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Last night, the Ex came over and we made a dinner of things we brought-he, eggs, sardines and pepper jack cheese; me, raspberries, French bread, organic Bartlett pears, baby carrots, and semi soft cheese with a red wax shell. We drank pomegranate juice and unsweetened lemonade, put on the Blue Man Group to do dishes, and had a generally agreeable time. He was a complete prince, fetching me lemon tea and a blanket, lending me a book and tucking me securely into my nap-spot.
I went to bed, feeling content and grateful to be alive, revealed as the luscious, compassionate person that I am. When he is charming and enjoyable like this, it is difficult to remember how cruel he can be or how paranoid. It’s hard for me to remember the marks of shame and hurt because I have a difficult time focusing on those things with anyone. People have said I am too merciful. I know that I should be reminding myself of his hatred and dysfunction, but I am forgiving and want to see the best in him, rather than the worst. I want to forgive, embrace, and forget. I want to believe that people can heal from great traumas, instead of remaining in a painful holding pattern. I have to remind myself, though.
This is the person that treated me like one of the sociopath spiders that he’s obsessed with; he stopped loving me without ever saying why . . . beyond, “I don’t trust you.” He made love to me, knowing how much it meant to me, while being uncertain of my goodness or even talking to me about it. I can forgive him for most of everything he ever did, but that was a willful act of deception. He did not trust me enough to tell me. He did not trust himself enough to be real with me. I cannot forgive him for his lack of fucking faith or compassion/courage. He is the evil he accused every one of being, sorry sociopath, cruel and selfish master. Everything was all about him, never me. Never me, and all I wanted was to love and be loved and to give and be given to. I wanted a chance to be and be without holds or barriers or games.
He destroyed that, and for a time, I thought he’d destroyed me. However, I turned from thorn to rose. As a rose grows lovelier and stronger when cut back, so too, did I. I grew hardier and full of petal. I found roots and soil where before was decay. I found myself beautiful instead of ruined. I never knew this power was mine to have and hold. I never knew this before. I will never carry these bones or the thick, jangling keys of this guilt again. He will never know what I could have been. I don’t care to know more about him.
Talullah Jewel
I went to bed, feeling content and grateful to be alive, revealed as the luscious, compassionate person that I am. When he is charming and enjoyable like this, it is difficult to remember how cruel he can be or how paranoid. It’s hard for me to remember the marks of shame and hurt because I have a difficult time focusing on those things with anyone. People have said I am too merciful. I know that I should be reminding myself of his hatred and dysfunction, but I am forgiving and want to see the best in him, rather than the worst. I want to forgive, embrace, and forget. I want to believe that people can heal from great traumas, instead of remaining in a painful holding pattern. I have to remind myself, though.
This is the person that treated me like one of the sociopath spiders that he’s obsessed with; he stopped loving me without ever saying why . . . beyond, “I don’t trust you.” He made love to me, knowing how much it meant to me, while being uncertain of my goodness or even talking to me about it. I can forgive him for most of everything he ever did, but that was a willful act of deception. He did not trust me enough to tell me. He did not trust himself enough to be real with me. I cannot forgive him for his lack of fucking faith or compassion/courage. He is the evil he accused every one of being, sorry sociopath, cruel and selfish master. Everything was all about him, never me. Never me, and all I wanted was to love and be loved and to give and be given to. I wanted a chance to be and be without holds or barriers or games.
He destroyed that, and for a time, I thought he’d destroyed me. However, I turned from thorn to rose. As a rose grows lovelier and stronger when cut back, so too, did I. I grew hardier and full of petal. I found roots and soil where before was decay. I found myself beautiful instead of ruined. I never knew this power was mine to have and hold. I never knew this before. I will never carry these bones or the thick, jangling keys of this guilt again. He will never know what I could have been. I don’t care to know more about him.
Talullah Jewel