I Loved Him

Maybe it is the holiday's. Maybe the darkness of the season. Maybe it is seeing the depth of my Grandparents love since my Grandfather had a stroke. Yeah, that's probably it. Whatever the reason, I have been thinking about how much I loved Andrew, and just how hurt I am upon reflecting that I do not think that love was returned, at least not in the same way.

I remember one of the last interactions I had with him was finding a spiral notebook and flipping for a clear sheet of paper, I came across what appeared to be a list of some sort. After reading it, it was the most heart-wrenching list I had ever read in my life. He had made a list of things he wanted in a woman - these are the things I remember: someone younger, thinner, into more activities, more fun... Those are just what I remember, the list was much longer.

As you can imagine, then, as well as now, I just cried. The kind of tears that come from a dark and broken place.  He didn't love me. How long ago was it that he fell out of love with me? Why didn't he talk to me about what he wanted? Instead, alone, I found his list of wants. I am not getting any younger, I am certainly not thin, I didn't understand what he meant about activities, since I always asked him to do things and he was never interested in doing them - did he offer ideas? no. I guess I am no fun either. Reading these things felt like a punch in the tummy, the face. I felt beat up.

You are probably wondering if I confronted him. I did. I tearfully handed him the list, and simply walked away. He said he was so sorry that I had read it, and that he never intended for me to find it.

I did find it. Even though it was a year and a half ago, the wound is still fresh. It still oozes. It has infected my sense of self and overall worth as a woman, as a partner.

The Wheel

What does one do when they feel they are simply running, around and around, in the circular wheel? I was able to identify the feeling, trapped. I feel caged and the realization, that this is all, that this is it, brought an overwhelming fear, of dread - of simply wanting to die and have it be over with... For continuing on in this anguish, is no life.
While driving, I let go of the wheel, while sobbing uncontrollably. I wanted to car to crash, to feel a burst of energy, to feel my body crushed, to die.
And probably, like so many others, I reached again for the wheel, now crying so hard, that my body shakes, and I can no longer breathe. I think of my Mom, my sisters, my nephew. Those thoughts are just as overpoweringly sad.
I am afraid of life and death, and therefore stuck, in some sort of torturous purgatory-like state.

Tortured

I hate living like this. When the fear of abandonment comes haunting my thoughts, all my brain does is assure me of my imminent death. My heart pounds, my stomach cramps, my limbs shake, I cry. While in this state, I can't eat, I can't sleep. I feel like I am trapped and there is no way out.

This fear is deep and pronounced, almost primal. I try and breathe, but it is as if my breath does nothing, like my lungs are steel, and no air is moving in or out. My body goes into a survival mode - shut down time. I am jittery and nervous. I can feel my whole body; the blood moves in my veins, the electricity in my brain fires. My muscles shaking. I am alert and aware of all sounds and movements. I cannot rest.

Eventually, I pray that exhaustion will take over, because feeling like this is unbearable.  It is at these moments I find myself fantasizing about death, anything to make these feelings STOP! But my fear of death stops me from really carrying out any plan. I wonder if there will be a day that the desire for the feelings to stop will finally overtake my fear of death - this thought makes me scared and sad.

I am trapped in this ball of anxiety, fear, dread. Trapped & tortured.

What is Love?

How can love hurt and feel so amazing all at the same time? How does this dichotomy exist? How can something that we have been gifted with hurt so badly? How can it cause me to feel so alive? These questions rattling around in my head.

I got married, very young. It was not a mistake. No, I would not have done it differently. I know I would not be who I am today without Andrew. He loved and supported me as I became an adult. We loved and supported each other. We were children when we got married, we were adults when we got divorced.

Children love like children, this is a truth that doesn't completely make sense to me yet. However, I now see love as far more complex than I did at 20, and I expect I will feel differently again as I get older. But, at 31, things have changed. As a child, I saw love as simple, easy, and a right that was mine to take. As an adult, love is hard, it takes work, and it is my responsibility to give as much as I receive, and maybe sometimes, give more. Sure, there are times when it all comes easy, and Lord knows, I relish those moments, but they are fleeting.

My relationship now is not easy in the least. We have been through more trials and tribulations that I care to count, and sadly, I know there will be more to come. Why do I continue in such madness? Is is as simple as I love him? Am I crazy? Stupid? All of the above? Probably. Somehow, I don't seem to have power over this thing called love. And I am OK with that. Does it cause me grief? Hell yes. Does it bring me joy? Also, Hell yes! What can any of us do when we are hopelessly in love?

I suppose I will continue to simply let Life unfold in front of me. The dreams that float around in my head are at least worth trying. This is how I honor Divine Intervention, I try and be open to the possibility of life. The area of Love is something I keep learning about, new lessons, new ideas, new paths. I suppose all we can do is just have faith.

