Who art thou to speak on love and relationships?

This is going to be rambling because I do not know where to start. How about my day; it started with a car that didn’t want to fire up immediately (she’s 12 years old and these “hiccups” have persisted these last 3 years. I know she can only hold up well for another 3 years and then, it’ll be time to find and pay for a new depreciating asset 😦 ) en route to my cousin-in-law’s baby shower. It’s a huge surprise because they’ll have been married less than year when the expected due date arrives. I’m extremely happy for her! She fits into our loud, sometimes brawling family and she speaks the same dialect ^_^ We love her and we’re keeping her!

At the same event, I get cornered by my Aunt Terry to RSVP to her son’s engagement party WHILE her potential daughter-in-law is standing next to me. Here’s the contentions I (plus the majority of our family members) have about my Timmy’s engagement: it’s his first serious relationship and only 3 years old. In my culture, you have to date for FIVE before you even consider marriage because anything less isn’t enough time for a person’s idiosyncrasies/major flaws to reveal themselves and to be evaluated. Precedence in our family tree supports that wisdom: all my cousins who married under the five year mark are all divorced. Then, there’s the fact that my cousin’s fiancee will not eat our cultures dishes: she doesn’t even make an attempt to try. Why are you marrying a Chinese guy if you don’t enjoy a major aspect of the cultural via cuisine?! My cousin knew this and the very first Chinese New Year banquet he brought her to, she asked for a Chinese take-out type dish to be made especially for her because with a sneer, I quote, “I [she] don’t like this stuff. I can’t eat it.” She was sitting at a table of 12 with large family-style platters being shared and didn’t apologize for the affront as everyone else did eat “it” (the wonderful traditional foods). Timmy tried to spin some of the backlash as our aunts, uncles and other elders being racist/ethnocentric and I slapped him down. ALL (meaning two) of my non-Asian boyfriends were welcomed and they (i.e. only Beck) had the common decency to try to engage in our culture and cuisine without insulting others. I think it’s telling that Chris wouldn’t eat certain dishes so, that relationship was doomed. Chris’ refusal to make even the smallest attempt was insulting to everyone, as is this new girl. Timmy can’t see that and I can’t force him to because he’ll just dig in his heels. Amongst the first US born generation on my mom’s side, we think Timmy is trying to emulate my cousin (who’s wife is the mom-to-be) in fear of being left out. The kid is 27 but he has issues not yet resolved (his ADHD, inability to handle his drink, etc.) and the imaginary pressure isn’t being addressed.

Continue reading “Who art thou to speak on love and relationships?”

Cheating: Lesson Learned

Let’s start with this: when it comes to ruthlessness and being tactless, I can be one of the worst. I might be more blunt with a loved one (I consider my friends as loved ones) than a stranger or acquaintance because I fear for them and whatever situation they may be tangled up in. Even as I write, I’m chuckling at myself because speaking in euphemisms is not an ability I have and beating around the bush just makes whatever message I have more convoluted. Therefore, when you read the conversation between me and my friends, I hope I don’t lose you when I sound like a bitch.

A little background: I’ve stated before I grew up as a tomboy and I’ve always felt more comfortable around guys than the girls (who could be really catty and fake). I know their body language and am privy to more gossip than my few female friends will muster up. The latter is probably because I’ve never tolerated gossip and liars and am more than happy to call someone out on their b.s. Running with the guys from elementary school up to and through college meant a lot of pressure standing up against rumors that I might be slutty and that’s why the guys followed me around (the guys stayed with me because they enjoyed my friendship and because where my brother went, so did I, my sister and girlfriends). I made it a point to date outside the district to avoid discussions about my love life and worked extra hard to either be with someone or not: there was no hazy middle ground. I sure as hell did not break up other couples and a friend was a friend and no more. Still, the gossip suggesting I was a player was impossible to put out, and partly, because I am very sociable and I’m always willing to include others than ice them out of my social circle. That can send mixed signals when you’re a hormonal teen and not me, but my codes remain unbroken: a friend is a friend and no more. If I wanted it to be more, you would get the memo first 😉

Come college, I did run with a group of “players” because I didn’t get shit from them for being friendly and warm. My early childhood as an outcast due to my ethnicity in white suburbia stayed with me for a very long time and I know what it’s like looking in and being kept out. It’s why I don’t exclude anyone if I don’t have to (I will not associate with bigots, haters, gossipers, violence seekers, etc) and that’s all the explanation you will ever get from me. Enter XY who, along with my college ex, did have the agenda of bedding and dating as many girls as he could. To this day, he has no idea what his count is and I lost track around 20-30. Recently, he experienced a life changing event and had to re-evaluate his modus operandi of dating someone and sleeping around behind her back every time they got in a fight or shit wasn’t panning out. He got a kick out of stealing a girl away from another guy if he just “couldn’t help himself.” None of my warnings about karma were taken seriously before this monumental moment of inner reflection. A common conversation on FB or via texts and phone call:

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Am I beholden to him?

