So my relationship with my girlfriend is..I don't know what it is. Right now I feel like it is over. She has changed enormously in the last couple of months and the path she is on now does not fit with me.
I am mad about it and upset. She pretty much took everything we were planning...our little sustainable farm, our potential child and all the things we wanted to build together and tossed it out the window in favor of this "spiritual journey" she is on, which I don't understand.
We have not really had much contact with each other in the last week or so and that combined with a number of things prompted me to sit down and have a good talk with her yesterday. I broached the subject of the amount of drugs she has been using lately, which bothers me a great deal because I am concerned for her well being and i honestly do not believe there is any drug in the world you can use with frequency that will not have a negative effect on you. I also brought up that I felt that she was no longer interested in our plans together and how that was making me sad and uncomfortable. She confirmed all my fears by saying she was not interested in it anymore. I love(d) her very, very, very much and am crushed that she does not want to have a life with me anymore. She confirmed it was nothing I did, which is right because nothing has changed for me. It was basically the whole "it's not you , it's me" thing. Bah!
I will say this, however. As mad and confused as I am about it, I am thankful I had her in my life. She helped me realize who I am and what I truly want...I am just sad that I cannot have it with her.
6/25/10
Reason, Season or Lifetime
People always come into your life for a reason, a season and a lifetime. When you figure out which it is, you know exactly what to do.
When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed outwardly or inwardly. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, or to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or even spiritually. They may seem like a godsend to you, and they are. They are there for a reason,you need them to be. Then, without any wrong doing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die, Sometimes they just walk away. Sometimes they act up or out and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and it is now time to move on.
When people come into your life for a SEASON, it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. They may bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season. And like Spring turns to Summer and Summer to Fall, the season eventually ends.
LIFETIME, relationships teach you a lifetime of lessons; those things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person/people (anyway);, and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas in your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed outwardly or inwardly. They have come to assist you through a difficulty, or to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally, or even spiritually. They may seem like a godsend to you, and they are. They are there for a reason,you need them to be. Then, without any wrong doing on your part or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die, Sometimes they just walk away. Sometimes they act up or out and force you to take a stand. What we must realize is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled; their work is done. The prayer you sent up has been answered and it is now time to move on.
When people come into your life for a SEASON, it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn. They may bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season. And like Spring turns to Summer and Summer to Fall, the season eventually ends.
LIFETIME, relationships teach you a lifetime of lessons; those things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation. Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person/people (anyway);, and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas in your life. It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
5/13/10
Identity
Why go through the effort of establishing nomenclature for every variation of queer identity if they’re going to be used as tools of division? - Buck Angel
I recently came out as a lesbian after years of identifying as bi. As you can imagine, given my relationship with A, this caused some waves. I realized earlier this year that I have, indeed, really always been a lesbian and have dated men in the past for various reasons but very few of them were truly romantic. I even thought myself a few times that I was with a man for romantic reasons, but looking back on it now, I wasn't really.
My mother asked me when I was 15 if I was a lesbian and , due to the type of household I lived in and my step dads loud homophobia, and to my own unsureness that comes with being 15, I said no. I should have said yes, because I was, even if I didn't really know it fully yet.
Anyhow, the interesting part of this story is this. I have a girlfriend, have had her for almost 6 months now and she is moving to Nova Scotia with me in the fall....but so is A. I still live with A, we still share a bed and I still have deep feelings for him, there is no question about that, but... I'm a lesbian. So...this is where the trouble comes because both some of my straight family members and friends and my queer friends just can't understand this. How could I possibly be a lesbian and not have dumped A yet? If I care for a man and have him actively in my life, I cannot call myself a lesbian, I am confused, or lying or...something apparently. But in that article I took that quote from it talks about sexual identity having not to do so much with what is in your pants and how you choose to use those parts but has much more to do with what is in your head and your heart.
