caressed

I miss being caressed
by more than my own hand
how divine the feeling
of feeling divine
that part of me held
in oiled hands
waking my mind to the sleep
it could escape
if only this pleasure
continues a bit longer
and longing for release
but not to end
in the end it always ends
but I want it to begin again
where I begin and end
ouroboros holding tail
twisting physical yoga
undulating nirvana
as joy dissolves all
the sun, the moon, mystical
caressing, all Divine

solstice

the sun isn’t
the only thing that burns
like that warm fuzzy feeling
in my stomach
but actually more
uncomfortable
not fuzzy at all
wondering what to do
that fulfills my will
to be what I’m meant to be
more me than me
what future flirts
behind the curtain
like the shy behind skirts
or the sky behind clouds
hiding the sun
but relief from burning
skin outside and within
orbits elliptically
leaving stripes
of uneven colour
and uncertain shape
outer sign of inner
seasonal disorder

digesting

I’ve been digesting what you sent

The only thing I need
is a reason to survive
because survival is not enough
looking that gift horse in the mouth
all I see are cavities

The darkness you want to devour
you
isn’t done with me yet
so take shelter in that fact
you aren’t prey to it yet
so don’t call up
what you can’t put down

That black hole is an eclipse
that shadows the light
of all hallow souls
so take the respite offered
by the spiral path it takes
to prepare yourself
for when it awakes
to your aching
yearning
and the moans you make
with each quivering quake

I’d stick my stick
in that hole
but I’m afraid
to see what returns up
the way I came down

Are you really prepared
to shed light on that
pitch blank snake?

antsy

my ancestors are antsy
when I ask them for answers
or to be my allies
they sense I’m not serious
about survival
and want to see
me make sacrifices
willingly, fiercely
to do what is required
by society to be successful
none of them really understand
except grandma dragon
this path I’m on
and what I’m asking them to do
when I haven’t done it either

iron and sulphur

a magical journal
of attempts and results
to contact myself
the echo chamber of my self
and the echo is not answered
as it once was
by the muse and the burning
need to write and rhyme
with assonance and consonance
I used to know that hidden holy part of myself
and I called it inspiration
but somehow it was tied to sadness and sorrow
that felt more real than myself
like my personality was a peel on the outside of a bitter fruit
pit and pith and juice of cold iron and sulfur

fisher king

I have a wound in my side that will not heal
leaking energy to the four winds
and to the depths of hell
where I will eventually send myself
if I do not get well
from this sickness in my soul
that yearns for what is not real
I lost my innocence and my trust
and all that remains is the remains
of a corpse once full of strength
but weakened by feeling of emptiness
and need for love
to match the love I cried out to give
no gifts I have even been given
could match the grail I wanted to have
and so I have never been satisfied
distracted by this noise
I’ve missed my call to action

candles

and the tears prove
I never fully let go
how can I dare curse
someone else with this
burning the candles
at both ends
nothing but smoke
from them for them
too much like to love
no love like that
like no love
no love there
like love

diabetes

I don’t know who she is
only what I thought she was
and that’s the lie she told
to me and herself
her amateur artificiality
was all consuming
but I loved her
for what I wanted her to be
and the lie was the lie
she told to me
because I wanted her to lie
she became my lie to me
it was a bargain between us
we consummated it
and I consumed it
now I am what I ate
empty calories and sugar
leaving me fat and bloated
with stains on my sheets
and diabetes

box

who do you listen to
when the voices lie
and they trick
and try to fool
they survive inside
by telling lies
about desire
and identity
taking time
apart and away
from life
making death
farther away
I have to believe
there is a miracle
in the boy
and trust is the key
to the box

in the shadows

in the shadows
behind me
a dream image
of a time lost
and soon recovered
a shadow of
a light
in the distance
of my memory
supporting me
silently
with strength
and courage
but what of love?
this is my soul self
is my silent guide
my self inside
and above all
daily strife
giving and taking
pushing and pulling
writing runes
on my wrists
and fingertips
telling me
the truth
behind myth

troubadour

she wanted me to memorize the words others had written, but she never asked me to write my own words for her. I wanted to write words of pure love, dripping molten hot silver, like a troubadour praising the divine feminine. I wanted to pray to her on bended knee and raise my voice in song to her strength and beauty. but, my words failed me. but, I feared she did not want to hear me.

did I even have the words to say how much I felt for her? I stumbled to even say anything at all. I struggled to speak as I was caught up in my head. my voice was silent when my heart wanted to sing. my heart tried to code a message to her but was muted by my fears and my clouded mind.

