"What ravages of spirit conjured this temptuous rage?
Created you a monster, broken by the rules of love
And fate has led you through it, you do what you have to do
And fate has led you through it, you do what you have to do
...And I have the sense to recognize that I dont know how to let you go
Every moment marked with apparitions of your soul
I'm ever swiftly moving, trying to escape this desire
The yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
The yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
But I have the sense to recognize that I dont know how to let you go
I dont know how to let you go
A glowing ember, burning hot, burning slow
Deep within I'm shaken by the violence of existing for only you
I know I cant be with you, I do what I have to do
I know I cant be with you, I do what I have to do
And I have sense to recognize that
I dont know how to let you go
I dont know how to let you go
I dont know how to let you go"
--Sarah McLachlan, "Do What You Have To Do"
I was listening to this song tonight and it managed, as music often does, to stir up some old shit as well as some current shit. I'm a Cancer, as many of you know, and that makes me nurturing, emotional, intuitive, and sensitive. I say this because we Cancerians have a tendency to hang on to old shit and dredge it back out, whether it be to ourselves (crying in the bathtub with a glass of wine listening to Sarah McLachlan) or to others ("bringing up old shit" with exes or currents or friends). We like to regurgitate emotions...we hang on to it, internalize it, marinate in it, wallow around in it, then bring it back up and chew on it some more. We are also occaisionally known to emotionally vomit these feelings onto others. This is really just me over-explaining that the song brought up some old shit.
The thing is, at varying points in my life, this has made me think of men with whom I've been involved, both past and present loves. I should explain that I do believe we can be in love with more than one person at a time, for very different reasons. I believe that we fall in and out of love with others depending on what they bring to us--our minds, our bodies, our souls, our hearts--at any given time through our lives. Even people who are in loving, committed relationships would likely admit to falling in love with someone else (yes, I'll go ahead and include harmless crushes and infatuations, but also close friendships). The lynchpin is how we do or do not act upon those feelings. I must say that as a married woman, I took a vow to remain faithful to my husband and I have upheld that. I also know that there are people who are in "open" but committed relationships and that is just fine for them. Of course, that's not really what I'm talking about here. I'm talking about finding something in someone else that connects with something inside you, in a completely different way than you're connected with anyone else in your life. This is possible without infidelity or physicality or any of that getting in the way, though I won't say I've never been physically attracted to other men. The difference for me is that the attraction remains pure fantasy. As for the rest of it, it's simply a connection, nothing more and nothing less.
That being said, these relationships that I've found myself in...Even when I'm given every sign that it is one-sided (mine) and that the other person has at least put on a good front of moving on, I don't know how to let them go. I think the thing for me is that I don't want to. I still hold out hope. These people, they have touched my life and shaped who I am today. I am friends with many of my exes, and I mean very close friends. I can't imagine my life without them even now. And the ones I'm not friends with? I still credit them with creating me--the woman I have become and the woman I am becoming.
You know what I find particularly amusing? When I've finally brought myself to the point of almost-letting-go, when I've gotten to that point in my mind and heart and sould to say "ok, enough is enough, let's move on and find something else," here they come again. It's like they know. One of my current fake boyfriends, aka Adam Levine, is particularly good at this. Just when I've gotten so angry and so tired of being ignored or disregarded or let down...I get a text. I get a message. I have a dream about him. I get some kind of re-connection and I am snapped right back to where I was before. It's heart-wrenching and exciting and glorious and awful all at once. Truth be told, my emotional instincts tell me that it's better this way--it's better to hang on, to maintain that faint thread of hope. Because I just can't let go. I don't know how to let them go...
Love, lust, friendship, soulmates...However you may define them, they are all connections that we forge throughout our lives. We all wonder "what if?" What if things had been different then, or what if things were different now, what would happen? Who would I be? I don't believe in dwelling in the past, but I certainly believe that we shouldn't forget our pasts. The past has shaped us, past, present, and future. So these connections I've forged, I'll keep. I'll hang on to them, despite the pain. Because the wonderful glory of loving and connecting makes it all worth it.
