How to Love Better

It took me 27 years to figure out how my mother loves me.

I don’t mean I am a wretched person and no one should love me but in HOW she shows it. HOW she expresses it.  It’s something that came to me while I was rubbing mositorizer on my face this morning.

It’s not through touch or verbally telling me so. Or through cooking beautiful meals-cooking for that matter.
It’s through money. Money that she is entitled to all these years, but not money she has made. Money that shuts us kids up quick. She gave when she was low on it. She gave when it was supposed to go towards groceries. All in order for us to be happy. It’s not the healthy kind no, but to her money is power. And she bought our happiness and felt royal because of it. It was instant gratification.

Submission
As long as I can remember she was the one that would say we could go to our friends or buy that chocolate bar while Dad was shaking his head.
Acts
Then there are the late night pick ups, the driving me here and there, the borrowing of her car, the lending of an expensive shirt or purse.

We feel loved by a combination of different things and we also naturally love a certain way. 
If we can figure out how we show our love to people and then figure out what ways make the people in our life most feel loved, we can get better at it by consciously choosing that way and in turn, have those people happier and feel more loved by you. This will drive your new expression of love and will make you happier too.
To me, I don’t feel loved through money or giving in. So all those years, as hard as my Mom was loving on me, I didn’t feel it because it wasn’t in my catagory of ‘ this is what being loved means to me’. 

Let’s get the signals tied together instead of letting ourselves blast out ways of love that totally bypass others.

 

It Came to me Now

This week has been a blasted turbulence of more turbulance on top of more blasted blasts that are turbulancing terrifficaly and and and….

oh LIFE. 

What are we gonna DO with you!? 

Certainly not LIVE you. Heaven forbid! 

I thought the break up was rollercoastery. No. That’s just pure sad and mad and down in the dumps, no coming up for air until you’re forced to eat a taco salad that takes about thirty seconds to demolish because your stomach hasn’t felt anything in it cept for booze and pills and the occasional drops of water for two weeks straight.
No man, that is a stationary bike in the depths of initial fear and loss.

This here, is about as light as a ping pong ball and football shaped  so it’s bound to go everywhere you are not and at the slightest wiffle of wind.

I could sense change was coming. But I considered it to be a one time decide your fate in a day type of thing.

No, this here is you thinking your ‘ex’ are broken up for GOOD after a 5 month here and there sightage, and you being finally basically okay with it and you do your mental swipes and heart swipes and you start prepping those parts for a new journey and as you switch your view forward your ear is slammed with a phone call that is him requesting sightage.

And you are splattered like a fresh broken egg in a sizzling pan.

You are stronger then you were but strength isn’t always smart. You feel powerful but weak at the heart knees. You’ve propped yourself up to this easel of beautiful disastery and you’re continuing to brush colour onto the canvas, just as he.

You blame no one but yourself until the blame turns into a statue of rust and it suddenly doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve never felt more okay with either outcome because you have essentially done all you can and you know that everything you do in this time together, will represent what you desire. That’s all the cards you want because you’re not playing any games. You’ll Go Ex, not Go Fish.

You’re learning how to deal with the continual and familiar shit feelings. You’re making tough skin and it feels bold and refreshing. You’re gonna be the next new bag of Doritos.

Simply put,

You’re on a rollercoaster and it’s not because you can’t get off it,
because even if you could
you’re not going to fight to because you’ve finally understood that you’re right where you’re supposed to be.

 

 

 

 

 

What Led To the ‘End’.

This was two days before’ The End.‘Or maybe one day. I can’t- nor does it:: really. Matter.

——————————–

I just fricken did it.
You came over and I sat on your lap, we kissed, cuddled, and looked into each other.

and you say,
” I just got here!” because I have started speaking.
” I must say this now, ” I speak. “We’ve got to make a decision.”

And on I on and I make blathery and I am surprised and impressed with how straight forward and honest and real it all comes out. I’m usually a sucker for winding my words up all wrong once they fall out of my mouth.
But today I was collected and had direction.

You spoke a few observations and thoughts.
” I feel you’re wanting an answer now so that you can go out there and just find someone.”

Your underestimation for my love for you is as bad as my judgement on how many jellybeans are in a jar-even if there are only 12 .

I made a few more comments and you leaned back quickly and I heard your teeth grind  and I knew i had oversold the positive. Within a few minutes you were hugging me hard and giving me a kiss on the cheek and walking to vehicle.
At first I was bothered. You were leaving after hearing something you didn’t like.  Couldn’t you talk to me about it? We’re adults, I understand we’ve all got to get better at communicating, but when’s the bloody time to start? Certainly not now?! Heaven forbid!

A few more thoughts down the line, I realized yeah, it had got you heated, and you had the sense to leave before lashing out.