I should have not feared to say what I felt. I should have felt joy instead of fear. But, I feared that she would not hear me if I said the words I longed to say. I feared to say what I felt because I felt too much.

so I wrote about her in ritual and spoke what I felt to the directions. I called for candles to light her way and worshiped at her holy well. but, I did not tell that I was worshiping the divinity of her.

fully herself

(Continued from “broken bit” after “when she left I got old”.)

and now she’s tasted
the single pomegranate
seed that she needs
to feel fully herself
and there’s no going back
to the way it was
for her, for me
the only thing left
is to accept her leaving
was inevitable
and realize this tale
is one I constantly retell
and try to learn
a new ending

alone, lonely and unloved

I’ve always thought that the reason I felt alone, lonely and unloved was because I needed to find an intimate companion. But, when I’ve had an intimate companion, those feelings have not gone away, and maybe have even been worse because I’ve been confused, frustrated and angry that those feelings have not gone away.

So, I feel alone, lonely and unloved, and that has nothing, apparently, to do with whether I’m in a relationship or not. Is it that I’ve felt alone, lonely and unloved because I’ve not loved myself?

With the 5-HTP and everything, I don’t really seem to be struggling with depression, unless I run out; but I’m still heartbroken, full of grief, full of despair, full of heartache and struggling with every thing that seems to be wrong with my life and myself.

How do I manage to love myself? How do I suddenly think that I’m worthy of love from myself or anyone else? How do I fully believe when half of me knows I am and the other knows I’m not?

When I was with her, I wanted her to be my entire life. When she was gone for 8 months, I lived for her return. But, my living for her was not having a full life. When a few months stretched to 8, I even lost faith and never fully recovered. When she left me for real, I lost what hope I had for my life after I had made it through everything else.

Many years ago, I asked someone out once and she asked me what I did outside of work, what life did I have? And, I couldn’t answer that I did anything. I didn’t have a life. Or, at least, not one outside of my head. I’ve lived in my own mind alone and lonely for so long that I’ve failed to realize that I had not managed to have a life of my own in the real world.

As I was growing up, I knew that I would move, that friends would never be seen again, that things I liked to do would not be around me forever. So, I think I stopped trying to have any attachments to things outside of myself. I did not allow myself to be attached to anything that I couldn’t trust to be there through a move, and so I ended up not trusting anything.

So, it’s a life that I must now learn to live, which I may never really have experienced or trusted. But, really, I’ve been here and been there before; it’s the doing that I’m not sure of anymore. Can I love myself through that doing?

but, still

I still feel that I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone, but I also know that she’s better off now without me. And, that really, really freakin’ hurts. Nah, I still haven’t accepted it, but I’m trying, but I don’t want to, but I realize I have to, but … but …

all in my head

a: I lied to you for years that we’d be together, when I knew we wouldn’t ever be together forever

b: I don’t believe it. That may be the way that you’ve chosen to remember it, but through the pain and struggle; we were in love and we had something that was so very special.

a: of course you think that because you were the one that got all my support. I spent all my energy trying to help you, but you gave me nothing. it was great for you because you were the center of everything, and I was the one that paid for it all

b: I want to believe that I was able to offer you something that you wanted

a: believe whatever you want to believe, but believing doesn’t change the way things really were for me. it got worse and worse and there was no end in sight. there’s still no end to it. you are still struggling. I can’t help you with that. I don’t want to help you with that. I’m a happy person, but with you I was miserable. I’m not miserable now that I ended things. I have time for the things I love to do and I have someone in my life that loves me. I am with someone that is happy and we’re happy together. you can’t offer that to me. you never gave that to me. you couldn’t.

