Being Left before Leaving-

I’ve been getting a lot of advice from every conceivable corner in my life. Sometimes they give it to me weather I want it or not. Everyone seems to know how and what I should do with my situation, but they haven’t lived in my shoes, they have no idea just what my situation is. I am the only person who really knows everything. There isn’t a single person I could tell everything to. The simple fact of things is that I already know what I have to do. It is the hard part ahead that I must deal with alone. How hard can it be, I’ve been alone for five years in this marriage. “How can you be alone in a marriage?” You ask. Well, when your husband completely stops talking to you and spends every single second and every last dollar on something else for five whole years then you are alone. When you try to talk to him a hundred times about the same thing, and he doesn’t care to hear you, then you are alone. When your child has 16 baseball games and 32 practices in four months and he doesn’t come to a single one, then you are alone. When you sleep in a king sized bed by your self every night because he volunteered to work seven night shifts in a row, then you are alone. When this goes on consecutively for three years, you are most definitely alone. When you have been apart so much that he doesn’t know your favorite music, or know who your friends are, then you are alone. I have my reasons for doing what I am doing. If I am going to be alone, I might as well do it legally, and have some hope of finding someone who will spend more than four hours a month with me. I realize that I made a promise to him, but I feel that after these last five years of pleading and begging myself into a fit of tears that I owe it to myself to try something else. This isn’t working. No one should have to be alone in life. He broke his promise a long time ago, I don’t get why I have to be the bad person because I am the one who said the words out loud. I might not have the right to break that promise, but neither did he, and you can’t make a marriage work if there is only one person trying. So now that I have stopped trying, and am now focusing on changing my situation I have become the wrong doer. I am the one who gave up and broke a promise. I am the one who is ruining the sanctity of marriage. I am the defective link breaking the chain, and I am the one who should bend over and bear it so that everyone can continue on their happy little way. I am sick of people telling me that I have no right to do what I am about to do. Half of them have done it themselves! I would love to tell them all one simple thing. Advice is something you give to people, what they do with it is their own problem.

Love Fades Away, and The World Goes Grey

How do you break one heart to save another? How do you explain the choice at hand so that all will be right between two people who have been together for so long that it has become all they know? Stepping out into the unknown might be scary for me, but it is terrifying for him. What can I tell him to make him understand that it isn’t anyone’s fault; it is just simply the way things have occurred? When the spark of love and intimacy has died there seems to be no rekindling it. I know, I have tried for the last five years with no success. He can’t understand the difference between loving someone and being in love. How do I explain any of it to someone who can’t grasp the concepts of the words I am using? I am so frustrated! He begs and mopes all day long, looking at me through sad eyes. I can’t bear to see him like that. He can’t understand that while I may love him that doesn’t mean I want to live with him. How am I to go on day after miserable day pretending until my opportunity arrives? The smart little comments and pathetic attempts from him are infuriating! Half of the time I just want to strangle him and half the time I feel bad for him! I’ll go mad if I have to stay here. Everyone seems to have advice for my situation, but none of it has been of much help. The situation is such that I must wait. Not forever, though it seems that way to me now, but just until I can nail down a new job. Believe me I have been looking too. There are half a dozen jobs that I apply for each new day. I feel like I am stuck in a place where the light touches the dark, but it is neither day nor night. Everything has become gray in a world where all of the colors bleed into each other making everything a blur. Please let the end of the page be close!

Being Friends with Janus..

