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Sineaddanu


On my Own

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Current Reading List:

The Piano Mans Daughter-Timothy Findley-Fiction

Living Alone and Loving It: A Guide to Relishing the Solo Life- Barbara Feldon-Non Fiction/Self Help

 

Living Alone and Loving it is definitely a worthy read so far. And, the Author has the added claim to fame of being Agent 99 on Get Smart!

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So..i've been seeing someone. He's fun. He's nice. But, I don't trust him as far as I can throw him. And, I don't really see it going anywhere either. And..well...let's just say he's not the brightest bulb. Okay, he's a Himbo..

Here are some snippets of recent conversations. 

Me: "So, I got my period. Which is the good news. The bad news, is also that I got my period. So I don't know if you still want me to come over tonight"

Him: "You're not pregnant? Great...so...wanna try again?".
 



Him: "I have to go to New York this weekend. My friends are planning a birthday party!".

Me: (looking down at the tatoo that says "Aquario" on his chest over the tatooed portrait of Jesus) "Um..hon, nice try. But, you're an Aquarian, it even says so right on your sexy hard chest. But,
right now, We're in Virgo. I know Astrology, bud. Sucks to be you. You're busted."



Him: So, I have to tell you the truth. I'm not really columbian and puerto rican. I'm Ecuadorian. (this after seeing eachother for two weeks, and him KNOWING that i'm not a racist)
Him: So, I have to tell you the truth. My girlfriend only left me because I cheated on her. (after him saying that she never explained why she broke up with him, that he thinks it's because she found some guy with alot of money to spend on her, etc.)
Him: So, I have to tell you the truth. I didn't get my liscense taken away in a DUI. My liscense was never legal, and I got in trouble for it. (obviously, after having told me he'd gotten it taken away for a DUI.


Him: I don't know WHY you don't trust me!

Him: So, yes, we probably shouldn't see eachother tomorrow night, because you will probably want your rest, and it's your time of month. And, I am going away this weekend. So..
Me: Ok, No problem, I'll find something else to do this weekend.
Him: Like..what?
Me: I dunno. Go out to tuxedos or something.
Him: No you won't, you will go to church on sunday, but stay home on friday and saturday!
Me: Oh, no, really, I won't.
Him: I'll call and see if you are at home. And if not, I'll be really mad..
Me: Okay, so YOU get to party all weekend, but I'm supposed to stay home?
Him: Well, yes, just for this one weekend to prove that I can trust you...

*SNARF!!!!








        

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Been getting back into reading. Here are the books I have recently read:

"In the Country of the Young" Lisa Carey (irish ghost story with a huge twist)

"High Plains Tango" Robert James Waller (in the same veign as Bridges of Madison County, or Slow Waltz in Cedar Bend, two of his other best selling novels)

And "Dispatches from the Edge" By Anderson Cooper (autobiographical).

I highly reccomend all three, but of all, my favorite was "In the Country of the Young".

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Ok. So..I met someone. He's 30. He's half Columbian, Half Puerto Rican. He's cute, but not unbearably so. So far, he appears to work Construction. He lives in a house, shared by his father, his sister, and two borders. Large house. Many rooms. Very nice inside. He doesn't have a car, because he had his liscense revoked for a DUI. The story is that when his last girlfriend broke up with him, he went off the deepend, and spent about a week or two on a serious bender. And got caught driving home drunk after one of his nights of self pity. I don't like drunk drivers. A bit. However, having been so heartbroken myself, and having made alot of horrible choices when I was dealing with heartbreak, I can feel sympathy for him.

That's actually what kind of started the spark. I met him outside the Nightclub on Saturday night. He walked me back to my friends house. We started exchanging "war stories" of sorts, and comparing the battle scars on our hearts. Found we had a lot in common as far as how wary we are of relationships, dating, and the opposite sex. click to read onCollapse )

I resolved to "think it over". We had a great time at the Irish Festival. It was neat exposing him to the Culture of Ireland, because he wasn't at all familiar with it. He asked me interesting questions too. We had nice conversations, were playful with eachother. Etc. Yes, he was VERY physical with me, and I kept having to remind him to slow down, and all that. But, I enjoyed myself. Then I went home, he went home, and I thought about things.Collapse )

I'm not sure how much he and I really have in common. I'm not sure if he and I have what it takes to have a relationship. I'm not even sure of the chemistry, but, it's better than anything else i've experienced in my post-W days.

A few hours later, he called again. "Please come out again, with me. I really want to be with you again, right now".