a: Of course, you still love me. While you struggled, I was there to support you. But, who was there to support me? My heart was breaking for years while you struggled and seemed to make no progress of any kind except to fall further into depression and while everything around you fell apart. Well, my love fell apart too. I felt like every time I tried to help you, a part of me died. Trying to love you was like chopping my limbs off. I became a tin woodman trying to support you while you gave me nothing back. So, yes, your heart is breaking, but I can’t help you any more. Maybe your heart will take as long to break as mine did, but somehow I doubt it. Part of me hopes that it does, so you can feel what it was like to be with you. But, I don’t want to hate you. Part of why I knew it was time to go is because I started to hate you. I resented you.

a: Your heart may take as long to break as mine did, but my fear is that you’ll find someone new to support you and you’ll forget to do your work. You will find someone new and fall back into the same pattern again. That same pattern you seem to have fallen into with me, and you would probably fall back into if I actually did come back to you. That pattern is one where you avoid fixing what’s wrong by taking someone else apart, bit by bit, piece by piece. That’s what it felt like for me. So, yes, you want me back because you are in pain, but I can’t help you any more. You have to figure this out yourself. I tried to help you, but I couldn’t.

a: my love and approval made you feel good about yourself, and when things got hard you became a monster because you no longer felt good about yourself no matter what I said or did to prove to you otherwise. I exhausted myself trying to help you feel good about yourself. But, you are the only one that can do that. I never could be more than a temporary boost to you, and you wasted the time we had together feeling sorry for yourself when you should have worked hard.

a: You failed to work your ass off to save things when we were together. I worked my ass off trying to make it work. Our relationship felt completely one-sided to me. You got all the benefit of all the work I did. I did the emotional work. I was the one that got a job and worked retail. I’ve never known anything to work except hard work and you don’t seem to be able to work hard. You stayed at home and I never really knew what you did. It seemed like you didn’t move at all. You seemed to be sitting in the same place from the time I left to the time I got home, and didn’t seem to have accomplished anything at all.

the jury is still out

If it is true that there’s no point in trying to keep going in a difficult relationship; if she was right that it was too late for us and that the best thing was to end it; then, I should have cut off relations with my father years and years ago.

Of course my mother’s hate for him has hurt my relationship with her; Of course, my hatred for him has hurt every relationship I’ve ever had with people in my life, especially the ones that I love.

I am mentally, emotionally and, with the car accident, even physically scarred by my relationship with my father. And, yet, I keep coming back to that relationship, thinking that things will change, be different. “Maybe this time,” I think.

And, isn’t that exactly what I end up creating for my partners? Didn’t I put her in the position of being in a relationship with an impossibly difficult dynamic where she just ended up hoping that I would change, that if I knew I was hurting her that I would wake up and see that I had to change, that all the time I thought that I was trying was time that I was actually torturing her?

She could see how damaging it was that my father was in my life. Did she leave me so that she wouldn’t hate me? Did she leave because she was starting to hate me? And, why is it that I expected her to come back to me just because I can’t stop coming back for more abuse?

I made life for her into a living kind of hell where there was nothing that she could do right or to stop me from hurting myself or her or being full of anger and depression.

So, I think she would want that back? Am I freaking insane? Ah, there’s the thing: am I? I keep trying to make things with my father not painful, but the way that I do that is by staying in contact, trying again and again to get him to change. It’s trying the same thing over and over, expecting different results.

So what does that mean? Does that mean that I should do what she did? That’s a freaking round of justice for me if what she did to me what I should also do. So, I find myself learning how to deal with my father from the way that my ex-girlfriend dealt with me. And, that means that I accept that she made the right choice toward me if I do that. That makes it even harder to decide to do what she did.

But, how freaking episodic is that, to suddenly see all the pain and anguish and hurt that I feel in relation to my father as what I created for her? That I have done to her what I have been so hurt by myself? And, what do I do with this information?

Do I accept that she did the right thing, and break off relations with my father as being an example of how there’s no point in sticking with a difficult relationship? But, I want to believe that there could have been a way, should have been a way for her and I still to be together. What a mindfuck. Just as it’s insane for me to think that my father would change; it was insane for her to think that I would change, and since she is sane she left me.

