Dropped some truth bombs tonight.
I don’t know if it was Because I’m at the end of my tether, emotionally, or because I’ve been taking more of my antianxiety meds…or just because I’ve had more bullshit to deal with lately than I can successfully shovel…
But, I let the cleansing begin.
First, I talked to my Mom.
We discussed a lot of things on the phone tonight, about what’s been going on in my life, what my parents have been dealing with (they’ve been helping a friend deal with the loss of her husband, and it hasn’t been easy), and about OnlySon’s graduation.
While on that subject, I told her some of the family members I’d sent announcements to… And my brother was not on the list.
She wasn’t happy about that.
But, as I tried to tell her…
I don’t have his contact information. Ever since he & his family moved, I’ve lost touch. We don’t call each other, don’t move in the same circles socially, & haven’t had much to say to one another ever since he wrote his venomous email to me a few years ago, which prompted me to cut off contact with him.
She tried to tell me that “He’s totally changed, & didn’t mean any of those things anymore”.
When I told her that he’d never said he was wrong, had never apologized or attempted to make amends, she said he never would.
So, I told her “And I can never forget, nor forgive, what he said. He destroyed any hope of a relationship he could have with me, so why should I have any consideration for his feelings? He doesn’t want me to be involved with his children, so why should he be involved with mine??. He once stated that his little sister was dead to him. He was right.”
And that ended that conversation.
Then… it was time to handle Truth Bomb #2.
I received an email from E today.
Begging for forgiveness, and threatening to take his own life if I don’t take him back and talk to him.
After having been emotionally abused in my last marriage, I swore that it would never happen again.
So I let him have it with both barrels.
He has a preteen daughter.
I called him selfish and a coward.
I told him that if he could fight for his country, then he could damned well fight for his daughter, pull himself up by his bootstraps, & prove to his child that she was worth sticking around for, instead of turning her into an orphan.
I told him that it was time to stop laying the blame of his feelings on me, and take responsibility for his own actions and choices.
And that, obviously, he’d never listened to anything I’d said, didn’t know who I was at all, & had some fantasy built up in his head of who I was, and that he’d better get over it, stop lying to himself & everyone else, go home & treat his daughter better than he’d treated me.
I also told him that I’d take responsibility for my own culpability, that I’d let him talk me into lying to family & friends about all the secrets he’d asked me to keep for him, but that he’d asked me to do that at all was reprehensible and morally objectionable.
Finally, I told him that, after all this, I’d been right to stop trusting him, that stooping to emotional blackmail was sick, that I had been right to put a stop to the relationship when I had, and that I wanted him to stop trying to contact me ever again.
The calls would not be answered, & would, in fact, be automatically rejected.
That texts would be sent directly to spam, & I would never see them.
Same with emails.
And I never answer unknown numbers, so trying to reach me from another phone wouldn’t work.
This – needs to end.
And if it means being a stone cold nuclear bitch from now on…
This is a difficult post to begin, so I’m just going to dive right into the middle, and work my way out to the edges from there.
The Morrigan works from the gut, most of the time, anyway. She is instinct & courage. Passion and fire and fury.
I’m learning to listen, here, to what She has to say, because I’m in the middle of a battle…and I need all the help I can get right now.
And being told that my emotions, at least the “darker” ones, need to be abandoned, given up, let go…
I used to repress my emotions.
I used to tamp them down, pushing them into smaller & smaller spaces, because they were deemed “unacceptable”, “socially abnormal” and just plain “dark, morbid, negative & wrong”.
Until, of course, I’d explode, sending my anger, darkness, whatever you want to call it, by this time magnified exponentially, onto whomever was closest to me at the time, whether they deserved it or not.
I was Vesuvius.
I was Krakatoa.
I was Pele.
I was fire and ash and death, burning the air, scorching oxygen from others’ lungs and melting the ground out from under their stance.
And, when I was finished, I would feel horrible over the destruction I’d caused, but would have no idea how to fix it, so would run away…leaving the wreckage behind.
So, I grew up.