Do I have to remain his keeper (of our memories, his parents, seven years of his life)? Did I really have to reimburse him for meeting up with me to return to one another personal property? He’s moved on and so have I; then why won’t this thread break? He’s not the guy I met back in 2009 and I say it to myself everyday so I can stop loving him. The man I met wouldn’t set out to hurt his family members (though some may have deserved it). Beck isn’t who I fell in love with and the bitterness over a lost year will fade just like Chris, just like Jed. The man I loved wasn’t selfish but I have to learn to be selfish, too. How else to stop loving a man who no longer exists and how long do I punish myself for loving and supporting him? Is he really so different now that I can’t say I know him well at all: that he’s become a stranger by keeping me at arm’s length? I’m deluding myself by refusing to accept that there won’t be an anniversary to celebrate in Nov., because Beck won’t be there, will he? I had planned for us to go on a 7 day Caribbean cruise, which he’s never been, with the money I’ve saved up (I broke through my $3,000 goal!). He apologized for the time wasted and how “I bet on the wrong horse (Beck).” The man I knew wasn’t deceptive and he promised to love me, to stay in love with me, as I made the same promise to him.

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He pushed me just far enough away

Edit on 10/19/2016 at 3:30 am EST: I was called out on the following quote for being sexist. Yes, I know the reverse is true because women are capable of the same thoughtlessness. “The biggest coward is a (wo)man who awakens a wo(man)’s love with no intention of loving him/her the same.” Everyone happy now? This awkward paragraph is dedicated to you nitpickers and grammar sticklers have you to blame 😉 The golden rule is not to date your rebound ever and I hope he’s honed his radar for manipulation because I don’t appreciate my words and thoughts (i.e. my blog) being mined for the benefit of someone else (i.e. trying to pass my entries as their “original” written work) and whatever agenda they have in widening a distance becoming more vast with each week of silence. The tracking numbers don’t lie.

When he admitted that he just wanted to be understood at the deepest core, I knew what he meant. He had frozen me out a longtime ago by giving me brusque answers, silence or curt replies to my inquires. In time, I learned to stop asking the questions that mattered to me and our relationship because he wasn’t going to give me the answer. I knew what it was like to find solace from someone outside of our relationship – Greg gave me the words I could not find after Stitch’s death. I regret not being able to provide that for Beck in the last months of our relationship: he deserved that much from me at minimum. I’m sorry, Beck. I wish I could go back and undo/take it back or start afresh and leave it all behind. I wish I knew how to stop loving you so that I, my blog, my emails, all of it wouldn’t be as messy. I scream and shout on my blog because I feel it’s the only place I can and then, I still have the chance to re-read/edit the chaos into understandable bits without fear of hurting you/being hurt by you. I want it out of system so that when/if we meet up again, we can be just two people enjoying the others’ company.