So, am I sane?

things to do

far fewer moments of bliss
than I remember or wish
to remember with her
but I fantasize and dream
in her eyes of seeing
the reflection of my love
unshunned by her
but her eyes are glazed over
and she looks over my shoulder
excusing herself
she has things to do
taking all the pain away
would require tequila
and no liver

the wonderful wizard of troy

I knew that it was horrible to be with me while I struggled. Maybe it was horrible to be with me even when I wasn’t struggling too. So, I did things to make it easy for her to go. Like not expressing how much I loved her, because I didn’t want that to become a trap. In the beginning, I felt I couldn’t tell her that I hoped so very much that she would change her mind and find that she did want to marry and maybe even have kids. (Or, you know, at least that it was possible.) Later, I think I stopped volunteering how much I loved her because I was afraid that by expressing my love I was trapping her into staying.

But, I couldn’t understand why she would stay with me during that time if she also wasn’t willing to commit to me as a life partner. If things were just until some point or that she was willing to go, why didn’t she?

The only reason that made sense is that she felt trapped. She felt trapped by connection. Maybe she felt trapped by responsibility, and not wanting to drop me when I was down without any other support.

So, if she was only staying with me because she was trapped, then the only thing I could do was to help untrap her by making it easier. She moved out and had her own space and time away from me. I stayed away from her work. I didn’t go to her drumming group or her storytelling group. I both felt that I had to let her have space of her own where I was not in the way, but I also felt that I wasn’t really welcome in those spaces of hers. So, that was a double reason that I felt I couldn’t participate in what she was becoming.

And, feeling like I couldn’t participate; like I had no role to play in her life any more … I felt even worse about myself. What could I give her anymore that she actually wanted?

Suggestions I made to her she didn’t like until someone else said them and then the same suggestion was such an amazing idea that she loved. Like the idea of doing oral histories of the BCWC people. I suggested that to her as something around the time of the first witchcamp and it was nothing she found interesting at all, finding reasons not to do it or that she didn’t like the idea. Then, a year later, someone other than me made the same suggestion to her after camp and all of a sudden it was an amazing idea.

I had no purpose to fill in her life. There was nothing I could offer her that she wanted from me, but it seemed like I need only find someone else to suggest the same idea and she would have loved it. She couldn’t believe me that she was amazing and wonderful, and so why keep saying it? When saying something and having it rejected hurt so much, how could I keep going?

I wanted so very much to support her. I wanted to support and be loved by her. I wanted to be valued in her life because I could offer her the support she wanted and welcomed. But, she didn’t welcome my support. My support was constantly rejected.

In some ways, I think I’ve always felt that I was made for a close relationship. As if my purpose on this planet was to be in love with another and to be the support and partner to another’s growth. I felt that I could fulfill my purpose in life in a relationship with another in mutual support, becoming better and greater than each of us could become alone. So, in a way if I couldn’t support her in becoming the best she could be, then I was, at the same time, failing to be the best I could be.

It felt like anything I did or accomplished was something that she felt was a challenge or a kind of competition. I really don’t think that was any part of it for me. I wanted to be a good person for her. I wanted to be a better person because I wanted her love and to love her. So, by loving her and by having my support rejected, I ended up feeling smaller and smaller.

So I couldn’t support her and I couldn’t find my own successes either. There was nothing for me to do that was welcome. I could not help her and I could not help myself because I felt like neither were welcomed by her. So, I was trapped by the sense that she felt trapped by me.

And, when things started to get really hard, when my graduate school work hurt so much to pursue and when Segue ran away and was lost, all of this just pounded me into the ground. When I finally couldn’t afford to pay off the monthly bills, and I gave up trying to make them … all of these things led me to feel I was a failure.

And feeling like a failure mixed with depression became a quagmire. I was being sucked down and down into the blackness of my abyss. And, seeing myself slipping into this, I tried to hide it from her.

I tried to hide my pain and hurt and anguish and fear and sorrow and anxiety. I tried to hide everything from her because I feared that if she knew she would run away. So, all of a sudden I became the wizard behind the curtain. I tried to appear to have all my stuff together, but what I was really doing was only fooling myself. I knew full well the dysfunction of the patriarchal archetype in the Wizard of Oz, one where the illusion of perfection is maintained to hide the humanity of the real person. I could not escape that even with awareness of the trap.