Love,
Lola
P.S. Please comment on this--I'm getting the feeling I'm not getting my point across because I'm keeping certain details from you. This is one of those posts I need to write but I'm not sure I've let it all out. Protecting myself and my loved ones is important to me, but so is expressing what I'm really feeling. I suspect that many of you will recognize that DA is certainly someone who is still on my mind even now, but I'm not sure how much of that to dredge back out here. So folks, if you're curious, if you want more details, or if you want me to just stop at this obtuse, vague rambling-type writing, then let me know. Your feedback is very important to me. ; .)
P.P.S. When I say comment, I mean comment on here or via Facebook or the email address I have on this blog (lolalouboutin@hotmail.com). I do NOT mean comment to me in person. It's hard to explain, but it's almost more difficult to be honest out here if I think you're going to bring it up face-to-face. It's also hard for me to hear from third-parties about what's on my blog. Does it make sense for me to ask that this remain somewhat separate? I mean, unless I bring it up in conversation myself...I hope this doesn't sound hateful or ungracious. I hope you can all understand. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it would help me if those of you who know me personally can separate this blog persona from the "real" me. Maybe it would help if I said that you shouldn't always believe what you read... ; .)
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
it's just not good...
Dearest faithful readers (and unfaithful alike),
I'm terribly sorry it's been so long since I've written. I hate when I actually have a moment to check in on some of my favorite blogs and they haven't posted in months--it's so disappointing. I was on vacation, plus work is nutty, and for a while I was just feeling overwhelmed and uninspired, so again, I say I'm sorry. I'm assuming of course, that you have 1) checked this blog for something new and 2) are actually disappointed that there wasn't much there...Alright, let's just get on with this...Apology accepted? Good. Thank you.
I am having a supremely shit-tastic day today. It really started last night and has simply spilled over into today and the hits just keep a'comin'. I couldn't spend the night at the hospital with the DH last night (for those of you who are unaware, he had a "disk-ectomy with plating over C6 & C7" surgery yesterday morning). I couldn't because I'm not the kind of woman who is physically able to sleep in an uncomfortable-ass chair that doesn't recline or anything. I also needed to get home & take care of my kittehs, who were lacking air conditioning. (Yes, that's right, 2 days before the DH has surgery, the a/c goes down. We finally got someone to come out on a Sunday and we made the decision to replace the unit. Let's just say that our comfort apparently has some very expensive taste. Lucky for us, they finance. Anyway, the company that's taking care of us lent us a portable unit, so at least it's not 90 degrees in here anymore.) I didn't feel comfie leaving the cats alone with no air for so long, and neither did the DH. So he basically kicked me out. Leaving that hospital room was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. For one thing, I hate sleeping without him and I hate being alone in the house at night. I also just felt like an epic failure for not being able to stick it out. And honestly, I just wanted to be there to take care of him and look out for him and make sure he was doing alright.
So I came home, and I opened the bedroom window & got the vent hose all situated and plugged in that portable unit. I closed all the doors so the space was smaller and prayed for some quick cooling. Then I just started crying. Ya'll should know, I'm NOT a crybaby. No one would describe me that way--I HATE to cry and will fight it as hard as I can. But once I start? Oh hell, the floodgates are open, I might as well just let it all out. I texted the DH for some reassurance and we went back & forth a few times. I got completely freaked out at the thought of the window being open (back to that utter fear of being alone in the house) and kept hearing "noises" outside. So I read for about an hour then unplugged the portable unit and closed & locked the window. It was not cool. Not in any way, shape, or form. But I figured I'd rather be hot than on high alert fearing for my life all night long, so that was on me. This morning, I lugged the fucking thing back into the living room & got it all set back up out here so that DH wouldn't be suffering in here when I brought him home. (Note: It's actually fairly comfie in here, but probably only because we have all the bedrooms closed off and it's only in the 80's outside.) I knew the a/c guys were coming today and opted to clean out the cat boxes so they wouldn't be quite so offensive. Well, it was nice and cool and breezy out this morning, so I tried to open the window in that room. 15 minutes and another sob storm later, I still couldn't get the fucking thing open. So I just sucked it up and had sweat running everywhere, including into the litter. Blech. Once I had showered and put on a cute outfit and felt somewhat human again, I had some cereal and watched TV waiting for the DH to call & let me know he was being released. I had to stay here to make sure I let the a/c guys in. When the call came, I was READY, so I launched myself out into the world again to pick him up, hoping for a Starbucks run before we got home.
