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Friday, May. 05, 2006 / 8:29 p.m. ~Finding What's Most Important~ This has been a most painful week for me, and surprisingly it wasn't until last night that I lost my composure completely, began one of those rather painful crying jags that involves rocking back and forth and wondering why in hell one has been placed on this planet in the first place. Torturous hell. I survive, I always do, but I honestly do wonder why I am thrown what comes my way. Why, why, why, why did my last lover re-enter my life, invite me in to his, open up his online world to me, knowing what I might find, and I in turn open mine to him, afraid, so afraid something would happen to ruin it, to make him stop what he was writing to me, all the language, the romance, the amazing words I'd longed to hear for so very long, why? It wasn't my words wounded him, not like I'd imagined, but what I discovered he had done when we fought last. Something rather unforgiveable, but I only questioned, and expressed my doubt, said I couldn't trust now, could I, now that I know? And his reaction was to flee, to flee from me in anger, and once again I am left wondering, asking why it is that when people wound me, instead of feeling remorseful and apologetic, they attack me, wound me further, aim to hurt me, aim to hurt and run? What did I do, exactly, do deserve that? And the other, the one I'd waited for for so long, close to three months now, and finally said goodbye to, as I could wait no longer, really couldn't take his constant evasiveness, he wrote back, he didn't want to give up. I had a full day of thinking of these two men in my life, wondering what would happen if they both wanted me as I'd wanted them, and now they both seem to be gone, the one wounding on his way out, angry at me for being hurt, as if every time he hurts me he can't stand what he has done, and he has no choice but to run. The other? He misinterprets every word I write, and I nearly beg to see him in person, yet he has some fear of me as well. Men fear me. There are those who do not, those who get a hold of my number and call me nightly, those I have to ignore to make them go away, the ones I don't want... but the ones I do, ah, the ones I do want all seem to fear any serious face to face interaction with me, as one had once told me, because their resolve melts. I can be magnetic in person, without meaning to be. I feel old and unappealing as of late, worried about my health, worried about my cats' health, my car's health, my life, my future, and I want what the men want, closeness, intimacy, sexual pleasure, love, tenderness, compassion, we all want the same things, but getting away from the email, the messaging, the journals, blogs, the friends only, the locked out, the private posts, it's all too much. Why can't people just talk anymore? Talk. I see others holding their mobile phones to their heads everywhere they go, but I can't seem to find one person who will talk to me - I call and leave messages, I write and get no reply. What is the point in desiring communication if people run from it? If they ignore and abandon the effort? The one cat is well now, her appetite increased, after my fear I'd nearly killed her by offering up a new food a week ago. We go to the vet tomorrow morning. The one man hurt me deeply, psychologically, by offering up affection and quickly taking it away - this was more painful than I can describe. And the other man? The one who claims he still cares, and yet constantly misinterprets? He won't answer his phone either. And he writes emails explaining how he doesn't understand, and yes, he wants to see me, but will never schedule a time. I do, I offer up today, tonight, tomorrow, tomorrow night, I suggest we have face to face time, and I can see reaching for his hand, I feel I dreamed of it, I know I did, and kissing him, holding him, because I want him to know that I hate our misunderstandings too, and this other person from my past entering my life so very briefly, for no apparent reason but to wound me again, harder, deeper, this person is gone, and will remain gone, nay, he, he of the land of misinterpretation, the one I can't seem to give up waiting for, is the one I want. I'm not even touching on the two disastrous job interviews I had via telephone yesterday, or the aborted staff meeting on Tuesday, working long hours because of altering my schedule to keep showing up for meetings that didn't happen, then did, all the while thinking of these men, and my thyroid, and do I have cancer, and is Norma going to die, and I need another job, and then the crying, the painful crying, the wondering why I'm here, and the cursing of my mother for getting pregnant in the first place, the deep wounding to my very core, and now this inability to get a response from anyone. I can only heave a deep and heavy sigh, and listen to this old Lucille Ball movie on the telly now, try to remember all those dreams I had last night, because I know at least one involved the holding of someone's hand, the closeness of two people in physical proximity, the intimacy there. Life goes on, but this, this has been a horrible week for me, and today I called in sick, spent the morning in bed, dreaming, waking up in a sweat because of the down comforter still on the bed, and because I feel ill with it all. Taking time to begin to heal is good. And I need this, to take care of me. People come and go, and bring their own versions of hell into my life, but I am left behind after they leave, and I am what is most important in my life. Cost of the War in Iraq
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