He took me out to an Ecuadorian club/restaurant. And was trying to teach me to Bachata. That's a really cool latin dance with its own type of music attached to it. Really romantic music. When I was dating W, he had a CD of the music that his Ecuadorian friends had given him. And he used to listen to it with me all the time. I liked it. Here I am at the club, and they are playing those songs. The same ones I used to listen to with W. But now, i'm dancing in the arms of someone who actually knows the dance, and is teaching me to do it. And he thinks i'm sexy as hell. And he is holding me, and kissing me, and spinning me around the dance floor, and i'm having more fun than I've had in months. Yes, I missed W. For a moment I felt the wound open again, and bleed a bit. But Brians kisses, and his attention, seemed to apply some sort of balm to that wound.

Toward the end of the evening, he jumped up on the stage and spoke with the DJ. I thought nothing of it at the time, until he lead me out on the dancefloor again, and after the last strains of one of these Bachata songs ended, all of a sudden, the first few haunting notes of "Hotel California" came on. Again, another song that W and I used to listen to frequently. And it occurred to me as I swallowed hard against that knowledge, that Brian had requested this song for me. An American song for me to dance to with him. A slow song. An almost "Witchy Song". The rest of the people in the bar were groaning. They wanted the DJ to stop the song. After all, they come to hear their music. They come to Bachata. But the DJ said "No, he wanted this song played, for his lady...". They were staring, they were watching, and yet he spun me around in his arms, and gazed deeply into my eyes, and bent his head to kiss my neck. And suddenly, the romantic air of the evening, seemed to get to me. It was like a feeling of "Opening Up" a window somewhere in my mind. And I felt something. I didnt' feel that explosion I felt when I collided with W. I didn't feel that overwhelming love I felt for W. Or even that overwhelming heat. But I felt SOMETHING. Just a little spark. Just a little breeze fanning it. Just Something. Perhaps, what I felt was the heaviness being lifted from my heart for a moment. A feeling of actually being able to enjoy myself. A feeling of contentment in the moment. Something I hadn't been able to feel, since the day W walked away.

It feels, like finally, I'm moving on.
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Where were you, 9/11? I was living in RI with my ex husband. We were having the veterenarian come and pay a housecall to our cats. John was usually always present when the cats were being examined. This time, I found it odd that he instead, sat in front of the television, and only got up to pay the doctor.

I went out to the livingroom, and he said "Jean, you've got to see this". It was after the first plane struck, and before the second tower was. We sat in mute horror. He got up, and went to work, despite the nauseous sick feeling in his stomach. I sat, and watched. Then logged on the internet to check on some friends who I knew worked close to the World Trade Center site. Eventually, they logged on from their laptops, or cellphones, from wherever they could, or called other friends, and had them let me know they were okay. Which, odd as it may sound, seemed just a marginal relief. How could I feel happy, and secure that MY friends were safe, when so many people were losing their husbands, daughters, sons, brothers, sisters, wives? Even watching them toss themselves out of windows to escape the flames? Or knowing they were smothered beneath layers of rubble, possibly still struggling to live? Yes, I was relieved, but, that sense of relief, on that day, in that moment, was short lived, and bittersweet.

I went back to the livingroom. Stayed there for the next few hours, just watching. Mute, Sick. Stunned.

Eventually, John came home. We talked a little. Then I decided I had to get out of the house. Just had to.

I remember walking outside, and looking up at how incredibly beautiful the sky was that day. With just the barest tinge of autumn in the air. I watched the sky, wondering if more planes filled with explosives were somewhere up there. I knew, logically, that by that time, air space was virtually emptied out by the restrictions. And yet, each time I did hear a motor, for a very long time to come, I wondered where that plane was headed, and whether or not, it was one of our own.

I walked down the road to the catholic church. I knew it would be quiet in there. Quiet. Cool. Peaceful. I entered. Only the priest was there. Gathering bibles. I asked him if I could sit, and think, and pray. He said people were always welcome, for prayer. I sat down, and looked at the statue of the Mother Mary. Who is a Goddess, in her own right. And to me, at that moment, she did present the Goddess, and she was mixed at that moment with a memory of Lady Liberty, and of Lady Justice. And her arms were outstretched, and her face looked sad. I was struck for a moment by the urge to run to her, and embrace her. Instead, I just sat, and thought, and prayed, and asked..."Why???". And yes, I wondered if it was indeed, the end of the world.

A refrain from an old Christian song played through my head, repeatedly. "In these days of confused situations. In these nights of a restless remorse. When the heart and the soul of a nation. Lay wounded and cold as a corpse. From the grave of the innocent Adam. Comes a song bringing joy to the sad. Oh your cries have been heard and the ransome. Has been paid up in full, be ye glad.". Odd. But that song seemed to fit so perfectly, as far as talking about how it felt that day. Our innocense had died that day. A little of our arrogance died that day. And it felt like we were all, each a little bit, in our own way, there at Ground Zero..dying a little inside.

And then I walked home, after a time. I was filled with a feeling that I had to do something. Donate blood? Couldn't. Had a fever. Go there, and work? Not likely. Physical limitations prohibited. What could I do?

