He is thoughtful and considerate.
He respects me and shows me this.
He follows through with what he says, even for the little things.
He is emotionally available and his feelings run deeper than he ever lets on to the "outside".
He is an amazing father, and I am completely in love with his children.
He understands my needs for security and reassurance.
He knows what it means when I am quiet.
He doesn't force me to talk when I don't want to.
He levels me with his eyes.
He really sees me.
He doesn't want me to change.
He smoothes out my edges when I'm unravelling.
He sets me on fire.
We are able to surrender and find freedom in it.
I loved him before I met him, I just didn't know it.
He is mine.
And I am Home.
And for that I am thankful.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Monday, November 21, 2005
Monday Blues.
Well, I had a good weekend more or less. Sunday was less than stellar at first - woke up and realized somehow somewhere one of the diamonds out of my mom's garnet ring fell out. I have another ring (that the stupid ex gave me) that is missing a Sapphire and has both side diamonds in it, so I'm hoping I can take one of these diamonds out and put it in my mom's ring - they look smaller though, so I think I've just offically started a collection of fucked up rings.
I try not to get too attached to material things, but this is the first piece of jewelry my father ever gave my mother - she didn't have an engagement ring. So I'm bummed out. At least it isn't her wedding ring though - I'd be hysterical if something happened to that ring...
Anyway, Sunday I went to see Dad as per usual, and hauled a bunch of my stuff over to the Goodwill drop by his apartment (Troutdale/Gresham area). I open the trunk to pull the bags out and it smacks me in the head not once, but TWICE - once leaving a dent and once leaving a huge bump. The nice old gentleman handling the drop off facility showed concern (the fact that I was literally blinded with pain was probably a big clue...) The clincher however was when he said, "Oh no, Maam you are bleeding." I had this tiny little cut on my forehead from one of the smacks and a little trickle started - and have I mentioned I HATE BEING CALLED MAAM??
So at that point I had to make the decision - was I going to go home and ice my melon and whine to myself all night about how that sucked or was I going to go over to Dave's house as planned and just say fuck the stupid wind and fuck the stupid trunk. Well, I chose the latter, which was of course the right decision. By the end of the night I was completely unconcerned with my head - and was this morning until I shampooed my hair and touched the bump and it hurt.
Speaking of this morning. I had to get up almost an hour earlier to take my dad to his eye appointment. Fortunately, I woke up about 2 minutes before my alarm went off, so at least I wasn't homicidal directly upon waking. Stopped at Burger King to get my dad breakfast and try not to gag at the smell eminating from the drive through. Went to pick him up.
Could tell upon my arrival that it was an "off" day. He went to put his arms in his coat and about keeled over - he would have if I hadn't have grabbed him by his belt loop. Worries the shit out of me - watch him fall right before my vacation.
Anyway, he was bitching about his knee too. Woohoo, could tell this was going to be fun. Got to the doctor's office, had to get him to sign three places (stupid HIPAA won't let me, as his power of attorney sign this for him) which was a challenge, and led to frustration for him.
The eye exam... I really don't know what to say except that it literally broke my heart. It always does. It's so hard for me to see him like this, unable to follow simple directions like "cover your left eye". To see him just sit there, staring blankly, knowing fully he doesn't remember the commands as soon as he hears him. I went over and moved his arm up over his eye, repeated to him "See, this is covering your left eye". The Doctor knew he had dementia, I made sure to tell them before we even got there, and then the light seemed to come on for him. He began to cue him heavily, and use his name to get his attention. "John, look over to the right, at the picture of the bear on the wall." Then things went a little more smoothly.
Until the diagnosis.
I knew he had "dry" macular degeneration - apparently his right eye is screwed, and has turned into the "wet" variety, where you actually slowly lose the retinal fluid and there's nothing you can do. The left eye seems to not be leaking, but his cateract has returned - so he can't see shit out of that one either. He referred us to an eye surgeon, and seemed to think that laser vision might at least bring him some sight back to the left eye.
I don't know how much Dad really "gets", aside from asking the doctor "Will I ever be able to see again?" and the doctor telling him that he's hopeful about his left eye, but the sigh and just total look of resignation from my father made me want to just die. For someone that was as proud as he was, and as active as he was, to just basically have his body, mind and everything else shut down all at once, in an agonizingly slow process is just awful.