I got to the room and he was dressed & waiting for me, but wasn't in a very good mood. I don't blame him, he's uncomfie and tired and in pain, and normally I'm calm & rested enough to put it in check (nicely) or keep it in perspective. Today? Not so much so. By the time I got him home, we got into it and I lost my temper. I was cranky from having no sleep and worrying about him and he was cranky from pain & discomfort, which is just not a good combo. My mood was worsened at the realization that I would have to go to the pharmacy to pick up his pain meds. The pharmacy at the military hospital. Ugh. Plus Walgreen's for vitamins and other supplements. Double Ugh. I did make a side trip to Starbucks, feeling decaffeinated and blaming that for some of my crankiness. That perked me up a bit, until I got to the gate nearest the hospital pharmacy and was treated quite harshly by the gate guard. You see, I had the new car and I haven't gotten my post permit for her yet, but I had my military ID & figured they would want to inspect the vehicle then send me on my way. Nope. He made me do a u-turn and go to a DIFFERENT gate, where he told me I had to get a temporary pass to get on post. FMyLife! I started crying again! I wanted to tell him I was just going to the pharmacy and that it was RIGHT THERE and I could see it and please, I have my ID and my husband is at home waiting for his pain meds and I don't want him to suffer anymore...But I could tell he was not receptive. I could tell because he had already walked away from the car before I could formulate the thought. So I'm crying and driving and trying to pull myself together and all I have is my Starbucks napkin to dab my eyes (thank goodness this cry was snot-free!). I get to the other gate expecting an ordeal, and instead she looks at my ID, looks at the front of my car, hands my back the ID and says, "Have a nice day."
I get to the pharmacy and wouldn't you just know, it's crazy busy and they've got (yet another) new system for checking in and such, and the take a number machine is rather complicated for my simple mind...I'm standing there trying to figure the fucking thing out and people are lining up behind me and I feel like a complete imbecile! Finally, I get my numbers and go sit down. Some ancient Asian woman starts squawking at me and I nod and mutter something then go back to ignoring her. Suddenly, we all hear a scrape and a thud, and people start getting up and moving to just inside the front door...Someone fell down. Guess that guy's having a worse day than me. I felt bad for him, because he couldn't get up and everyone is just sort of standing there gawking at him (the employees were actually helping by sending for the emergency department and a doctor to tend to him and probably aren't allowed to touch him otherwise--I get it) and he was wailing and gnashing his teeth and people are staring. I couldn't see anything but his feet and noticed he was wearing a boot-cast on one foot and had a walker. I'm not sure if he slipped on the floor or tripped or what, but he had landed flat on his back. Ancient Asian squawks at me some more and I mutter some more back and again ignore her. They call my number (the 1st one--for me to turn in my prescription...er, DH's prescription), and I go and hand the nice lady everything and she takes my number and I go sit back down. I get my DS out to play and think that since someone just fell, I should probably pick my 'Bux cup off the floor and wipe up the moisture. As I do, I manage to spill my coffee drink (iced, luckily) all over my cute outfit. Great...now my boob is stained, my skirt is stained, and I smell like espresso. I throw it away and go back to my game. Fallen guy is still being tended to until finally, the ER stretcher comes down. The kicker? They can't take him back the way they came, they have to take him OUTSIDE and around to the ER entrance. Oh, and it's RAINING. Nice. He's wailing and crying (not that I blame him) until they wheel him out the door. I finally hear them call my number (again!), get my drugs and get the hell out of there. Yup, still raining. Good. I needed to get wet on top of everything else. Did I mention that my shirt is white?
