Sometimes I get so tired of trying to be someone or do something.  I don’t know.  Is everyone wired to wish that they were something more than they will ever become?  Why are humans so fucking discontent.  There are sermons about this almost every Sunday when you really break it down.  Trying to teach us to go ahead and just be okay with whatever is happening in the world and in our lives and think that all is truly for the best – when reality is that we’re all trapped in this never ending systematic machine and life is a series of meaningless tasks and quests.

It feels that way today at least.

I wake up.

I do chores.  I take care of my kids.  I pine away about places I’ve been and people I miss – but in the end everything ends up basically the same.  The same dreams are deferred to another season, another time.

I want to understand all of these things.  I want to continue walking becasue society tells me that suicide is not the answer – and yet… I contemplate my own death many times a day.  Many times a day I find myself thinking about the mortality or immortality of my soul.  I find myself wondering if the soul is even a real thing or a simple imagincary manifestation that we conjoured to make life bearable. – because really, what are we doing here.  What are we doing here right now.  While I’m typing this.  Who do I think that I am going to see?  Who do I think is going to end up viewing this thing that I’m rwriting.  This thing that I’m doing what my life and with myself.  Because right now I don’t see an end that makese sense.  I don’t see any end at all


The Thing About Life

The thing about life is that we can continue to re-invent ourselves over and over.

We don’t have to keep on doing the things we used to do.

Any element of control that we see over us?  It’s actually an illusion.

It’s an illusion.

Dear (The Ex) 3

It hurts me when I see that you’ve used the things we’ve been talking about, feeling, sending to one another vibrationally to enhance your marriage.

I understand why you do it.

I guess…to a point… we both do.

I’ve started to feel like…what are we doing?  Living by logic…  It doesn’t always make sense anymore.

And yet…  we do it.

Because really  – where would we go?  How would we make a new start?  How would we get over the guilt we’ve left in our wake and the endless chaos?

I feel…

I don’t know what I feel much of the time.

I love my life here.  With Ed.  And the kids.

And yet I think of you…

I think of you more than I should.  So much more than I ever ever should.

And I realize that you know me better than anyone.  And that scares me.  You answer my questions before I can think of how to phrase them in my head – can you do that with all the people in your life?  I can’t.  I want to sit on your lap facing you.  I want to hold your head in my hands.  I want us to be able to be vulnerable enough to the truth to cry together.

Why do we have this soul connection?

Do you feel it?

Do you feel me?

When I touch myself and think of you what do you feel?  Are you already there?  When the thought come into my head that I didn’t put there myself… is that you I feel?  Because there are things I would never think…and I feel the brush of your creativity on the wings of my mind and things change sometimes…

Where are you, Love?  Where are you now?

When I see that she writes she had a wonderful day…that ‘life is beautiful’ I wonder at how for the last two days we’ve talked to one another six or eight hours of the day and I feel like those feelings are projected onto her and I feel so sad and lonely – so empty for the loss of your attention and affection.  You talk to me and you store me up and then you use all the love – the feelings for me – you spread them around to her…and I miss you.  And I save all your things.  I try to – anyway…

Why don’t you do it for me?

What would happen if you did save them?

The world would burst open?

I think about the first time we were together and I remember the very sounds that passed through your lips and how you felt…how you sighed as we passed one another…

You talk about your guilt.

And you talk about how you were vulnerable because things are empty where you are right now and I want to believe it’s all true and all real and then I feel like…when you do this…when you take our thoughts and feelings and discussions and turn them back to someone else I feel like I’m living a delusion and I don’t know how to deal with that.  What are you doing to me?  Do you want to be?  Do you care?

I wish that you would come to me.  Just…just once.  Just once you would appear by surprise and whisk me away for just one night – like a dream – and I wish that during that night you would tell me how you really feel – all the way down.  The dark secret things that you’re afraid to say – that you’re shielding from the outside world because they might break you if you say them…I need to hear those things.  Please…please…please.


Sometimes I am plagued by guilt.

When I sent one of the kids away when I want to watch a television show instead of playing with them – what does that say about me?  Some might say that means I’m an uncaring, terrible mother.  Others have said things like – I’m a person and I should be able to have time that I want and time to do what I want and as long as my kids have their basic needs seen to and know that I love them that is enough.

I don’t know what I think about it.

I only know how it makes me feel.

I do it, and immediately I want to take it back.  I have the record playing on repeat in my head “You’re a terrible mother.  Look how selfish you are.  Look how bad an example you are setting for your children.  Look at how ridiculous you are sitting there on your bed staring at the television screen.  You want to have this amazing full life and instead look what you have.  Children who beg for your attention and you turn them away so that you can watch the next binge on Netflix.”

I know this is the reason that I have certain bad habits I have retained for many years.  One in particular, that I share with the Ex.  The Ex and I share an insane amount of things.  Everything but a bed, really, now adays.  And a life.  He has the pattern of not speaking to me for weeks and then talking to me for hours during every day, unable to break away from me, it seems, and then relegating me to the burners farthest away from his actual consciousness when it becomes overwhelming for him.

Wanting to be with him is something that sometimes consumes me too, so I understand how he feels.  A part of me wonders, sometimes, why we don’t just do it.  Just start over everything, the two of us as one.  But then I realize what different paths we’ve chosen and how it simply cannot work now.  Perhaps not ever.  And I want to cherish what I have and at the same time I want to throw it away and never look at it again.  And so I am.  And so it is.

Ed just arrived with dinner.

I should go.

