Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Saturday, February 7, 2009

I understand the control issues. I honestly do.

You finally have it. It's all yours. I hope you're happy. This is what you finally wanted. Complete control. The ability to shut people out of your life. The one thing you're truly good at. And I'm not fighting it anymore.

I was talking the other day, about the ways that I cared for you, and how I never felt like they were appreciated.

I picked up a uhaul van, I waited next to the train tracks where you had your first bike accident ever. The exact same spot where I scooped you up off the ground, where I carried you out of traffic, and brought your bike with me. The exact same spot where I held you so fucking hard while you cried your eyes out. Where I yelled at the driver that stopped to see if you were okay, I was so defensive of you, this little girl that I could see right through at that moment, that I could see was hurting, that was letting me see. That was probably the closest I ever felt to you, and to your emotions. Because I felt like I was let in.

I picked you up off the ground that night, and dusted you off, and told you you'd be alright. I never could have loved you more than at that moment.

I built that bike for you. I wanted you to have what I cherished.

I waited there, looking at the ground. Looking at the spot where you fell. And I got the keys for the van. The big empty van.

You asked me so many times why I didn't just leave you, if there's so little I liked about you. That wasn't the case. It was never about things I didn't like about you. It was about wanting to cut through the bullshit, and be closer to you, and to feel safer. I never left you because I was completely entirely in love with you. I know somewhere inside, you know that.

We both know I'm not good with confrontation. I get mean when I'm cornered. I get defensive when I'm confronted. I get angry when I'm not listened to. I get angrier when I'm not given space in a situation when I need to clear my head and/or calm down.

We could make a list a mile long each, of the things we both do wrong.

"I'm sorry I fight you."

It never changed. I never wanted to just be another proving ground for your character, or for your image of personal strength. I just wanted a future with you, and a safe space to grow in.

Why are you always running? I wish you had the courage to just stick around, or to be happy with what you have.

I'm sorry your needs were so unfulfillable. Honestly, everyone has needs. And it's next to impossible to ever have anyone fill them.

I'm sorry I asked for you to be such a safe space for me. I suppose that's just as hard.

Friday, February 6, 2009


I'm alive.
And I'm healthy.

I've been talking a lot lately.
I've made some big plans.
I've learned some things.

You can't squeeze water from a stone.
You can't have expectations. You can't have people have expectations of you.
You can't make someone emotionally available, if they don't know how to be.
You can't feel emotionally safe with someone you don't belong with.
You can't change someone's past, and how they handle themselves now, based off of events that have happened in their past.
You cannot be the mother or fill the role of a parent for someone that wants nothing more to be back in the loving nurturing arms of someone too far away.
I can't change people. I can't make people a safe space for me. I should have ran at the first red flag. Back via instant messaging sessions, being told about a simple pleasure of inviting someone over, and how unhealthy the acts that followed were. About the desire to be treated poorly, to be abused, to be violated physically.
Resent for offering a safe space, and an alternative to that need to be mistreated.
Resent for the safe space never being returned.
We're all damaged.
Some people can't do anything for anyone else besides themselves.
Some people can't do anything for themselves, and everything for others.
I wanted to give someone a chance. That led to expectations. Expectations of emotionally open sharing. Of a healthy relationship. To eventual resentment of the lack of emotional safe space. Resentment at building bikes, driving moving vans, being threatened with my living space, painting apartments in virginia, at presenting myself as a positive person, only to get dragged into a negative outlook and constant shit talking. Resent at never being given emotional space when asked for it. Resent at myself responding poorly to the lack of agreement or safe space for myself.
Resent for expecting a safe emotional space from someone who can't communicate openly with anyone but her mother.
Resent for real depth being hidden behind formalities, goals, to do lists, noise.
Resent for everything that I had been giving, and trying to give, and not getting the one thing in return that I needed.
Resent for the control, power, and male issues that I constantly paid for.

Things were supposed to change. My frustration was slowly simmering down, but nothing was working fast enough to soothe the heartburn that had been growing for so long.

A relationship can't grow with two people who have such high expectations from each other.

A relationship can't grow when the people involved either want to go back in time and fight their mother, or go back in time, and be forever coddled by their mother.

A relationship can't grow when one person is actively trying to work through their issues, and the other person just talks, and avoids their issues.

A relationship can't grow with someone that only knows how to receive love as if they were a child.

A relationship can't grow with someone who's fed up with the dysfunctionalities of the other. On either side.

You can't dig your roots into a brick.

You can't expect too much.

You can't be expected of too much.

I'm worried about her. I'm worried about unhealthy practices. About unhealthy sexual practices. About hiding in books, in mothers' arms, in formalities, in self help books, in quotes, in ways to blame others', in ways to run from confronting the awful truth of why we are the way we are.

I'm so god damned worried about her. I don't want her to be the victim for the rest of her life. I don't want her to be a survivor for the rest of her life. I don't want those to be the only roles she knows how to play. I don't want her falling into lies, escapes, the emptiness of good intentions. I want her to realize that everything around her, she's a part of. In one way or another, she's contributed.

No relationship is one sided. No problems are just one persons' fault when there's two people involved.