Change is a scary thing. Everything changes in life. The seasons of the year march past us unflinching and unstoppable. People are no different. I was holding on to the past for so long before I woke up and realized that I was holding on to a moment in time that has long since passed on. I stand above a presuppose one foot in the past and one foot in the future. Being in limbo is terrible, nothing to do but wait. Some days I lean on one foot, completely living in the past and other days I boldly lean to the future. The future is the scary foot; you don’t know what will happen. The comfort of hindsight is not present in the future. It is the ultimate unknown variable. Time stretches out before me like a long dark road void of any landmarks or turns. I am the painter that must add the sights along the way. It is a blank canvas and I know not if the painting will be great or if it will be a tragedy. The scary thing about painting is that once you start, there are some mistakes you cannot erase or even paint over. They sit like a red flag on the painting for all to see. Mistakes are often seen as some kind of failure, but I think that in art and life they are the things that make up who we are and what we will become in the end. I’ve been good at everything I have ever done. Good enough to pass for someone who is not a failure anyway. I don’t fear failing as much as I fear letting people down. I sometimes wish I could freeze the world in time and live among the petrified world to do the things I want to do. It is the judgment that stings along the way. But this isn't a possibility, living life without judgment from others. Life isn’t that kind. Instead I have to keep trudging on ahead hoping not to hurt any one too badly on my course to find happiness. I have had to ask myself one question on a daily basis. “Can I pretend well enough to make a life out of the past without being unhappy?” The answer in my head is always the same. "NO!" So I look forward again to the unknown. I will reach out of the darkness into the light and walk onto the path that lies ahead. I don’t know if it is the right path, but it is the one I have found myself on. I have climbed to a point where I can see new horizons and I can no longer live in the hollow valley pretending that it is all that exists. The monotony of a life lived the same way day in and day out is not something I can do anylonger, but it is close behind me. I can still feel its stale breath on my neck. I have to find a way to move ahead. I can’t live the same day for the rest of my life. Change is a scary thing, but necessary at the same time. I'm not the only one to ever feel this I know. Everyone in the world must get confused about the changes in life.

More on the subject by Ziv

What to Do?

I’m sitting at the table here, with a full bag of nestle’ chocolate chips and an almost empty bottle of wine and I’m trying to find something to do. My nights are a ten hour space of nothingness. I have absolutely nothing to do until tomorrow at eleven. The possibilities would be endless but for the situation. I’ve locked my keys in my car. I have no way of retrieving them until tomorrow morning when the spare will arrive. I am utterly stranded tonight. So I sit here completely alone, and half drunk trying to figure out just what to do with my time. The one thing I want to do is not an option, so I try to figure out something else to occupy the next ten hours of being completely alone. Its nights like this that I wish I could just lay in front of a television. But I never got around to getting the cable hooked up. (Sort of wishing I had it to help me waste the hours away tonight.) I could be a good little woman and clean the house, but I’m not much of a good little woman. I could work on my book, but I have a serious case of writer’s block. I could chat online with some of my friends, but just like the real ones in my world, they aren’t near a phone line. What to do? Damn. I don’t know. I really hate being alone all of the time. I’ve been alone six nights out of the week, four weeks a month, for the last five years. I don’t remember choosing to be alone. I’ve had about a thousand nights like this, completely alone, no one to talk to, and bored out of my fucking mind. I’ve read all of the books in my house at least three times, and have no desire or need to read any of them again. I hate people who can do that. Watch a movie, or read a book that they have already experienced and not remember it. They laugh at it like it was the first time they ever saw it. I can watch a movie once and damn near be able to recite it for you a few years later. So watching any of the movies I own or books on the shelves is out of the question. I hate repetition. Having each day just like the last. I crave new experience. There is none under this roof. I wish I could leave now. But since I’m drunk and the keys miraculously decided to lock themselves in the truck, I am stuck here for the night. What now?

The Pounding in My Head-Direct Result of Pounding Shots!

You toss, and turn, trying desperately to find rest. The buzz from the night speeds the rate of your heart to match the techno that is still ringing in your ears. The room spins out of control as you pull the covers closer to your head in a last ditch effort to drown out the internal noise. You slip out of the warmth of the blankets and rush for the bathroom. The spinning continues as the cold of the linoleum floor cools your clammy skin. The stench of the smoky air clings to your hair and skin like an invisible cloud. You make your way back to the comfort and warmth of your bed and bury yourself in the heaping comforters. The relentless red light of the alarm clock on the night stand shines through your eyelids piercing the darkness with its constant change and digital hum. Each time you open your dry and heavy eyes, the hours have marched forward with alarming speed. 1:45, 2:38, 4:17…”FUCK. GO TO SLEEP!” The rest eludes you as you wish for that REM pattern to descend on you like a blanket of dark snow covering you in soft waves as your chest slowly rises and falls. Over and over the scenario of the night plays in your mind. “Did I really fall down the stairs at the Bar in front of everyone again?” “How did we get to that house?” “Where is my car?” Flipping and humming the night replays as seconds pass in your head, the night slips faster away from you, depriving you of precious moments of rest. The darkness falls upon you as the birds start to chatter out side. Moments later the phone rings. You open your eyes and grab for it only to realize that it isn’t actually ringing, instead you recognize the sound as the alarm you set the previous night. It’s 10:30am, and you have to get up and go to work. Ever so gracefully you fumble for the half empty glass of water on the floor and the bottle of aspirin on the night stand. The techno has moved to the base of your skull and is quickly rising to the back of your head. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Your day is going to be totally fucked up and there is nothing you can do about it. With weak legs and shaky arms you put on what ever clothes you can reach from the nice warm bed. You drag your lifeless limbs to the bathroom and turn on the shower. The bruise on your knee confirms your fears. You did in fact take a big fat flying leap down the steps in front of everyone last night. You swallow your embarrassment for the moment, simply because your head hurts too bad to think on it. The water washes the night away and brings the day. You hope and pray that things will go quickly as you drag your self emotionless and unenthusiastically through the day. The only thing on your mind is that big heap of pillows and blankets waiting for you on the other side of ten hours. Time has caught up with its normal pace, and slowed even more to make up for the haste of the night. Ticking, dragging, the clock is motionless as you rush through the motions trying to speed the process to get back to bed. Sadly by the time you make it to the ultimate hangover destination you are revived and the sweetness of success is hollowed by your gurgling stomach. “Damn, forgot to eat today”. Hangovers suck!