I want to be able to tell Beck that reminding me not to touch him because “he’s just keeping it real” is his issue not mine and not my responsibility. My intense sexuality rolls off my curves and roils around my hips and thighs: I can’t change it anymore than I can change my skin color. I view it in the same vein as his relationship with food and the strict structure he needed/wanted had to come from him and not me. I don’t screw with other people’s relationships and insinuating that I would makes me want to cut ties with him. He made his bed and now he has to lie in it: one of those things is keeping to himself what he wants (i.e. you don’t place a burden on someone else where you get the most benefit). The same blazing anger surfaced when he would go off and rant/preach at me in some pretense of conversation; I listened and I let him vent, why couldn’t he return the gesture? I loved him and his flaws and his strengths and absorbed his negativity without really thinking how it would affect me: I just wanted him to feel better and happy. He doesn’t realize how much I don’t want to be his soulmate anymore – it hurts too much and his promise to absorb all of my pain until there was no more is just another example of his word falling through. I don’t even say this in anger: just simple dejected acceptance. I can’t stop the dreams coming through and I can’t control the purity of emotion in the dreams and when I wake from them, I’m sent right back to start. I want so badly to control this gift of precognition: even if it means our sweet baby girls and son are never to be. Don’t you see? I knew when he fucked someone else just as I already knew he stopped being in love and loving me and was committed to some else (whether or not my consciousness would allow me to brace myself). Like I know it will be futile to resist what is meant to be and maybe that’s why I’m shown the future, so I can prepare/be prepared. I’m still grasping that Beck loves someone else and though his new relationship/courtship has many parallels to the way we began our whirlwind relationship, the stark differences include all the phases/philosophical transitions he’s gone through, we went through and I recall them all. I found an art journal from 2010 and one, of many, key thread is realizing we met too soon. I have to let him go and I need it to happen faster: it hurts too much to share my soul with him when I can’t comprehend the bigger picture. A part of me knows that he might be just another stepping stone towards the One because each time I’ve managed to choose a better lover to commit to/for the long-term. Their great qualities begin to match up with the man who I know exists and who will make all the heartache from relationships past all the worthwhile. Still, I have to force myself to cut this golden thread attached to Beck because I won’t lie to myself the way he lied to me. It’s hard admitting that he lied to me these last few months because I thought I knew him. I would have never pegged him as one to swing from one relationship into another (and he said I move fast?!) just as I didn’t see how he was pushing me away sexually towards other men/into more extreme sex. He knew how I felt about certain acts based on my childhood trauma but he did it anyway. You ask me why I would want him back or not at all in my life and I’ll tell you it’s that I understand/know we’ll always be a part of the other, because he knows me best and I remember him best: our hearts are locked together. On the other hand, I also don’t want to know anything more because it’s killing me. I’m being pulled apart from two sides in opposite directions: one wanting so badly to ask Beck if we could try again, starting as fresh as, “Hi, I’m Daisy. What’s your name?” and the other wanting to listen to family and friends to cut him off completely.

I can forgive a lot because my capacity to understand others and their actions is nearly limitless. I know people can change and so can their hearts: I don’t begrudge them the ability or experience to do it at any age/stage. I have to learn to harden my heart because love makes me foolish and blinds me from undeniable facts. I have to remind myself how he isn’t working and there’s a strong sense of co-dependency which isn’t entirely his problem; I worked really intensely to encourage and motivate Beck by propping up his self-esteem to believe in himself but he didn’t hear me most of the time. I know what an idiot I’ll look like if I continue providing assistance (a shoulder to cry on, cash, my positive outlook, etc.) to him. I know his parents and brother hope I can forgive Beck and this time period so that they can keep their daughter/sister-in-law, if not now, then later on (I tell them Beck’s changed/we’re not getting back together and they’re only now, after all these years, beginning to listen to me and understand. I’m stepping aside as his cheerleader, confidante and best friend and his parents know not to interfere. I hate seeing my elders cry ). When a couple breaks up, they don’t lose just each other – they end up divorcing an entire network of people who love them as individuals and share in the blessing of soulmates finding one another. I hold all these memories that bind me to Beck and I wish they could be wiped from  my heart and mind. I had hoped Beck could become like his Bal (who’s been asking for/about him) but what use is hoping when the relationship is dead? With each day that goes by without hearing from him, each week without seeing him, I move a little more away. I find peace knowing he’s happy and solace that he’ll try to rebuild his relationship with his family. He was afraid to lose himself in a relationship and I bought that line: that’s why the betrayal hurts when he tells me he doesn’t want anyone else but clearly does the opposite. I have to let go because I’m not the one he wants and I should be rejoicing that he’s found his sense of self and is able to hold onto it: I am rejoicing.

I gave up DHS guy  and dropped him – all the red flags raised were grounded in fact.  Everything was moving too fast and he went as far as to use his resources to check on me. The Maltese puppy was the breaker though: he chose the one I wanted and it was in his tone and body language that the puppy was going to be a bargaining chip for him. Animals and pets are not objects to be entertainment for humans and they sure as hell aren’t a manipulation tool! It’s a big mistake to date a rebound without dropping some baggage/taking time out for self reflection, otherwise it circles through repeatedly with other relationships and it’s a never-ending cycle of bliss with fiery crash and burn. I remembered my lessons from Chris and Jed: you don’t enter and interfere with someone’s life until you have your shit in order. It’s selfish and wrong to go about that any other way. Maybe, if I work really hard or harder than I did to keep me and Beck together, by the end of the month or the next one, I’ll be facing and walking the other way. With the blessing of the Universe to try to change course, I can try but God laughs at man’s plans.

