Blown to bits

And when your life is blown to bits and scattered by the wind
Let the pieces fall and where ever they land
Take a deep breath in and out and start over again.

I should have known better

You should have known better that by breaking my heart

the space tight between us would be torn apart apart.

I should have known better.I knew what you'd do.
You never got past the pain that I put you through.

You should have known better that what I would see
would finally break down any  hope left in me.

I should have known better the path you would take
for mistakes in our past that you never forgave.

We should have remembered there is nothing more painful
than when the one you trust most in this world is unfaithful

Trust is built when words match actions over time

And it the actions change...What happens to the trust. Does it slip away a bit at a time? What happens when the words change or maybe they are just the same words said before that trust was broken before.

We started over. It was different from the other times, because this time you brought your apology from an honest and raw place. You changed. You admitted to everything.You said I could ask anything and you would answer me. And from that moment I accepted your words.There were things I needed to know and to hear, but I did not look for reasons to distrust you. I did not obsess. I held your words close over years and they grew till I trusted completely.

Words matched actions, until they didn't. The actions changed. All at once. I was told that there would be change and to accept it. That you were changing and people said it was good for you. What people? I thought I was your people. I've always wanted for you to grow and be able to do more than you were able to before. But this was different. I was told I had to get used to this new you. The new you made plans without me and did things we'd always done together without me. I doubted myself.  The more I worried you were putting me to one side, the more I looked for reasons. Was it going to happen again? And like that, the trust was gone, replaced with fear and the feeling I must be crazy. Crazy not to trust. Crazy and bringing it all on myself.

Fear and sadness. Worry and guilt. Confusion and frustration. Wanting to trust. Distrusting. So many times I've taken what was given and accepted. So many that I can't just let it all go and I'm once again pulled into a whirling mess of emotion. Wondering. Am I crazy?

I was told I'm not crazy. I've never been crazy.
I was told that while listening to my fears was OK, acting on them is not.
I was told to ask for what I need to make the fear and sadness and worry and guilt and confusion and frustration and distrust.
I was told to talk with you and let you know what was happening with me, why I was asking all the questions and obsessed with worry that you'd found a new love.
I was stop accusing you. To stop guessing. To face what was happening to me as what it really is. Actions changed and I was reminded of other actions another time and it hurt all over again. I was unable to separate then and now. It was not healthy for me. I needed help to stop.
I was told if you loved me, you'd understand what I needed to feel safe again.
I was told I needed to be given all the tools to trust. Transparency and honesty.
I was told that it would be given lovingly.
I was told there would be no push back or blame or intimidation or anger.
But there was. It hurts so much..."getting.snooped" Thats what you gave me for transparency. Passive aggressive bullshit. It does not make me feel you understand. It makes me feel even more unhappy and worried. It's like you are wanting to get even. I hurt you. You hurt me.

Maybe you think I'm bringing all this up to make you hurt for things you did in the past. I'm not wanting to hurt you by bringing things up, I forgave you,  the wounded woman who took you back over and over will never forget. It's a part of me, of us. It just is. I thought I would never be worried about us or you ever again. I thought I'd moved past that. I had moved past that.

Maybe you think I'm just a snoop who wants to control you. I don't want to snoop on you, I want to know there is nothing to find. I don't want to control you, I want you to help me control my fear and worry that it could happen. I need your help, not your anger. I'm in a dark place. If there is no reason for me to be here, reach out and help me. I need you to help me.

Trust is built when words match actions over time.
I no longer trust you.
You happiness does not match my sadness.
This has happened before
I think I am doomed to have this happen again.

And it did.
It was less than 24 hours when I found proof that absolved me from being crazy or unnecessarily snoopy. It was clear, I am doomed bcecause this time had to be the last time or I will be hust over and over.

Trust is gone.

