Feeling Alive

From my writing folder:

I am emotional. That’s true. I spent the last 8 years not feeling anything. I put myself away to appease someone else. For stupid reasons. None of which were for myself or love.

But now I’m free of that isolation. I am finding myself again. And I want to feel everything. I want to rage. I want to love. I want to feel joy. I want to feel the pain. Because I want feel human again.

I care too deeply. I cry easily. I lose my temper in spectacular ways. I laugh too loud. I am too bold.

I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid to feel everything. Instead of hiding from myself behind a wall, I opened a door. I want to feel alive. Like an individual person again.

I’ll continue to heal and I’ll be a better person when I’m finished. I will move forward and grow. I will live my life – have adventures, have heart break, and make memories. I will not grow stagnate. I will not regret anything.

I will not be afraid of my own humanity.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

A Letter to a Little Girl

Note: I found this in my writing folder.

Little girl, there you are. So small and scared. So full of spitfire and rebellion. You are quiet right now, but let someone anger you and see the hell you rain down.

She will eventually love you, child. Your mother, I mean. It’s going to take a lot and it’ll take a toll on you waiting and waiting. You were destined for great things, I used to think. Except destiny means something different to me now. You were destined to me. You were destined for pain, scars and torment. All the while wishing, hoping and reaching.

She will teach you how to doubt yourself. Because what kind of child isn’t loved by her mother? You are so smart, talented and beautiful. If given half the chance and a small pinch of encouragement you’d grow to such a wonderful woman. If someone would just see who you are and what you’re capable of then your future can be so bright.

Instead your beautiful spirit was handed to the wrong mother. She was herself tormented, hated and discarded by her own mother. She doesn’t know how any of this works. She is very broken, your mother. When she was your age she was bent and twisted until there was nothing left of her. She hit her head at one point and whatever was wrong with her at the beginning became worse. It’s not your fault, little girl. She could never love you. She could never love any of you. She doesn’t understand what that is on an emotional level. Don’t let her intellect fool you. She knows how she’s supposed to act for everyone else, but she doesn’t have the emotions to pull off the act completely.

You will never become the woman you were supposed to be. Not in this lifetime at least. You’ll will struggle just to live a normal life and barely manage that. You will make decisions that appear to be based in logic, but they will always be the wrong ones. You will sacrifice yourself because that’s what you’re supposed to do. And when you come out on the other side it will be too late for you. You will be on the downhill slide of your life without the tools to navigate it.

She will die lonely and miserable. At some point in your life you would have been glad to hear it. You will have worked so hard to gain her approval and she will have thwarted you all the way. You are nothing to her. She will never be proud of you. She will never hold you in her arms or tell you that you are precious to her. She will stop regretting giving you life. But she eventually learns to respect you. She eventually learns that you’re stronger than she is because you have not become her.

It’s going to be a long road, little girl. There will be more pitfalls and obstacles than you can possibly navigate. You learn that when your goals are within reach you might as well just let them go. You will believe you’re a failure so what’s the point? You will grow up believing that you aren’t good enough for that goal, that man or that position in society. You will always believe that you are lacking in skills and talent. You are brimming with talent. There is beauty in the words you form. You are amazing and beautiful and there will be no one to ever tell you. So, I will tell you now. Your life will be hard, little girl, but you will never completely fail. You will always show strength in adversity. And you will always win the little battles. I will hug you, little girl, and let you know that there will be people that love you immensely and they will be your daughters. You will love them back in a way she was not able to love you. You will always be imperfect but you will never be her.

That is your greatest fear, you know. That you will eventually become her – angry, alone, bitter and so afraid. You have no fear, little one. You are brave and strong and able to stare down any adversity. But you don’t know how to succeed. And you will never learn that skill. You will never learn to be comfortable with who you are. No one sees you there, little girl. No one notices that you are struggling to grow and learn and be who you should always have been. But you are not her. And you will never be her. You will be who you need to be.

There will be no one to rescue you. No one to see behind the masks that you will inevitably create. No one to notice that if you were given more than half a chance you could be tremendous. A few people in your life will come forward, but she will beat them back. She hates you, little one. That’s not your fault. It is not your fault. As you grow you will bring these scars and wounds with you. You’ll apply them to every relationship you have – always seeking external validation from the people who would hurt you the most – and you will always come away disappointed. I can’t advise you on that, because I have never learned to be anything more than you will ever be.