We rode back to his apartment in silence, just the quiet drone of the radio as any sign of life, and as I got him settled back into his apartment he patted me on the arm, thanked me for taking him, and asked me if I thought it was "worth it" that he was "half dead anyway." I told him if the doctors thought it would help, and if he was up for it, and could perhaps see better, that yes, I thought it was worth it.
I went back to my car and I cried. For about 5 minutes. Then I pulled my shit together and went to work.
I know we won't all stay young forever, and I know there are some important, invaluable lessons that both my father and I are learning. And I wouldn't trade it. But sometimes it's hard... so so hard. And I wish that I had someone to help me take care of him, just like, emotionally. My mom is there for me, and I know that... but their history makes it challenging. And I try to insulate her from it too, because when we talk about it we both end up crying.
Then I got my paycheck. I noticed on my last check that they were still having me down as 0 exemptions (correct) but as married (incorrect). So they changed it and it made a HUGE difference. FUCK. So this pissed me the hell off.
And so that's how my morning has gone. And I used my lunch hour for the above mentioned eye appointment, so its going to be a long fucking day. And I just got two TUBS of mail to process. Woohoo.
Thank God its a short week. I need this vacation, badly
I try not to get too attached to material things, but this is the first piece of jewelry my father ever gave my mother - she didn't have an engagement ring. So I'm bummed out. At least it isn't her wedding ring though - I'd be hysterical if something happened to that ring...
Anyway, Sunday I went to see Dad as per usual, and hauled a bunch of my stuff over to the Goodwill drop by his apartment (Troutdale/Gresham area). I open the trunk to pull the bags out and it smacks me in the head not once, but TWICE - once leaving a dent and once leaving a huge bump. The nice old gentleman handling the drop off facility showed concern (the fact that I was literally blinded with pain was probably a big clue...) The clincher however was when he said, "Oh no, Maam you are bleeding." I had this tiny little cut on my forehead from one of the smacks and a little trickle started - and have I mentioned I HATE BEING CALLED MAAM??
So at that point I had to make the decision - was I going to go home and ice my melon and whine to myself all night about how that sucked or was I going to go over to Dave's house as planned and just say fuck the stupid wind and fuck the stupid trunk. Well, I chose the latter, which was of course the right decision. By the end of the night I was completely unconcerned with my head - and was this morning until I shampooed my hair and touched the bump and it hurt.
Speaking of this morning. I had to get up almost an hour earlier to take my dad to his eye appointment. Fortunately, I woke up about 2 minutes before my alarm went off, so at least I wasn't homicidal directly upon waking. Stopped at Burger King to get my dad breakfast and try not to gag at the smell eminating from the drive through. Went to pick him up.
Could tell upon my arrival that it was an "off" day. He went to put his arms in his coat and about keeled over - he would have if I hadn't have grabbed him by his belt loop. Worries the shit out of me - watch him fall right before my vacation.
Anyway, he was bitching about his knee too. Woohoo, could tell this was going to be fun. Got to the doctor's office, had to get him to sign three places (stupid HIPAA won't let me, as his power of attorney sign this for him) which was a challenge, and led to frustration for him.
The eye exam... I really don't know what to say except that it literally broke my heart. It always does. It's so hard for me to see him like this, unable to follow simple directions like "cover your left eye". To see him just sit there, staring blankly, knowing fully he doesn't remember the commands as soon as he hears him. I went over and moved his arm up over his eye, repeated to him "See, this is covering your left eye". The Doctor knew he had dementia, I made sure to tell them before we even got there, and then the light seemed to come on for him. He began to cue him heavily, and use his name to get his attention. "John, look over to the right, at the picture of the bear on the wall." Then things went a little more smoothly.
Until the diagnosis.
I knew he had "dry" macular degeneration - apparently his right eye is screwed, and has turned into the "wet" variety, where you actually slowly lose the retinal fluid and there's nothing you can do. The left eye seems to not be leaking, but his cateract has returned - so he can't see shit out of that one either. He referred us to an eye surgeon, and seemed to think that laser vision might at least bring him some sight back to the left eye.