So yes, I am with A in a non-conventional way, but I am a lesbian, there is no question about that. A knows and I think he sort of understands but clearly this is not what he signed up for at the beginning of our relationship, so... if he decides to leave and find someone else I certainly wouldn't fault him for that but I do care about him and want him around so I hope he doesn't. I am just really pissed at the judgment being passed on me for how I have chosen to identify and how it conflicts with some people on their views on how I should conduct my life to be in line with what they think my identity means.
Truth be told I am still trying to figure it all out myself.
3/23/10
This food feels like ...
My extended family ate big when we got together. My grandmother would cook huge meals and seconds were always encouraged, everyone would be happy and laughing and eating and talking. This food felt like happiness.
I remember being very young 5 or 6 and my mother working early shifts at the hospital and my step-father driving her to work at 4 or 5 in the morning. I was obviously too young to stay home so I would go with him and it was his responsibility to feed me breakfast. Usually after we dropped off my mom we would go to the 7-11 and he would buy chocolate milk and I would get "breakfast" which was usually my own chocolate milk and a donut or pastry of some kind. I would be taken home and put in front of the TV to eat my "breakfast" and watch cartoons while he would go and sleep for a few more hours. I remember this feeling like a treat, like he loved me so he would buy me junk foods and candy for breakfast when my mom made me eat cereal or toast. This food felt like love.
At some point, around age 8 or 9 I think, my step-father decided that I was fat and ate too much and something had to be done about it. I remember conversations when he would tell me that I was fat and that there was no way a 9 year old should wear the same size as her mother. He began restricting food. He would bring food into the house that was "just for him" and it was always the food that any kid would want to eat. Soda, chips, cake, fancy cold cuts and cheese, chocolate milk, etc. Junk food, crap food...but I wanted it, and I wanted it even more because I could not have it. My step-father and I had a bad relationship. He was abusive, to me and to my mother. I hated him, plain as day, I hated him. After he started restricting my food, including portion sizes at dinner and the "off limits" foods, I began sneaking food. I would go into the fridge and steal "his" food. I would cut slivers off his cakes so he couldn't tell I had eaten some, I would ever so carefully open the packages of cold cuts so I would not tear the seals and take some then carefully re-close it so that, at a glance, it looked unopened, I would take small glasses of his juices, sodas or chocolate milks and then refill the containers with water to make up for the lost amounts. I hid food in my bedroom, it started with "his" food, but then became any food, even healthier foods I would steal and hide in my room, only to gorge myself on it later, in the night, when the rest of my family was asleep, being so quiet to not rustle packages or make chewing noises. This food felt like rebellion.
He worked out of town a lot and my mother worked long shifts, so most days I would be responsible for bringing my brother home after school and making us a snack until dinner when my mom got home, and later on in years I was often responsible for dinner too. I was teased a lot in school, because I was fat, because my family was poorer than others and I could not afford the fashionable clothes, mostly just because I was smart and different. This hurt me, I felt unsafe at school, I felt unwelcome there and I longed to get home where I could be alone. As soon as I would get home with my brother I would make us food and we would eat, alone. It was a relief, it was relaxing and it made me feel happy. This food felt like comfort.
After I moved out on my own at 17 I was, of course, responsible for my own food. I could buy whatever I wanted, I could eat it however ever I wanted, as often as I wanted and as much as I wanted. I had never had this before. Growing up in a poor family we could never have brand named foods or expensive treats, and sometimes we hardly had any food at all. Being able to control my own food intake and the kind of food I wanted to was heaven, it was like nothing I had ever experienced. So many aspects of my life had always felt so out of control, and now I could control them all, especially my food. This food felt like freedom.
Now, at 28 years old, I don't want food to feel like anything. I just want it to be food. That thing I put in my body for fuel, for nutrition, so that I can live my life. I still want to enjoy foods taste and texture, and I will always enjoy preparing food, especially for others, I just don't want any emotion attached to it. But I don't know how yet.
