There are some things in life that can’t be explained.
This isn’t one of them.
That would be the worst blog entry ever “You don’t understand”. The end.
We can call it Rantings of a Girl Who Cannot Even.
Flashes of my step daughter. She would come to me with a problem about shoes or some shit, I would fall for it every single time, try to fix it and 2 hours later we are talking about sharks…and she had an argument for that too.
I get it now, and I always did which is why I indulged. She wanted someone to show her some effort and patience. That isn’t my empathy showing, that is my life and my fears walking around outside my body. So I give her what I always needed, unconditional love and proof that I am, indeed, listening. I am.
I’ve been doing the same thing with my problems since I dunno, birth. Attacking them from all sides, turning them over and over until I can solve them like those blindfolded kids do with a Rubix Cube. But, how many times did they twist and turn the thing over and over before they could just do it?
The longer I live the better I get. My turn around time is shortening exponentially.
Laying in bed one night, my brain came up with the magic words and ‘poof’ my angst over a situation dissipated tangibly and immediately.
I fell into a deep beautiful sleep and have been fine since.
‘Yes, I love you. No, I don’t want you. Not like this.’
Herein lies the explanation.
Once upon a time, actually twice upon a time, I’ve been here, this path leads to the land of Misery and Mistresses.
Once he thought he wanted me, but he didn’t. It was always her. It was that simple. 7 year mess of carnage and death.
She ended up the mistress. I was constantly vying for a space that I was never meant to occupy. That has to be the worst feeling for me, being at a party I wasn’t invited to. Ugh I HATE that, spent so much of my life being looked at like I was strange and out of place. I said I would dance on her grave in a red dress.
We were miserable together.
Step-daughter and I found each other here, so it was worth it.
Once he thought he wanted her. But he kept coming back to me. A different 7 years with a different man, but still a big ‘ol bloody mess.
I hadn’t shaken my narcissistic inner toddler that would constantly rant ‘mine’. So I ended up the mistress. Took what I could get, which was him, more often than I should have had him considering he belonged to someone else. Not a proud memory, but fonder than the other. He came back to me 3 years later and reminded me I had said I was going to show up at his wedding in a red dress and object. He looked for me that day, and for quite some time after.
We were miserable apart.
My flare for the dramatic is lessening with age. I get enough movie moments, no need to force it.
Everything is temporary and as it should be.
I don’t need you with me, I just need to know you exist. (Blake Sibbitt)
I don’t need this blood on my hands, it’s sticky and messy. I’ll just be over here, clean, probably wearing a red dress.
All 3 of these aforementioned men are still in my life, in the capacity they were meant to be in.
All the fussing and crying and forcing in the world didn’t change that.
I’m removing myself from the latest equation, leading us not into temptation, delivering us from evil, for mine is my own kingdom, my power is glory.