The photos I found, of you and her were ones you so professionally set up and shot. A door from my living room in the shot, You and your undeniable tattoos back to the camera while you left nothing to the imagination. When ever I let even a bit of "maybe if", I look at that photo. The others don't have the same power that one has. You have no remorse, no guilt. It was a want and you gave it to yourself without thought to the consequence, or maybe you knew it would finally set you free from me. But your freedom came with a stiff price. Your children, my family, my friends and even some of yours who will never speak to you again. And you feel that they are the ones being unreasonable, as if what you did to me was somehow justified. I've been so accommodating, why would they hate you. The hate comes from the all the other times, like this one. And I know, you won't be able to stop. It will happen with her, sooner than you think, someone will shower you with more attention than she is and you will swept up into a new game of hide and seek. You are very good at that game. But I hope you don't do that to her. It's isn't her, its for you. If you could figure out the "why" you could control the "why not"

This post is my real life and I won't leave it up forever. You would be oh so very angry that I put into words what you feel is "our business and no own needs to know"   Well that would make it OK for you to have moved on since I seem so ok with hiding it for you. But for the first time in 20 years I the affect of your anger does not humble me. It reminds me of why this is the right thing for me.

Yes... Trust is gone, love is gone, our life is gone, your children are gone, you will never be the cool Grandfather. You will never be the funny uncle at the Thanksgiving table. You will have to learn to live on your own. What it means to have no one helping you remember. Soon this house will be gone.

I look forward to my new home, what every that will be. I look forward to the new friendships I will have once I can have them come to my home. I will be lonely, but I've been lonely for years. Lonely now will only help me go out into the world and take chances and see what and who is out there waiting for me to find it.

I am a rose bud slowed to open by the cold , but I will bloom. And I will be beautiful.

Justifiable

You are a mess. 

It's over but you can't let go. 

The same insecurities and self doubt that lead you sleep with him  - also filled you with guilt. You had to believe you were in love, You were the one who could change him - one he could not live without. You felt alive, sexy, desired, impulsive. The progression from flirtation to sex was easy once you had justified being in love.

It's over.

It changed nothing in his life.

You'd shared yourself intimately with him in ways you had stopped sharing with your partner. You imagined a future with him. You had to believe that or the angst would wash over you like ice water. You had to believe it was love or that ache your heart where you knew it was wrong would swallow you whole.

You said I love you and he said it back because he was not ready to stop fucking you. You gave your body to him time and again, but did not know he was in control until he grew tired of you and moved on. You saw him, intimate with another girl and it brought you to your knees. The longer he ignored you, the more obsessed you became, You had lied and manipulated your partner into believing there was nothing going on and now you could not share your pain with the one person who knew you best.

It changed nothing in his life.

But not in your dreams.

He is with you again. He is sorry for how much he hurt you, He pulls you into his arms and whispers that he never stopped loving you. The curtain of guilt rises and you leave everything and everyone to be with him.

The curtain falls.
You wake up

28 days to break a habit - a year to destroy one

Winter has passed and my dread of bi-polar breakdown has become excitement and joy moving forward. As every month passed - the habit I'd stopped in a heartbeat is gone. I was afraid in the dark cold of winter that I would slip - but I didn't. Not even once. Now, not ever.

The past is solidly in the past.

If we'd had a brother....

I was a disappointment

Dad wanted a boy. The displeasure of having his first born be a girl flowed over me in waves until his death. I spent my life trying to please him as a son would have. But I would never be good enough. Women were meant to serve their husbands and keep house and watch children.

You were a disappointment

They thought the odds of 50/50 would certainly bring a son into the world. And even through he would not be first born, he would be the first born son. Our name would continue through his children. But you were a girl. It was as if something changed between them. There would be no more children and no sons. I could feel mom's relief that she'd not have to go through another pregnancy. I could feel dad's anger and frustration.

Positive vs Negative

It was in mom's blood. She was AB negative and dad was O positive. The chance of a "blue" baby was high so said the 1950's doctors (all men). There was a chance with me and you, but the "odd's" were that it would certainly happen in the third birth. So our parents accepted their misfortune. But was it really the blood? I've heard almost nothing about that concern in my adult life. No one said "If one parent is positive and the other negative - they should not reproduce!" Yes some children are born with complications of blood matching, but they live. So in reality, the odds were much higher that the third child would be a boy than of the child being born "blue." (I think that meant sickly to them)

If they had tried again

Dad would have felt that God, and the world, and all the goodness he'd ever done would bring him his son. The child he would have loved more than us. The golden child who could get away with much more than us. He would be taught that men are indeed better than women and should be in charge. We would have loved having a baby to play with, and a boy would have been a novelty. We would have observed the attention Dad's mom gave the boy over us. Instead of sewing us matching dresses, he would have had little suits which we would then match. From the moment they brought him home he would be held more. We would be told not to touch his toys, but to share ours. We would become even more invisible as mom came to life because she had finally given dad what he wanted most in life. We would be told to be quiet for the baby. If the baby cried when dad was studying, we would be told to keep quiet and to keep the baby quiet, a skill we would never have. We wanted him to cry. We wanted him to make them push him aside as they had us.

