Because I Hid or Why I Missed The BGO

The day after my last post I had a meeting with my tutor. The meeting was brilliant and it blew my mind. I spent the next 24 hours writing. I made such progress on my work and I felt really good about it all. 

I then read. Well read isn't really the right word for it. Devoured is what I did. I devoured a book. A series of books actually. There is this author, Mary Calmes, she writes M/M romance novels, and I am loving her work. I never thought I would get into romance novels but after reading her 'Matter of Time' series, I am a convert (I will be going a proper review later). The story of Jory and Sam I found both amazing and simple. The foreshadowing of the novel in painfully obvious, but you simply look past all that as you get drawn into there tale of love and woe. 

            So lost in those two acts I just found myself completely off in another world, worlds. I bounced between the two and for those few days I lived in my own rabbit hole. So deep was I, I was reading until 8am on Sunday morning. I knew it was wrong, I knew I should of gone to bed hours earlier but I couldn’t pull myself away. Or at least that is the story I am telling myself. Truth is, I wanted to hide from him. 

            Yeah I know it all comes back to him, but it is the truth. I just couldn’t face him even though I knew he was going to be there. Even though I knew I probably wouldn’t of even seen him, I just couldn’t be there. But it’s not for the reasons you think. Before he cheated on me, before he emotionally tortured me for a year, when I was at my lowest, and drove me even lower into my own personal hell. (Yeah I know, you’ve heard all this before) but despite all that, I miss my friend. 

            It’s the friendship that I miss. We didn’t work as a couple, we should of bailed long before we did, I miss my friend. I want to be able to text him and get a response in return. There is so much in my life I shared with him that I didn’t share with anyone and losing that is what is hurting the most. I wish we could grab coffee one day and talk, I could say sorry, he could say sorry, and we could be friends. Instead of the cold shoulder that I am now receiving. How do people do this?

            Andrew died, there was no seeing him again, no sharing or talking anymore, or the possibility of it, no getting sent emails by an anonymous person sending daily updates on him. It was done in such a final way. Now with B, all I want is to be able to text him and say hi, that if we see each other out we can stop for a minute and play catch up. I was just always hoping we could be adults be like the people we should be. The ignoring, the cold shoulder, the rejection still hurts. 

            But that is not him. I know that if I had gone, that when the inevitable happened and we would of run into each other, then he would of walked by me and ignored me, again. The mature adult thing is beyond him. So I sabotaged myself. I stayed up so late that when I finally passed out and reawoke it was two in the afternoon. I know I could of come still but I just couldn’t. So I sat and read instead I was a coward. I have come to realise that at present I am just not strong enough to deal with that. 

            I hated giving up the opportunity of something I would of loved attending, but regret is an easer emotion to handle than rejection. 

            Why cant we be the people that get portrayed in fiction. Why cant we be the mature, noble creatures, that humanity deserves us to be. Why are we all so broken and damaged. But yeah, that is why I chickened out on going to the Big Gay Out. But don’t get me wrong, I will be going to the Parade. So if you are going please get in touch because I need someone to go with.

So What Happened Today?

I come to this tonight with nothing to say. To tell the truth it's a weird feeling, this emptiness inside.
I could talk about the UK moving one step closer to allowing gay marriage. I could talk about my views on it. It's a massive step forward for the gay community. It's good that every person is getting equal rights and so on and so forth.
I could talk about this being Waitangi Day but those are murky waters that I do not want to swim in.
I could talk about all the fighting and violence and wars that are going on and how I feel about them, but again, do I really want to weigh in on such lofty matters.
Or, once again, I could talk about my feelings and my broken heart. But haven't I said enough about all that. At least that is how I am feeling about all of that today.
I think my mood is just because I'm feel so stuck at the moment. I spent the whole day feeling like nothing happened, I just don't know what to do with anything any more.
I blame yesterday.

My Mind... Blown

I didn't sleep again last night. I don't have a cool reason why not, it just wasn't something I could do. It was strange, I just couldn't bring myself to lay down and close my eyes. Just what exactly is insomnia?
I went and saw Hope today. I know that seeing her helps me, but she always leaves me more messed up. Talking with her is a really bizarre experience. Simply because I learn something about myself each time. 
Today lesson was a bit of a  revelation to me. While most people probably have learnt this all long before now I could only see it today. Is that strange? Learning lessons, having epiphanies, achieving understanding, why does coming to a deeper realisation always such the hardest thing?
Why lesson did I learn you ask, it was a simple one. One action, one period in ones life, one simple feeling and it can define your entire life. Like a pebble in a pond the ripples spread out over every minute, every feeling on your life. 

For me, it was the clarity of that inciting incident, the feelings and fear that came from it. Over twenty years since that moment and it is still ruling my life today. 
So shocked by all this I came home and promptly fell asleep. Really, what is the definition of insomnia? Two days no sleep, a shock to the system and I gleefully fall into the embrace of slumber. I know I am crazy. Voices, blackouts, alternate personalities, fugue states, are all part of being me. But is sleep really the correct response to being in shock? 
There are times I wish I was dating a doctor so I could get free medical care, or at least get a free consult so i know where I need to be admitted to and for how long. 
Still now I know the problem, I have to ask, is it to late to fix?

A Little Goes A Long Way.