Walgreen's was actually pretty easy, though I very nearly got into an accident on the way. I get the vitamins and I grab a cute Beanie monkey for DH as an apology for yelling at him. I get home and give the DH his goodies, get him medicated, and try to get myself situated to relax. I pick up the bag DH brought home from the hospital (one of his military-issue) and reach in it to get one of his other prescriptions out...and my hand is wet. WTH? Ah, I see...He just stuck the plastic mug they gave him (still full of ice) into his bag when we left...I thought he emptied it; clearly I was wrong. So his bag is soaked, the stuff in the bag is soaked, and yup, the couch and one of my dupioni silk pillows is soaked. Lovely. Waterworks #4 begins...I just can't help it. I'm feeling so frustrated and wrung out and overwhelmed...Poor DH comes in and tries to comfort me, which sort of makes me feel sort of worse, because I'm supposed to be taking care of him, not making him anxious about me. OK, let's regroup. I'm going to sit down & relax and get some lunch in my tummy.
No sooner do I finish my entree (hot dog & sunchips, if you must know), the guys come back and inform me that our hot water heater has been leaking and the platform is completely rotted and must be replaced. Oh, and it's going to cost $50 just for them to come out & look at it. Great. No choice in the matter, so there ya go. And here we are. I'm exhausted, my eyes are sticky, my clothes still smell like coffee and have brown spots...
Just to recap: No a/c, window won't open, 4 crying jags, spilled espresso drink, pharmacy line, rain, cranky Asian, recuperating hubby, near-accident, mean gate guard, lost mileage, leaky hot water heater, and construction/repair going on at the house. I'm also running on about 4 hours of crappy sleep in 2 days, the cats are being bratty, the dishwasher needs to be unloaded, groceries need to purchased, laundry needs to be done...All of my resources are running on empty.
On the bright side, I must say that having such amazing friends (they've kept me company, brought me food and drinks, checked on DH for me--AND one of his also-hospitalized co-workers!, and sent me thoughts & prayers & warm wishes that really did get me through yesterday. I don't want anyone to think that I have hit bottom--I know things could always get worse, I'm still very lucky, and I'm very grateful for everything.
If you're still reading this, thanks for "listening."
Love,
Lola
Update/footnote/postcript/whatever:The hot water heater has to be replaced as well. Yippee. Did I mention that I'm also having a bad hair day?
I'm terribly sorry it's been so long since I've written. I hate when I actually have a moment to check in on some of my favorite blogs and they haven't posted in months--it's so disappointing. I was on vacation, plus work is nutty, and for a while I was just feeling overwhelmed and uninspired, so again, I say I'm sorry. I'm assuming of course, that you have 1) checked this blog for something new and 2) are actually disappointed that there wasn't much there...Alright, let's just get on with this...Apology accepted? Good. Thank you.
I am having a supremely shit-tastic day today. It really started last night and has simply spilled over into today and the hits just keep a'comin'. I couldn't spend the night at the hospital with the DH last night (for those of you who are unaware, he had a "disk-ectomy with plating over C6 & C7" surgery yesterday morning). I couldn't because I'm not the kind of woman who is physically able to sleep in an uncomfortable-ass chair that doesn't recline or anything. I also needed to get home & take care of my kittehs, who were lacking air conditioning. (Yes, that's right, 2 days before the DH has surgery, the a/c goes down. We finally got someone to come out on a Sunday and we made the decision to replace the unit. Let's just say that our comfort apparently has some very expensive taste. Lucky for us, they finance. Anyway, the company that's taking care of us lent us a portable unit, so at least it's not 90 degrees in here anymore.) I didn't feel comfie leaving the cats alone with no air for so long, and neither did the DH. So he basically kicked me out. Leaving that hospital room was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. For one thing, I hate sleeping without him and I hate being alone in the house at night. I also just felt like an epic failure for not being able to stick it out. And honestly, I just wanted to be there to take care of him and look out for him and make sure he was doing alright.