I remember being very young 5 or 6 and my mother working early shifts at the hospital and my step-father driving her to work at 4 or 5 in the morning. I was obviously too young to stay home so I would go with him and it was his responsibility to feed me breakfast. Usually after we dropped off my mom we would go to the 7-11 and he would buy chocolate milk and I would get "breakfast" which was usually my own chocolate milk and a donut or pastry of some kind. I would be taken home and put in front of the TV to eat my "breakfast" and watch cartoons while he would go and sleep for a few more hours. I remember this feeling like a treat, like he loved me so he would buy me junk foods and candy for breakfast when my mom made me eat cereal or toast. This food felt like love.
At some point, around age 8 or 9 I think, my step-father decided that I was fat and ate too much and something had to be done about it. I remember conversations when he would tell me that I was fat and that there was no way a 9 year old should wear the same size as her mother. He began restricting food. He would bring food into the house that was "just for him" and it was always the food that any kid would want to eat. Soda, chips, cake, fancy cold cuts and cheese, chocolate milk, etc. Junk food, crap food...but I wanted it, and I wanted it even more because I could not have it. My step-father and I had a bad relationship. He was abusive, to me and to my mother. I hated him, plain as day, I hated him. After he started restricting my food, including portion sizes at dinner and the "off limits" foods, I began sneaking food. I would go into the fridge and steal "his" food. I would cut slivers off his cakes so he couldn't tell I had eaten some, I would ever so carefully open the packages of cold cuts so I would not tear the seals and take some then carefully re-close it so that, at a glance, it looked unopened, I would take small glasses of his juices, sodas or chocolate milks and then refill the containers with water to make up for the lost amounts. I hid food in my bedroom, it started with "his" food, but then became any food, even healthier foods I would steal and hide in my room, only to gorge myself on it later, in the night, when the rest of my family was asleep, being so quiet to not rustle packages or make chewing noises. This food felt like rebellion.
He worked out of town a lot and my mother worked long shifts, so most days I would be responsible for bringing my brother home after school and making us a snack until dinner when my mom got home, and later on in years I was often responsible for dinner too. I was teased a lot in school, because I was fat, because my family was poorer than others and I could not afford the fashionable clothes, mostly just because I was smart and different. This hurt me, I felt unsafe at school, I felt unwelcome there and I longed to get home where I could be alone. As soon as I would get home with my brother I would make us food and we would eat, alone. It was a relief, it was relaxing and it made me feel happy. This food felt like comfort.
After I moved out on my own at 17 I was, of course, responsible for my own food. I could buy whatever I wanted, I could eat it however ever I wanted, as often as I wanted and as much as I wanted. I had never had this before. Growing up in a poor family we could never have brand named foods or expensive treats, and sometimes we hardly had any food at all. Being able to control my own food intake and the kind of food I wanted to was heaven, it was like nothing I had ever experienced. So many aspects of my life had always felt so out of control, and now I could control them all, especially my food. This food felt like freedom.
Now, at 28 years old, I don't want food to feel like anything. I just want it to be food. That thing I put in my body for fuel, for nutrition, so that I can live my life. I still want to enjoy foods taste and texture, and I will always enjoy preparing food, especially for others, I just don't want any emotion attached to it. But I don't know how yet.
3/4/10
untitled
I knew I could never save it, it was doomed from the start.
I had seen the end of the story and I knew no matter what I did it would die, it would be gone, taken from me.
This did not stop me.
"Love" is a paltry word, meaningless and full of short comings. I spit the word "love" out of my mouth like a distasteful morsel of food, a rotten piece of fruit, it is a dirty word that lacks power and could never encompass this feeling I have...this feeling that is all consuming , down to my core, it makes me ache, physically pains me and I pulsate with it.
This feeling is a thousand tidal waves crashing into me, slamming me on rocks. It is the tearing and ripping and rendering of meat from my heart.
It is all the power of all the emotions in the world stuffed into me until I am engorged and going to explode with it.
I cannot have this feeling , I am filled with a screaming sadness and desire when I realise this cannot be real, is not real, and no matter what I do, it will be taken away from me.
