So much processing, not enough data.

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Let me preface this entry by saying it has literally taken me a week to write it. I apologize in advance for the length. If you actually read through the entirety of it, thank you!
I am unsure how to process and implement my thoughts into a blog.  I know it’s more profound than these simple words can convey.

“Can I tell you an observation I made about you?” He asked me while we were driving. “Sure..” I said with a hesitancy that encamped my face like a mask; lip chewing, wide eyed, …bracing self for the worst. His hand was on my knee, my arms were across my chest like fleshy armor that could deflect anything my mind preempts him saying. 

“Your whole life you’ve only experienced conditional love. All the love you’ve received has come with a cost, or a price, … a condition.” He began, I loosened my grip I had around myself. “Those who were supposed to love you the most, never showed you what unconditional love is. Your mom, the one who is supposed to be that teacher, never taught you what it means.” He’s right, you know. He’s right in every way. We had this discussion after an even bigger discussion about some of the wounded memories I have from my childhood. 

Last weekend was the first test, if that’s what you want to call it, of “us”. I had a very rough emotional time last due to things involving my batterer; past battles resurrecting trying to sabotage my happiness. This is their routine, see. I am all familiar with the sabotage and mutiny that takes place inside me. My head, heart and soul are in constant battle. It essentially was the first time he has seen me fighting my demons, in a true battle; one that devastated and crippled me.

My cycle of abuse with the batterer always started out with “picking on me.” It quickly turned to picking with some mean intent. I’d get fed up, ask him to stop and that would start a fight. That fight would escalate to physical violence.

My new love, my passionate man, was picking on me in all fun. We were gaming, hanging out with his friends, making characters for a roleplaying game. Tossing jokes around, teasing each other… this is what a normal couple does. This is what friends do with one another. I played along, but, inside me the fear for the unknown grew fat on the meaty “what ifs” vittles laid out by my demons. After everyone left, I eventually popped. Took a bath and cried my eyes out. He came into the bathroom, pulled up a piece of floor and talk me through it. He rubbed my back, work through my process. . . with such unconditional love.

I know that there is more heart and soul intent burning inside me than I can ever formally share. The simplest statement, the easiest way for me to say this is by saying, I have found my match. I really believe this rings so true with him. He takes my hand. He pulls me close. He kisses my shoulder. He whispers into my ear, “I’m here. I’m in, babe.” My demons fight so hard against it. Trying to convince me otherwise. Telling me he’s in for now, but wait, we’re stronger than him and we’ll prove right in the end. 

I’ve been so adamant that I will battle these demons on my own. I am so sure that will be my own hero, that I don’t need saving, I just need someone to remind my heart and soul when my head starts to win. That I’m somewhat blindsided by this passionate, patient, loving man. He’s so good about getting right into me, right into my heart, and speaking a language that I’ve only dreamt could be real.

There’s a process here. A process involving deep work, like battling demons, and a process that involves learning to let go and let love. I feel very blessed to have him in my life. I feel very loved. I’m very thankful for him.  He’s teaching me to change my attitude towards the negative self talk. Hes working with me, guiding me, as opposed to insulting me. It’s frightening and refreshing.

I love this man, I love his arms around me. I love his soft gentle voice telling me I’m worth it. I that he is willing to work with me as I change myself, instead of forcing me to change. He’s always telling me that I’m perfect the way I am, he loves me unconditionally. Total foreign land. Total foreign territory. But I love it. I love him. I’m excited for us.

Pretty content.

It’s been a jump since I’ve written an entry; it’s what happens when life takes you by the horns, shakes the hell out of you and wakes you up. I am in love. I am in love with his spirit, his heart, his mind, his humor, his gamer geekery. I. Am. In Love.

Love   Never in a million years did I fathom being able to open that area of myself again.
Trust  I didn’t think it was possible to trust another, let alone myself, especially with matters of the heart.

There are so many things I’m finding that I am doing that seem so foreign to me, but I love doing them; such as being a ‘needy’ girly girl (as I call it).

He truly loves me for me… all aspects of emotion, quirks, and broken he hasn’t ran from. In fact, he’s really encouraged me to not hold those hot, fiery coals in; burning my insides trying to get out. I am learning that being completely and totally open, despite the fear of rejection, ridicule, hurt (which is what I’m accustomed to) is so cathartic.

This last  Sunday I had a total break down over the physical distance between him and I. Although at the time I couldn’t verbally say, “Dude, I’m going home tomorrow and that just bugs the hell out of me.” Instead, I got closed off, kind of internal, and started questioning the “What ifs…” He took it all in stride. He just slid closer to me, put his arms around me and talked me through it. He reassured
me that it’s normal what I’m feeling and it wasn’t going to scare him away. He reiterated that he was there, he’s going to be there, he wants to be there for me. snot_bubble_kid__zill_by_linkmatt1995-d45wgqbI don’t know what shocked me more, his reaction or mine. I didn’t stiffen or close him out. I just let him guide me through the fears, talking it out with me, and holding me. He never let go but for once… to get me tissue paper so I could blow snot bubbles a bit more discreetly.