My heart hurts tonight.
Tears come and go without warning.
Surrounded by love and freedom, something liberating and terrifying.
Sitting with the uncertainty is so hard.
I keep trying to distract myself, but it keeps bringing me back.
Be. Here. Now.
Trying.

The Cliff

I have been in Hawaii for a week. This thought came to me, far more slowly than I would have anticipated.  The question, what will happen next keeps looming on my mind...

I have met several women here who I have been questioning (probably annoyingly so) about their experiences with traveling. With this acknowledgment of being annoying, does not, in any way, mean I am going to stop asking questions of these divine women.

The one statement that I have been left pondering is, "you aren't going to die if you don't have a job". This struck me as a very strong statement. My gut reaction was, "well, sure, I won't die, but it is SO irresponsible... right? right?".  The next thing she said to me was "stop living to work, and start working to live".

This level of higher thinking is something that I know I posses deep in my personhood, but to make it an actual reality is somewhat terrifying.  How do I transition to such a "faithful" way of living?

I am looking, cautiously, over the cliff at all the possibilities...

First Night in the Jungle

I am not sure I am going to make it here. Sure, in the light of day, everything is beautiful, breathtaking, and generally heaven-like, night-time though? That's a whole different game of survival of the fucking fittest!

Since I haven't totally adjusted to the time change, 8pm felt really late. I tried staying awake as long as possible. Admittedly, I was trying to be brave, but as the night hours grew deeper, my courage ran thin. Also, dear reader, keep in mind that the sun is set and it is dark by 8pm. Around 9pm, flashlight in hand, I made the journey toward my tent, passing along the way, the "caution wild pigs" sign, which did nothing for my nerves.

I cozy down, and even turned all the lights off, just to see how dark it was. That lasted all of 2 seconds. It was darker than the darkest anything ever. Lights back on. Ok, little wind-up lantern will eventually go out, all is good. Starting to close my eyes, and my freakin spidey sense, ever so gently whispered, "look over there". By the way, I could really use less of a spidey sense. I noticed a shadow inside my tent, "what the hell could that be?" my sleepy mind thought. So I grabbed my flashlight, turned it on and lo and behold, the BIGGEST FUCKING BEETLE OF ALL TIME a near 2 inches from my face. Needless to say, there was much swearing, and frantic planning on how this creature was going to meet its maker. I grabbed a book, the soft cover one (idiot self). Now the monster had crawled onto the side of the bookshelf, a place where it knew I wasn't going to be able to get it. Shit. "bug spray!" I said out loud, as if to proclaim to the bug you better get the FUCK OUTTA here! And with lightening speed, I grabbed my can of (illegal here at hedonisia), my deet filled spray. And just as you likely thought, the monster was now gone. Fuck. This. Shit.

Now what? It was me, and the BFBOAT, alone, in my zipped up tent. There was nothing I could do. Of course, it took about an hour to come to this realization. So, go back to bed? That would be what I tried to do, "tried" being the operative word.

Coqui frogs. They are loudest mutha fuckas I have ever heard. It baffles me that something so small could be so deafening! I suppose there is a metaphor to be made here, but that is another blog, today I will be focusing on my hatred of them. Think about a nature show, on FULL FUCKING BLAST, times TEN! The peircing sound stabbed my ears, for hours! I tried listening to music, on full blast, but it was not loud enough to drown out these fuckers. Keep in mind, I am normally a nature loving person, you know, live and let live, but I want these frogs dead. Dead!

Now the pig issue. I started hearing snorting and rustling, which assured me that they were smelling me out in order to eat me. And since I have not actually seen them, I have no real sense of their size. But at this point, I am sure they are the size of cars. I was told to make noise to scare them off, so I rattled my tent. And I heard them scatter off, but now they know I am here. Shit. This happened 4 times. Four. Fucking. Times.

And while the beetle was hunting me, frogs were stabbing me in the ears, pigs were snorting me out... I am under an avocado tree. I heard the loudest CRASH on the little make-shift roof. For a moment I thought the sky was falling. My eyes burst open, and a flash of light, for what I assume, was the fear hormones rushing through my body. These falling avocados happened 3 times.

Of course, there was also an epic rainstorm. The loudest rain I have ever heard, and I am from Portland. The rain also scared me. I mean, at this point, I felt like Mother Nature was being a real bitch, and I was fucking scared of her.

All in all, I am not sure how I am going to do another night. I am going to try earplugs, buy a knife to kill pigs, and maybe pray a little harder for Mother Nature to have mercy on this very tired soul.