Tag Archives: moving on

Just Stop It Already — Please?

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“ is really missing being loved.”

The above has been my Facebook status since Saturday. Since Saturday. My status’ rarely have more than a 48 hour life span, so that alone was saying something to my state of mind. And I’ve been feeling this way for over a week now. I love my friends online and offline, and all their comments reminding me of how much I am loved by them, just make me want to cry even more in the frustration of it. As several noted in their Facebook comments, “it’s not the same” and that is the heartache.

I can’t even say it’s something as simple, but not quite so simple, as I’m missing my late-husband. That is something I can understand, compartmentalize, process and move on with quickly enough now. While he is a part of it, old boyfriends, whom I have not thought hide nor hair of in veritable ages, have also come to mind. It’s not that I’m not lonely, as the FB comments, emails and phone calls that came after that post attested to. Goodness knows my social calendar, even as pulled back as it is due to this economy, is still active. When in the hell did I have time for this annoyance to slip in? And it is an annoyance. It has beleaguered my soul to the point I wrote the following open letter on one of the boards I frequent:

Dear Heart,

More tears again? Seriously? SERIOUSLY?

Please, please, oh God PLEASE, stop hurting for what you simply cannot have right now. The One is out there, somewhere, we both know this logically. We just have to be patient, very fucking patient. I’ve been putting on the happy façade hoping this nonsense of yours will quickly blow past, but it’s been over a week! And this misery you’re putting me through over literally absolutely nothing right now feels like it’s getting worse and that is just bullshit!! Bullshit!!

I DEMAND you to cut it the fuck out right now so I can stop wanting to cry at the drop of a motherfucking hat and continue on with my life as normal. Well, as normal as my crazy ass life gets anyway.

Signed,
The Tears That Do Not Want To Fall On My Pillow (Again)

Yes, it has been that bad. Writing the open letter made me realize, I’m not missing a person. I’m missing a feeling. A specific feeling and that has been the bitch of trying to fight it. As I said, it has been over a week now and it feels like this lingering melancholy is worsening, not getting better. So, I do what I always do when something plagues me incessantly, I write. I’m hoping that by completely acknowledging this, I can help to get it out of my system sooner.

So, I’ve written it and acknowledged it, now please, please for goodness sakes please BE GONE!

Caught Between

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Woman crouching back against wal

I was with friends clubbing, at the bar sipping wine
Wearing the hell out of my Prada, I knew I was looking fine
You walked in, looking as good as you know what
Your hair so sharp, your barber must have been cut
My anchor slipped as we talked jobs as steps to empires
Like the smoky haze, our interest rose along with our desire

Yes, sometimes a woman can let sex lead her by the nose
Caught between the best of nothing and anything goes

We were together for weeks, just living the life
And then by accident, I found out about your wife
I can’t even lie and say I kept my cool that day
Once again the anchor, slipped and I began to sway
I careened into a wall so hard, the pictures on it shook
But even as I was regained breath, I knew I was hooked

And I had no one but myself to blame for all my sudden woes
Caught between the best of nothing and anything goes

With your secret fully out, your love slowed to a dribble
You promised me a feast of your love, I barely got a nibble
Each time I said no, your so sweet whispers break through
And wanting so much to be in love, I know that I let you
One day I saw you both together and I just wanted to cry
Not for you, but for me and the time I wasted in the lie

How did it come this? What was this is crazy life I chose?
Caught between the best of nothing and anything goes

As I stood at the latest hotel door, cardkey in midair
Knowing that I have no business to be standing there
I finally find the nerve to back away, but then
The door’s open and you’re standing there, calling me in
My heart is screaming “No, baby! No baby! No!”
But my body’s screaming “Go, baby! Go baby! Go!”

Before I know it, there we were again and again curling toes
Caught between the best of nothing and anything goes

It was a summer night we met and love began to soar
It was near summer again when I finally said no more
It took so long not to be sad, for the lack of a phone’s ring
I made a promise to myself, my love is for all or nothing
Another summer blazes, and once again I’m on my own
But if my only choice is to share, well, I’d rather be alone

When will my empty heart fill again? Only heaven knows
Caught between the best of nothing and anything goes

>==========<

Entered in
dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight – Week 36

I Am Ready

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Next month, May, will be the fourth anniversary of my being totally on my own. In the craziness of these past few years of changes in my life, I was so involved in just getting through each moment; I was totally blind-sided by something I had never really felt before… Loneliness.

I didn’t truly realize what it was until I found myself being very envious of a friend who was in the process of buying a home with his partner. I found myself thinking at he’ll have someone with him. That is when it hit me; it was one of the many little things I miss. The lightening speed, rapier sharp jibes and verbal sparring that were a staple of my home where it seemed even the dog had a smart remark (rebark?) at well opportune times. That knowing someone else was home.

