Finding myself falling in love...that combined gentle descent and rapid rise that just starts to happen...starts unfolding under it's own weight, without effort, and with a total disregard for any barricades one might have deliberately placed between experience and feeling...felt like bliss unleashed..
and then to be abruptly faced with a seemingly cruel fork in the road...
Not only can't I be faithful to you, but i have no intention of even trying...but I promise I'll love you, and it wouldn't change a thing between us...
This...
...is not something I would have ever knowingly stepped into...and given these options...I had no choice but in leaving the relationship with folds and tears, right where it stood...nothing beyond a simple equation...no right or wrong...it was honesty and truth, which sometimes you just have to let BE. And it was appreciated, very much. I had the chance to make an informed choice, and it's not what I want for my life, and my love, and my partnership.
Yesterday, I was angry with you. Trying to clean the house, again, and literally having a blond hair hurl itself at me from a ceiling fan. What did you do? PLANT it there? Haha...
You KNOW why I'm angry...and I told you that if you answered my anger with a cosmic platitude, I might "transcend" my tattered grace altogether and want to stab you with gardening shears-and then poke my own eyeballs out with a BBQ fork...
To which you responded chirpily (and, I'm sure, in your softest and most spiritually profound voice EVER), "...everything you are feeling is just perfect."
I think things to death sometimes, considering every angle to the point I'm CREATING angles where none exist...and you maneuver through days letting feelings guide you...both styles valid, both styles flawed...
But, thank goodness I didn't let FEELING guide me yesterday. I would have attacked an innocent little ceramic squirrel with a claw hammer, and tossed his little, broken pieces into the dumpster.
Feelings pass as frequently and as quickly as the next mood. That's why I DON'T TRUST THEM, or words in general. People aren't LYING when they say things like, "I won't hurt you..." or, "I promise (fill in the blank)." They mean them when they say them.
But, feelings are subject to erratic and intense changes...and therefore, so are the words that are inspired by them. That's why love is a DECISION as much as it is an EMOTION. Without the decision to carry through those "I don't feel like trying" moments, well, no one would be together past their first storm.
Anyway, sure enough...the intensity subsided in my own feelings, and chiclet squirrel will live to see the inside of a dusty box in a garage...hopefully destined to see the light of day again sometime, when he will be pulled out to greet a smile as he resurrects a faded memory...
Of course, you were right...which just pisses me off even more. Perfectly.
You know, I had mercilessly beaten love into full retreat...reactively, defensively...after losing the person who is, to date, the love of my life. Scared to dream, scared to feel, scared to hope again. That's not being alive.
So, as much as it smarts...you have reminded me that the risk is worth it. If I remove myself from the game, from the experience of living, then I'm not truly alive. I KNEW this, and yet I didn't know HOW to undo what I had done...HOW to reconnect. I WANTED TO.
It would have taken someone bypassing my excuses, brazenly ignoring my self defeating "no's," and bulldozing right through my roadblocks. Who does that? I mean, besides a stalker...what SANE person would DO THAT?
Well...YOU did. And now, I'm hurt again...but, something is different. I CHOSE this after you offered me something I could not accept...but the same reason I am angry with you is the same reason I need to genuinely and lovingly thank you. I'm awake, alive, and welcoming again. Even music has returned.
Yes...everything I'm feeling is perfect...damn you.
Before anyone comes unglued at my making the private public...sorry...it's the way it IS, and always will be..as Melissa Etheridge scratches, and crawls, and stands outside windows in the pouring rain with her last cigarette...and publishes BOOKS detailing the landscape of her pain and heartbreaks in high definition, splendid, gory detail...it's what poets, and songwriters, and painters, and sculpters, and all manner of artsy fartsy/philosophical types doooo...we bleed our Borderline Disorders all over the place...both to make peace with our own struggles before we drown...but also, because we have found that sometimes we can give voice and comforting solidarity to those facing the same human experience we all do...
By doing THIS, tomorrow I can write about vibrators and squirrels again.
