Saturday, September 07, 2013
Saturday, January 05, 2013
all is lost
As usual, everything that can go wrong has gone wrong.
I'm back with my husband, in the country I ran from in 2011. There is no intimacy, no affection, as always. But we don't fight anymore, because I have no fight left in me.
My days are dark and my nights are spent awake, quiet and alone, hating myself for what I have done and for what I have left undone.
The man I spoke so highly of in a previous entry, the one I thought would be my partner for life, is gone. He couldn't cope with me. He ended up hitting me in frustration...on two occasions. The first time he got a second chance, because he swore it would never happen again and found a counsellor to help us before he returned to the house. The second time, last July, he hit me for no real reason. I left him and came back here.
No man has hit me in anger since I left my family of origin. Somehow I have escaped that kind of abuse since I left my mother's house, even though I've been abused in every other way.
Now, I wish I had forgiven him, because I am traumatised, agonised, broken and lost, but I still love him above all others.
And I know from our rare communications that he is happier now than ever in his life, happy and settled in with a new girl, a girl who is pretty much my clone, other than that she has been cared for all her life and is being cared for now (the sort of good, professional care that I have been denied all my life). And she is 12 years younger than me, and speaks his native language, which I could not learn no matter how I tried.
And as for me? I drift through my days. I rarely leave my house. I take my medication as directed, I try to find the energy to shower once or twice a week. I do as little as I can get away with, even though I know that will eventually turn my marriage back into the complete ruin it was when I left here.
And I mourn the fact that I can't afford to tell the uncaring doctors to fuck off and drink myself to death. I can't drink at all, because of the medication and because we are so broke that we can barely pay for food.
Some things you do just to see
How bad they'll make you feel
Sometimes you try to freeze time
'Til those thoughts are a blur of spinning wheels
But I am just a broken machine
And I do things that I don't really mean
Long black night, morning frost
I'm still here, but all is lost
I'm back with my husband, in the country I ran from in 2011. There is no intimacy, no affection, as always. But we don't fight anymore, because I have no fight left in me.
My days are dark and my nights are spent awake, quiet and alone, hating myself for what I have done and for what I have left undone.
The man I spoke so highly of in a previous entry, the one I thought would be my partner for life, is gone. He couldn't cope with me. He ended up hitting me in frustration...on two occasions. The first time he got a second chance, because he swore it would never happen again and found a counsellor to help us before he returned to the house. The second time, last July, he hit me for no real reason. I left him and came back here.
No man has hit me in anger since I left my family of origin. Somehow I have escaped that kind of abuse since I left my mother's house, even though I've been abused in every other way.
Now, I wish I had forgiven him, because I am traumatised, agonised, broken and lost, but I still love him above all others.
And I know from our rare communications that he is happier now than ever in his life, happy and settled in with a new girl, a girl who is pretty much my clone, other than that she has been cared for all her life and is being cared for now (the sort of good, professional care that I have been denied all my life). And she is 12 years younger than me, and speaks his native language, which I could not learn no matter how I tried.
And as for me? I drift through my days. I rarely leave my house. I take my medication as directed, I try to find the energy to shower once or twice a week. I do as little as I can get away with, even though I know that will eventually turn my marriage back into the complete ruin it was when I left here.
And I mourn the fact that I can't afford to tell the uncaring doctors to fuck off and drink myself to death. I can't drink at all, because of the medication and because we are so broke that we can barely pay for food.
Some things you do just to see
How bad they'll make you feel
Sometimes you try to freeze time
'Til those thoughts are a blur of spinning wheels
But I am just a broken machine
And I do things that I don't really mean
Long black night, morning frost
I'm still here, but all is lost
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Always broken
I am broken. So broken. I destroy everything I touch, there will never be happiness for someone like me.
I keep reaching out and I keep finding people that don't care. So many years, so many people who walk away. This must be my fault. There's no other reason for it to keep happening.
Where is colour this hour
Where is music this hour
Are they still going on somewhere?
Where now, in this hush
Where are words in this hush?
And what am I?
I keep reaching out and I keep finding people that don't care. So many years, so many people who walk away. This must be my fault. There's no other reason for it to keep happening.
Where is colour this hour
Where is music this hour
Are they still going on somewhere?
Where now, in this hush
Where are words in this hush?
And what am I?
