>The Past wavers between us causing a constant state of upheaval.
Mistakes, deception and miscommunications are a sickness.
Minute, minimal or moderate errors never obliterated.
The Past is unwilling to be forgotten.
Unable to be forgiven.
Two souls of different spirit, psyche and strength.
Attempting to move forward together will continually struggle.
Where is my spine?
Where is his heart?
The Past, in its wary way,
Is a destroyer of destiny.
Creating dreams only to be demolished.
The Past eliminates the Future.
The Future is so easily forgotten.
When fate is fixed.
Ah, but The Present remains my focus.
As I am habitually stuck in limbo.
D. J. Hall
I have become a master at veiling unanswered questions festering deep within my psyche. Thoughts and feelings I ignore during the day can only be squelched fo so long. But, those ignored emotions thrive in the middle of the night and I am tormented by my inner fears and the injustices of which I try to understand. The many questions I try to solve, become completely overwhelming in the course of a dark, silent room in the middle of the night. Or perhaps they are more overwhelming in the light of day, which is why the mind shuts down innocently enough, like a life preserver protecting you from the onslaught of waves, allowing one to climb out of that warm bed each morning. If one allowed the multitude of thoughts, if one felt the pain and worry during the day as intensely as one feels them during the night, perhaps the day would never start at all.
My thoughts are the generic worries which everyone has. But always under the surface is the reoccurring question and concern I have about my partner. This man who has all the characteristics I always wanted, and whom I hold in high regard. This man of wit, moral strength and intelligence. This man who emanates masculinity, and for whom upon meeting, felt mutual sexual attraction to. This man is the only man I have loved to the deepest core of my being and will never stop. This man who has not touched me for over two years.
In the middle of the night, awoken by that familiar stirring, aroused by an erotic dream of my own sexuality and the unmet craving I have for him, I lay awake in silent longing, needing to touch him but unable to reach out. How do I live up to the air brushed images he frequently entertains himself with? Why does he choose to replace a loving and intimate relationship with this damaging diversion? Maybe for the same reason he likes to watch sports that he does not play, living vicariously through what he sees. Those who can, do. Those who can’t, watch. I have gone through such an agony of emotions starting with disbelief and denial to the most ridiculous thoughts of blaming myself. The painful process of grieving a loss of an exquisite intimacy has turned into a quiet numbing anger. I love him greatly and am confident in his sincere love for me. Our love is strong and we are inexplicably bonded. We enjoy each other’s company, quiet movie nights, cooking exceptional meals together and reading in bed. We have built a life together, he has been my friend, my confidante, and sadly, too long ago my lover. He continues to talk about our future while I live in transition, waffling between holding onto the dream of a healthy intimate relationship together or starting over as a single woman of 49. I try not to think about his sexual anorexia. Until the middle of the night.
Hello to the bravado of my newly found voice!
That discontented and discouraged sound simpering deep in my consciousness is now saying goodbye to the fear of speaking the wrong thing… and hello to the courage to speak the truth as I see or feel it. The beauty and strength of being a woman is our ability to be every changing in the many stages of our lives. From our youth through our mature years, we are ever- interchangeable and able to adapt to what life puts in our paths. Throughout the good, the bad and even in the direst despair, we reach out to our friends, nurture our family and give without bounds to the ones we love the most.