Finding Love in a Hopeless Place (Precognition)

It’s like screaming, but no one can hear.  You almost feel ashamed, that someone could be that important.  Without them, you feel like nothing. No one will ever understand how much it hurts.  You feel hopeless, like nothing could save you.  Then when its over, it’s gone.  You almost wish you could have that bad stuff back, so that you could have the good. ~Rihanna, “We Found Love.”

This morning, i woke with a bar or two of this song in my head.  At first, i couldn’t identify the piece and i had to trace it slowly.  This video and music hits really close to home for me.  I discovered this, along with the some of her other music, in the shelter.  And it helped keep me sane, at first because of it’s familiarity.

The enjoyable thing about a sociopath is this dance they Command.  It’s the tethered flight.  The sense that there is nothing and no one outside of them, and all you want to do is keep pulling them closer.  They make you feel beautiful, free, bound tight, high, enraged, stomach lurching, wobbly legs, blood running down your legs and tasting sweat.  That is how you get clean.  Down there. Kicked around. Starry eyed. Snot faced. Body arching.

It’s enjoyable when the word, “No,” has no power.  It’s the only time i can bring myself to say it.

There is a lot of suffering to get to that sweet spot, where there is nothing, but me slammed into the kitchen wall, leg wrapped around tight.  Desperate.  One second from hysterical. Deadly calm.  If you fight it, it hurts more.

Your voice is calm, meditative.  Sure. Smug.

i want to lash out at you.

i want to make you feel it.

You will.

Missing the Bigs

i’ve been wearing a bracelet, the brighten one with interlocking hearts in the clasp.  We all wore ours to Disney.  i like to think it has a bit of magic in it, like the wishing well.

i wonder what they wish for now.

i also wonder if i should write to their girls, who were sent off to get ice cream, before the three of us melted down at the same time.  Sadists get grumpy when they can’t get a fix.  i wasn’t a big help there, sort of nudging it on.

It felt like i had been adopted into a family.  Despite the many years i had on the girls in a biological sense, it was often like being their younger sibling.  Maybe they never loved me, but i certainly felt loved.  And i definitely love them.

i want to tell them that in the end, i loved enough to walk away, and sit quietly behind the wall for months.

i came close to letting my Big know the stuff going on here, the school stuff, but it feels weirdly like it must feel to call your parents and tell them you’re  a royal fuck up.  They would both—nervous giggling—yeah.  No.  No can do.

In my head, i hear her calm voice, the this-is-what-we-are-going-to-do voice.  The one that i respond to even when i don’t want to, like her hand on my throat, almost but not quite cutting off the air.  i would have done most anything for the gleam in her eye.  i always wished she knew how very beautiful she is.  That’s what i wanted to teach her by letting her darkness out and into me.

i wanted him to experience unflinching acceptance.  Being able to enjoy things without shame or regret.  i would be just being me and he had this laugh, the same laugh usually reserved for adorable toddlers.  i had never heard it before, directed at me.  i got to have the experience of sinking into being younger and younger.

The atmosphere just wasn’t stable.  It wasn’t going to be. No one is at fault, not really.  i was naive.

i’d really love to have a day where we smile, and wear mouse hats, and jump the line because i’m a blind princess, and for once it helps my family out.  i want to go to Chef Mickeys and twirl napkins.  Pose for pictures.  Hear dirty whispers in my ears. Smoke by Cinderellas Castle.  Hug the girls.  Look in half the gift stores.  Nothing more to worry about bigger than melting ice cream and having to leave when the park closes.  i remember him grabbing my hand, when we listened to, “A Whole New World,”  He said, That is what i want for you.

i asked, at two different points, if i helped or hurt them more.

i’m still rolling the answer about in my mind, thinking carefully, wondering if i can avoid it in the future.

No.

It’s me.

Beautiful Disaster

i woke this morning, having a night of sleep so blissful that i woke actually feeling rested.  i can count on my hands the number of times this has happened in my adult years.

i say, “adult years” because i never heard the words “bed time” for real til i was 31.  Before Barbara, the nice ex, “bed time” meant to go to bed and read all night.  That was my favorite part of the day.  i’d often wake with text books, medical dictionaries, and books sprawled all over my bed.  i still spread in out in bed, as i am now, in our queen size bed.  Just my bear and me.

i woke a bit before Sir Raven’s alarm and went to the bathroom, and headed immediately for the nectar of life.  It seems to take forever for the electric kettle to click.  I brush my teeth in the kitchen, wait, and then start the process of making French Press.  When i hear her alarm, i have two mugs of coffee poured.  i bring her coffee and water in bed, and sleepily tell her the alarm went off five minutes ago.

She wants to get up and work on her writing for her workshop this afternoon.

By the time she rises, goes to the bathroom to wash up, and returns to her coffee it isn’t hot enough.

i’m genuinely glad she told me and let me fix it immediately.

She drinks her second french press, declaring it acceptable.

We talk for awhile.  i’ve been reading about sociopaths and psychopaths, and i’m putting a gigantic puzzle together in my head.  It’s clicking into place left and right.  And then i wonder what she thinks is the worst thing i’ve ever done in my life, and how i still feel it was right.  Or, at least, the best choice i could have made under the circumstances.  i wasn’t interested in revenge.

Then, i leave her in peace, letting her know i was going into the bedroom to write, so as to not be a distraction.

i ask her to come get me if she needs anything, of course, before i leave her be.

My absence from writing always means something is wrong.  That things are brewing so hard that i can’t put my thoughts into words.  i’m having massive meltdowns.  Massive.  As in calling friends and emotionally barfing rage, shame, disgust, and terror.

For a person who can’t feel regular fear for longer than about two seconds, i feel terror just fine.  It’s just silent.  And you’d have to know me to understand that vibration.

This morning, i’m trying to tease it all apart.

Music that best explains how i’m feeling is Beautiful Disaster, and i’m playing it loud in my earbuds, not realizing that i’m singing out loud.  Apparently, so loudly that Sir Raven can hear me over her ear buds in the livingroom.

Have i ever mentioned that i literally cannot sing?

When i realized that i’d have to do a full circle time, including singing in front of another adult, i considered quitting my job as a preschool teacher.

i glanced up, the song still blaring in my ears, at the ball of energy coming towards me.  I correctly deduced it was Sir Raven, who was urgently approaching, and possibly making the sign for no.  Popping my ear buds out to see what she needs, she says, “”Oh, honey, lets hug it out.  Because you really and truly cannot sing.  Please, please don’t ever do that.”

i giggle when she tells me how loud i was.  Maybe the drug guys on the corner had to shove off rather than bitch at each other.  Heh.  i don’t know what the politics are, but i know for sure that has been a change in leaders on the block.  It’s gone from guys teasing each other to anger and tires squealing to quiet.  And quiet is never good.  i mention this to Sir Raven the other night, and ask her to walk home the other way instead.

Anyhow, she stands next to me, sort of patting my head, and letting me put an arm around her.  We laugh together.  i make her promise to never make me do karaoke, for the sake of the audience.  Um.  It’s so bad, she agreed.  😛