“You’re talking about the American Dream. You find something that you love, then you twist it and torture it, trying to find a way to make money at it, spend a lifetime doing that, and in the end, you can’t find a trace of what you started out loving.” ~ Hope Floats (Justin
“Immature people falling in love destroy each other’s freedom, create a bondage, make a prison. Mature persons in love help each other to be free; they help each other to destroy all sorts of bondages. And when love flows with freedom there is beauty…A mature person does not fall in love, he or she rises in love…Two mature persons in love help each other to become more free. There is no politics involved, no diplomacy, no effort to dominate. Only freedom and love.” ~Osho
My words have been stuck in my head for awhile. I’m half dead inside my mind. It’s definitely not a lack of things to say. I could scream for days and there’d still be more but it feels very futile.
Then this time of day rolls around. The time of day I used to look forward to getting into bed with my husband about an hour before falling asleep just so we could talk. We’d lay in one another’s arms talking and laughing. Im a girl who enjoys sex but this type of intimacy is beyond that and I cherished it. But now I try to sprawl myself out to cover as much of his empty space as I possible. Another act of futility.
The tears well. The thoughts race.
How long has it been since he held me here? More than that though, how long since he wanted or needed to just be next to me?
How long did I pretend we were being sheltered and cared for by piecing together the scraps of attention and affection that were haphazardly tossed our way? Why was that acceptable to me? To him? When exactly did I accept this shell of the man, husband and father in place of the genuine? How did he keep turning up less accountable and proactive yet more burdened and resentful? And why? Always, why? All we wanted was him. He was gone.
The environment became too toxic, the stakes too high. It reached a boiling point. The kettle screaming and by that time too hot to handle. We were burned and my reflex was to let go and guard the wound.
I told him he needed to leave and I didn’t care where he went. An obvious overshot released venomously, with teeth and claws bared in perceived threat to child that has since been labeled “unacceptable” and even “unforgivable” that I am struggling to wrap reality around. I question things that I actually witnessed happen which leaves me feeling untrusting of myself and because he’s taken all of this and made them into logic and reason to stay absent from home and family, untrusting of him as well.
I mean it can’t be both something that didn’t happen the way everyone perceived it and the reason for a realization that you need to step away and work on yourself to have any chance of us being a family again.
There’s so much more to say. So much to be done. And here I am. Just me.
Love is a choice as much as it is magic. Magic comes in moments, but choices stretch out over time. We make them new each morning. In the first fall, they were magic. Then the seasons brought their storms, as seasons always do. Summer brought a winter. There was crying and silence and he would go away to change, for sometimes we have to lose a thing to find it.
September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. Please read this one story and know there are many more. Be aware that children can’t fight cancer alone, it takes a village. They need you to help spread awareness, so that more than 4% of cancer research funds are allocated to childhood cancer, so new drugs are finally developed after no progress in 20 years. Please go GOLD for the kids this month. Wear it. Change your profile pic on social media. Start a conversation. Ask for gold ribbons at retailers. Tell them why. Change the world.
I don’t even know how to begin to say what I have experienced over the last few days. It was a love beyond what the word love can fully capture. There should be another word for that. Intimate? Yes, it was very intimate … and precious and heartbreaking and something I will never forget for as long as I live.
Jedi’s best friend, Jedi Gino, left us today. His 10 year old body held a soul bigger than it could have possibly held, but it did. I’m sure the papers will say that our Jedi lost his battle to cancer today, but I can tell you that’s not true. The cancer won the battle with Gino’s little boy body, but his soul won the war. The war that tried to take over his and his family’s life, it didn’t take his life. That boy was full of life. As I think…
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