The best thing about this; my mind, heart and soul are all in conspiracy.. “Do it, you can do it!” Instead of my normal, small voice in the back of my mind telling me, “You can’t do this.” This doesn’t mean I don’t have my typical demons trying to win over. Doesn’t mean I don’t have my moments of weakness chanting my failures as a reminder.

What it does mean, however,  is that my knight with dented armor, is just what my soul cried out for.  I hope we can continue to grow, communicate, love and be. Just.. Love. Trust. Be.

 

Scatter Poem

365DaysofGratitude:

Such a poignant poem. I really love the last few lines.

Originally posted on A Sign Of Life:

Compartmentalization is the term my
mother uses to explain what I’m doing
when I force every demon into a box
in my head and place it high on a shelf

where it will never see the light of my
consciousness. It makes me feel sligh-
tly better when I can’t properly feel at
all, and every bitter thought, every offense

taken, every brewing outrage is muted
and eventually “forgotten”, lost in the
rows and columns of other “forgotten”
negativities. It worked for many years

too long, until the boxes weighed
too much for the weak little shelf,
and they

t

u

m

b

l

e

d

down and spilled open, scattering

all of the badness I tried

so hard to keep locked up.

Rage feasted upon my heart

and fears devoured my thoughts

like so many ravenous

nightmares.

Try as I might to restore
order by scooping up the
runaway pity
and chasing after…

View original 80 more words

Fall Prey

His breath smelled of death,
like stale coffee and broken promises.

Rheumy, contagious eyes,
luring wounded hearts into his lair.

He opened his mouth to form words
backed by bitter resentment and hollow praise.

His cadence spoken in conjunction
with the beat of her wounded soul.

Don’t fall Prey, woman, don’t fall prey.
Universe whispered gently to her.

Don’t follow the road map he has provided.
It leads you to a dead end,
a dried up reservoir of life.

Sorry

365DaysofGratitude:

Strong, fantastic words.

Originally posted on On a Side Note:

Sorry

For standing you so high on a pedestal

Making you so tall with your head in the clouds

That you were no longer you.

Must have made you nauseous

Knowing you were so heralded,

Becoming a distorted figment of my imagination.

I was the one who needed to be grounded.

Sorry

For expecting from you

What you could not give.

It’s not fair to you.

I built a fiction of you

From the scraps of reality

To feed my malnourished heart.

Sorry

I couldn’t be

What you wanted me to be.

View original

Distance is an evil b**ch.

too far.

I’m totally hating this right now; the distance between you and I. This is only the physical distance (At least this is the chant I tell myself morning, noon and night.)  I think the further we are from one another, the more my want of you grows wider. I think this the fates are cruel, but patience was never my strongest attribute. I know in my bones this is the lesson I’m learning with you. 

I will tell you one major thing, Mr. Betty, the distance is horrible to bare with, but the electricity when we come back together is … well … shocking (see what I did there?)

 

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Chaos to Cheerfulness.

leap-of-faith

He said to me recently, “Leap, I’ll be there with a net to catch you.” Oh incredibly big those words are… “Leap… Catch you…” What? You mean… put trust into another human being with my heart? Does he not know the impact they make on my soul? Does he not know the impact he makes on me?

My heart screamed, “DO IT!” But my mind, body and soul slammed the breaks like a fully loaded logging truck, causing a 21 car collision with the rest of my chakras, organs, and emotions. Everything stopped; entangling into a mess on my life path.

Leap. Just jump already. Do it…

In that collision… that mess of chaos… clarity whispered gently in my ear “You can do this you know.”  The heart, strength of it all, pushed through saying, “You can do this.” It’s that little voice I listened to. I am jumping. Just call me a Love Lemming.

I can see the last two years rush me like a quarter back; ready to sac and tackle at the moment of faltering. All the negative things said to me, all the repetitive chanting from the abuser, echo internally. I never fathomed being able to ever feel this way again. I fought against the flow, the organic natural course… it seemed so foreign to me. Little did I know his heart was in conspiracy with mine; speaking directly waiting for the rest of me to catch up. To quote my conversation with him (* swoon * …him… * sigh * ), “I was very much convinced that I was broken.; that my “mate picker” was really, horribly calibrated. And that I should steer very far away from the idea of showing affection, like, love and want to another. Or accepting it in return.”  I only held these beliefs because of what was drilled into me by the past.

This belief is all wrong. All. Wrong. Anyone is capable of learning the art of love again. Actually, I don’t even really believe that it is learning that takes place.

Love is always there. It’s one of our roots, our core values. You just have to learn to trust yourself, trust others, and not become hardened to the possibilities.