Growing up three

We always heard that three children would fight more. Two would gang up against the other. Sibling rivalry would always come down to our fault and be punished accordingly, even if it he'd sided with one or the other of us against the other. Your brother is younger than you. You have to be more grown up.  We would have been three and five then. Children who were expected to take care of ourselves. The battles were the same between us, as it was growing up without a brother. Each of us would feel the other must be getting what little more attention there was left. We would have been wilder. And maybe, just maybe we would have formed our own tribe, working side by side create chaos. Maybe we would have teamed up to lock mom out of the house to destroy the kitchen (as I actually did) bringing mom not only anger but fear that our brother asleep in his crib might be our next target. But we would never do that. The punishment dad would inflict on us would be much worse than the spankings and swats with the belt.

Once he was walking

We would have lost interest in all the wonderful things mom and dad saw him doing, in favor our own wonderful things. A bond would have formed between us that would follow us into our adult lives. We would have stood up for each other against other kids. We would be fiercely protective of each other. Grandma would call us the twins. We would have ridden our bikes together. We would have climbed trees together. We would have used our combined influence to get real juice, and fruit and a bit more money to buy candy and comic books. Our barbie's would be friends, living together in their makeshift cardboard box home. Ken would be our gardener, cook, driver. We would dress up our Barbies for themselves, not for Ken. Sometimes we would place Ken in naughty places, posed in naughty ways and blame our brother. Certainly little girls did not have nasty thoughts. It would have been one of the only lies that mom and dad might have believed, until mom caught us mid-flush in a turd soup toilet. Even getting caught would have made us happy. Being bad was more fun than being ignored.

School

Being left behind was made so much worse for you as mom did nothing to make you feel as special as I felt - finally away from mom and our brother. I would be noticed, I would make sure by doing some of the same naughty things we'd do around mom. My teacher would be frustrated with me (as she really was) because of my bad attitude and my not playing well with others. So coming home to my sister was the best part of my days. I would spend hours teaching you what I'd learned, so when you got to kindergarten you were a rock star among idiots. Once we were both in school our bond only got stronger. Once our brother started school, we were told to look out for him which we did no do. Sometimes we would pretend we did not hear him as he called out to us. We did not share our knowledge with him, but we did put ideas in his head. Ideas like how much more fun it was to play dress up in dresses. Duh, that's why its called "DRESS UP". We would get into mom's makeup to make him pretty, and mom's heels to make him taller. We would call our parents to come see how beautiful our brother looked (and we WOULD make him feel beautiful). Our father would be furious, We would be sent to our rooms without supper (we'd have already hidden food in our rooms) and our brother would be scrubbed and defrocked and told that no son of his would dress up like a girl. But he would never quite get over the attention we gave him and playing our games was the only time we did.

Games and Dare

Don't climb the trees became how high can you climb? Don't dig in the flower bed became him officiating  Barbi and Ken burial. Don't color on the walls became, Don't worry crayons wash right off! Here is one of mom's towels - just rub it around. We would cheat at the game of Life, hide his army men, If he had any tears in the knees of his pants, we would make them much bigger. And when he got his first bike, we took turns riding it out of his reach while he screamed. We would play hide and seek without the seek. When mom could not find him before dad was to get home sent her out into the neighborhood to all the houses we thought we'd seen him wonder off to, We convinced him that insects were edible. He was gullible and we felt superior until the day we realized what he had that we did not. He could pee standing with his little fire hose. We did not have a part like that. Were did our's go?  Were our's cut off when we were babies because we were girls?  We would perfect the art of the standing pee.

Stuck again

Ridiculous. Stuck again for same reason and 2 new ones. I have a mild case of Shingles and I looked through boxes of photos thrown together of my life, kids, etc.

The boxed were the worst. I know what I've never organized them, or looking at them lovingly. The boxes show a family that I choose to walk away from. My kids went from living with mommy and daddy to living some of the time with me and Ben and some of the time with their dad. I've talked with my kids now that they are adults and am hearing how sad it was for them. They love Ben. They love growing up with Ben. But they will forever wish that mom and dad raised them together. (instead of 2 blocks apart)

I can't write anymore.
I just can't.