I have beaten Google half to death trying to find an article, blog entry, facebook status, tumblr account or hashtag that might give me some insight into what I'm feeling, what I've been feeling, and why I just can't stop wrestling with it.
I was married at 19, divorced at 21, engaged at 23, and lost my fiance at 24. I hastily married someone who was, and still is, a wonderful friend, but was never meant to be any more than that, and we divorced within months.
The fifth anniversary of Danger's passing was a few months ago. It is the first time I think I really allowed myself to accept that he was really gone. I was convinced it was a practical joke for days after I got the news. I was 2,000 miles away, and, even as I bought the plane ticket and got a tattoo with his nickname in it, I was certain he'd call me, laughing his deep, roaring laugh any minute.
That call never came. Some part of me still can't process it, but maybe that's what grief is.
The man I love, the one who's still among the living, was my friend. He paid for me to get obliterated drunk two days in a row and made sure I was taken care of around that anniversary. He didn't try to take advantage or cross any lines. I knew well that he had feelings for me, and I for him, but I wasn't ready. I was single over a year before I met him. He'd been my friend before he knew about Danger, and he remains my friend even now.
But now, we've been together for four months. We spend more nights together than apart, and we work as a team in every aspect of our lives outside of his work and my schooling.
I've been divorced twice, and lost the only man beside him that I've ever both loved romantically and trusted. Why, on God's green earth, does marriage feel so important to me, to my future?
This man was with a woman for ten years and never told her he loved her. He was never in love with her, but they raised two boys together. He knew he loved me within two months of us dating, and says so freely and without hesitation.
We are not considering marriage any time soon.
But it hurts me deeply that it is something he feels is unlikely for him. I can't explain why.
I don't want to change him, I am not alright with any thought or emotion that tells me otherwise, and I haven't asked him for that, nor would I ever. I make my own money, pay my own bills, and live on my own. In reality, he would stand to benefit more financially than I would should we get married.
There is no logical reason I should feel so strongly about this, why I should want this so much. And yet, I desperately need to know why I feel this way. It is tearing at my soul that I want this and don't know why. If I know why, perhaps I can change my thinking to adjust my feelings, or simply know why they exist and be able to ignore them. I do not want to ask anything of him that he does not want, I do not want to ask him to change or do anything so major for me. That's not fair, and it's not right.
I cannot find the reason. I feel lost and scared and I'm terrified to let my emotions get the best of me and end up bringing this up to him even one more time. He doesn't even get upset, or mad, or sad or anything. He's wonderful. But I hate myself for wanting this so much. He's absolutely amazing and I don't understand why I have to want more than he's already giving me.
Friday, September 25, 2015
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
The Turn
I am no longer a bouncer.
I quit.
The environment felt increasingly unhealthy for me to stay in, so I left.
I feel purposeless.
At about the same time, I began seeing, romantically, someone I've been friends with for a while now. We've been together just shy of two months now, and things are still really good between us.
And then there's me.
I've had some time to myself now to reflect on my emotions, on the way these changes are playing on my emotions and, well, I feel completely.... disenfranchised. It took me two days to find the word I needed, but that's the right one.
I just feel like I'm free floating- not making any difference to the world around me, no roots, no connection, just a free floating cell, bouncing off objects around me, walls, ceilings, people, ideas.... No tangible interaction with anything of any real significance.
I feel like I had to become part of this relationship to see it.
Maybe it's taken me longer to wrap my head around it and realize it because I'm so used to just being a wanderer, a scavenger, a loner... It's taken me years of near-constant changes to come to see how different I am from those in the world around me. They have consistent places to live, at least semi-consistent groups of friends and family. My sister came to town to visit for a week last month. My dog bounces between traveling around wherever I am and staying at the house I get my mail at but rarely spend time anymore.....
So I'm looking at buying a camper- something inexpensive, less than 10k, but with a bathroom and shower, other than that I don't care all that much, as long as it's in reasonable condition. I am not ready to call any place home, but I do need to feel like I have something of my own, something nobody else can take from me, or claim, or call theirs.
I need a place to live, where I can come and go as I please, without sleeping on someone's couch or in their spare room. And, preferably, somewhere that doesn't tie me down. Which is why a camper is perfect- throw it on the trailer hitch (that I still have to buy) and go.
So, I'm going to finish paying off my credit card, apply for the loan, and then apply for school. It's taken me months- okay almost a year, really, to figure out what I want to do. I keep falling back on massage therapy, because it's cheap, easy, fast, and makes it easy to do for tips wherever I end up.