This is the hand-off

I ran track and field from high school into college. I’ve always been a sprinter and when I couldn’t/wouldn’t commit to pole vaulting when I went to college (practice began at 6 am to 8 am, then late afternoon practice 4-7 pm and I was already taking 16-18 credits/semester) , I took on gymnastics. I looked at sprinting the way I looked at life and its activities: something to be done wholeheartedly, “all in,” and in the quickest amount of time. Did you know that 800m is considered a sprint?! That’s a quarter mile sprint and so not my speed/distance! I knew I didn’t have the endurance (I had to ‘trick’ my asthma as a kid – I could hold my breath underwater longer than my normal lunged sister and brother but I couldn’t swim the same distance underwater. Thus, I could fly on nearly the tips of my toes from start to finish line but don’t ask me to slow down and pace myself for a quarter mile. In biology, it’s defined as anaerobic vs aerobic activity) but only the power and push for the 100 m. The 4×1 relay is a team effort where each runner is given 100 m, evenly spaced out around a standard racetrack (400 m), and a baton must be passed in order for one runner to go and the previous one to stop. Each pairing (hand-off) has a set amount of space to do this and doing it too soon, as is doing it too late, will automatically disqualify (dq) the entire team. It’s a kind of dance that must be practiced because the techniques are what allow each member the quickest grab and hand-off. Often, each 4×1 stays together for multiple seasons/years because swapping in and out runners who don’t know the rhythm of the other sprinters is disastrous. It takes a lot of time to learn the quirks of your team members but when you get there, when that hand-off is streamlined, it’s beautiful to watch. It’s graceful and the best teams make it seem easy to do it.

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I refuse to be and stay hurt

When you look at your wallet, do you think of me?

When I hold the Kindle, do I hold some aspect of you?

The lines of communication made easier by equipment meant to commune
with each other, God, our loved ones…

I’m not afraid of a life without you, much, anymore
The hurt in your father’s eyes was enough
to let me know I was good and not just to you or them or Benji
It simply didn’t go unnoticed, that goodness is what makes me up

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Your name is Stranger (rough draft)

I’ll admit I cordoned off aspects of my heart and mind
because it was the only way of getting past your cruelty in heated moments
because we stopped being patient, gentle and kind toward one another
You stopped listening to me and assumed I did the same
In your jargon, it was a battle to win and I was someone to be crushed out; but we don’t get to choose who we love; I’d choose to stop loving you
but I, unfortunately, still love you and care for your success and well-being

I want you to admit you fucked up by hastily acting and not thinking
You pride yourself on being a reasonable and rational mind
but you’re your own worst enemy, consistently getting in the way of your progress
Unable to clearly see that the pain you feel, you’re responsible for inflicting
That your personal life is in the same shambles you predicted for your siblings

Continue reading “Your name is Stranger (rough draft)”

It’s amazing

Fear not me and not my wrath but the power I wield
a power that abides by my thoughts, feelings and needs
It’s not God though it does come damn close
Cosmic greatness responding to my cries
cradling me, protecting me with only the will to live
the strength to fight back and stand upright

You think you know what flows through my being
You’ve had a taste, yes and you’ve only sipped a
drop from a thundering waterfall for yourself
Attached to me, everything at your will
Without, a free fall I’ll observe resolutely
You never deserved my kind, my caliber

Handing over, to a friend, my pw’s and user names to social media, electronic communication devices, and basically anything that would leave me vulnerable to Beck. It’s a HUGE risk (what if they steal things or read and watch everything private, unique, etc.) and one I know may bite me in the ass. My peace of mind and my heart matter more though – especially to the people unaccustomed to me opening up. I promised that you ain’t seen nuthin’ like me yet and if I didn’t have 1,000 lifetimes of good karma, I’d be worried for my soul. As it is, I’m a generous, thoughtful and kind person who as amassed similar to herself. I’m going to come out on top as I always have and as it should be.