My Own Mortality

Confronting this… daily…  I find it overwhelming.

The amazing and almost crippling sense of responsibility to do something – make something – create a mark… somehow to buy myself eternity when I have lost the certainty that it is mine to gain.

I still believe in God.  In Higher Power.

And I am desperate for there to be afterlife… and yet the older I get the more heaven fades into something intangible, separate…  something that we talk about but isn’t something actually real and the prospect…allowing myself to think about the prospect of death as finality is terrifying.  To know that there will be a time when I will cease to be a conscious being…that everything will fade out and I will be… quite literally… nothing…

I realize that as nothing I will feel nothing know nothing be nothing…but to have existed and then to have existence torn from me – I cannot believe any of us can truly go quietly into that good night.

I feel a tightness in my chest.  A terror.  I think on it daily.  On how the clock is ticking.  How the days and years go so much faster now than they did when I believed in a definite substantial eternity and when I was young and when 35 felt like forever away and the understanding, the flat hard cold solid memory of that time and then to be here, now, and to not have changed all that much as a person… to look around and see how we squander ourselves on all of the ridiculous morality and meaningless law and strange love rituals and all the pain that we endure because we truly believe that time will never run out… when you know that it will and you see that others do not behave with this knowledge it is painful in a way I cannot describe.  I have to ignore it in order to carry on.

I remember in college when I stood on the bridge and considered taking my own life.  This has happened to me numerous times – decision after decision to continue on in this existence – the reason for taking my own life to be to answer my question and the reason not to simply and selfishly, because I believe I might be wrong – that I might end up in the nothingness instead of in the afterlife… it is why The Nothing in the Neverending Story is so terrible and terrifying – because this… in the deepest part of our psyche, is our biggest fear.  The fear that eternity is myth.  It is so terrible that we forbid ourselves from thinking on it.  We deny it.  We run from it.  We say we look forward to heaven and yet we exercise and we eat right and we do all that we can to avoid this so-called Paradise…why?  Because in the depths of our souls we somehow know it cannot be.  That it is pure fantasy.

I want with everything that I am for there to be life after death – I cannot imagine and do not want to engage with the horror that is the inevitable Nothing for the atheistic parts of humanity and yet…  yet I am confronted so often and so hardily with it that I can no longer deal with the painful juxtaposition I am faced with regularly…  how…how do you live knowing that this is the end when everyone around you lives as if there is more – as if there is some reward – as if faithfulness and loyalty is everything – yet deep deep down we long for more and deeper and longer and it is…intensive and sad to see it all around us…  What does it mean?  Why… why are we here and…  yes… yes the existential record plays and plays and we dance to it unknowingly in discords and sharps and painful harmonies that we plug our ears to all the time we have to hear them.

God help me.

Polyamory and Exhaustion

I’ve been watching a lot of Criminal Minds.

I feel like maybe it will help me deal with the whole empath thing.  I don’t know.

Now that Edith 2 is jangling around, I literally can’t even.  Yeah, I said it.

I’ve been doing a lot of MMA fighting lately.  It’s a release I enjoy.  My brother has been encouraging too.  He has suggested I do even more than this, but for now, this has been enough.

Ugh.  WordPress has the weirdest glitches.

So the latest annoyance is this woman who is woo woo off the charts and accusing me of the most ridiculous stuff possible.  I just want to handle it the right way and not encourage more of the behavior.  Crazy town.  For real.  More boxing, less crazy, eh?

The Ex and I continue to be … something.  I haven’t actually seen him for months now, so I can’t run around calling him a lover.  It’s not that anymore, it’s just not.  He refers to us as an “us”.  I just avoid referencing it.  I have felt enough roller coaster bullshit emotions in the past year.  I want it to be something he doesn’t want it to be, or is afraid for it to be – but it doesn’t matter which.  I used to think it did, but the truth is, it doesn’t.  Both have the same end result.  I feel shat on and hurt constantly.  I can’t handle that, so I’ve been distancing myself further and further.  I’m at a point now where if he wanted to see me again I’m sure I’d be tempted to say yes, but I’d have to say no.  I can’t keep having this weird relationship with someone who can’t make actual time for me. He seems to want things to be the way they used to be – so…  I guess they are.

Ed went through a period of having an intense crush on a friend of ours.  It was hard.  I don’t know how I would do if he actually went through with a sexual relationship with someone else.  I know that makes me hypocritical, but at least it’s honest.

I’ve been so tired lately.  Tired of trying to be something that mostly feels like a fight.  Tired of people deciding to make things harder for no apparent reason.  Tired of ungrateful parents.  Tired of Ed working pretty much constantly and it being obligatory.  He’s proud of the money he’s bringing in, but I’d rather have him here at least a little bit of the time.  Coming home late.  It sucks.

I will be elated when this current production ends.  I’m already looking forward to it.  I don’t have the energy to give pithy motivational speeches and continue to pour myself out in this way.

Anyway, I should be going.  Ed is here and will want to talk or sleep while I’m talking.  The Ex wants to talk about poly and about me and poly and about me and Ed and poly – I don’t know, he gets his rocks off that way.

I had all these fantasies that I could help him figure out his performance anxiety – but he won’t let me, so here we are, eh?

One thing sleeping with the Ex did for me?

Took all the mystery out of what that would be like.

I admit I wonder what it could be like if it was a DADT relationship… if it could be something more, but much as I want that I don’t think he wants it, and so …  I’m in a place where I’m not sure I want anything.  Not sure what that makes me…or him…or it.