when home is a burning ring of fire

Subscribe to My truth minus the mens. by Email



I have had a few ill connections in my life. I have also had some sweet and harmless ones. There is only one that is the love of my life. There has been an undertow of emotions pulling me under, slowly but surely for six long months. I underestimate how poorly and slowly my heart and mind process grief. A slow dissolve. I dont cry really, I wish I did, but I dont. In most cases I keep a stronghold on denial up until the last bitter second that I am forced to see that which I have made myself numb to, and even then, I do it begrudgingly, and only because the undertow wins. The undertow took me under about a month ago when I was laying on the sofa at my mothers house with blisters burned into my stomach because I had come completely undone, one thread at a time. And the only person that I needed to comfort me, is the same person that pulled the first thread.

He always asked me to write about him while we were together, or to even write him a love letter, and I never could. I tried once and it was smartassy and he didnt like it because it was a list of details. It sucked. He never said it sucked, it just didnt touch him. He never commented on my writing either way, just quietly read it and helped me write html code for blogs while sipping his cokes out of a can. I felt like I was trying to describe a forest by using a magnifying glass on the bark of one tree. Some things simply cannot be seen until you step back from them.
Our story never sounded like a movie. Our beginning was the root of our end because it started in a bar, with insecurities and skeletons and gossip and baggage...and all of those things which kill the purity of pure things. He was the first person I ever liked for who he was inside, and not for the idiotic reasons we women end up with alpha male clowns.
He was sweet yes, but not harmless. A genius honestly, which we both referred to as the big brain. The big brain spent many years studying theology, and family dynamics, and psychology, and sitting on the sidelines with beautiful girls taking notes. The big brain had a power that I was no match for, and that he couldnt turn off if he wanted to. He could store info like a squirrel, things that I loved, things that I wanted, things that I might want, things that might make me more comfortable, things that would make me smile, things that would make me laugh, things I might like to eat, things that might cure my ailments, and things that would encourage my goals, things that I never knew I needed that he could see clearly. As quickly as it processed amazing gestures done out of love, it processed a few here and there done out of hurt. And when it did, it was capable of breaking me into a million pieces, without even realizing it. It is his great gift and also his worst enemy at times. It knew how to give me what I wanted in a way that shielded me from ever questioning what lied beneath the surface. "To tell the truth it's hard enough without a lover, who you only want to hide your darkness from so you dont let them down"- Ryan Adams That lyric haunts me because it describes what happened between us perfectly. That's exactly what he did, but only because I did and said things that made him feel like he had to. Things that I didnt think anything of...because I was careless and dont have a big brain that doesn't forget. I feel my way through things until I feel threatened and when I am my little brain just falls into broken records of obsessive worry that are impossible to break free from. We poisoned eachother with our insecurities, mine that seeped out one drop at a time because I couldnt keep anything in, and his in blows from left field because he kept them in until his mental will had a moment of weakness, which was not often. Neither of us could help it, but we tried because we loved eachother so much.
I can say on my end, and assume on his that everyone close to us can see clearly all the reasons we should not have loved eachother. We should be written off and discounted as a waste because of all the childish hurt that transpired. Hurt that burns bridges and exhausts everyone else that loves you. There are no bridges left now except for the one painful truth that he is my toxic soul mate. He is who I need to feel like I am home but the fire that burns my shelter to ash. We have learned this the hard way, always wanting to just go home to eachother, always limping out of it with third degree burns.

Subscribe to My truth minus the mens. by Email