I don't know how much Dad really "gets", aside from asking the doctor "Will I ever be able to see again?" and the doctor telling him that he's hopeful about his left eye, but the sigh and just total look of resignation from my father made me want to just die. For someone that was as proud as he was, and as active as he was, to just basically have his body, mind and everything else shut down all at once, in an agonizingly slow process is just awful.
We rode back to his apartment in silence, just the quiet drone of the radio as any sign of life, and as I got him settled back into his apartment he patted me on the arm, thanked me for taking him, and asked me if I thought it was "worth it" that he was "half dead anyway." I told him if the doctors thought it would help, and if he was up for it, and could perhaps see better, that yes, I thought it was worth it.
I went back to my car and I cried. For about 5 minutes. Then I pulled my shit together and went to work.
I know we won't all stay young forever, and I know there are some important, invaluable lessons that both my father and I are learning. And I wouldn't trade it. But sometimes it's hard... so so hard. And I wish that I had someone to help me take care of him, just like, emotionally. My mom is there for me, and I know that... but their history makes it challenging. And I try to insulate her from it too, because when we talk about it we both end up crying.
Then I got my paycheck. I noticed on my last check that they were still having me down as 0 exemptions (correct) but as married (incorrect). So they changed it and it made a HUGE difference. FUCK. So this pissed me the hell off.
And so that's how my morning has gone. And I used my lunch hour for the above mentioned eye appointment, so its going to be a long fucking day. And I just got two TUBS of mail to process. Woohoo.
Thank God its a short week. I need this vacation, badly
Monday, November 14, 2005
Broken
All weekend I made the mistake of indulging my insecurites enough to let them weasel their way into my thoughts. Almost cried in front of Dave last night, sucked it up at the last minute. If it's to the point where I cry in front of anyone it's not good. I think I've only cried in front of Brie once... Anyway...
If I shut up, breathe, and listen to my heart I know everything will be fine. If I listen to the parts of my brain that are messed up, the parts that have been re-wired by the people that have hurt me to try to make me believe that I will end up alone and that I should end up alone I begin to believe it. I thought I disconnected all of that, but apparently I didn't.
It pisses me off. Because I know it ISN'T WORTH IT. And it gives him power over me, that he never should have had in the first place. And I thought I was over hating him, but I'm not. I hate him all over again. Worse than before.
And I don't like being afraid. It's hard for me to even admit, let alone deal with. I'm the tough girl. I'm the one that people go to to solve their problems, I'm the one that keeps a level head and a cool head in a crisis and can handle anything. Except my own negative thinking, apparently.
For the first time in my life I'm in a relationship that's truly working. I wasn't looking for it, I didn't want it. I went into it with authenticity that I haven't really experienced before - I wasn't trying to impress him. In fact, it was more the opposite - here I am in all my hard-headed glory, let's be friends. And the coolest thing happened - not only was I completely *seen* for the first time ever, he loved it. And the edges of our hearts clicked together like two pieces of a puzzle that no one else has the solution to. And it was like, well NOW what for me. So I rode the wave.
So now I actually have something to lose. Before I spent so much time trying to sew up ends of "loves" that were unraveling so quickly that I could never have even evened it out let alone build a life with someone. I just didn't fit.
And now I fit. And I'm terrified as hell, because I now know that I don't fit anywhere else. And you all can think I'm completely insane - it's hard for me to even admit to myself sometimes, and I know what is completely happening "backstage" so to speak. I was his before I knew I was his. And this scares the crap out of me, because for the first time in my life I am 100 percent vested in a relationship. There is no "escape hatch" for me - there is no "well, if it doesn't work out I have plan A B C and D" in place. There is only plan A.
And so for the first time I have to trust someone else to love me unconditionally. There is no other choice. And love has always been turned off and on from me like it was a fucking faucet my whole life. Even with my parents I constantly was trying to please them, afraid if I wasn't smart enough, good enough, that it would go away. They both emotionally checked out on me when I needed them the most - when my Daddy came home on Christmas Eve (after disappearing for 6 weeks, we didn't even know if he was alive) to pack his shit to leave us for his stupid girlfriend. When my mom's revolving bedroom door was more important than me sleeping with her gun under my pillow, trying to get the balls up to finally use it and just be done with it.