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Voices
I've only been able to process what happened in little bits and pieces. Even this entry is coming to me in a completely new way, not a purge but a need to go slow, not to hurt myself by releasing it too quickly.
who drew the line, who drew the line between you and me?
I have actually learned something this time. Imagine, all these years of mystery, finally coming to some conclusions that make sense.
Those conclusions are nebulous at best, but have led to some new rules.
1. Never trust anyone.
2. Especially, never trust anyone who makes promises about a long and happy future when they barely know you. I mean, me. I seem to attract people who want to do that. They are lying. Mostly they don't know it when they make the promises, but they lie.
...who drew the line, that cuts to the skin, buries me in, tell me who drew the line...
3. Never trust anyone.
(lie, as darkness hardens.
lie of our reunion.
o lie, if god is sleeping,
o i believe you now.)
I lost a lot. But I didn't lose what I thought I had lost, when everything went sour last month.
You see, as long as I've been able to write, I've had a small group of quiet voices who have been crucial to my well-being, though I don't think most of them know it. In the 1980s and early 1990s they were pen pals met on road trips or friends-of-friends, who sent me letters and cassette tapes in elaborately decorated envelopes.
Later these voices came in via email, mostly. People who have little to no part in my daily life, but now and then take the time to write me a long letter, to which I respond in kind.
Like everyone else online, I have chat buddies and other kinds of long-distance friends, but the ones who write letters are my foundation. They are wise, they are loving, they are kind and generous people who only want to be heard and to listen in return.
In this day and age there aren't many people who want that. People want instant, right now, text me, IM me, let me see you on webcam. There are a few letter-writers left, but not many. And I need them.
I lost one of them, and a very precious one indeed, someone I expected to be among my quiet voices for many years. I lost him because I thought we could be good friends in real life. I was wrong...truthfully, I can't be good friends with anyone in real life. It just doesn't work. Ever.
But I didn't lose a lover, not really. I lost someone who said she loved me and then kept me at arms' length for months so that we wouldn't really get to know each other properly. I lost someone who got angry at me, often, for reasons that made no sense to me. I never, ever could have been good enough to bring her happiness, no matter how hard I tried. And we never really knew each other at all.
The last comment she left here, two entries ago, is proof...the entry is about how much the truth sucks, and she said she would show me a different reality.
Instead, I got more of the same reality.
And so, in the end, I lost one of my voices. He'll be silent forever now. I'll miss him, but I won't ever try to bring one of my voices into my real world again. My reality is too twisted and warped and broken. Better to keep my distance, as I always have done in the past.
I learned. I'm not sure if I said here what I meant to say...but I learned.
who drew the line, who drew the line between you and me?
I have actually learned something this time. Imagine, all these years of mystery, finally coming to some conclusions that make sense.
Those conclusions are nebulous at best, but have led to some new rules.
1. Never trust anyone.
2. Especially, never trust anyone who makes promises about a long and happy future when they barely know you. I mean, me. I seem to attract people who want to do that. They are lying. Mostly they don't know it when they make the promises, but they lie.
...who drew the line, that cuts to the skin, buries me in, tell me who drew the line...
3. Never trust anyone.
(lie, as darkness hardens.
lie of our reunion.
o lie, if god is sleeping,
o i believe you now.)
I lost a lot. But I didn't lose what I thought I had lost, when everything went sour last month.
You see, as long as I've been able to write, I've had a small group of quiet voices who have been crucial to my well-being, though I don't think most of them know it. In the 1980s and early 1990s they were pen pals met on road trips or friends-of-friends, who sent me letters and cassette tapes in elaborately decorated envelopes.
Later these voices came in via email, mostly. People who have little to no part in my daily life, but now and then take the time to write me a long letter, to which I respond in kind.
Like everyone else online, I have chat buddies and other kinds of long-distance friends, but the ones who write letters are my foundation. They are wise, they are loving, they are kind and generous people who only want to be heard and to listen in return.
In this day and age there aren't many people who want that. People want instant, right now, text me, IM me, let me see you on webcam. There are a few letter-writers left, but not many. And I need them.
I lost one of them, and a very precious one indeed, someone I expected to be among my quiet voices for many years. I lost him because I thought we could be good friends in real life. I was wrong...truthfully, I can't be good friends with anyone in real life. It just doesn't work. Ever.