I remember those spontaneous vigils, where we all gathered on our front porches at a specific time, and lit candles. That was such an incredibly touching thing to be witness to. All around the country, and even indeed, around the world. Billions, and billions of candles lit, simultaneously.

I remember the cars with the American Flags streaming behind them. I remember people being kinder, and gentler with eachother. I remember the awful awful weight that the air seemed to have to it.

I began to organize a vigil for my town. Bought tons of candles. Organized speakers. Got the use of a huge flag to be held up between two fireengines. Organized flower donations, boyscouts to serve hot chocolate. And when the night came. I sat on stage, and gave a speech. And others gave theirs. And then we lit our candles, sang our songs. Read off the names of people who had passed. And cried. And then went back to their homes.

I was written up in the paper. And I had people contacting me for days after. I remember being struck by the fact that some of the people who had donated flowers and such to the event were actually calling me wondering when I was going to post a thank you ad in the local newspaper for all those who helped out and donated things. Especially a local florist. I felt slapped in the face by that, and angry. I had organized the event, where nobody else had yet gathered their whits to do so. I had gone out of my way, in a town where I knew noone with the exception of my ex husbands family, to do something for the community, for my country (and yes, for my own inner healing), and here some local mercheants were wanting to turn it into an advertising moment. I was outraged. No, I wasn't going to print the ad. I thanked the participants AT the vigil. Anything else, imo, was merely selfish, and self motivating, and they should have been ashamed of themselves. In a moment where our country was so broken, so wounded, so in need of peace and healing, for these people to ASK to have a written thanks in order to advertise their "goodness" and their product, was disgusting to me. In times like this, people are supposed to give, WITHOUT regard for how they are thanked. Me? It embarrassed me to be in the newspaper. It embarrassed me to have any attention drawn to me at all. I did it, ONLY because nobody else was putting anything together yet. And I felt I HAD to do something. That I couldn't sit there any longer, I had to do something to help myself heal from what I viewed on 9/11, and help others heal a bit too. Grieving, together, as a community, in my mind, is one of the best ways one can acheive a measure of healing. Realizing that you are not alone in your thoughts, and your pain.

9/11 changed me in some fundamental ways. And it taught me many lessons.

The first is that none of us is ever as safe as we think we are. What we come to rely on, in moments, can be taken from us. On a clear blue day, a perfect day, when we think we are far beyond the touch of arms of death, destruction, or chaos.

The second, is that when those moments happen, we must reach out, not only to those whom we know and love, but also to something greater than ourselves. Either your community, your church, your personal God, or Gods. Your national identity. We need something "greater than the self" in order to comprehend, and process what is going on at that moment. In order to feel some sense of order to things, or at least a sense of comfort, or inspiration in those horrible moments.

The third, is that nobody's contribution, no matter how small, is too small. And that nobody should wait until someone else makes a move, to pitch in, and help. Whether using my example..an outsider in a small town with no town connections and roots organizing their 9/11 vigil, or using the example of many rescue workers and doctors who went to 9/11 that day, by their own initiative, we all pitch in. And you don't have to be a hero to do so. You don't have to be well known, or well connected, or have a specific talent that you are aware of. You simply need to reach out. And then the universe gets behind you, and aids you in your endeavor.

The next, how important it is to savor the sweet moments in life.

The next, that we MUST question our government. We MUST question how these things happen. And we can do that, even amidst, and perhaps even ESPECIALLY amidst pain and grieving.

I have seen though, how this, unfortunately was something we did not do enough of in he time immediately following 9/11.

That day is forever etched in my memory. The lives lost that day will never be forgotten.

Nor will the heart of innocense that we felt before that day, ever fully be restored.

May liberty smile upon us, once more.
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Not feeling good today. No need for details. Just, altogether, down. So much for that empowered feeling I had.
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Virgo Yahoo Horoscope today:

The road ahead is full of mystery -- which is a lot more fun than a road you know.

Overview:
Someone's telling you to hurry, but your instincts are balking. Be true to your inner voice. There's far too much needless hurry and rush in the world. Few people are smart enough to understand the pleasures of slowness.

Gemini Yahoo Horoscope Today:

Quickie:
Take a very conservative approach with how you spend your hard-earned dollars now.

Overview:
Spend your considerable energy and insight on another person. They could really use your help. This will also mitigate any bad karma you might have from making a recent situation all about you.

NO F*ING KIDDING!

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Leave it to my mother. I had a really stresfull day at work, and when I finally unwound from that, I came home, and she had to stress me out more. So of course, my stomach is in turmoil now. And my weekend plans look as if they are going to be shot. BAH! Sometimes, I just get SO pissed off!

And to make it worse, W is online, and is being a dork about the other night..I guess.
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The first magic of love is our ignorance that it can ever end. - Benjamin Disraeli.  
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I am your moon and your moonlight too

I am your flower garden and your water too.

