Tragic Love

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I still suffer for you every day. My heart aches for your embrace, your kindness, and your warmth. I am robbed of our love, the happiness we shared. You took that away from us although rightly so at the time. And I am still angry at you for how you treated me. How we were – so foolishly caught up in the storm. You saved me from myself and my past, most of it at least, but you left me with new scars. Scars directly on my heart and in my memory. It’s been eight months now and I am still healing the wounds. How long will it take? I thought it would be over now, or at least starting to fade.

Everything thus far has been right, even though it’s been tough. What does the future hold? Do you think of me as much as I still think of you? I felt what I can only imagine as mother’s pain watching you from afar, struggle with your loss of freedom and success. Feeling your hand gently reaching out for a hug but knowing I could not come to you. I could not come to you because you don’t get to call the shots like that anymore. You don’t get to decide when to come into my life and turn it upside down. You don’t get to, I told you I won’t let you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t hurt from it. The days before and morning of. I just have stronger shoes to keep me still.

Have you met someone new? Are you replying to my note because you feel like you should, the way you felt for the other girls who still messaged? Or is my inclination at least partially true and you reply because there’s a part of you that is trapped with me too?

Magic but tragic, is what we said. And now, I am surrounded by magic each day that I create. But I still have this tragic love for you, so tragic that I can’t endure the thought of anyone else. I hold on to your last kiss from when you let me go. The last kiss that said you’ll see me later, but hell what have we done since then. We both clearly had some work to do, and I wonder – is that work that will see us together again or work that is sending us farther apart? I am stuck in this holding ground unable to move on, and I am tortured by not knowing where you stand. How can I move on if there’s the smallest glimmer of hope? One year on, I tell myself. After one year on I should start to pressure myself forward, or forever be stuck in this trap you’re holding me in. Much like your mam, I could cry at the thought of longing for your love. For hers, for your father – the story of tragic love.

Jewellery Graveyard

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Such beautiful pieces, once so cherished. Now stare back at me, little tokens of failures. Sometimes they are always waving, laughing, jesting.

That little place in Greece, the vintage place near our old home, the characters who run it, the walk we took on our last night of that first holiday.

Memories of where these little symbols of love were gifted and collected and treated. A whole fucking box of memories. Elderly loved ones who have passed on and left colourful gems to be remembered by. Even a bracelet my Dad gave my Mum when they were young, they’re not together anymore, yet the metal lives on. A subtle and constant reminder of a love in days gone by.

We can sort the legal bit and go our separate ways, the emotional side will scar for sure. But I’m left with these metal circles and shiny bits, supposedly everlasting with eternal shapes. For they remind me of you, of what we signed up for. Our contract of love was supposed to last so much longer than this. I thought I would wear those rings forever. Our little secret wedding, just for us. ‘Mutual weirdness forever’. That was the contract, that is what we agreed.

But now I am left with this jewellery graveyard. Too loaded to re-home, too precious to part with, yet will never be worn again and are of no value to anyone else. A last blast of defiance; a man will never buy me jewellery again, I will buy my own from now on, then we will never have to do this again.

You will be moved soon, for I can’t look at you each day, it’s a cycle that makes me so sad. For now, that is how it has to be.

Tip of My Tongue; Just Out of Reach

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This evening I was driving home from a dears friends house. My mind started wandering and suddenly it hit me. The word I have been struggling to find for a few weeks, it’s been on the tip of my tongue, just out of reach. When people ask how you are but you can’t articulate it or find the right words. Now I know.

Denied.

I feel denied. Denied a happy relationship. Denied an adult relationship. Denied the opportunity for my loving to have been worth something. Denied the chance to create a cosy new home together. Denied the future that I thought might have been possible. Denied a successful relationship. All the denied. All of the time.

When the word landed in my brain, I cried, like an animal, it wasn’t even a ‘normal’ cry. It was a noise. Maybe a howl. There is an absolutely stunning moon tonight, perhaps that is why.

I don’t often cry at maybe the more ‘usual’ things. I cry when I am sad and can’t work out why, I cry when I am tired or hormonal. But mostly, I cry when I am so filled with joy that my body just starts to leak from my eyes; when I am touched. At beautiful things. But tonight I cried a desperate, heart-breaking animal cry. It was sheer pain and hurt.