She once asked why I had to always be right. I had to be right because I was afraid of being wrong. It wasn’t because I had to win. It was because I had to be valuable. I needed to be right in order to offer her something. Because if I was wrong, then what purpose could I serve her in her life? How could I be wrong and also support her in doing what she wanted and needed to do? It wasn’t because I wanted to win, it was because I wanted her to love me. I had to be right in order to be loved, because I felt that if she found out that I was wrong how could she love me?

Of course, she seems to have felt that as a constant challenge. She felt that I was trying to prove her wrong by being right. My attempt to be valuable to her seems to have made her feel hurt and angry and small. By trying to hide my failure and hurt, it seems she felt that I was making her fail and hurting her.

So many of these things are cases where I desperately wanted to change a fault and by trying to change that only made the fault more certain to occur. Like Queen Hecuba, I tried to save Troy by sending Paris away, only to find that by sending Paris away I helped to destroy Troy. By trying to avoid failure, I failed her.

Not only did I fail, but I hurt the one person on this planet that I felt I most wanted to love and help and care for and support and keep safe and with whom I wanted to share my entire life. By trying to avoid pain, I hurt her.

being awake

I used to wake up hours before she did, and lay awake. I would lay there trying not to disturb her, but not wanting to be anywhere else but beside her. After hours, when she finally woke up, I’d be so ready to get up; but she would want to cuddle and stay in bed. She once said that I should cuddle her when I wake up, but, she’s sleeping and I didn’t want to wake her. I was trying to let her sleep because she would always complain about not getting enough sleep. So, I was caught between being awake and her stated need for sleep, or at least the sure knowledge that she complained about not sleeping enough.

It seems like there were so many times when I was stuck between choices in that kind of dilemma. There seem to have been so many times that I would make silent sacrifices and be the one to think of those things, like letting her sleep because she complained about not getting enough or being the one to say it was time to go to bed because she would complain about not going to bed early enough. I felt I was caught constantly between the thing she wanted to do and the complaint she would have after. And, not the least of which was the dilemma of wanting her to stay but feeling like I had to make it easy for her to leave me.

I wanted to spend my life with her, but I kept making it easy for her to leave. She never made plans for a future with me. She never seemed to be willing to talk about that. She would tell me that she didn’t think she’d ever get married, that she didn’t want kids. She would tell me that she would stay with me “at least until I graduated.” So there were always messages that it would end, but never messages that she wanted it to keep going, that she … no, there was at least one time she said she thought we would be together. No, not just once, but there were so many mixed signals. Like a dilemma, I constantly felt like I had to figure out the balance between what she said and what she would complain about later. She did say that she wasn’t leaving me, on occasion. But, I’m not sure I heard that as being real, like I felt it was something I couldn’t trust or something that the words couldn’t change.

I would be hurt by things she said, but she would tell me that she would never say things to hurt me. But, I was hurt. And, couldn’t figure out if I was just imagining it all or not. I constantly internalized, but couldn’t seem to change, the causes.

What would be different that would make it so I could trust? Was it something I sensed or felt from her or was it completely my own existential horror? And through it all, it feels like if only for some thing I just couldn’t understand, it all would have been perfect. It’s like the joy and bliss were there, but I just couldn’t taste it. I was tantalized by the perfect relationship with an amazing partner, but even though I was there … I missed it. And, now it’s gone, like a dream. But, not a dream. It feels like the real to which I couldn’t seem to wake.

It felt like all I had to do was wake up, but I couldn’t find the energy to shake myself awake. I couldn’t manage the energy to raise my arm to hold her sometimes, and how fucked up is that? As if I were dying of hunger at a dinner table and couldn’t even reach out to the food; I was so unable to wake myself that I sleepwalked through my precious time with her.

I wasted the time I had with her sleeping while she lay beside me waiting, hoping and wishing that I’d wake up.

distancing and retreat

Did my honoring her decision by not pursuing her look like another distancing and retreat into darkness to her? I can imagine that it would be hard to tell the difference because they may have seemed the same and appeared to be the same. So, another question is, were they the same and I’ve only fooled myself that they were different?