And She Goes........

I don’t understand how someone can keep doing things that are not in their best interest. Humans seem to be the only creatures that create this inherent pattern of stupidity. No other animal in this world will repeatedly return to the source of danger, unless rabid or trained to do so. This is the fourteenth time I have removed her from him at times when I found him to be a threat. He will eventually kill her; I have seen it in his eyes more than once. He hates me, but he is afraid because I see him for what he truly is. How do you help someone who doesn’t act in their best interest? How do you watch someone you care about slowly let a monster kill them? She believes there is hope for the man that died in him years ago. All that is left is the drug, the demon, and the hate for all that is good in her. This last one I feel is my fault. If I could have hesitated, and bumbled long enough, this cycle of destructive patterns would be at an end. He didn’t do it the right way; it would have taken a long time. I saw the spark that used to be a fire, it dies a little each day, trampled and suffocated by the hands of the monster. They tell me I should let it go, let her deal with her own fate. I am the only one who has not abandoned her, much as I have wanted to these many times when it seemed all hope was lost on her. She undoes all of the progress and digs deeper into the darkness. She returns to the source of her problems and embraces the rage as she feeds and cares for the very being that will become her demise. I have tried everything, and I fear that this time will be like all the rest. I guess in the end, things will be what they are going to be, regardless of my actions.

A Five Year Old Warehouse of Strength

I never dreamed I would love someone so completely, and unconditionally. Unconditional love is usually an unobtainable concept to most people. They always end up having conditions and limits they put on love and their love for others. Being a mom is different. I know that all moms don't feel this way toward their children; I don't pretend to know why. It is the only thing I have actually done right in my life. And having my daughter has given me inner strength beyond most human measure. Having children opens an endless warehouse of patience and love, which is unfathomable.
My daughter is five, almost six, and she is my reason for living. I would do anything for her no matter what. This is my Nic....

Mug Shot

Hello, I just wanted to introduce myself, since you all seem to have such an interest in my page. Enjoy the ride....I'm glad I could share.
Mallisa K.

Confessions of a Midlife Sex Junkie-

I have this small problem; I am not responsible for starting it. I think it is a genetically timed release of mental and physical stimulation in the form of sexual fantasy. It isn’t my fault; I blame it completely on you….
I’m beginning to wonder if this is what guys go though in their high school years. If it is, I have great respect for the ones that actually passed any of their classes. I have come to the conclusion that I have the same mental patterns as a sex crazed porno junkie. Only I don’t have to rent anything! I have constant erotica playing in the back of my head twenty four seven! It’s just Fucking Sweet! I’m a frigging midlife pervert! It’s actually very, very distracting, and not helping me to be productive in my regular every day duties. I can’t find the switch to turn it off. Nothing is working, not even one of those world class bubble baths, complete with a bottle of wine, candles and a jet spa! (BTW every woman needs one of those!)God! Make it Stop! I don’t know what else to do but write about it in the hopes that it will subside even just for a few hours. My friend told me that she wished she had my problem. HAHA! Then she asked me to explain what it was like…HAHAHAHA! Ok, here goes…