I have come all this way eager for you,

without shoes or shawl.

I want you to laugh, to kill all your worries, to love you, to nourish you.

Oh sweet bitterness, I will soothe you and heal you.

I will bring you roses. I too have been covered with thorns.
 

Rumi.

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* * *
People say that I love too much. That I am a love addict. That my love overwhelms me, swamps me, and prevents in me the ability to think beyond the love that I feel. 

Yet all of the great poets, and great philosophers of our time, speak of the type of love that I have felt. Of the way in which I love others. The love with which I love, is spoken of in movies, and books, and poetry.

If this type of love, is the type of love which the rest of the world seems to long to experience, and to find, then how is it possible that I am still alone? That I haven't found the perfect love to reflect, at me, the unending, undying type of love that I have given others? How is it that it ends in sorrow, and bitterness? Is it possible that the poets, and philosophers, novelists, and screenwriters, and playwrights, and crooners, have it all wrong? Is it possible that the love that we hear of, the love that we say we long for is not what we REALLY long for? Is this world we live in a world of hypocrisy. Where we all CLAIM to want the "ideal" and yet, not only fall short of giving it, but also, do not really pursue it, in truth? 

Why is it that we fear the thing we claim to pursue? Why is it that when we have the ideal, and the ideal is obtained, we loosen our hold, drop it, and runaway in near abject horror?

Why do we abandon love, when it is found, in search of something greater? Is there anything greater than the love that is written of? 

Perhaps when faced with the love glowing in my eyes, the fact that it comes so freely to me, so naturally, to give without wanting in return, to love with abandon, to share each secret and 
thought, and space inside my heart without holding anything back, shames people into examining their own hearts, their own inability to reach the "ideal", and love with that "ideal".

I may sound manic at the moment. And arrogant, or a the very least, not humble. But this is the truth that I know. I DO love with the depth, and the intensity that is written about . And then it ends. And I am left searching for a reason why the object of my love and adoration runs away.

How do you answer that question, when you know that you haven't cheated, haven't lied. That you put their needs before your own. That you listened, that you loved. That you were passionate, and giving, and warm, and kind. Patient, and eager, and calming, and pleasing. That you did all that you could do, and loved with all of your heart, and still, you are abandoned in the end. How can you be so loving, and so rejected? 

Perhaps there are a few of us, who learned how to love. And we are meant to teach others how to love. And not acheive that type of love in return for ourselves?
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“God turns you from one feeling to another and teaches by means of opposites, so that you will have two wings to fly, not one.” Rumi
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Scientists say they may have found proof for a phenomena they've entitled "Telephone Telepathy".

http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20060905/od_uk_nm/oukoe_uk_britain_telepathy

I have experienced this numerous times. With my friend F, it seems to happen more than with others. I can always sense when he is going to call. It used to be even more powerful then it is now. But, last week, and over the weekend, I kept saying that I was filled with a sense of "anticipation" over W. I wasn't sure why, but I just had a feeling that he was thinking of me, that he wanted to talk to me. That was sort of confirmed by my dad seeing him at the gas station, and I began to feel that feeling of anticipation waiver, because I figured my dads "Sighting" was what that feeling of anticipation was all about.

And yet, F called that evening, and asked me if I wanted to go out, and I said no. I just wanted to stay at home, on the computer, inexplicably. Usually, when given an option of going out, or staying home, I want to go out. Even when under the weather. But, I just had a feeling that I wanted to log on the internet, and keep yahoo messenger open. I logged on, and for the first time since our last runin, there's W! Online! And, he messages me.

Oddness. My theory is that since parapsychology has been linked to electro magnetic fields, perhaps in some way, electronic equipment such as Computers, and Phones amplify psychokenetic energy which is already present. But, that's just a theory.
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I do have to say though, my hormones reacted the same way to him that they always did.

read here if you are on my xxx filter and want detailsCollapse )

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The minute I heard my first love story,

I started looking for you, not knowing

how blind that was.

Lovers don't finally meet somewhere,

they're in each other all along.

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W,

I just wanted you to know that I am okay today. I haven't cried, and don't feel like crying. I don't feel sad, really. At least no more so than before last night. If anything, last night helped to clarify a lot to me. It helped show me some things.

Time has passed, and things have changed. No matter how much at one point I wanted time to stand still, and no matter how much I wanted everything to stay the same. Your life has gone on. You have long since healed from, and moved on from, the past that we shared together. Your feelings for me now, are almost as if the feelings that you had for me in the past never existed. Last night, that wall that we both felt? That was the wall between strangers. Sometimes I wonder how two strangers ever manage to hook up in this world, but amazingly they do. People learn to climb that wall, and reach out. Even for one night. But between us, because of the history, the ways in which we hurt eachother, and the emotional pits we dragged eachother through, and because you are in a relationship, and I am still trying to heal, the immense courage it requires to climb that wall, simply was not there, for either of us. What resulted was a fumbling attempt to connect in a way that we used to, for a moment, and neither one of us could do that.

