Yes, this one's gonna hurt. Thinking about writing it hurts. But, I am who I am. Thoughts don't stay inside my head. They're much too implosive.
I'm losing in the game of life and I don't really know why. I've always been losing, I've just sometimes caught a case of hope and carelessness that the future has seemed worth it in my mind. But nothing has changed really. Not a thing in my whole life, other than having new stories of struggle and despair to tell others about. Others, being people who aren't overly invested in my life. Others who will feel sympathy, momentarily, then become thankful they're not me. I'm glad to be of help, honestly.
I have a few friends who seem as though they've been around my whole life, and probably will be. It's nice to know people can be loyal to you. My ex-husband taught me a lot about loyalty. He loved me, he said, in a way he could never love anyone else, for over twenty years. (Granted, he didn't teach me much about honesty, but loyalty, yes. I believe they can come separately). I feel he was sincere. I think I got the best out of him. I only wish I could say the same in return. I was a lousy wife. Though he probably got the best of me too; I don't think I've ever been so committed to someone. It lasted a short time, but when our marriage fell apart, I knew I would never be able to have that sort of hope for another relationship again. I just knew. No one would ever love me as much as he did. I've only had two since then. And a few encounters. No hope. No expectations.
Recently, there was a man in my life. We kept it to ourselves, I thought, because we didn't know what we were doing. I've realized though, he was probably ashamed of me. I'm not exactly at my best right now. Unfortunately, it was the first time I had hope again, but for no reason. The hope wasn't about any expectation I had, because honestly, I've maintained that I have none, for anyone in my life. Simply put, I had hope that for the first time in a long time, I was free, able to be myself, and enjoy time with another person, authentically, time with someone who was so much like me, in the good ways, that life was going to be ok. I hadn't laughed so much in, I don't know how long. I hope (there it is again), at least, that he knows that. There were no nerves, only us, naturally. And then he was gone. I got no explanation, no words. I got nothing. You never feel so lost than when in a constant state of misunderstanding.
Such is seeming to be, the story of my life. I get nothing. Day after day, I turn inward on myself, criticizing all I've done wrong, and all that I've lost. I do it, at this point, because I have to admit, it has to be something about me, and not them. I see functional people every single day, drawing others in, being close to friends and loved ones, building relationships and moving forward. Me, on the other hand, I lose something new every day. Even if it's only respect for myself.
Yes this seems to be a depressing blog. But I have to admit it. I'm no good at being close to people. Maybe I never learned how.
Maybe my level of openness, which was an attempt to create real bonds with people, is what turns them away. People have a hard time with honesty, myself included, or else this wouldn't be so hard. Looking in the mirror for very long, you begin to see every flaw and wrinkle, every blemish and bruise. But it's all I ever do, turn inward, because I'm the only one ever here.
I was told that when I was a child, I would often wander off on my own, fearlessly, barely walking, but moving on, not waiting or asking anyone to be at my side. Family would lose track of me, only to find me somewhere lost, happy as could be. When I got a little older, we moved around a lot, and schools changed on the regular. I made new friends, some of whom I have to this day. As a teenager, the rebellion set it at its greatest platitude and I made sure I was THE nonconformist to end all nonconformity. College, it took me a few days, and I had forged bonds that would last me to this day with people I hold close to my heart. Though I was the unlikely character in their stories; I was the non-religious girl at a Catholic school, with a mouth that never shut (literally some of us talked through the night for what seemed like days on end), among peers who did what they were told and never heard of someone like me. I was lucky to be accepted by them all.
For years, there was hope. It seemed like my life was actually going to be worth a damn. I was going to be significant, somehow. I don't know where my path changed, or what really went wrong. All I know now, is that I'm sure of nothing, know not where to go, or really, how to be in this life some days at all.