I forgive you because you need that. You need to be able to look at yourself and realize you had no choice. It was taken from you by the gods who put you with that mother. Had she been a bit stronger – like one of her sisters – perhaps things would have been different. But you will never be her. You will never hate your daughters. You will never harm them or hold them back or feel jealousy. And you will have the most beautiful, intelligent, put-together daughters. You will try to do what’s right (and fail most of the time) and things will be ok.

She used to cuddle you and make you feel special. She helped you learn to read and write well before grade school. She loves to show you off to strangers, but she’s cold to you now. You’ve come into your own mind and shown that you are brilliant. She is envious of you because you have your entire life… a life she will do her best to impede. She tells you now that you’re not as smart as you think you are. That your ideas are overdone. That you haven’t had an original thought. That you don’t possess any talent and that any number of people are so much better than you. But you’re brilliant. Your logical mind is a thing to behold. And you can feel people. You can hone in on their feelings and guess correctly what they’re feeling and what you need to say to help. Your touch brings relief to troubled souls. You are special. You have to see that in yourself.

I am here to forgive you for being you. You didn’t choose any of that. You didn’t choose to be tortured, put down and denigrated by the person who should love you the most. You didn’t choose to have someone so broken birth you. None of that was your fault. You can choose to let the scars heal though and move on. There is nothing you can do now. That’s why I’m doing this.

I am you, little girl, and I forgive you. We will heal and we will be ok. We will stop chasing rainbows and appreciate what we have done so far. We will not die bitter and alone. We’ll never reach the heights that you could’ve reached if you’d have had another mother. Even at your tender age it’s too late for that. But we can find peace. We can end up in a better place. We can find our voice finally. We can heal.

That’s what I’m doing here, you know. Healing in the best way I can. Trying to overcome the demons which have taken us over. We struggle for years to come to terms with ourselves. We choose bad partners and friends and make some pretty bad decisions. But there’s still that small part of us – you – that pulls us through. You are still here in me because she was never able to fully exorcise you. You are tender and full of wonder and beyond anything she ever deserved. The gods are testing you now. The end result is me. I know this isn’t where we wanted to be. But this is where we should be. It’s not too bad right now. You’ll never be fine, because she has instilled in you a sense of worthlessness that you will never be able to shake. But you’ll be ok. Your strength and resilience is a thing to behold. You will always wish your mother loved you, but it’s no longer necessary for our survival. We have come this far without that love, with her disapproval, with her inability to ever let us fully develop. We are broken. But there’s part of us that shines. That part is you. I’d like to be friends again if we can. Little girl, you are a wonder and that never, ever goes away.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

It’s Time to Start My New Life.

I didn’t know I missed him. I didn’t know I cared about him. Not until he wasn’t there anymore. Not until I was the only one he could count on. Not until I saw him blush when I smiled at him. Not until my heart skipped several beats when I saw him again.

My life is different now. I am in a whole new phase. My house is sold and I’ve already moved. I’ve grieved for what I lost. I cried, screamed, raged, and, finally, accepted.  I’ve said goodbye and good riddance. I made a promise to myself that it would just me and Lil’lady until I could go without being triggered by certain things. I’m not ready yet. I’m still too angry to let anyone else into my life. The kind of person I’ve become scares me. I’m not good for anyone yet.

He reminded of who I can be. Who I used to be before I gave my self away to men who hated it. I don’t ever want to feel when I realized I am literally nothing to the other – when I saw the reality of it. I was devastated in a way I can’t explain. I need to get used to being on my own right now. 

But that smile tripped me up. I’ve already hurt him terribly. I used him. And he knew what I was doing. Still it didn’t matter to him. Not anymore. I’ve redeemed myself to him and he became special to me.

I don’t trust myself anymore. I’m rebuilding my life, but I don’t even know what’s wrong with my brain. How can I go about rebuilding my self now that it’s been obliterated? Until I can fix that…

He beamed when he saw me. He missed me. I missed him and didn’t even realize it.  Here’s to a new chapter of my life.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

A short story

“She told him she found comfort in the way he looked into her eyes. He never did it again.

He absentmindedly played with a length of her hair as she laid her head on his shoulder. She caught sight of his admiration. The next day she cut her hair boyishly short.

This was how they loved each other.”