I remember how it used to happen. I'd give you a massage, or you'd ask me to cuddle with you, or you'd lay in my lap. And I would touch you lovingly, and you would touch me lovingly, and the kissing would begin, and then, it would be quickly followed by the passion. Why did it happen that way? Because we loved eachother. We cared about eachother. We saw the best that there was to see in eachother. Now that time has passed, and so much pain, our thoughts are in different places. Yours are at least. Me? I was simply scared to reach out to you that way, again. Scared of rejection. It felt wierd, I didn't know how to reach out to you, I was afraid you didn't want me to. I was afraid, that you would not welcome my touch. I was afraid, after the angry words you said one time to me, how you couldn't even look at me without "feeling disgusted", I was afraid to reach out. I think those words destroyed a part of me. The confident me, the me who felt sexy around you. Last night, I felt a lot of self doubt. I was just, afraid.

That's why it was different. And that led me to the knowledge that there is too much water under the bridge, between us, to cross now. If you came back to me tomorrow, and said you loved me, it would be near to impossible for me to believe it. You'd have to spend so much time, trying to make me believe that you loved me. Because it would be almost possible for me to accept. And you? You'd always be haunted by the thought that I could hurt so deeply, and even wish to hurt myself, if ever you were to fail me again. What kind of relationship would that be?

So I am okay today. I am able to breathe today, and live today. I am still sad for the past. And I mourn the you and me that we were when we were together. I mourn that love that was lost. But finally, I think, I have some closure. There is no more hope, in me, for us. We will never have our chance again. The only thing that we can hope to find, I think, my dear, dear W, is that we can remain friends. Because what we had WAS special. It will always be special, and precious to me.

I want you to know, that no matter where you go in life, I am only a phone call, or email away. As the song says "you've got a friend". It will be a long time, and possibly, there will never be a time, when hearing about some love of your life will not hurt me (because I am not she). But, if ever you should need me, REALLY need me. If you are scared, or in trouble, you call, and i'll come running.

I know I can let you go, you are a cherished part of my history now. Part of the DNA story of my life. But I can let you go. There will be days I will be lonely, and I will miss you. Days I'll wish I could go back to the past. But, I can't make you feel what you once felt. And i'm too scared now, to even try. So I can accept now, the way things are. And love the W I knew, and care about the W who exists now.

One last thing, love, PLEASE please, be good to yourself. I mean it. You deserve SO much out of this life. You are SO wonderful. You are handsome, and sweet, and kind, and smart, and warm, and so full of energy and vitality. You deserve SO much joy. Please don't settle for the things that you are settling for now. Seek BLISS. Seek true love. This is why I am not in a relationship now, even though I have had offers. I want Bliss. I want true joy. Not just the knowledge that someone is there. Your girlfriend, does not seem to be giving you bliss. It seems you can't really be yourself with her. It seems that you can't be all that you know you are, that you can't have all that you want to have. And yes, sometimes in life we must lower our expectations. But it seems to me that she would wish to refinish you into the image of the husband and daddy that she has been imagining, rather than really loving, and wishing to nurture the man that you are. Thus the rush, into the marriage. It is not time for that yet. You and I both know that. Do not be rushed. Do not wind up in a marriage as unhappy and bitter as my parents marriage. I have seen how it has torn them apart, and torn my sister, brother and I up to witness it. The anger, and contempt, and hatred that grows between two people who are so different, and want different things, and have different expectations, and rush into a marriage. And she isn't going to change, she's not going to stop pressuring W. She's too blinded by her need. You need to pull back, before the worst happens. You get her pregnant, or something else. She'll survive it. She has a daughter to live for. I am very, very concerned for you W.

As always, I wish you all the true happiness that life has to offer. I hope you find it.

Keep in touch. Make brave moves with your life, and sit back and watch the magick happen.

I love you, always will :) But i'm okay now :) I am sad for what we had, and lost, but no more sad than I was before. Perhaps even a little less sad. So don't feel bad for me.

Do keep our memories precious though. Remember me not only for the sexual things that I provided, but for those other special times, and the way that we laughed, and the way that we cried, and the way that we connected. THAT was what made our time together special. Remember it, W. Because if anything were to happen to me tomorrow, or next week, I don't have children, I have no husband, I have no LEGACY to leave behind, except the memories of those who I loved, and who loved me once upon a time.