It will be ripped from me like a dream is ripped upon sudden waking, only to linger and tease and taunt and then slowly fade through the day until all that is left is a residue that cannot be clung to.. an oily blackness staining my hands , too slippery to grasp.
Dissolve slowly and then gone.
I had seen the end of the story and I knew no matter what I did it would die, it would be gone, taken from me.
This did not stop me.
"Love" is a paltry word, meaningless and full of short comings. I spit the word "love" out of my mouth like a distasteful morsel of food, a rotten piece of fruit, it is a dirty word that lacks power and could never encompass this feeling I have...this feeling that is all consuming , down to my core, it makes me ache, physically pains me and I pulsate with it.
This feeling is a thousand tidal waves crashing into me, slamming me on rocks. It is the tearing and ripping and rendering of meat from my heart.
It is all the power of all the emotions in the world stuffed into me until I am engorged and going to explode with it.
I cannot have this feeling , I am filled with a screaming sadness and desire when I realise this cannot be real, is not real, and no matter what I do, it will be taken away from me.
It will be ripped from me like a dream is ripped upon sudden waking, only to linger and tease and taunt and then slowly fade through the day until all that is left is a residue that cannot be clung to.. an oily blackness staining my hands , too slippery to grasp.
Dissolve slowly and then gone.
3/1/10
A letter to Insomnia
Dear Insomnia,
I just wanted to let you know how I felt about you.
I don't like you all that much truth be told, I far prefer your sibling Sleep. However you do always come with interesting gifts to give and things to share.
Its is 3 am and I am sitting here trying to decipher how my plant feels about being re-potted today. I have decided the plant is unsure about it's new home and surroundings, doesn't really care for this new, clean soil and is really just trying to make the best out of it. Because of you , Insomnia, I am treated to the pleasure of watching my dog sleep on the sofa next to me and twitch and growl at dream cats. She is softly barking at them now. Another gift from you, Insomnia, is listening to the sleep talk of my partner in the bedroom, at no other time would I have the chance to hear such gems as "Piano Lobster!!" or "Why are you eating my shoes?"
I see people that are not there because of you ,Insomnia, and I am convinced that the man in the building across the alley is watching me from his darkened window...and that is a little creepy. Really though Insomnia, I think the thing that irritates me about you is that I never have anything good to do when you come visit, which is pretty often. I would be much happier to see you if I had a large canvas and some paints or something like that, but I don't ... what kind of art do you think you could create with some ketchup and mustard from the fridge? Also, this song never sounds as good as it does in the wee hours of the sleep deprived morning with imaginary people dancing in my peripheral vision and for that I thank you.
Sincerely yours,
MsJinxx
I just wanted to let you know how I felt about you.
I don't like you all that much truth be told, I far prefer your sibling Sleep. However you do always come with interesting gifts to give and things to share.
Its is 3 am and I am sitting here trying to decipher how my plant feels about being re-potted today. I have decided the plant is unsure about it's new home and surroundings, doesn't really care for this new, clean soil and is really just trying to make the best out of it. Because of you , Insomnia, I am treated to the pleasure of watching my dog sleep on the sofa next to me and twitch and growl at dream cats. She is softly barking at them now. Another gift from you, Insomnia, is listening to the sleep talk of my partner in the bedroom, at no other time would I have the chance to hear such gems as "Piano Lobster!!" or "Why are you eating my shoes?"
I see people that are not there because of you ,Insomnia, and I am convinced that the man in the building across the alley is watching me from his darkened window...and that is a little creepy. Really though Insomnia, I think the thing that irritates me about you is that I never have anything good to do when you come visit, which is pretty often. I would be much happier to see you if I had a large canvas and some paints or something like that, but I don't ... what kind of art do you think you could create with some ketchup and mustard from the fridge? Also, this song never sounds as good as it does in the wee hours of the sleep deprived morning with imaginary people dancing in my peripheral vision and for that I thank you.
Sincerely yours,
MsJinxx
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