Until then I have never been on my own. I did not have the college living on own or even dormitory experience. I went from living with my parents to living with my husband and children. Even if I was in the apartment/house by myself for a time, there is still that sense of knowing someone will be coming home soon enough. There was an odd sense of security in that which staved off true loneliness until now.

It took a while to reconcile the feeling of loneliness with the simple act being alone. I have friends old and new and   have been more active physically and in my spirit than I have been since my teens.  It helps keep me sane.  Still, the most fun day ever with friends cannot replace knowing there is a special someone.  And I do mean special, not a one-night stand, not a friend (or friends) with benefits.  A Special Someone just for me. Hell, even biblically, it seems we as humans have been indoctrinated to want to be with, to share with someone; after all it is not good for man to be alone and while being alone was not solely defined as having a partner, I can’t seem to help stop thinking in that direction of late.

Maybe it’s because it is spring and thoughts… well – you know…

Or maybe, just maybe,  I am ready for love (queue India.Arie)…

Life Goes On…

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Some friends tell me I should post a blog;  I don’t know why.  My partial narcissist conflicts with my partial self-critic on this. I suppose I could have and probably should have chosen something more lighthearted for my first post.  I think you’ll understand why my head is where it is once you read it.  I just felt if I didn’t do this now it could be months before I would and sometimes you just have to dive in and see where the tide takes you…

I thank you for taking the leap of faith and riding with me.

======================================================================

March 1, 2006 -Day 1

“I’m sorry Mrs. …”

I really don’t remember the exact words in which it was broken to me; however, I do remember the doctor’s tone of voice. I remembered I just looked at him waiting for the rest of it, the punch line – something – anything. The manner in which I found out I just became a widow was delivered with about as much compassion as a market clerk informing me they were out of my favorite brand of canned goods.

But the doctor’s delivery of the words was the least of my problems as I suddenly understood why everyone who has ever been informed, hit, hell bitch-slapped with such news is usually asked to sit first. I wasn’t so lucky. “Can’t stand it” takes on a whole new dimension of meaning when you literally cannot stand. I felt the last breath of him being a living part of my life escape me as my back slid down a wall. And I remember hands – hands touching me, hands holding me, hands caressing me; hands unfamiliar and all too sanitary and just wrong. I just wanted them away from me and to see him, recall what was quickly becoming days of old, and feel what remaining warmth he had a little longer before all that I once knew was gone.

My first gallows humor: Bill loved his car and once told my older son he’d be allowed to drive it over his dead body. As this same son pulled off to drive us home from the hospital I found a need to remind him of the veracity of that statement. It was met with a grimace (a grim-look upon one’s f-ace, interesting how even that word also takes on new layers of meaning).

I mentioned somewhere else  how, through my now late-husband, I have learned how to shelve the things I can’t resolve at the given moment and concentrate on the things I can. Somewhere in the eternity between falling and rising (how apropos) I know this is where I started going on auto-pilot. The efficient, organized, take-charge aspect of my personality – took charge, even as my emotional aspect crumbled.

I had about an hour at home to absorb my new reality when the first of the telephone calls began. “I’m so sorry…” How many times can a person hear that in an hour? In two hours? More? Even now, it raises my hackles slightly to hear that from people who say it as automatically as the instinct to bless someone when they sneeze; and it’s almost always equally as heartfelt.

Once my best friend was by my side I simply let go and did the only thing I could do – go numb There are about two whole weeks of my life that are smoky vignettes of emotional moments. Some have since solidified more into concrete memory. I know others will remain forever from my grasp. With the patient guidance of those who have visited the grieving place before me, I understand that now. No, I still don’t really understand it – I just accept it for what it is.

March 1, 2007 Day 1 (of the rest of my life)

I’m now able to read through most my journal without wanting to cry. Although, oddly enough, I find I now have a little trouble reading When Winter Cradles Spring straight through; especially now with the crazy weather we’re having when changing seasons make no sense. I wrote that maybe a year before my husband’s passing, but I find I’m pretty much living those words each day right now. When all else fails the last stanza of a another poem I wrote  Each Day Anew becomes my mantra…

I know I have the strength to cope

I go as heart and soul say to

I sow my seeds of faith and hope

I grow and start each day anew

March 1, 2010 (life goes on…)

I still read Each Day Anew now and again to jump-start a bad day into something better.  My bad days are almost never about him any more.   In fact, except for an odd stretch of days last May when I could not excise thoughts of my late-husband from my mind and it started to freak me out, I’ve been pretty okay in that regard. I halfheartedly started dating a little over a year ago.  I’ll decide how much I want to delve into the details of that in a later posting.   I’ve had a certain India.Arie song stuck in my heart for a couple of months now. If you know her music you can easily figure out which song.  Let’s just say, I’ll be taking dating just a little more seriously and see how it goes…