Thank you, so much for your honesty last night. For not playing games with my emotions, and my mind. Thank you for your respect and concern for my feelings. I enjoyed, so much, simply sitting with you, and talking with you again. Now I know there is no more anger, no more hatred, but no more love either, in your heart for me. And I can face whatever is happening in my life, medically, and in other ways, without worrying anymore about that. With the knowledge that even though there is not one little glimmer of love anymore in your heart for me, romantically, that you care, even a little. Thanks for answering that question.

Love, Always,
Jean
* * *
You may say I did a really screwed up thing. And you are probably right. You may say I probably set my recovery back months, but there, you might be wrong. But I did what I did, and I'm holding up in spite of it, and it may have been better for me to do it, then to sit with these questions for the rest of my life.

I saw W last night. Not just a brief glimpse of him on the street somewhere, but, actually SAW him, actually got together with him. And yes, made love to him.

But here is the thing. We talked for a while before it happened, last night. He opened the door just a crack, and I jumped right in. He tried to close it again, before I did. He tried to talk me out of it. He tried to back out of it. But, I wouldn't let him. I practically begged him. And he came.

We drove to a parking lot near the bar we always went to, and we talked.

Yes he still has his girlfriend. And that is the screwed up part. I let him cheat on her. But listening to him talk about her, I began to feel less and less compassion and guilt about that.

She's already pushing him for marriage, after only a couple of months. She's jealous, and possessive, and yet will not do the things in their relationship that he loves to do. Sexually, and in other ways. She ties him down. He talks about going to Florida, even ASKED her to go with him, and she said no. And tries to get him to stay here. She cannot have more children, supposedly, and yet, W wants his own children someday. He is in a relationship which is not right for him.

He didnt' tell me these things to get me to sleep with him. He knows he doesn't have to do that. He told me these things, because he's unhappy.

So we talked. And he urged me to go inside after we talked. "You should go. It's getting late, and we both have work tomorrow". This, before we did anything. And "Jean, I don't want to hurt you anymore. I don't want to awaken your feelings for me. You don't understand, if you were just some other woman I met someplace, I could do this, and not feel guilty about it. But, I had a relationship with you. You love me. I loved you once. I have a respect for you, and a concern for your feelings. I don't want to use you" and yes, that is all there would be.

Unlike before, when we met directly after breaking up, there was no lingering. There were no promises of care and concern. He wasn't trying to fool me, to ease me. He wasn't absorbing all of my comfort, and care, and trying to touch these emotional places inside me. He wasn't talking about feeling confused. Or calling me beautiful. Or telling me how special I was. There was laughter..and him listening to me, and thats about it. Everything else that HAD been between us, at least for him, was gone. It's dead.

There are no lingering ghosts, no questions unanswered for him. He doesn't see himself marrying his girlfriend, but it doesn't seem for even a minute that he has a question in his head regarding me. There are moments he still thinks of me, yes. There are moments he wishes he had the sex that he had with me, yes. But there is nothing of the heart, left over.

There seemed a wall between us last night. I was so unaccustomed to that feeling. All of a sudden, I couldn't remember how to touch him. I couldn't remember what words to say, or how to move.

And when we finally did come together for sex, it wasn't after holding eachother, and spinning some magickal web of wonder between us. It was a conscious decision. He took off his shirt, I took off mine. A little bit of kissing, but, a bit like two kids fumbling around. Nothing felt like it used to feel. The magick was gone.

We had sex, and yes, I'll admit, it was STILL better than the sex i've had since him. But, there, again, I could see, the magick had just gone away. It wasn't there anymore. Not for him, and surprisingly, not for me. It wasn't even possible to convince myself that even a bit of it was still there. For the first time. There was no self deception, and no deception at all between us.

It was like we were strangers, a little bit.

And when we parted, I didn't feel bad. I'm not yet sure today, how I feel. There isn't a deeper pain, or a deeper cut as I thought there might be if ever this were to happen again. Neither is there any anger toward him.

It just feels like I have my answer now. He doesn't really love her, and he didn't really love me. Or if he did, really love me at a time, he doesn't, anymore.

There is no saving us. There is nothing to save. Those times when I think i've come to acceptance, but then flip-flop and say I'd do anything to have him back. Well, I would. But, the W I knew then. I have to grieve that W. There is nothing left between us anymore. It's a part of history. And time has marched on.

It still feels like winter in my heart. I still can't feel any emotional connection to anyone I have met since him. But, it's not there for him anymore either. It's just a ghost I'm longing for. A mirage.

I have my answer now. He doesn't love me. He doesn't even think for one moment, once in a while, about how special our relationship was, and how much he loved me. Time has moved on.

He was caring and thoughtful last night. He was, his typical self. But it was the self that he shows other people. Not the self he used to show me. That special W that only I knew.
That is all gone. There is no getting it back.

I'm surprisingly okay with that.

I miss everything that used to be, but it is gone, and cannot be recaptured. I don't think either of us would know how to do that.

Life has gone on. Despite what I once wished. Things have changed, despite my wish to keep them the same.