“I pretty much want to have sex all day long”. I told her. “Do you have someone in mind? Or is it just sex in general?” She asked. I smiled, visions passed quickly in my mind. “Generally speaking, I have it all in my mind.” I said. I dodged the question, so sue me. I’m not sharing everything ok? But, yes, it does help to have a victim, I mean person in mind….And yes, it is sex, lots of sex, and more sex….Sex, sex, sex, all day it is sex.
It’s comparable to being a Crack Head, I’m pretty sure. I think about it all day long, in the back of my mind. My body aches and tingles at the thought of having it. I would probably lie, steal and maim in order to have it even just for a few moments. It’s all I can think about all day long, and all night long. Wanting deeply, feeling its memory with my whole body. I want to scream in frustration, but it only makes the wanting worse. The constant vision of it runs on a loop in my minds eye. It doesn’t even stop for those moments when I should really be thinking of something else! The word “Distracting” is a very serious understatement. Its hard core, eye popping, sex and someone keeps hitting the re-play button on a proverbial remote that I can’t seem to find! So, for now, I will sit here in my own damn mental state of torture, and continue to pretend to be Donna Fucking Reed, and not burn dinner again, oh, and do put the milk in the fridge, and not the glass cabinet! I’m starving……AAAHHHHH!!!!!!!

So, that is the best I can describe it....It is wonderful and terrible all rolled up into one big fat mental porno that is set on repeat until God knows when….I welcome advice at this point-

-MK

I'm Just At That Friggin Age!

Fuck! I can’t stand it! They all think they know what I feel like, and what I am going through. But none of them seem to know what I should do with it all. The information they give me is useless! Everyone keeps telling me that I am “At That Age”. There must be some invisible law or book that everyone older than me has read. What exactly is it supposed to mean when I tell people that I’m twenty-nine and they give me a knowing look and say “Oh, You are at that age.”? Well, evidentially, and according to two of my aunts on my moms side, I am headed for sexual bliss in the form of some kind of great sexual peak. Wow, yep, I’m feeling that. I can’t go more than five minutes with out thinking about having a nice buff body at my disposal. I’m worse than a sixteen year old boy in a porn shop. And I’m seriously beginning to wonder about the spin cycle on the washing machine…. But, according to the old ladies in the wine isle at the grocery store, I’m at the self awareness age. This is the age where I wake up one day and miraculously know exactly who I want to be, and what I want out of life. I believe that was the “Killing Me Fatty Day” (Look at previous blog). That was a life altering moment of sick realization that I was someone I hadn’t planned on being. And I have successfully begun the delicate metamorphosis of changing my life to fit the needs of the person I have now become. I have lost almost 40 pounds this last year, started running, got a different job, (something I am working on again) and quit smoking. It has been a busy year. But, then my older friends tell me that I am at that age where I’m having a good long momentary laps of reason due to the stress of ten years of marriage, and a midlife crisis on account of feeling trapped. I don’t know if that one totally fits, but I can see where they could point that finger. I love to travel, and in the last ten years I have managed to escape on one single weekend vacation to see my brother graduate from boot camp. Chicago isn’t my idea of a vacation. Vacations are supposed to have palm trees, or gondolas, not cab drivers and homeless shopping cart pushers. So, yeah, maybe I felt a little trapped. My husbands’ idea of a vacation is staying at the same hotel at the same beach where we always stay and just happens to be one hour away. Who knows, maybe it’s all of the above maybe I’m at that sex crazed midlife awakening part of my life where I flip my world upside down just to see what comes out of it. I guess it is all kind of comforting in a way. At least I know I’m not the only slightly stressed, slightly overworked twenty-nine year old woman in this world who woke up on the wrong side of the carpool one day. So I guess I’m at “That Age”. It’s the age where I get to make new decisions, and have a new outlook on life. This is the part when I step out into the unknown and begin the next section of my evolution as a woman. I’m at the spot where I face the road alone, not knowing where it will lead. So, does anyone have a copy of that infamous book that all of these older women have read? I would love to read it!

Writers Block

I’m doing it again, the doubting. They tell me I shouldn’t, but I am my worst critic. I’m hopelessly stuck at the end of a book, and I am drawing a blank…. Why is it that I can write about anything and everything under the sun, but can’t pull one damn chapter out of my ass? I sit and stare at the page unable to come up with even one sentence. I just don’t know what to do about this block. Every new paragraph just feels wrong, and doesn’t seem good enough. I can’t seem to get in the mental zone I need to be in. I am lost right now, with out my muse. I know you didn’t know you were, but the mental stimulation helped me more than I even realized. Just two days and I am still a fool, one who is really stuck with writers block and no clue how to move forward with what should be the last chapter. I am blank.