But I didn't lose a lover, not really. I lost someone who said she loved me and then kept me at arms' length for months so that we wouldn't really get to know each other properly. I lost someone who got angry at me, often, for reasons that made no sense to me. I never, ever could have been good enough to bring her happiness, no matter how hard I tried. And we never really knew each other at all.
The last comment she left here, two entries ago, is proof...the entry is about how much the truth sucks, and she said she would show me a different reality.
Instead, I got more of the same reality.
And so, in the end, I lost one of my voices. He'll be silent forever now. I'll miss him, but I won't ever try to bring one of my voices into my real world again. My reality is too twisted and warped and broken. Better to keep my distance, as I always have done in the past.
I learned. I'm not sure if I said here what I meant to say...but I learned.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Let me die
Love is a lie. Trust is a lie. Compassion- so rare that you might as well be digging for diamonds in your backyard,and usually if you find it, there is a selfish motive behind it.
Shot down, once again.
This time I don't want to recover. I've said it before, but you know, most people are just naturally surrounded by friends and family, and can't imagine any other way. My family destroyed me and then abandoned me, and every friend I've ever had has done the same. The only people I have to turn to are thousands of miles away and have not spent enough time around me to know that I am toxic.
(And on the off chance that you still care enough to read this...I kept talking. You not only shut me down, but you also were the first to delete me from every place where we are "friends"...yet you still say I abandoned you? You are full of shit. I don't deny being a miserable pile of puke myself, but I am still hoping you will start listening. You abandoned me. Look at your actions honestly. And through all this, I still fucking love you, you hateful bitch. I will never stop loving you.)
I deserve this, I know. I wish I wasn't too chickenshit to put a stop to everything forever. You know you are really a loser when you even fail at suicide.
Shot down, once again.
This time I don't want to recover. I've said it before, but you know, most people are just naturally surrounded by friends and family, and can't imagine any other way. My family destroyed me and then abandoned me, and every friend I've ever had has done the same. The only people I have to turn to are thousands of miles away and have not spent enough time around me to know that I am toxic.
(And on the off chance that you still care enough to read this...I kept talking. You not only shut me down, but you also were the first to delete me from every place where we are "friends"...yet you still say I abandoned you? You are full of shit. I don't deny being a miserable pile of puke myself, but I am still hoping you will start listening. You abandoned me. Look at your actions honestly. And through all this, I still fucking love you, you hateful bitch. I will never stop loving you.)
I deserve this, I know. I wish I wasn't too chickenshit to put a stop to everything forever. You know you are really a loser when you even fail at suicide.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
still chasing a wild goose
I know. Once I tell the truth, I'm no longer wanted.
I'm not going to stop telling the truth. The truth is ugly. It's not what you really want in your life. Still, if I'm around you, it won't go away, and it will never be comfortable.
I'm not going to stop telling the truth. The truth is ugly. It's not what you really want in your life. Still, if I'm around you, it won't go away, and it will never be comfortable.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Running away, again
I'm writing this post quickly so that my partner won't look over my shoulder and ask...
Fuck, too late. He saw, and asked, and I refused to answer, and the wedge between us goes a little deeper. I'm not even sure why I didn't tell him the truth, because he knows about this blog. He read a couple of entries and then told me he couldn't cope with what he read here. He doesn't want to know about the dark parts of my life, not really. He wants to think he can make me forget, too.
The most bizarre thing about all this is that I supposedly have a new life now. I escaped. Again. I live 500 miles from where I did before, in another country, another culture. I left my husband for someone who actually loves me. Everything has changed.
Except me. I'm still as miserable as I ever was. I started drinking again before I left my former home. I was just doing it to help me through the stress and worry. Then I moved, thinking I was changing my life for the better in every way. I was wrong.
I can't seem to change. I can't run away from a darkness that is inside my heart and my soul.
So the drinking didn't stop, and in fact escalated to the point where I needed a drink to get me moving in the morning. I've had periods of my life in the past where I was drinking very heavily, but this was a whole new level.
This past Saturday I started drinking at about noon, and I stopped when I went to sleep at 3AM on Sunday. I remember almost nothing of what happened after 9 that evening. During that time had a conversation with someone who is incredibly important to me, and the only reason I know that it happened is because I woke up the next day and saw a chat log in my inbox.
I was...I am...horrified. Ashamed. I've been a speed freak, a crackhead, I've done amounts of LSD and MDMA that would make people wonder why I'm not completely brain-dead. I've talked about most of it on this blog. But never have I been so out of control that I woke up and could not remember what I had done the night before.