Learned how to express myself better, with more clarity. (For the most part) Yes, sometimes I still fall down the verbal well when it comes to expressing my feelings to someone, especially someone who knows me from my past, because they have access to those emotional buttons (triggers) that caused me to go off “back then”.
Started blogging, which really does help me figure out my emotions, & how to verbalize them.
But, back to the darkness.
I…am not a sunshiney kind of person. I’m not a hippie, or a bohemian. I’m not a cheerleader or perky pixie type. (Factoid -I tried my hand at cheerleading in high school, but even to this day, people don’t believe me, & need photographic proof)
If I weren’t almost 47 years old, I’d say I was closer to a Goth or Emo kid, or at least on that end of the spectrum, because of the way I think, speak, act, dress, blah, blah.
Hell, I’ve said it before, in relation to my poetry… “I was Emo before it was a style”.
I wear black, pretty much all the time.
Not because it’s slimming, but because it helps me blend in to shadows better, and, as I’ve said before “It goes better with my soul”.
I laugh at morbid jokes.
I don’t get scared watching “scary” movies, but instead critique the special effects techniques, laugh at the stupid dialogue, & make fun of the plot choices.
I prefer to sit in the dark, rather than turn on a light.
I sit up late at night, and hate early mornings.
I detest early morning chatter at work, and do everything I can to avoid it.
I need my dark side.
You cannot see and know the light unless you sit first and accept the darkness.
Morrigan came to me at this time of my life for a reason.
She knows I need my darkness.
She is the Queen there, & can help me navigate my way far better than some of the lighter Goddesses.
This is not going to be an easy battle.
My darkness is the only thing holding me together right now.
The wires are getting tighter.
Yesterday ended on a bad note.
Halfway through my day at work, I had a panic attack. Sudden, shaking, throat-clenching, heart, racing and pounding at the same time, chest tight with fear. I couldn’t look around, just knowing that everyone was staring at me. (They weren’t, logic tells me this, but panic doesn’t recognize logic)
I had to tell my supervisor I had to leave right now, and she understood. She knows what’s been going on, some of what I’ve been dealing with with E, & that my anxiety has been bad. But this panic attack kind of took the cake.
When I got home, it was all I could do not to crawl under my covers & hide. As it was, I had sharp, stabbing pains in my stomach, more blessings brought by the panic fairies, thanks, & had to curl up with a heating pad till they faded. Thank all the gods for antianxiety meds…even if they make me groggy in higher doses.
I couldn’t even talk to my Beloved Nephew on the phone last night, it was just too much. I needed the silence, the darkness, the….nothingness….
And today, it seemed as though it lingered, yet. It’s not completely gone. But, then, until this situation with E is resolved, until I know that he’s out of my life for good, I will remain wire-tight…and that’s going to be rough.
Case in point…
I had to go to Hellmart today, to stock up on supplies for OnlySon’s graduation party. I wore my earbuds while shopping, as usual, so was OK for most of it. But, when I got in line, there was this one woman who got in line behind me, who almost sent me over the edge into another panic attack.
Or, I almost attacked her.
One or the other.
See, I have this thing about Personal Space.
I like some.
Especially around strangers.
And she got up in mine.
Like, really CLOSE.
As I maneuvered myself around my cart, putting some distance between us, she closed in again…and I angled the cart to prevent it. She glanced my way, as I quickly looked down to avoid her eyes. Eye contact is to be avoided at all costs to maintain personal space, folks.
For a minute, I thought she was going to move my cart, she came so close to putting her hands on it, I was actually going through responses in my head, ranging from a simple “Don’t” to a more direct “You need to take 3 steps back, Now.” And, I had a fleeting thought that, from the look she gave my cart, she really contemplated rifling through my stuff, including my purse.
My hands clenched, my face heated, my chest tightened, & I could feel my breathing getting shallower, the closer I got to the cashier. I needed it to end, quickly, so I could get the hell away from there, & her.
As I told a friend, later, you could almost SEE the porcupine quills standing up off my skin as I stood there.
Luckily, I was able to get the cart angled across the aisle in such a way that the woman couldn’t get any closer to me, & I got my stuff paid for & escaped the store as soon as I could.