So I came home, and I opened the bedroom window & got the vent hose all situated and plugged in that portable unit. I closed all the doors so the space was smaller and prayed for some quick cooling. Then I just started crying. Ya'll should know, I'm NOT a crybaby. No one would describe me that way--I HATE to cry and will fight it as hard as I can. But once I start? Oh hell, the floodgates are open, I might as well just let it all out. I texted the DH for some reassurance and we went back & forth a few times. I got completely freaked out at the thought of the window being open (back to that utter fear of being alone in the house) and kept hearing "noises" outside. So I read for about an hour then unplugged the portable unit and closed & locked the window. It was not cool. Not in any way, shape, or form. But I figured I'd rather be hot than on high alert fearing for my life all night long, so that was on me. This morning, I lugged the fucking thing back into the living room & got it all set back up out here so that DH wouldn't be suffering in here when I brought him home. (Note: It's actually fairly comfie in here, but probably only because we have all the bedrooms closed off and it's only in the 80's outside.) I knew the a/c guys were coming today and opted to clean out the cat boxes so they wouldn't be quite so offensive. Well, it was nice and cool and breezy out this morning, so I tried to open the window in that room. 15 minutes and another sob storm later, I still couldn't get the fucking thing open. So I just sucked it up and had sweat running everywhere, including into the litter. Blech. Once I had showered and put on a cute outfit and felt somewhat human again, I had some cereal and watched TV waiting for the DH to call & let me know he was being released. I had to stay here to make sure I let the a/c guys in. When the call came, I was READY, so I launched myself out into the world again to pick him up, hoping for a Starbucks run before we got home.
I got to the room and he was dressed & waiting for me, but wasn't in a very good mood. I don't blame him, he's uncomfie and tired and in pain, and normally I'm calm & rested enough to put it in check (nicely) or keep it in perspective. Today? Not so much so. By the time I got him home, we got into it and I lost my temper. I was cranky from having no sleep and worrying about him and he was cranky from pain & discomfort, which is just not a good combo. My mood was worsened at the realization that I would have to go to the pharmacy to pick up his pain meds. The pharmacy at the military hospital. Ugh. Plus Walgreen's for vitamins and other supplements. Double Ugh. I did make a side trip to Starbucks, feeling decaffeinated and blaming that for some of my crankiness. That perked me up a bit, until I got to the gate nearest the hospital pharmacy and was treated quite harshly by the gate guard. You see, I had the new car and I haven't gotten my post permit for her yet, but I had my military ID & figured they would want to inspect the vehicle then send me on my way. Nope. He made me do a u-turn and go to a DIFFERENT gate, where he told me I had to get a temporary pass to get on post. FMyLife! I started crying again! I wanted to tell him I was just going to the pharmacy and that it was RIGHT THERE and I could see it and please, I have my ID and my husband is at home waiting for his pain meds and I don't want him to suffer anymore...But I could tell he was not receptive. I could tell because he had already walked away from the car before I could formulate the thought. So I'm crying and driving and trying to pull myself together and all I have is my Starbucks napkin to dab my eyes (thank goodness this cry was snot-free!). I get to the other gate expecting an ordeal, and instead she looks at my ID, looks at the front of my car, hands my back the ID and says, "Have a nice day."
