Thursday, April 24, 2014

Life goes on.

I've realized that, recently. More specifically, I've realized that life has gone on without me. While I stand, floundering, neck deep in the middle of a river, the current of time has rushed past me and will continue to do so.

I saw a photo of my ex-husband's family celebrating Easter, all smiles, and I realize they've moved on. Pretty soon, the mistress will be there, celebrating with them. And I -- I will be just that girl, that speed bump in the road of life, that unfortunate incident from 2002 to 2013, the one that merits but a shrug: "Too bad, but what can we do? That's how it is."

Never mind that my life has been shattered. Never mind that I'm still stuck in 2002 to 2013, still reliving the lies, the anguish, the betrayal, the betrayals, everyday for the rest of my life. Every time I write I feel as if I should be moving on. That I should have moved on already. "The guy doesn't love you; that sucks; get over it."

Yeah. Yeah, I wish I could.

I was fine, you see. My life was fine. It wasn't a fairy tale, it wasn't exciting, but it was okay. I wasn't the best person in the world, I wasn't even a really good person, but I wasn't doing anything bad to anybody either. I was just there, being myself, living my life, such as it was. And I just don't understand why someone had to come into my life and steal the best years from it, telling me lies from the very beginning, turning me into this bitter, disillusioned, hateful girl. Why? Why lie to me? I don't get it. I just don't get it.

Oh, I know. Life doesn't make sense for a lot of people. Why does someone standing in the sidewalk get hit by a car and lose both legs? Why does a ferry carrying high school students sink? Why does a young boy lose his father to another family, for that matter? I realize that. I realize I'm not the only one who has suffered senseless tragedy.

But still...why?

Why marry someone you don't love? Why not give her a chance at happiness with another person? Or if you loved her, why this? Does "I do" not mean anything anymore? Does "I love you" mean "just until I find someone else"? Or...never mind love, if that's impossible. Is there no pity? Just pity, you know, just a little bit of kindness, for someone who gave her whole heart and life to you. My mind just can't wrap itself around the idea of a person so cruel, so heartless, so selfish, that he would keep what he doesn't want.

I am trapped in bewilderment, trying to see through the fog of "maybe"s and "in time"s. I am alone in a field full of landmines, wounded, tired and starving, unable to go on, unable to go back. I am stabbed by the senselessness of life, and the fact that it would still go on, whether the bleeding stops or not. I am here, still here, while everyone else has gone.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014


Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

- William Ernest Henley

Sunday, April 20, 2014

If someone told me I would lose 12 years of my life, and the only thing I get to keep from it would be a wonderful little boy, whose life and happiness would be my responsibility...

I think I would say yes.

No regrets.

It's Easter. It's time.

Monday, April 14, 2014

If love is a decision, then not to love can also be a decision. And that's a liberating possibility.

Thursday, April 10, 2014

I dream of a place on top of a hill. A dirt path, grass on each side, swaying to a subtle breeze. Gentle sunlight, a view of the sea. A rustic garden, well-tended, though no one seems to be around. And an old cottage, with a sign on a wooden door: "Here your heart may rest for a while."

I dream of a walk through peaceful fields; fresh air, deep breaths, serenity. The skies cool blue and cloudless; the sun comfortingly warm. Eternity behind me, eternity before me, and the wind whispering gently: "The past does not follow you here."

I dream of the Forest of Forgetting. Trees far apart, light breaking in. Along the path: signs, that no one may get lost. The soft crunch of fallen leaves beneath bare feet. And birds that chirp and tweet and bid the stranger: "Welcome."

I dream of a place on top of a hill. A refuge from hurt; a world without time; a silence that salves; a promise of morning. "Stay here, child, as long as you like. Leave when you feel able. Come to me for healing. All will be well."

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Rewriting history

Real or not real?

You look at a photo and you think: oh, this was the shipyard days. Another photo: the CIT days. And another: boarding house days. And another: 2011. Another: 2012. Another: 2013. And you wonder. And you wonder.

You look at the smiles, the hugs, and you think. Were any of that real? And of those that were real, did any of them matter? Did any of it even come to mind when making the choice?

Everything you think you know -- blurred. The person you thought would take a bullet for you -- the very person who pulls the trigger. Everything is in a haze. Betrayal is the real-life equivalent of tracker jacker venom.