It really is time for me to start all over again. From the beginning, from square one. All of this- it proves that over the years I've learned nothing, and my misery is really nobody's fault but my own.
i will rise
and i will return
the phoenix from the flame
i have learned
i will rise
and you'll see me return
being what i am
there is no other Troy
for me to burn...
Fuck, too late. He saw, and asked, and I refused to answer, and the wedge between us goes a little deeper. I'm not even sure why I didn't tell him the truth, because he knows about this blog. He read a couple of entries and then told me he couldn't cope with what he read here. He doesn't want to know about the dark parts of my life, not really. He wants to think he can make me forget, too.
The most bizarre thing about all this is that I supposedly have a new life now. I escaped. Again. I live 500 miles from where I did before, in another country, another culture. I left my husband for someone who actually loves me. Everything has changed.
Except me. I'm still as miserable as I ever was. I started drinking again before I left my former home. I was just doing it to help me through the stress and worry. Then I moved, thinking I was changing my life for the better in every way. I was wrong.
I can't seem to change. I can't run away from a darkness that is inside my heart and my soul.
So the drinking didn't stop, and in fact escalated to the point where I needed a drink to get me moving in the morning. I've had periods of my life in the past where I was drinking very heavily, but this was a whole new level.
This past Saturday I started drinking at about noon, and I stopped when I went to sleep at 3AM on Sunday. I remember almost nothing of what happened after 9 that evening. During that time had a conversation with someone who is incredibly important to me, and the only reason I know that it happened is because I woke up the next day and saw a chat log in my inbox.
I was...I am...horrified. Ashamed. I've been a speed freak, a crackhead, I've done amounts of LSD and MDMA that would make people wonder why I'm not completely brain-dead. I've talked about most of it on this blog. But never have I been so out of control that I woke up and could not remember what I had done the night before.
It really is time for me to start all over again. From the beginning, from square one. All of this- it proves that over the years I've learned nothing, and my misery is really nobody's fault but my own.
i will rise
and i will return
the phoenix from the flame
i have learned
i will rise
and you'll see me return
being what i am
there is no other Troy
for me to burn...
Friday, October 29, 2010
Cease
Sometimes I really don't think I'm going to make it.
These days I'm a rationalist; I don't believe there is any supernatural, no god, no life after. There is nothing at all beyond this life, and all we can do is live it to the fullest. That has to be enough, because there is no more. And most of the time, that's enough.
But at the same time life is brutal. It is a terrible tragedy. Pain is far more sure than pleasure, far more inevitable, far more constant.
And sometimes I don't want to go on. I crave an end. I think of nothingness and think that's what I desire most.
I try to drag myself away from that craving- I think, just one more day, who knows what will happen next? So many years I've succeeded in facing yet another day. If nothing else, there are others who need me- and I always knew I might outlast all of them, the cruel irony, that I will keep living on when all that I love is gone. It always seemed like the most natural end to this particular life. I will die mourning, and there will be none left to mourn me. I imagine being old, bent, feeling pain in my body, my heart, my soul, and somehow know it's my destiny.
But tonight I'm wishing for darkness and silence, and of not even having a way to sense that...I'm thinking that right now, if there was any way, I could cease.
It evokes such pain and significance
What was once, is reduced to remembrance
And the generations pass without recompense
What pretension! Everlasting peace
Everything must cease
These days I'm a rationalist; I don't believe there is any supernatural, no god, no life after. There is nothing at all beyond this life, and all we can do is live it to the fullest. That has to be enough, because there is no more. And most of the time, that's enough.
But at the same time life is brutal. It is a terrible tragedy. Pain is far more sure than pleasure, far more inevitable, far more constant.
And sometimes I don't want to go on. I crave an end. I think of nothingness and think that's what I desire most.
I try to drag myself away from that craving- I think, just one more day, who knows what will happen next? So many years I've succeeded in facing yet another day. If nothing else, there are others who need me- and I always knew I might outlast all of them, the cruel irony, that I will keep living on when all that I love is gone. It always seemed like the most natural end to this particular life. I will die mourning, and there will be none left to mourn me. I imagine being old, bent, feeling pain in my body, my heart, my soul, and somehow know it's my destiny.
But tonight I'm wishing for darkness and silence, and of not even having a way to sense that...I'm thinking that right now, if there was any way, I could cease.