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One weekend was reenacting the past – final draft

Hearing Beck confirm his best friend was supportive of our break-up made my blood pressure rise a notch. This is the same guy who I visited with Beck while he was in the hospital, surviving a vehicular accident involving a pedestrian for three weeks, multiple times a week. I helped scratch those hard to reach places when you’ve got a neck brace, went straight to the nurse’s station when his calls for assistance went unanswered, helped adjust his hospital bed firmness, drove him to wrestling matches/other destinations, drove Beck to meet him (paint balling birthday party), cooked for (including Beck’s other friends on game night), visited his mother and so on over the 6 years we were together! This same guy who thought my sleep deprived state was a deliberate slight (no sleep in 3 days, trying to pull myself together for a wedding two state lines over) and who thought he was smarter than me.

Beck thinks falling out of love with someone is a process and he’s right in a way. What he doesn’t know is how the little pieces in our hearts and soul that we trade-off when it comes to love are things, are little pieces you can’t get back and you have to live with those empty spaces. It’s not loneliness or some dark hole people have to live with in despair and it’s definitely not something that demands or can be filled. It’s the triumph of love that we willfully share thoughts, bodies, hopes, dreams and everything that amounts to being an individual connecting with another. We can never own another, nevermind their love, but we can enjoy their company walking along the path Fate or Destiny lays out. We can share and we can give as we will take but it’s how and what we make of it that will matter. Memories replace memories for him; memory isn’t as merciful with me. I told him one of the most soul breaking events to occur to someone is having to learn the difference between being in love with someone and just loving someone. But for 28 hours, we existed in our own bubble again – untouchable by any other bullshit in our lives. The same security as we had when we first started.

How can it be explained that growing/maturing as an adult doesn’t mean literally embodying a new persona? That a new way of thinking/of being doesn’t warrant the necessity to burn everything/everyone else built up to that point. An illustration would be Neo, from the movie The Matrix, dying once and coming back in the same body. Another way of looking at stunted emotional growth is seeing someone’s limited emotional I.Q. The weight of the wisdom I’ve gained through all my long term relationships beckons me to live it out alone. How do you draw anger spawned by disappointment and how does one find that little thing to hold onto? How can I show you that living while tethered to someone who doesn’t want me is twisting me so hard and so deeply, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to untangle myself? The gut instinct that I shouldn’t want someone who desires to emotionally stunt himself now for rewards later is screeching like a banshee for me to cut ties. I’ve been here before, thrice, and it never gets easier; so, as before, I surrender.

“It’s the one who won’t be taken, who cannot seem to give… and the soul afraid of dying, never learns to live…” ~ The Rose by Bette Midler

Can’t sleep

As my body re-balances to its normal self, I can’t sleep at night every night. My meds are at the lowest they can be and I’m taking them only as needed; I swam for 2 hours yesterday after an uncomfortable night dreaming of horrible things/waking every 4 hours, thinking my body needed physical exertion to tire out. Last night, I dreamt of my ex and woke up needing him around 3 am – such an unfair desire given the current circumstances. I toyed with a Skype call for an hour and decided that putting him through anymore angst after last Sunday was ultimately selfish and thoughtless. Still, I haven’t been able to rest or fall back into sleep and I’ve been wandering the ‘net looking for a distraction from these thoughts:

Trying to figure out a way where we could have it all and wrestling with the fear that he’ll be the one who got away. I’ve never felt that fear for any of my ex’s and crushes: even when an old flame has confessed that I’ll always be the one who got away from him, there’s never a doubt in my mind that the inverse could be true because it isn’t. Maybe in a few weeks, I’ll have a clearer understanding of what drives me in the direction of Beck or maybe he’ll be able to provide the answer without me having to do the work of sweating it out. I just know that writing helps, even if it seems like I’m writing in circles. Shit, JP said something similar during our phone call. I guess writing things out is my sounding board when I can’t have Beck to listen or help me out with a problem.

One of the snippets of last night’s nightmare: Beck was gone permanently and all the things, mostly good, that I had held back for fear of reproach/rejection could only be released in sobs. He can’t bring himself to stay with/rejoin me and my fortitude may not be enough. Sometimes, the way he speaks, he makes it sound like he’s the only one  who was tormented by our fighting – that he was the only one getting hurt and feeling the most pain. I need to remember how utterly selfish that is if staying away from him is the only thing that will work for us in maintaining a platonic friendship. I only know that he’s my mirror image in some ways and my polar opposite other ways, all coming together as two halves in one unit. Gotta refrain from the nicknames and terms of affection somehow, too.

It’s the dichotomy of Scars and Let it Go by James Bay that we inhabit.