And after THAT thought was: that’s still a negative- unable to deal with those feelings and just walking out. Concluding this fast plane of thought was that yes I know this and I love you and that working on this is something you are capable of.

 

But this all is lathered in the suds of, ‘ but to which extent? ‘

 

What the Loopin’ Fruit

I am so confused.
And it all makes sense.
Then I am confused,
because I am not.

I swear, 20 minutes after I posted The End. you CALLED.
And you were on your way OVER.
You asked if it was okay.
I am startled, dreaming, sleeping, AWAKE
I say yes.

I feel defeated but so happy to hold you. I feel lost, but so center to me.
I’m embarressed to write this post, but I’m unfolding my life.
I don’t even know what all to feel. How long do I keep this up?
When will you let go of me and I let go of you? Is it a when or an if we do?

My heart still wants you and my head is trying to be smart.
You make it easy for my heart to win and I know this because my heart isn’t trying. 

Wrenched in two directions once again, and each time I try and see something different. The pain is a bit less, the drive to be better a bit more, the ridiculousness absurdified ten fold.

 

It is so so so difficult to say no to you, to us.

 

 

 

The End.

Well I’m jumping ahead here about one thousand pages but um. I sorta have to.

 

I didn’t cry.

 

I thought of as many reasons as I could, of how mean you were to me. How I’d never been treated so poorly in any relationship in all my time.
Till the very last drop I let myself believe I deserved it. That because I screwed up, it was okay. I have never been in an emotional abusive relationship. I never even understood them. But now? I have as much experience as a 400 acre hay field has hay.

Even after all my positive explaining. The reality in my soul of how I wanted us to work together and BELIEVED we could and laid out a plan and format we could use. The time it would take . ‘You can’t expect to trust me overnight, and I can’t expect you to. ‘

‘I’m not capable of being with you’, you said, ‘ I just wanted you around so that noone else could have you’.
For six months.

Six months.

 

I still love you. I’m not over any of this. I will profusely be shoving out any thoughts of you, of any of our existence. Until I can do so without sobbing. I still love you.
You don’t deserve me.  And I will say that over and over in my head each day for however long it takes.

I haven’t cried.

I still love you.
I am not weak. I am strong and fighting. Tomorrow I will be out running my legs, crunching my stomach,  pushing pushing pushing.

I will get through this, and so will you best friend, so will you.

 

Dizzy but Not Waiting

You stood there in my life and I wondered what you were doing besides making my heart and head go merry go round crazy.

‘You were figuring it out,’ I had supposed, and I gave you time to do so.

All the while collecting dizzy.

I took my energy and I pummeled it into exercise- I didn’t want to wait around idle. It felt good and eventually it felt less like I was waiting about and more like I was living my life. 

 

It Didn’t Last

It was four days boy. Four days after our weekend together and serious decision to stop contact. ( Again. ) And it’s always you. Calling first. Texting first. I’m not complaining about this fact, it’s flattering, hopeful, and happity, and perhaps all of those..unhealthy. Sigh..

I went away for a week in that time because I wanted to be far from you and near newness so that my mind would be on other things. But that’s when you called.

I wrote the dang email but you said although it was all nice to hear, it was vague.
And I knew that. It was all things you had heard before, I was just too chicken to write the inner more detailed stuff..of stuff about you. And us. And worry about you hacking me and those divulgences up, is why I did not. You can really cut up anything I give you. That’s true. And you have a habit of breaking my words down versus accepting them and being proactive, current and honestly… adult about it.

When I think about getting more vulnerable and putting myself out there. I cringe alittle. I’m not usually so ( a lot of us are not? ) and I’ve already placed myself in so many uncomfortable and heart on sleeve positions with you- more than I have in all my relationships put together. And I can feel happy that you still miss me and I can believe you’re coming to terms with the fact that you don’t want to be without me- but it makes me ache. You find me in this place where I’m doing a decent job at being strong alone but with the desire to really make you see and believe me. I hate the heavy lovey dovey texts I send to you that presents me with six hours of uneasy stomach and wanting to be swallowed up by tree branches and wishing I didn’t press send, yet I do it again and again and again. Much less than I was, but I still shell out seashells that taste awful in my own mouth. I fold so easily for you. And it bothers me!

We talked every night I was away. Which was totally counterproductive but I wanted you to know I wasn’t out partying- that being out of town meant I wasn’t making new friends or moving on.. I was thinking of you and you knew it. And I know it made you happy.

Anyhow, now this weekend has arrived and I will save the continuational story for another post. We are surely in the crevices of absurdity and normal. We are a million in a million relationships like this, yet this one is our own and this is turning us even more into our own. Just like it’s supposed to.