But, it was as close as I’ve gotten to losing my shit in public as I ever have.
Not exactly feeling like the most stable chicken in the coop right now…
So, it’s back to the lab for the benefits of modern chemistry.
And a heartfelt prayer to KwanYin, for some serious guidance for one of her children in serious need.
For the past 6 years since my divorce (yeah, my divorce-aversary is fast approaching again), I’ve been working on who I am, who I want to be, where I want to go now with my life, & what I want.
I’ve dated, more or less (less rather than more) but I’ve spent most of my time, for all intents and purposes, alone.
It’s not what I want.
I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone. No matter whether I think that I am enough all by myself, thank you very much. I still want someone to share my life with – AND THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH WANTING THAT, EITHER.
Now, for the breakdown of how I’m feeling…according to the above, very descriptive image.
Bitter… Yeah…I’m a little bitter. After swimming in the shallow local dating pool, & trying to tread water in the vastness of the online dating seas, I can honestly say I’m bitter about the scumminess to be found in the waters. Geezus, men, have some class. The 70s porno pickup lines have never worked.
Resentment… Oh, I resent the hell out of the fact that I spent 4 years waiting for someone to live up to even ONE promise… But, it’s my own damned fault, and we’ll get to my part of that debacle a little later.
Discomfort … There’s a whole lot of this floating around right now, as I sort through my emotional turmoil & kick my own ass around the house. But who else has the right? No one.
Anger… Oh, there’s plenty of this to spread around as well…and if my boundaries are crossed in the coming days, Vesuvius will have a new little sister.
Disappointment… Here’s where grief and depression step in at night. Because I truly thought, at so many times, that this was it, that it was finally going to happen for me… I was going to get that brass ring & live happily ever after. Ok, Tinkerbell.
Guilt… And now I know that I’m not the person he wanted me to be, because I wouldn’t just roll over & do what he wanted. I’m not the person my family thought I was, because I let him talk me into becoming who I was for so long… I don’t really know who I am right at this moment, except that I’m not who I thought I was…
Shame… I lied to my family about things he wanted me to keep secret. I held onto this relationship for far too long, knowing that he wasn’t ever going to live up to his promises, I still held out, because I was so afraid to be alone… Because I’ve been alone for so long. And I’m afraid I always will be. And I’m ashamed of my loneliness.
Anxiety… I’m anxious most of the time these days, because he won’t give up. He’s still attempting to contact me, using friends here in the States to try to get ahold of me through other means. Panic attacks are happening a couple times a week now, instead of once or twice a month… They’re getting worse.
What do you do, once you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole, dusted yourself off, and realized you’ve followed that white-furred thing into a place you don’t recognize?
How do you get yourself back to a place of sanity, to some semblance of normalcy when everything around you seems to be running amok?
There’s a part of me right now that’s running on fear.
And I don’t know which way to turn.
But, there’s another part of me that fiercely screams out – We will NOT run away! We will stand firm & defend our ground! We will come out the other side of this stronger & better than we went in, even if the fire burns us, we will rise from the ashes as the phoenix! Get up, bitch!”
I like her better than the coward.
But, still, at times, I find my hands shaking, my stomach queasy, unable to eat, or think clearly. Anxiety sets in, and the panic attacks are coming more frequently.
It’s getting a little frayed around the edges, and I’m afraid that July is going to be a really rough month.
He’s coming here in July- or so he claims.
He was subtle, convinced me of so many sweet things, showed me such a bright future…Kept me dangling on such a long string with the pretty treats always just out of reach for so long.
Then came the manipulation. And the emotional blackmail. The secrets & the lies. The broken promises, the plausible excuses, piling up, until it was hard to crawl out from underneath them.
And now, he says he’s finally going to live up to every single word he ever spoke, all at once.
After I told him I was Done – I’m out. Finished. Full stop.
He insists that he’s got to come, and nothing I say will stop him.
He says he will right the wrongs, win me back, fix everything.
I said No.
But what the fuck do I know, right?
There is no going back for me.
Jen doesn’t live here anymore.
Call me Alice.