I get to the pharmacy and wouldn't you just know, it's crazy busy and they've got (yet another) new system for checking in and such, and the take a number machine is rather complicated for my simple mind...I'm standing there trying to figure the fucking thing out and people are lining up behind me and I feel like a complete imbecile! Finally, I get my numbers and go sit down. Some ancient Asian woman starts squawking at me and I nod and mutter something then go back to ignoring her. Suddenly, we all hear a scrape and a thud, and people start getting up and moving to just inside the front door...Someone fell down. Guess that guy's having a worse day than me. I felt bad for him, because he couldn't get up and everyone is just sort of standing there gawking at him (the employees were actually helping by sending for the emergency department and a doctor to tend to him and probably aren't allowed to touch him otherwise--I get it) and he was wailing and gnashing his teeth and people are staring. I couldn't see anything but his feet and noticed he was wearing a boot-cast on one foot and had a walker. I'm not sure if he slipped on the floor or tripped or what, but he had landed flat on his back. Ancient Asian squawks at me some more and I mutter some more back and again ignore her. They call my number (the 1st one--for me to turn in my prescription...er, DH's prescription), and I go and hand the nice lady everything and she takes my number and I go sit back down. I get my DS out to play and think that since someone just fell, I should probably pick my 'Bux cup off the floor and wipe up the moisture. As I do, I manage to spill my coffee drink (iced, luckily) all over my cute outfit. Great...now my boob is stained, my skirt is stained, and I smell like espresso. I throw it away and go back to my game. Fallen guy is still being tended to until finally, the ER stretcher comes down. The kicker? They can't take him back the way they came, they have to take him OUTSIDE and around to the ER entrance. Oh, and it's RAINING. Nice. He's wailing and crying (not that I blame him) until they wheel him out the door. I finally hear them call my number (again!), get my drugs and get the hell out of there. Yup, still raining. Good. I needed to get wet on top of everything else. Did I mention that my shirt is white?
Walgreen's was actually pretty easy, though I very nearly got into an accident on the way. I get the vitamins and I grab a cute Beanie monkey for DH as an apology for yelling at him. I get home and give the DH his goodies, get him medicated, and try to get myself situated to relax. I pick up the bag DH brought home from the hospital (one of his military-issue) and reach in it to get one of his other prescriptions out...and my hand is wet. WTH? Ah, I see...He just stuck the plastic mug they gave him (still full of ice) into his bag when we left...I thought he emptied it; clearly I was wrong. So his bag is soaked, the stuff in the bag is soaked, and yup, the couch and one of my dupioni silk pillows is soaked. Lovely. Waterworks #4 begins...I just can't help it. I'm feeling so frustrated and wrung out and overwhelmed...Poor DH comes in and tries to comfort me, which sort of makes me feel sort of worse, because I'm supposed to be taking care of him, not making him anxious about me. OK, let's regroup. I'm going to sit down & relax and get some lunch in my tummy.
No sooner do I finish my entree (hot dog & sunchips, if you must know), the guys come back and inform me that our hot water heater has been leaking and the platform is completely rotted and must be replaced. Oh, and it's going to cost $50 just for them to come out & look at it. Great. No choice in the matter, so there ya go. And here we are. I'm exhausted, my eyes are sticky, my clothes still smell like coffee and have brown spots...
Just to recap: No a/c, window won't open, 4 crying jags, spilled espresso drink, pharmacy line, rain, cranky Asian, recuperating hubby, near-accident, mean gate guard, lost mileage, leaky hot water heater, and construction/repair going on at the house. I'm also running on about 4 hours of crappy sleep in 2 days, the cats are being bratty, the dishwasher needs to be unloaded, groceries need to purchased, laundry needs to be done...All of my resources are running on empty.
On the bright side, I must say that having such amazing friends (they've kept me company, brought me food and drinks, checked on DH for me--AND one of his also-hospitalized co-workers!, and sent me thoughts & prayers & warm wishes that really did get me through yesterday. I don't want anyone to think that I have hit bottom--I know things could always get worse, I'm still very lucky, and I'm very grateful for everything.
If you're still reading this, thanks for "listening."
Love,
Lola
Update/footnote/postcript/whatever:The hot water heater has to be replaced as well. Yippee. Did I mention that I'm also having a bad hair day?
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