I feel totally denied of all that I thought my relationship could be, would be, might be, on a good day, if he was in a good mood…

I am so angry and sad and feel so cheated.

This is what I have been struggling to put my finger on. What the hell do I do next?

Children of Trouble

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The way you looked at me with your big eyes filled with fear. The way you looked at me filled with joy. You are only small and you have so much behind you already. The depth of your eyes shows the knowledge beyond your years. You stand there with your heavy worry, snacking on a giant feast. How do you see the world? Why do you see bears? What is your story?

You make me feel like you’re the only thing that matters – the you’s of the world are the most precious things. You could be brilliant – the best and the most – if we can support you to flourish. Your innocence is scary but your weight is heavy. You know so much but so little at the same time. What will you become? Will I be here to see it? Will you be jailed for your anger or institutionalised for your obsession and your difference? How can I stop it? That is my role, isn’t it?

Who are we to judge how you should behave. Einstein was a lost boy but now he’s a hero. Hawkins is a genius but he was not “normal”. These, you, are the greatest beings, they could be at least.

Your beauty is paralysing as I watch you be precarious but proud. Your nature is soft but your mind is complex. What do you say, sir? Let’s see what else is behind those thick and velvet curtains. Let’s see what else has not yet escaped from that marvellous mind of yours. Let’s go.

Happy Birthday

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Happy birthday beautiful!

I wish so much I could click my fingers, open my eyes and be with you. With the winter behind us and the arrival of spring we could find a nice spot in the park where the sun falls softly on us and the first blue bells in the grass.

Reminiscing of past adventures we realise turning one year older isn’t all that bad. Another year with love and friendship like ours is plenty of reason to celebrate. Like any good adventure story there’s triumph’s and falls, heroes and villains, romance and heartbreak. Let your new chapter begin! I believe the best is yet to come.

On this birthday may you feel steadiness in the waves of life and comfort in your spirit knowing Jesus loves you and so do I.

I look forward to the day we sit on the grass for real. That thought alone fills me with joy.

You’re a treasure.

Thank you for being you and giving all you have.

Enjoy your day. Your birthday!

Overwhelming Thoughts

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Where do i start?? Having just survived the most challenging year of my life, I feel it now maybe time to start unpacking what going on in my head.

The unthinkable happened to my son and I early in 2017, the life we knew was taken away just like that. Somehow, I’ve just had to get through each minute, hour, day, week and month. A year of firsts, every day a new day that i hadn’t lived before. Things i never thought i would have to deal with. Not knowing how to be, how to feel, support my son in his pain. Now the year of first has passed, i feel its time to tackle my thoughts, feelings and fears.

I feel the correct process for me personally, is to write these down and in the months/years to come I want to look back and see how far I’ve come, the ups and uncountable lows. However, every time I sit down and open my new journal/notebook and hold a pen in my hand, out of nowhere all these thoughts flood from my brain to my hand and it starts to shake. The only way i can describe it, is if you had a fountain pen and the ink starts to flood out of the end of it…..that’s what happens to my thoughts which all seem to scream ‘let me OUT of this head’ and they want to spill out over the paper. I then get so overwhelmed and cant cope with the overwhelming thoughts, I start panicking, breathing becomes quick, I get hot and clammy and then i quickly shut the book, put the lid on the pen and then i feel safe. My breathing then slowly returns to normal and i start to feel better.

But am i really safe?? I know those thoughts are still in there….knocking and saying to me ‘we’re still here…..we’ll come and get you eventually’, I then bury them. I feel like I’m putting off the inevitable. Does this mean I just can’t deal with this now? When will I be ready to tackle these? Will I ever be ready to tackle them???

So, I want to heal myself from within and feel this is where I must start but the overwhelming feelings mean I can’t yet…..I’m not saying never – which i suppose is a good thing!

Goodbye

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You tainted my body. Literally in all ways. Through my blood and through my soul.

It was five years ago, when it started. And it’s still haunting me now. For five years I’ve been walking around suppressing emotions and feelings I didn’t even know I had. I could not realise them then, because I did not have time. I had already left you, and home, and everything; I was on plane two days after I knew what you had done to me. Straight to another world where I didn’t have to look back at you, or look deep into me. Avoid it, suppress it, ignore it.