Sometimes, you just cannot find your way back, from whence you came.
* * *
Just finished reading "Dispatches from the Edge" by Anderson Cooper.

I have only one question. WHY oh WHY does Anderson Cooper have to apparently be GAY?

Granted, he's never come out of the closet, but there are alot of tantalizing bits and pieces that you catch from various sources. Like his continually thanking a very supportive, calm friend, "Julio" (Ok, Anderson, if I were a man, I'd be a gay man who was into latin men too, so I do understand), But, DAMMIT, I want you!

Okay...now back to my regularly scheduled posts.

* * *
Death: Kahlil Gibran "The Prophet"

For what is it to die, but to stand naked in the wind, and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence, shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the Mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when he earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

I want this last part etched on my tombstone when I do pass.

Forgive me for being rather morbid. But, at 31, it seems as if all of my health issues are beginning to explode at once. I don't remember the last time I actually felt "good" and health issue free. It is almost as if the clock started running in fast foward once I hit thirty. And it reminds me of a cartoon where the hands of the clock are just spinning, and spinning wildly, so fast, and it's only a matter of time before you hear that "sproinnng!" noise, and the hands pop off, and the springs pop out. And yet, I can't put time back in its bottle.

Isn't it terrible, that I am only 31 years old, and I haven't yet (and I do say yet) been diagnosed with anything fatal, and yet, these little health issue annoyances keep popping up left and right, each of them hinting that it could be a symptom of something greater (and then upon testing, they come up with empty hands), and force me to face my ultimate mortality already?

And I haven't been married, not the way I wanted to. I had 3 years of a common-law abomination that we called a marriage. I haven't had children, though I had two opportunities to. And I haven't had my own house. And I haven't driven my own car. And there are so many things I still haven't done. Oh, I know the odds are with me. Im only 31. Things like colon cancer don't tend to hit women when they are 31 years old, right? I know that the doctors have taken just about every blood panel known to man from me, and everything seems to be okay. But, the symptoms ...are they all stress related? And if so, besides drugging myself with all manner of anti stress medicine, what can I do to cut down on it? Everything I can do, is management based. Therapy. Medication. Yoga. But it's all covering up the roots of the issues. Not dealing WITH the issues. And how do I deal with the issues? I could..find another job. But with an entry level job skill base, ANY job that I am qualified for, is going to be stressful. I'm good on the phones. Good at talking with people. Thus,...sales/customer service is my niche. I don't have a degree. I'm not going to find a "Career" at this point in my life. Not unless I manufacture one. But, any kind of business I would like to start, would require capital. Which I dont have. I have ALL the ideas, but no direction, and no capital with which to start it. No collateral. No credit.

And that only deals with the job issue. What about the home issue? I have to leave my stressful job, and come home to a household of screaming lunatics. EVERY day. I'm stuck. And I can't save money, because i'm too busy paying for meds, and testing, and doctors visits, and escapisms DUE to the stress. And then I look for a partner, to share my burden, a partner who could help me see a future without the stress. To take me away from it, for a night, or every night, into a world which is soft, and gentle, and loving. But, Inevitably, I'm abandoned to it once more. I just feel so trapped. I just feel like it's never going to get any better. People ask me what my goals are. And I tell them, but i'm forever incapable of putting a path in place to reach those goals, because i'm always too busy playing catch up, and run away.

So I'm taunted by these little glimpses of death. These symptoms that pop up, and are often diagnosed "Idiosympatic" which means, "of unknown origin".

And what I want, is an escape.

I don't want to kill myself. And I don't really want to die. What I want, is an escape. What I want, is hope. What I want is a belief that someday, somehow, things have GOT to get better.

I'm so lonely in my soul. So starving for someone to help me carry my load. I'm not the kind of girl who expects someone to make everything right for her. I've carried many a persons burdens upon my shoulders, and helped out in numerous ways, people going through more difficult times then myself. And that is how I am in a relationship. It's not that I am a taker. I am a giver. But I need someone just to help me, just a bit. I don't want them to carry my load FOR me, just to make my load a little easier to carry. To walk beside me.

I felt so good when I was with W. I felt like I had that. He made everything so much lighter, so much brighter. I was dreaming again. Dreaming of a future colored with beauty. And it all came crashing down. And now I see the world in shades of grey, deepening to black again.

What I wouldn't give to have his light and warmth inside me once more.

"To be wounded by your own understanding of love, and to bleed
Willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart, and give thanks for another day
of loving;
To rest at the noon hour, and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart
and a song of praise upon your lips". --"The Prophet" Khalil Gibran.
* * *
What are you afraid of, when it comes to the thought of death? Honestly? Is it the fear of surrendering the comforts and pleasures of life? Is it the fear of what is on the other side? Is it the fear that maybe you have not completed all that you should have in this life, and may get to the other side, just to see that you had wasted your life here on earth? Do you fear some judgement for crimes unpaid in this life? Is it the agony of a prolonged illness. Or, instead, not having the chance to say goodbye to those around you? Or is it the fear of allowing your loved ones to see you ill, and dying, and suffering? Or how they will feel, alternatively, by not having the chance to say goodbye?