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Your Pain is My Salve


“You’re right, sir. I am complicit in my own torment. You were my addiction and I allowed you to crush me and to change me. You most definitely did me a favor when you discarded me so unceremoniously.

But I do not care for you, sir. That is not why I entertain you and stroke your over-sized ego. I was a good person when we met. But that person is gone now. I do not care for you. Instead I loathe you. I despise your existence. I hate everything about you. And I have been aching for revenge.

I couldn’t participate in your downfall, my good man. That would ruin my own facade. My own act as a good person. I don’t want to outwardly appear to wish you ill. How would I look if I did that? What kind of person would I be if I wallowed in the shit with you? I broke free of you and moved on. Let the gods handle you. You are their monster.

Except you weren’t content with that. And came back to remind me of the pain you created. You reminded me how much I never mattered to you at all. It made me question myself more. What happened here? You were happy and living a good life after you left me in tatters. What was the point except to poke and prod and hurt?

I do not care about you, sir, except to see you suffer. I cursed the gods for the unfairness of it all. How dare you do this to me and walk away without a scratch? How unfair is the universe that you get away with the torment you cause everyone in your life? That wasn’t good enough for me. And still I could not facilitate the punishment you so richly deserved.

You are right, sir. I do bear half the blame. I saw through you but I persisted. That is my own pathology and one that is very painful for me. In the capacity that I can love (I cannot!) I loved you. And you hated me for that. You hated me so much that you formulated the perfect torture for me and carried it out. Yet you never realized that I am your complement,  sir. I hate you just as much as I hate myself.

We have come full circle. You are at the exact place you were when our lives collided. I was not meant to love you, sir. I was meant to learn from the suffering I endured at your hands. And I have finally. And so our journey together ends where it began – me moving on from another life and you flat on your face.

I see you suffering now and I am satisfied. This is a torment you’ve brought on yourself. My hands are clean. I did not cause this. In fact, I pathologically tried to save you – my reward for which was the punishment you so enjoyed. This has nothing to do with me or my feelings or anything else that you may lay at my feet. You are solely responsible for your own demise.

But I’m happy that I was able to see how far you’ve fallen. When you tell me about your current struggles you are hoping that I’ll feel bad for you and want to rescue you. You want me to drown you in adoration and words of love and promises that if you need anything I’M HERE. You still have not seen the very truth of me through all of your machinations. You can’t imagine why I’m suddenly so fucking cruel.

Let me answer that. Your suffering is delicious to me. It’s what I’ve been waiting for. It’s what I’ve been hoping for. I am glad of it, my dear. It’s a salve to all the wounds you have inflicted upon me. Your suffering is your own doing, of course, but I relish every damned minute of it. That makes me a horrible person. I’ll work on that later. I am your mirror image, sir, (do you even know what that means?) so your pain is nothing to me. Except the revenge I’ve been craving.

But now I can move past – and above – you.”

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Dear Little Sister

Dear Little Sister,

You think that you have something special. That you are loved by someone bold and true. You believe that there’s an angel inside of him –  an angel fighting for his soul against the demon he only thinks he is. You believe that angel will eventually win and you will finally have peace with him.

Little Sister, you are so wrong.

There is no angel inside of that man. It was beaten out of him long ago. And he has never invited it back in. He has welcomed that demon – become that demon. You keep holding onto hope that someday

That someday will never come. This is forever. He has become the demon. The mask slips – his true self shows. The heartbreaks that you endure are dimming your own light. His every lie and betrayal are weakening you. Because, Little sister, it is not he who has the angel fighting desperately against that demon. That is you. With every chance you give him that demon inside you gets stronger. That connection you feel is not that of soul mates, but of two demons calling out to each other. It is the feeling of that angel dying.  You will not make him be like you, dear girl, because he is making you into him. Two demons doing the dance of misery until the bitter end. Your demon is winning.

Little Sister, look at your daughter. She is learning from you. The cycle will perpetuate because you allowed your demon to win. Because you allowed his demon to be the victor. She will shed a million tears fighting her own battle when she is grown. A battle she will lose over and over again. Always looking for someone like her daddy- who could never be the man he needed to be. Will you show her there is strength in her freedom and that she is worthy of angels? Or will you show her to endure the pain of being constantly shattered and that she deserves no more than devils?

Good luck, Little Sister. May the angel prevail.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.