Quiet 

Desperate for quiet when your voice betrays your brain and yet there is no peace. You cannot phathom that your delusions are false; quiet please – I cry in the softest voice. 

Will there ever be quiet in my brain or yours? Will your noise please stop invading my life?

Quiet 

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Wasted Wishes 

Wasted wishes fall on deaf ears, there is nothing that can be done about his demons and I am hostage. 

Wasted wishes keep me awake at night and fill my growing body with unnecessary calories. Feed a broken soul.

Wasted wishes leave me alone with the exception of my loving dogs and I thank heaven for their love.

Wasted wishes are anxiety, panic and fear. 

Wasted wishes are life wasted.

In the Meantime…

In the meantime, he continues his downward spiral and the world pretends that up is down.

In the meantime, I am stagnate because he makes demands and endless calls that I am far to weak to resist.

This is supposed to be my time to find myself, insert midlife crisis cliche here. I haven’t s clue what the next phase of my life holds and I need to figure it out before I can imagine reuniting with him. 

He does not understand my needs, his family may but they simply do not care. I am not their main concern, they care but he is theirs, I am learning to be just me.

In the meantime…

Is this what Almost Over feels like?

He comes over and I chatter away nonstop 

He makes himself comfortable and the dogs greet him with a luxury of kisses

I suggest dinner and a movie, as we had planned but he says that he is not hungry but that I should order

He mentions money, that he needs to watch his – I do not need to watch mine. I attempt to diffuse any concern but can hear the wind steal my words.

He smokes in the bathroom, the “allowed spot” as it is raining outside. He spends too much time up and down between the sofa and the bathroom.

We have good conversation. Meaningful positive talk about family and emotions but remain distant. 

Distant both physically and emotionally.

I order in dinner and he spoons out some peanut butter. The dogs begin to eat and I believe that things are calm.

Before my food can arrive he requests that I call an Uber car for him to go back to his parent’s house. 

I ask that he please wait for my food to arrive, that he need not sit with me, and he begrudgedly agrees.

I smile and order his car, pretending that there is no problem. 

He tells me:

• that he is worried about his father’s health.

• that he is worried about his health

• that he is afraid that if he stays any longer he will screw things up

Then he tells me how he’s certain that I will hold this against him later; I smile (holding back my true feelings) and tell him that everything is fine.

I wonder what he thinks…

Are we married for convenience? 

A failsafe for when his parents pass away? 

Does he even feel anything romantic towards me? 

Is this what ALMOST OVER feels like? 

When neither of us has the nerve to say: “Let’s be best friends?“.

Terminal Grief

I have never been cured of my terminal grief

Each time that I believe that there is any chance, life kicks me in the teeth. 

I will never get over the loss of my father.

I will never get over the loss of my sister, Faith.

And now I add that I will never get over the loss of my fake family. 

I’ve been fooled and betrayed, the pain cuts through my soul. I should have know better, my father warned me and I failed to listen.

My failures add up so high that the sun is no longer visible from where I sit. 

My two sweet dogs keep me together when I drop to my knees. 

Meanwhile, my estranged husband works on my emotions day and night, never allowing me any time to heal.

Terminal grief does not kill, it is not lethal. 

It simply leaves you hollow and wondering for the rest of your days.

Foolish Girl

The foolish girl believed that they were family. She felt comfortable enough to consider the woman her mother. What a childish notion.

She turned her back and when things became difficult the woman turned on her. The words were no longer soft and caring, rather they had sharp edges that cut at the girl’s bruised heart. Nobody was who they appeared to be; they never were at all.

Wait until his illness flairs up and they see what I’ve been dealing with for the past twenty years. Will they call me? Now that they’ve dismissed me, do I counter by walking away from helping them? Do I turn on them as they’ve turned on me?

Or, sit at home and feel the pain?

Apart

Being apart is impossible when he keeps drawing us together and I am too weak to say NO. He still lives elsewhere but with the exception of ONE day, we have seen one another each day. This must change because I am NOT healing. He calls endlessly, some are benign and others are entwined with the weeds of his illness. 

Of course I am depressed and lonely, I’m human. Yes – Feeling sorry for myself and the situation which I’ve found myself living in at this point. 

It’s me and my dogs, all alone. 

Apart.