For years and years all I wanted was to die. And so I drugged myself up in any way possible, took out my aggressions in the mosh pit and pretended I just didn't give a fuck. When all I wanted was to mean something to someone, to be the one person that someone couldn't live without. And so now I want to live.
I don't want to need him. But I do. I need him in my life. And part of me hates it, and part of me wants to find freedom in it. I just don't know if that's possible. I am going to try though, because we are both worth it.
If I shut up, breathe, and listen to my heart I know everything will be fine. If I listen to the parts of my brain that are messed up, the parts that have been re-wired by the people that have hurt me to try to make me believe that I will end up alone and that I should end up alone I begin to believe it. I thought I disconnected all of that, but apparently I didn't.
It pisses me off. Because I know it ISN'T WORTH IT. And it gives him power over me, that he never should have had in the first place. And I thought I was over hating him, but I'm not. I hate him all over again. Worse than before.
And I don't like being afraid. It's hard for me to even admit, let alone deal with. I'm the tough girl. I'm the one that people go to to solve their problems, I'm the one that keeps a level head and a cool head in a crisis and can handle anything. Except my own negative thinking, apparently.
For the first time in my life I'm in a relationship that's truly working. I wasn't looking for it, I didn't want it. I went into it with authenticity that I haven't really experienced before - I wasn't trying to impress him. In fact, it was more the opposite - here I am in all my hard-headed glory, let's be friends. And the coolest thing happened - not only was I completely *seen* for the first time ever, he loved it. And the edges of our hearts clicked together like two pieces of a puzzle that no one else has the solution to. And it was like, well NOW what for me. So I rode the wave.
So now I actually have something to lose. Before I spent so much time trying to sew up ends of "loves" that were unraveling so quickly that I could never have even evened it out let alone build a life with someone. I just didn't fit.
And now I fit. And I'm terrified as hell, because I now know that I don't fit anywhere else. And you all can think I'm completely insane - it's hard for me to even admit to myself sometimes, and I know what is completely happening "backstage" so to speak. I was his before I knew I was his. And this scares the crap out of me, because for the first time in my life I am 100 percent vested in a relationship. There is no "escape hatch" for me - there is no "well, if it doesn't work out I have plan A B C and D" in place. There is only plan A.
And so for the first time I have to trust someone else to love me unconditionally. There is no other choice. And love has always been turned off and on from me like it was a fucking faucet my whole life. Even with my parents I constantly was trying to please them, afraid if I wasn't smart enough, good enough, that it would go away. They both emotionally checked out on me when I needed them the most - when my Daddy came home on Christmas Eve (after disappearing for 6 weeks, we didn't even know if he was alive) to pack his shit to leave us for his stupid girlfriend. When my mom's revolving bedroom door was more important than me sleeping with her gun under my pillow, trying to get the balls up to finally use it and just be done with it.
For years and years all I wanted was to die. And so I drugged myself up in any way possible, took out my aggressions in the mosh pit and pretended I just didn't give a fuck. When all I wanted was to mean something to someone, to be the one person that someone couldn't live without. And so now I want to live.
I don't want to need him. But I do. I need him in my life. And part of me hates it, and part of me wants to find freedom in it. I just don't know if that's possible. I am going to try though, because we are both worth it.
Tuesday, November 1, 2005
Hunger
Our appetites were formed
In the optimism
of our Youth
Before we knew
what we really needed -
Decisions ripening
and falling like leaves,
dead on the ground.
Our experience
alone and together
like a prism
through which we see
Everything
differently now,
clearly,
not led by restlessness
or ultimatums,
a path of technicolor
where it was only
grayscale.
I have disconnected my fantasies
So I can fill myself
with something real
and the Hunger stops.
In the optimism
of our Youth
Before we knew
what we really needed -
Decisions ripening
and falling like leaves,
dead on the ground.
Our experience
alone and together
like a prism
through which we see
Everything
differently now,
clearly,
not led by restlessness
or ultimatums,
a path of technicolor
where it was only
grayscale.
I have disconnected my fantasies
So I can fill myself
with something real
and the Hunger stops.
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