought that I was ready

I thought that I was ready to make my first real blog post.  But, I’m not.  In my defense, it wasn’t gonna be some sloppy, “here I am and here’s my first post!”  It aimed to be something more like this.

However, the content of that post will take some time.  And, I’ll need to change my profile picture if I really bare all.  I’m ready to come out to the nice, big, vague concept of “the world.”  But, I’m not quite ready for my family, friends, and church members to see this whole, naked me.  That post is coming, though. “Things I’m Afraid to Tell You” just has to happen.  It’s what inspired me to finally put something, anything, up on here.

Instead, for now, this is my dreadful “here I am and here’s my first post!” post.