But becoming a sign language interpreter is better money, and makes more sense.
So.... yeah.
I'm still fighting myself about this, obviously.
I quit.
The environment felt increasingly unhealthy for me to stay in, so I left.
I feel purposeless.
At about the same time, I began seeing, romantically, someone I've been friends with for a while now. We've been together just shy of two months now, and things are still really good between us.
And then there's me.
I've had some time to myself now to reflect on my emotions, on the way these changes are playing on my emotions and, well, I feel completely.... disenfranchised. It took me two days to find the word I needed, but that's the right one.
I just feel like I'm free floating- not making any difference to the world around me, no roots, no connection, just a free floating cell, bouncing off objects around me, walls, ceilings, people, ideas.... No tangible interaction with anything of any real significance.
I feel like I had to become part of this relationship to see it.
Maybe it's taken me longer to wrap my head around it and realize it because I'm so used to just being a wanderer, a scavenger, a loner... It's taken me years of near-constant changes to come to see how different I am from those in the world around me. They have consistent places to live, at least semi-consistent groups of friends and family. My sister came to town to visit for a week last month. My dog bounces between traveling around wherever I am and staying at the house I get my mail at but rarely spend time anymore.....
So I'm looking at buying a camper- something inexpensive, less than 10k, but with a bathroom and shower, other than that I don't care all that much, as long as it's in reasonable condition. I am not ready to call any place home, but I do need to feel like I have something of my own, something nobody else can take from me, or claim, or call theirs.
I need a place to live, where I can come and go as I please, without sleeping on someone's couch or in their spare room. And, preferably, somewhere that doesn't tie me down. Which is why a camper is perfect- throw it on the trailer hitch (that I still have to buy) and go.
So, I'm going to finish paying off my credit card, apply for the loan, and then apply for school. It's taken me months- okay almost a year, really, to figure out what I want to do. I keep falling back on massage therapy, because it's cheap, easy, fast, and makes it easy to do for tips wherever I end up.
But becoming a sign language interpreter is better money, and makes more sense.
So.... yeah.
I'm still fighting myself about this, obviously.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
The Art Of Death
There have been four deaths in the last three or four months of regulars from my bar- some not even in the area, but while they were out of town. Most recently was the sweetest, silliest girl I've ever known, who passed away after several days on life support.
Last Thursday, we had a very quiet, uneventful night at the bar. No fights, a small-ish crowd for a Thursday, no big thing.
And then closing time came, and I was working the parking lot with three of the guys.
To say a fight started isn't an accurate description. We heard yelling, I saw an arm raised and come down, and I pulled a young man off the fight the male bouncers were already trying to break up.
There was so much blood.
I hate it when it's soldiers fighting- I spent more than five relatively uneventful years as a US Army Medic and, truthfully, I've seen more medical trauma in the three or four months I've worked at the bar, from seizures to fights, etc.
This was the worst I've ever seen, though.
One of our bouncers caught a couple nicks from the knife.
The young man covered in blood had some very serious injuries. I just held pressure and talked to him, trying to keep him as calm as possible. There was so little I could do for him, and the injuries were so bad, I didn't think he'd make it until the ambulance arrived. He was so sweet and funny, and so young.
He lived, though, the police told me when I left the station at 6 the following morning that he was still in surgery, but doing far better than had been expected. I cried.
People at work have called me hero and told me I saved his life, and maybe- MAYBE- that's the case, but really, who's to say? He was a fighter, he wasn't giving up that easily and it just wasn't his time. I'm just glad he survived.
Today, I get a text message.
One of my favorite battle buddies took shrapnel in Afghanistan, but has been taken to Germany and is in stable condition.
I've lost a lot of people in my life- far more than most people- but the numbers on this are really starting to scare me. How many people I know will be hurt or killed before this horrible streak is over?
Last Thursday, we had a very quiet, uneventful night at the bar. No fights, a small-ish crowd for a Thursday, no big thing.
And then closing time came, and I was working the parking lot with three of the guys.
To say a fight started isn't an accurate description. We heard yelling, I saw an arm raised and come down, and I pulled a young man off the fight the male bouncers were already trying to break up.
There was so much blood.
I hate it when it's soldiers fighting- I spent more than five relatively uneventful years as a US Army Medic and, truthfully, I've seen more medical trauma in the three or four months I've worked at the bar, from seizures to fights, etc.