Real or not real?

Who knows? The only person who knows is the very person you can't ask. Because...what's the point? How do you trust someone who swore on his family's life something that he knew to be completely false. What else is there to hold on to, when the most sacred things are easily brushed off for vulgarities?

How do you go back? How do you move on?

Maybe you can't. Maybe you just can't.

Sunday, April 6, 2014


There are just people who break both of your legs then get mad at you when you can't walk.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Giving Up Hate For Lent

I want to. I know I should, eventually. At times I think I'm almost there. At times I think I never can.

Forgiveness is brilliant in theory but hell to execute. It becomes almost impossible when the person you have to forgive has shown no signs of genuine remorse. "Life becomes easier when you learn to accept the apology you never got," is what they say. True. Hard.

It's difficult enough to forgive a person who accidentally burns down the house you've been working so hard to build all your life.

What if the person did it intentionally? Someone you don't know, someone you never did anything bad to, starts a fire, knowing full well what would happen. Forgive?

What if it wasn't your house? What if it was your home? What if it was your life, your dreams, your future? Intentionally. Forgive?

What if it wasn't just your life? What if it was the life of your child as well, the life of your parents, the life of your sister? Everything thrown into disarray, peace shattered, special occasions turned into moments of sadness and anger and bitterness, stemming from one intentional act. Forgive?

The answer, unfortunately, is: yes. Forgive. But how?

What if your son was a drug addict? Does that justify the person who supplies him with drugs, knowing full well what they do to a person? What if the drug pusher was on drugs himself, his life also in ruins because of his habit. Does that justify what he does?

What if your parent had cancer and is in the hospital for chemotherapy? Does that justify someone giving him an overdose of morphine when he wasn't prepared to die? Because he was sick anyway -- is that an excuse?

What if the arsonist, the pusher, the poisoner had said things like "Why would I apologize anyway? Now we're even"? Or what if you eventually received an apology, but even afterwards the arsonist kept throwing in a lighted matchstick from time to time? Whether the burned down house burned down again or not -- that's beside the point, isn't it? The intention was there.

What if -- let's just accept, for the sake of argument -- the person who wronged you now wants out of your life? What if you have no proof of his or her sincerity, but you're willing to suspend disbelief? What if he or she says something like, "I want to close that book and throw away the key into the vast ocean"? Does that change the fact that your house has burned down, or your son's addiction is worse than ever, or your parent's death has been hastened? Does that make it easier to forgive?

The truth is: I want to give up hate for lent. I do. I really do. It's the right thing to do. I just don't know how.

Sunday, March 30, 2014

Trust Issues

"The last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye," said Nick Fury in Captain America: The Winter Soldier. And then he gets ambushed.

No, sir, I don't blame you for having trust issues. In fact, I'd say "Welcome to the club," only I have a sneaking suspicion you probably co-founded said club.

You know what the worst thing is about betrayal, though? It's not the inability to trust somebody; it's the inability to trust yourself. Once you realize you can be fooled, you start to question what else you've been a fool about. Once you discover you have holes in your house, you begin to suspect there are holes everywhere, not least in its very foundations, and life becomes all about waiting for the inevitable crash.

"Sometimes I wonder whether that was the greatest of all Bill's crimes: to steal for good the lightness we had shared." John le Carré wrote that in The Secret Pilgrim, referring to Bill Haydon, whose betrayal of England is the subject of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.

I certainly feel like George Smiley sometimes, on so many levels.

It won't always feel that way. I know that. I believe that. In the end, thank God, I'm still myself: a person who believes that tragedies can, with hindsight, turn out to be blessings.

In the meantime: club member for life.

Friday, February 14, 2014

The Best Kind Of Love

Tonight I danced with the love of my life. He held on to me tightly as we swayed to a hummed version of -- of all songs! -- Queen's "We Are The Champions." Well, I guess we are. We've been through hell together and we're still here.

I tried to let go six times, but he cried each and every time, so we just held each other until we fell asleep.

That's the kind of love I want -- the kind that never lets go. That's the only kind of love I'm willing to accept, because that's the kind of love I am willing to give. And, I've realized, I have that: the best kind of love. I am loved by so many people.

My crumbs the desperate can keep. I have what's real, I have what's true, and no one can take that away.