Do I fear death? No. I don't really. I don't think I will face a punishment on the other side. And if I have uncompleted tasks, I believe that I will live again, and be given another chance to complete them. If there were things I did in this life, that were wrong, I believe I will be showed those things. And that when I see them through the eyes of the divine, that my punishment will simply be seeing the results of those things, in a way that I have not seen them on this earth. I am not a heartless person. When I have done wrong to another person, I feel pain. If shown how any deed I did, hurt another person, that, I believe, would be the punishment, in and of itsself. Who amongst us, who has a heart, would not suffer in the light of seeing their deeds, and how they hurt another being?

No, it's not the whole "what's on the other side" thing that makes me scared.

And it's not necessarily the "unfinished business" deal either. Sure, there are things I would like to do in my life.
But I've never really been a very driven person. And I realize that the things I haven't done in my life, I haven't done because I decided, consciously or subconsciously not to do them.

What is it then? Certainly, prolonged suffering does play a role in that. I do not want to be so weak, and ill, that I am not able to enjoy the little life that I have left. Like most people, I would rather go quickly, suddenly even. Rather than to face a life with machines, medications, bedrest, and the tears and sorrow of those around me.

But, I believe in the dignity of life, and the dignity of ones right to choose how they will go. And though it may be disturbing for some to hear, I reserve the right to end my life before such restrictions were placed upon it. So it's not really that which I fear either.

What I fear, is not being able to say all that I wanted to say. Or to hear all that I wanted to hear. I fear not being able to reach out to those who meant so much to me in life, because there have been burned bridges between us. To ask for forgiveness, to offer them forgiveness as well. I want the opportunity to wipe the slate clean of any negativity, and leave those persons with all the positive memories of me as a human. I've often said that it appears we all become Saints when we die. People seem to forget the bad things, and remember the good. But I want to experience that, and observe it, while i'm still living, before I die.

I want to hear W, and P,and J, and all my other exes remembering all of the good times, and all of the good traits about me. I want to hear them saying that they loved me, at some point, because of something endearing I did. And have them tell me again, "You were such a good person, and you did so much for me". Is that selfish? Perhaps. I just want to know that all I have done in this life, which has mainly been a life of giving to other people, even at the expense of my own emotional, financial, or physical well being, has been noted, and marked, and appreciated. That those memories will have a lasting impact long after I am gone.

And it seems as if different parts of my life are disjaunted, kind of ...separate. Friend A knew one side of me, Family knew another, and Friends b, c, and d knew me at another part of my life. I'd kind of like them to know it all. And to see me from those perspectives. I think about it sometimes, how if someone who knew me from my highschool days, were to talk to someone I knew through the Pagan Circle I used to be part of, they wouldn't think they were at the right funeral. And how if someone from my extended family, listened to my Immigrant friends talk today..they would wonder "Are they talking about the right person?". It's not that I'm disgenuine. I just, evolve. And there are parts of my life that my extended family doesn't know, because they don't get close enough to know. And I have friends of mine who haven't even ever met my family, for intance. How do you draw that together, at a funeral service?

I'd like to have different Eulogies, read by differen't people. Someone in my family to talk about how I did all that family history research. Maybe some of the quirks that I had. Probably my sister. The music I loved, etc.

Someone from my Xtian days, talking about those experiences and thoughts I had.

Someone from my Moonlight Circle days, talking about the me they knew then. Possibly R, or A, or V.

And then, P, or W,or maybe even L. probably. And of course, I'd prefer it to be W. Why? Because not only does he know my very strong opinion, about immigrants rights, the dignity of all peoples, and all of that, but so many other wonderful little traits about my personality. He knows them. He may have pushed them out of his mind for the time being, for his own personal reasons, his own ease of mind, but, he Knows them. He knows Me. Probably better than anyone else right now.

Yep, rather than one Eulegy, I'd like several. Because I have evolved SO much as a person.

I'd also like alot of music. I want to be sung into the afterlife. All kinds of music, representing all those various stages of my life.

"I can only Imagine"-representing my xtian days, maybe
"Dust in the Wind" maybe
"Fare thee well" by the indigo girls maybe.
"Go Rest High on that Mountain"- Vince Gill

I just want to go out, feeling that I mattered. Feeling that I was loved. Feeling that I meant something here to those around me, and that I did have a purpose.

And, I wonder how many people would shed a tear.

I suppose that "not knowing" is what I fear the most.

And who knows what else. The people who know me will know.
* * *
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