This was the worst I've ever seen, though.
One of our bouncers caught a couple nicks from the knife.
The young man covered in blood had some very serious injuries. I just held pressure and talked to him, trying to keep him as calm as possible. There was so little I could do for him, and the injuries were so bad, I didn't think he'd make it until the ambulance arrived. He was so sweet and funny, and so young.
He lived, though, the police told me when I left the station at 6 the following morning that he was still in surgery, but doing far better than had been expected. I cried.
People at work have called me hero and told me I saved his life, and maybe- MAYBE- that's the case, but really, who's to say? He was a fighter, he wasn't giving up that easily and it just wasn't his time. I'm just glad he survived.
Today, I get a text message.
One of my favorite battle buddies took shrapnel in Afghanistan, but has been taken to Germany and is in stable condition.
I've lost a lot of people in my life- far more than most people- but the numbers on this are really starting to scare me. How many people I know will be hurt or killed before this horrible streak is over?
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Never Standing Still
I've been seeing the same man for a month and a half.
For most people, that's nothing.
But men don't generally hit the month mark before I see them for who they are trying to pretend they aren't, or they run screaming because I am still a woman underneath my tough exterior.
This one encourages the woman aspect, which I really like, but I'm still trying to find the balance to everything I am.
I changed my mind about auto mechanics at the last moment- that felt like I would have been denying a large part of myself had I pursued it.
So I have applied to a university for a double major in anthropology and art. Don't ask me what I'll do with it, I don't know, but it sounds like enough fun that I'm quite sure I'll find some way to make it useful.
I bought myself four pairs of new shoes today, something I haven't done in ages. I want to buy two new blazers, one black and one red, and then I'll feel like I have expanded my wardrobe enough to get me through the fall and possibly winter.
That's not to say there isn't more that I want, but it's necessary to pace myself and not overspend on my tight budget.
The other half is about to start school to be a police officer. There's something I never thought I'd encourage. Me with a cop. Lord have mercy.
I'm attempting to get back into fashion, though it's more complicated than I thought being built like I am. I lost twenty pounds since February, and have gained a handful back the last few days. I'm not sure what that will amount to in the long run, but at 5'9", 170 pounds, nobody guesses over 120 and I think that's by virtue of it all being in my legs. Size 11 jeans for the first time in several years is a great feeling and I'd really like to keep that.
Enough rambling for tonight.
J
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Change For A Dime
I work as a bouncer.
I am about to start school to become an auto mechanic.
Everyone I know just looks at me thoughtfully when I announce the above facts and they say "Yeah, that sounds like you."
I'm never going to know how to take that.
My favorite colors are pink and yellow and orange.
Well, anything bright to be honest.
And I'm the most masculine girly girl you'll ever meet.
Even I don't know how to consolidate all of this sometimes.
I had a butch lesbian friend of mine ask why I insisted on pink everything, even in my vehicle. She asked if it was to make a point that I was still a girl.
...........?!?!
Of course I'm a GIRL!
I am even pretty, dammit. I get my nails and eyebrows done, am great at doing my makeup and have long, well-kept hair.
I don't understand why it's so damn hard for everyone to accept that I can like pink, have my nails done and still like changing my own oil, going mudding and doing "guy" stuff.
I don't have to fit one stereotype, man, and you can't make me.
It's been a big transition beginning to work again and stand on my own. A job, school, all sorts of responsibilities and even friends.... I'm learning. It's hard, but I haven't had a panic attack in a while- at least not a public one. The way I manage to twist my own brain around itself in private is an entirely separate matter, but I deal with it mostly on my own. I have been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to help other people through some minor medical situations at work. A seizure, some blunt trauma, and, of course, a panic attack.
It's a really strange feeling to see one of those from the flip side of the coin.
It's really difficult to see it and know what that person needs to do and not be able to get them to listen.
Especially when you've been through the darkness and out the other side yourself.
Lord have mercy things are changing fast.
I am about to start school to become an auto mechanic.
Everyone I know just looks at me thoughtfully when I announce the above facts and they say "Yeah, that sounds like you."
I'm never going to know how to take that.
My favorite colors are pink and yellow and orange.
Well, anything bright to be honest.
And I'm the most masculine girly girl you'll ever meet.
Even I don't know how to consolidate all of this sometimes.
I had a butch lesbian friend of mine ask why I insisted on pink everything, even in my vehicle. She asked if it was to make a point that I was still a girl.
...........?!?!
Of course I'm a GIRL!