For My Own Sanity-I Write from Lack of Conversation

Lately, my life has been a lot like walking up stream in a very fast river, all of the resistance against me and my desired destination. The river is my life, the stones are emotion. The stones try to stop me by tumbling and tripping my feet and the water grabs on for dear life, trying to pull me with it. I keep regaining my balance only to be swept back again. The progress is slow, but it is progress. The destination is right ahead, but the journey to get there is taking some time.
Yesterday I realized the true reason I should keep going, and not give up. It took some time to convince him that things were going to be a certain way. Why do the rules change now? What made him pull his head out on that day? I guess it doesn’t really matter. Big Jerk! So, I let the guilt go, it isn’t my fault and has never been. My conscience is clear; I go on, walking in the water up stream. I’ll be there soon. I think I can see it now.

The Secret Job of the Cemetery Fence

When I was a little girl, I climbed through a barbed wire fence to pet the big shaggy horse on the other side. I was probably five or six; I can only remember it vaguely. But, I walked right up to the large animal and placed my hand on its nose. Two seconds later I was running fast for the fence with a mad horse on my tail. The pounding hoof beats behind me were like thunder shaking the ground. It must have shaken it, because I fell. The next thing I can remember was a boy much older than me, jumping over the fence and picking me up. He carried me home, dirty and crying to my mother. I was informed, that fences are there for a reason. “What reason?” I asked innocently. She looked down at me seriously. “Fences are made to keep things in or to keep things out.” She said “But they are there to keep you safe, so don’t climb through any more fences!”
To this day I don’t know why that has stuck with me. Fences are there for a reason.
I have always since that day, wondered about all of the fences I have seen, and just what they were there for. Some fences keep animals in, or little girls out. Ok, I get that. Some fences are there to create privacy, or to keep people from walking in someone else’s yard. I get that too. Most fences seem to have a very practical reason for being where they are. But yesterday I noticed a fence that didn’t seem to make sense to me. At a first glance it made perfect sense, but upon further inspection I realized something had to be wrong with the picture. I was waiting for my mom to get gas, sitting there in the passenger seat of her van, staring strait ahead in a blissful trance of exhaustion. Directly ahead of me, across the road there was a cemetery. It was very old and had a sign with old worn letters that stated: “Catlin Cemetery 1845”. The tomb stones were old and white, standing in the tall grass leaning at odd angles like white bones popping up out of the ground. I was just sitting calmly just looking at it when I noticed the fence. It was one of those chain link fences about eight feet tall, with the barbed wire on the top. At first I would assume that the fence is there to keep vandals out. It seemed like a perfectly good reason for a fence to surround an old cemetery. But then I noticed the angle that the barbed wire was leaning. Instead of leaning outward, the top section leans inward. This to me would suggest trying to keep something in, and not out. If you walked up to the fence from the outside, you could certainly climb up and get in, but it would much more difficult to get out. The barbed wire leans over the top of the fence at an angle, making it almost impossible to climb from inside the cemetery. So, my question is an odd one. What exactly is the fence trying to keep in? My only guess is that the fence is there to keep the Zombies in. Why else would it be there?

Friends

I sat there, in the little bar, surrounded by all of my old friends. It was so odd to see them all and in the same place. It hasn’t changed much, with one exception. Some of them married each other. But it was all so familiar, their laughing, and joking. I’ve missed all of them, and didn’t even know it. I had forgotten how much fun it could be to have normal friends. Friends who just want to hang out with you just because they like you. They were genuinely nice, and really wanted to know what I have been doing these past few years. It was comforting to know that none of them were judging me by my looks, but by who I am, and the kind of friend I have been to them. I had forgotten how relaxing it is to just sit and hang out with good friends. I have over the years weeded out so many of them for various reasons, that I have found myself some what of a recluse. How is it that I have cut myself off so completely from the world with out knowing it? I’ve noticed so many things lately, that I need to change. (So I’m sitting on my moms couch, wondering how you are.) My friends used to be my life, and then I gave everything up for the hope of something I had always wanted. It was a gamble, and I lost. But the nice thing about real friends is that when you need them, they are still there. And last night, they all made sure to remind me that they are still there. I had no idea that even though ten or twelve years had passed that they would still accept me as though I had never left. My hope is restored today. Things might just be ok after all.