I was stubborn. Too stubborn to admit I was hurt. ‘I am not weak’, ‘I will strive forward’, ‘this will not ruin me’. I can see now that it ruined me. Not listening to my body, mind, soul; that’s what ruined me. I should have listened then, and I should have told someone – anyone – how much I hurt.

Goodbye.

Please Join Me

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Why don’t you see it yet? I told you everything and almost begged you to see it…

You’re still there, still doing it. You left briefly and I hoped you would see it. You’re back now and you’re still there, still doing it.

Why can’t you see it yet? See it. I want you to see it. I want you to join me. Join me in the freedom, the liberation, the confidence, and the meaning.

Why? Why can’t you hear me? I told you what to do, I told you why you should, I didn’t tell you as an instruction – because I know you can’t be told – but I told you in a way which I thought you would see. But you haven’t yet, and I am sad to see you still there.

Come and join me in the happiness, the security, the safety of this world. It’s much more fulfilling, and I can see in your eyes that you want it. Your photos: you don’t look happy. Not genuinely. I can see through that, through you. You even basically told me you’re not happy. And you tried for a bit, to be fair. But that wasn’t enough. Maybe you need more guidance, more support. Maybe you need someone more – more than I am, more than I was. Am I ready? Am I ready to undertake the responsibility of that? I don’t know that I am. I still have my own struggles – logistics – to work through. But god, desperately I want you to join me. You’d be so much happier. I promise you. And I know you want it.

Dance Partners

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We are dance partners; yet we have never met.

We skit and flirt at the lowest of times and decide if we will ever meet for real.

I toy with the likelihood of our paths crossing ever happening. Who it will affect most, what impact it would have. If assumptions will be made. Assumptions are made to soften our own inability to comprehend the incomprehensible.

It’s on the rise, ‘they’ will say. They were always too emotional, too weak, too sensitive, as if it was bound to happen one day. It’s a trend, it’s the rise of the internet, it’s the pressure of modern day living, they were damaged, they were too much of a thinker, an analyser, a middle child. Labels without value.

You are always the last resort, the back-up plan, you’re supposed to be a comfort; to know there is an out, a final point, a conclusion to the circus of thoughts in my mind.

Yet I cannot be that desperate, as we have not yet met. I think of those it would hurt the most and I don’t want to be responsible for causing such pain, some would never heal. I think secretly some would be relieved, as if they didn’t know what to do with me in the first place and therefore, they are freed from the burden. There is also a dark part of me that thinks it would teach some a lesson. How awful of me. Such deep shame.

In some ways I crave the peace you would give me, a serenity that I have not found, yet. Though I know there are other options, a grey area in the middle. I know what would be advised, decisions to make, changes to implement, but they would involve a strength and energy that I don’t know if I have left, or can even muster.

So, nothing has happened, as yet. We meet once in a while, continue our dance, we toy with the notions, the ideas, the likelihood. Mostly you disappear fast and let me carry on as I am. Until the next time. Then it all begins again.

The Men You Are

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I miss the way you say my name, I miss the way you look at me. I miss the way you touch my arm, I miss the way we smile. I miss the way you make me safe, I miss the way you love. I miss the way it made me feel, and it to feel to me. I miss the way they happened, and I miss the way they’re gone. But most of all, I miss the way I was with you, the way I felt for me.

For me I was contented, in your loving arms. For me I was secured, in your loving arms. For me, I was established, in your loving arms.

For me I was myself, as much as I could be. For here I am again, thanks to you at last. But it’s different this time – for now I have a past. A past you have endured, unfair to you. A past you needn’t know, unfair to you. A past you could have left, as it’s really unfair to you.

The way you make me feel is then, before the past I have. The feelings of before the past, the past you came across. For what is different so, is more than what I was. For what is different so, is who I am because.

The power you have given me, is power once and more. The power you have instilled in me, is fire I adore. The power you have fueled in me, you have no idea. No idea in what you reached in me, deep, deep, in there.

For here we are again once more, but this time – it’s different; you are able, stable, resilient, and kind. You see me, believe me, let me be me, and more. Not like the others, who saw me but couldn’t teach me; fuel me and support me.

The me you have is different, to before the past. The me you have is different, to the past itself. The me you have is me today, the me you have is me today. The me you have is me today, and it is me that is because of you, okay.

Why do I rely so much, on having you to begin? Why do I rely so much, on having you to end? Why do I rely so much, on having you to start? I clearly needed you.