Since Michael and I were together, I've lost contact with a lot of people. That's what happens in abusive relationships; they cut you off from others so that you become dependent upon them, for everything. While I am rarely comfortable in groups, I will be the one who is the loudest in a crowd. Go big or go home. I can speak in front of hundreds with no problem, I can carry my own one on one, but get twenty or so people together and I become utterly dysfunctional and perfectly awkward. But it's gotten to the point that I wonder, am I really functional one on one. I've lost track because there are so few chances to see my ability, or lack thereof.
What I want, or wanted, from this life, differs from no one. I wanted the chance to be myself, the chance to be happy, the chance to be loved, authentically. I wanted to matter, to be close to someone like no other, and some moderate success in displaying my gift to the world. I wanted peace, inside of myself, a future that warranted progress, and people who would fight for my time. I wanted friends who were sincere, loves who were true, and freedom to be truthful in the middle of the day, when few others could. I've always had the guts to be strong. Being weak is where things go wrong.
I admit it. I suck at this game. I am an ideas person. I start things. I never finish them. I create bonds, I never see them through. I am a lousy friend, a lousy partner, and lousy idol for discipline. Life has taught me to fight, not to win.
Where do I go from here? I have no one close enough to me that I am any type of priority. I understand that. I am an afterthought. Ouch. That was a painful thing to put into print. But it's true. I am no one's first thought, last thought, daily thought. Everyone in my life has someone greater, bigger, closer, truer, more meaningful, more precious, more sacred to them than me. Can you imagine how hard it is to face each day, knowing you are no one's everything? And yet my heart has been broken often, because I have been so willing to make the people in my heart, the direction of my soul.
I wonder if the disease, the diseases, I'm fighting are a gift, an out, an easy way for me to slide away unnoticed. A way I can disappear, fighting a brave fight, and giving me one last battle to take on. Is it my time to go, since all my bonds have seemed to have fallen by the wayside? Other than my cat, what is it that I am fighting for? Potential? Possibilities? Dreams? Hope? I just don't know if I am that person anymore. How long can a person fight and walk away with no victories? How long can a person be in battle before they give in!
I have matching tattoos that say "battle," and one that says "brave." They are my favorites because I feel they are truer to me than any of the others. I've always been in battle, and I've always moved forward, brave. I had no reason, no one to lean on, and no answers as to why. But I did it anyway, because I felt like there was something more, something greater coming for me. I've lost sight of that though; I feel, sometimes, that these battles have been misread, and that I was to take them for what they were all along. I was stronger than they expected, lasted longer than believed, and held on longer than most. I was supposed to lose, a long time ago.
I don't mean to make anyone sad. Life simply comes to a point when you have to ask yourself, what are you fighting so hard to hold onto? I used to just be strong. Now I teeter-totter between the strongest and the most desperate person I know. Though truthfully, there aren't many I know enough to stake any claim in that as an acceptable means of measurement.
Is it possible that this mentality is just ingrained in my being, even if my spirit hasn't been able to accept it fully? Is it likely that I am ruined and accept my fate as an isolated, dysfunctional, loving member of this rotting world? I seek no answers; my belief in them currently does not exist. I see no resolution; there is none to be had. Regardless of which way this ends up, know this of me:
If I gave you my time, then I gave to you a piece of my heart.
If I gave you a piece of my heart, I wanted nothing in return, only for you to accept it as a gift.
If I gave you that gift, then you will never leave my thoughts.
If you're in my thoughts, then you're in them every day.
Every day I think of you, it's a day I love you more.
By loving you more, you become part of my soul.
As part of my soul, I will take you with me wherever I go.
Wherever I go includes if it's no longer here.
If it's no longer here, then I will shine on you from above.
If I shine on you from above, then it's so you'll be able to see in the dark.
If you see in the dark from my light, then you move forward in a place of love.
In a place of love that I give you, is meant to pass on to someone you want.
Someone you want, if it was never me, is someone so lucky to have known you.
Because to have known you, is all I ever wanted.