It evokes such pain and significance
What was once, is reduced to remembrance
And the generations pass without recompense
What pretension! Everlasting peace
Everything must cease
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Amazed
It's been years, I guess. Five years since I started telling my story here, and more than a year since I said anything new. But this blog was always mine, for me, and now that I've found it again, seeing where I was at the beginning of this thing has given me the bit of courage that I needed to go on.
How things have changed. And yes, again I bring love, and a new man, into it. I'm in a deep dark hole right now, but I am no longer completely alone. I found the person I thought couldn't possibly exist. In some ways he's my twin; in others he could not be more different- but this time there isn't the deep inequality that marked my past relationships. He is my partner.
Still...it's so hard now. There are so many complications, not least of which is that I'm in the wrong country and I'm still married to someone else. The marriage is over in all but the legal sense, but the legal sense is, unfortunately, everything.
I re-read this entire blog. It was cathartic doing so. I've been suicidal in the last weeks, constantly battling thoughts of how it would be so much easier if I would just die, finally. But seeing how dark things were back in 2005...I think I can make it a little longer. I don't want to. It's too hard. But I will, because I'm further along than I was then, and I am at last at peace with the idea that this life is all there is.
I think I might write more here. We'll see. It seems like the place to turn in times of darkness, and it will remind me that I can find light again, somehow.
How things have changed. And yes, again I bring love, and a new man, into it. I'm in a deep dark hole right now, but I am no longer completely alone. I found the person I thought couldn't possibly exist. In some ways he's my twin; in others he could not be more different- but this time there isn't the deep inequality that marked my past relationships. He is my partner.
Still...it's so hard now. There are so many complications, not least of which is that I'm in the wrong country and I'm still married to someone else. The marriage is over in all but the legal sense, but the legal sense is, unfortunately, everything.
I re-read this entire blog. It was cathartic doing so. I've been suicidal in the last weeks, constantly battling thoughts of how it would be so much easier if I would just die, finally. But seeing how dark things were back in 2005...I think I can make it a little longer. I don't want to. It's too hard. But I will, because I'm further along than I was then, and I am at last at peace with the idea that this life is all there is.
I think I might write more here. We'll see. It seems like the place to turn in times of darkness, and it will remind me that I can find light again, somehow.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Rediscovered
Oh yes, there's still a blog here. I nearly forgot about it. I expect everyone else has, and there's actually some comfort in that.
The realtionship I was struggling so hard with in my last posts is over. The end was as painful as the rest of it, and I thought it would kill me. It didn't. I don't believe the old adage that whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger- not at all; I would be Superman if that were true. But losing Mark? It has made me stronger.
There is someone new, of course. One who is extremely special. One who is more than I ever dreamed of, the opposite of everything that was wrong with Mark. He's tall, dark, and handsome, intense, a musician, strong and smart and cool, and doesn't want to hide me away or use me.
I will never get enough of him...that's the problem, of course. He lives in another country. I saw him three weeks ago and will see him again in two weeks; after that, who knows? I could be with him always, so easily, but there will never be enough time together.
I miss him now.
And there's someone else, too. Crazy? Yes. This one is going to stay online only. He's a bit crazy, but in a fascinating sort of way. I'm almost afraid to sign into chat, because I know he watches for me. He makes me forget how much I miss the other one, though.
I'm feeling a bit scattered tonight. Maybe I'll try to remember to update here again, though.
The realtionship I was struggling so hard with in my last posts is over. The end was as painful as the rest of it, and I thought it would kill me. It didn't. I don't believe the old adage that whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger- not at all; I would be Superman if that were true. But losing Mark? It has made me stronger.
There is someone new, of course. One who is extremely special. One who is more than I ever dreamed of, the opposite of everything that was wrong with Mark. He's tall, dark, and handsome, intense, a musician, strong and smart and cool, and doesn't want to hide me away or use me.
I will never get enough of him...that's the problem, of course. He lives in another country. I saw him three weeks ago and will see him again in two weeks; after that, who knows? I could be with him always, so easily, but there will never be enough time together.
I miss him now.
And there's someone else, too. Crazy? Yes. This one is going to stay online only. He's a bit crazy, but in a fascinating sort of way. I'm almost afraid to sign into chat, because I know he watches for me. He makes me forget how much I miss the other one, though.
I'm feeling a bit scattered tonight. Maybe I'll try to remember to update here again, though.
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