I am even pretty, dammit. I get my nails and eyebrows done, am great at doing my makeup and have long, well-kept hair.
I don't understand why it's so damn hard for everyone to accept that I can like pink, have my nails done and still like changing my own oil, going mudding and doing "guy" stuff.
I don't have to fit one stereotype, man, and you can't make me.
It's been a big transition beginning to work again and stand on my own. A job, school, all sorts of responsibilities and even friends.... I'm learning. It's hard, but I haven't had a panic attack in a while- at least not a public one. The way I manage to twist my own brain around itself in private is an entirely separate matter, but I deal with it mostly on my own. I have been fortunate enough to have the opportunity to help other people through some minor medical situations at work. A seizure, some blunt trauma, and, of course, a panic attack.
It's a really strange feeling to see one of those from the flip side of the coin.
It's really difficult to see it and know what that person needs to do and not be able to get them to listen.
Especially when you've been through the darkness and out the other side yourself.
Lord have mercy things are changing fast.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
How Do You Know?
How much are you supposed to be able to talk to the person you're with?
How much are you supposed to just shut up and deal with it on your own?
How much are you just supposed to suck it up when it hurts?
How much are you supposed to allow another person to do for you?
How much are you supposed to do for yourself?
How do you know if where you're at is where you're supposed to be?
How do you know if that hard thing that keeps nagging at your mind is the "right" hard thing that you're supposed to be doing???
I have no answers, but the questions tonight are endless, and I feel so very much alone.
How much are you supposed to just shut up and deal with it on your own?
How much are you just supposed to suck it up when it hurts?
How much are you supposed to allow another person to do for you?
How much are you supposed to do for yourself?
How do you know if where you're at is where you're supposed to be?
How do you know if that hard thing that keeps nagging at your mind is the "right" hard thing that you're supposed to be doing???
I have no answers, but the questions tonight are endless, and I feel so very much alone.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Changing Of The Seasons
I am finally, finally, FINALLY back to being a civilian.
I am running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get my life into order, but I feel as though I am finally learning to enjoy it.
I continue to attend meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous, and they continue to help. Please excuse me if I don't dwell on this topic much, as I would hate for anyone to misconstrue my intentions as to why I post about my alcoholism- I want to share my experiences, and I want to help people who may be dealing with it, though I am not terribly sure how much help I might be to those struggling to achieve their own sobriety at this point in my life. So, I will keep my recovery ramblings to a minimum.
I am still very much searching for an outlet for my creative cravings, though I seem to be coming up a bit short on that on my own. I have recently begun to learn about metal art work and the process that goes into it from a wonderful friend over at US Of A Projects (new window). I am absolutely fascinated by his creative process and the practical application of it, and am DYING to be given free reign of the paint!!!
I have recently met a very nice gentleman, after a whole month of being single (don't judge me!) and am beginning to learn what a healthy relationship might be. It is early, yet, and my whole life is in an oddly consistent state of flux.
Mr. Wonderful Mexico has been relegated to the role of business associate. Our expectations of friendships are clearly quite different, and I am happy to send business his way if folks are in his market, but in a personal light, it's better to keep it simple, stupid.
Time to get back to the irons in the fire--- literally! Well, almost....
I am running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to get my life into order, but I feel as though I am finally learning to enjoy it.
I continue to attend meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous, and they continue to help. Please excuse me if I don't dwell on this topic much, as I would hate for anyone to misconstrue my intentions as to why I post about my alcoholism- I want to share my experiences, and I want to help people who may be dealing with it, though I am not terribly sure how much help I might be to those struggling to achieve their own sobriety at this point in my life. So, I will keep my recovery ramblings to a minimum.
I am still very much searching for an outlet for my creative cravings, though I seem to be coming up a bit short on that on my own. I have recently begun to learn about metal art work and the process that goes into it from a wonderful friend over at US Of A Projects (new window). I am absolutely fascinated by his creative process and the practical application of it, and am DYING to be given free reign of the paint!!!
I have recently met a very nice gentleman, after a whole month of being single (don't judge me!) and am beginning to learn what a healthy relationship might be. It is early, yet, and my whole life is in an oddly consistent state of flux.
Mr. Wonderful Mexico has been relegated to the role of business associate. Our expectations of friendships are clearly quite different, and I am happy to send business his way if folks are in his market, but in a personal light, it's better to keep it simple, stupid.
Time to get back to the irons in the fire--- literally! Well, almost....
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