I didn't sleep last night. The fear of the ordeal I was to go through this morning kept me up all night in a panic. I know to others it sounds completely stupid but for me there is something about the thought of visiting the dentist that absolutely terrifies me.so I have been putting it off. It had been six years since I had last gone but this morning I had no choice. A few weeks ago I was in terrible pain. I had been putting off doing something about it because of my fear, but in the end I just had to repair to get it fixed.
That visit wasn't so bad so I went today for a proper checkup. Logically I have no reason to be afraid. But as soon as that hook went into my mouth I was gripping the arm rests, white knuckling it the whole way through. Two fillings, a clean and several X-rays and I was all done. But my heart raced during the whole visit.
Once done, the hour over, I knew there was nothing rational about my fear. There wasn't a reason for it. But I had let it control that part of my life. Now I have several more sessions and work that needs to be done. Maybe my gums wouldn't be so bad if I had thought help sooner. Bt even now, even after the session, my heart still races at the memory of this morning.
Afterwards a wonderful thing happened. A friend invited me out. After everything I have written here my first reaction was to say no. I was going to use the excuse of my numbed face as a reason to not go. Fear was my first reaction. But this is what I wanted. To connect with people, and here was a friend reaching out. Did I have a right to say no? I didn't feel that saying no was the right thing so I went.
It was just so strange. Here someone was offering me something I desperately wanted and I was afraid of it. With the dentist surgery, it was the fear of pain and the procedure. But with my friend, it was the fear of hurting her. Of shattering her world. I don't know how I will do it this time, but I know I will.
There are times when I wish I could scrub every part of me away and begin again. Is like the person I am, the person the world has shaped me into is not the person I want to be. Not the person inside. Most of the time I loath the person I am. If I had one wish, it would to be to go back in time and do it all over again but with the knowledge I now possess. That way I can avoid all the pain I will cause people and I can avoid all the pain I have caused myself.
It's that fear that controls me. Fear dominates my life. Not in massive ways but in small little ways each and every day. Fear is natural. It's part of being human. But there is so much of it in my life that I have opted out of life and numbed the pain with my "electronic drug".
So there are two things I must do, first not let my fear define my world. It is something that all humans live with, but I cannot let it control me. Second, if I hate the person I am so much then I must kill him. Destroy every part of him that is inside me, hollow me out and begin again. But how far do you have to go to escape everything I am and became everything I want to be?

So My Life Is A Joke.

As I human being I like to think in a small why I make my mark on this world. I thought that by posting yesterday I would at least get a comment or two. But there was nothing, no impact at all did it create. I could walk out on my life tomorrow and no one would be affected by it.

It’s a sobering realization, knowing you don’t matter. Don’t get me wrong I am not looking for sympathy. The pain of it was dull, something that I am used to (again not looking for sympathy).

I spent all day checking on Facebook seeing if someone had said something. Hoping that what I wrote would somehow be validated. But do I really need others approval, shouldn’t my own be enough.

I read somewhere that humans are a social creature. That we need other, isolation in us leads to corruption and a slow delve into insanity. Does that explain my last two years?

But rebuilding connections takes time. You can’t just think that when you ask for friends they will come back. So I am going to keep doing this, hoping that I can connect with someone. I need to rebuild my life. Make amends for all my mistakes. So here I will write. In a vain hope that one day, in some small way I can mark this world in a way that I can be proud of.

I am tired of being alone, I know now I cant do this on my on.

Why I have come back to this.

My whole life I have struggled to deal with my emotions. I have always felt as if I never had a healthy way of dealing with them. Usually, I just let them boil and fester till I lash out, or let the cinema they played in my mind drive me to absolute despair and darkness.

But recently when I have been feeling that well of emotion boiling up inside of me I have been writing through them.

I have created stories my whole life. My imagination has always run rampant in my head. It has been the demon inflicting the suffering on my soul. Writing has given me a way to exorcise them. To unburden myself of all that has troubled me. But what then? It wasn't enough to just write them, I need a way that I can take that page of text and symbolically give it back to the universe that gave it to me.

If I wrote by hand I would burn the pages. Fire has always been a purifying force in my mind. In nature from the destruction of fire new growth comes and life begins again. Except my handwriting is terrible and on paper I could never get it to sound just right. So I needed a new method and I turned to blogs. Yes I know I am not a teenager, rebelling against the establishment and throwing my angst out into the world, and sometimes it feels like I am doing that.

It was the death of my mother I think when I stopped growing emotionally. I never felt I had time to properly grieve through that. I always felt afraid to work through those emotion, afraid of the pain. It's was doubled with the loss of my first boyfriend. The guilt of his death crippled me. I felt solely responsible for why he took his life. I know now that I cannot take responsibility for what he, did but when he called for help I turned aside from him. I will never forgive myself for that, and the fear of hurting someone else like that kept my heart in a cocoon of misery and self loathing.

So when I tried moving forward, I was that 16 year old kid again. I didn't know how to feel, how to work my emotion. I had never learnt. I never had a healthy way of struggling through this mind boggling stupid state that we call life and I did the thing I feared the most, I hurt the person that I loved.

So I have turned back to writing. True I might never make anything from it, I might never succeed as a writer. But I have come to realise that isn't why I write. I write because creating these makes me feel better. It gives me a way to vent. To work through what is going in my head. To be able to put them in some kind of order. To unburden myself. This is my way of screaming into the wind, to rage against my personal storm and for a time to create a gentle breeze in the turbulent world of my head and heart.

I probably won't win any friends for this. More likely in the age of trolling I am going to anger people by showing how crazy I really am.

I don't know if I will do this every day or just every once in a while. For the time being I will just release myself to it when it is needed and see where it all takes me.

So to those I offend, I am sorry. To those I anger, I am sorry. To those that relate, then maybe we can be in this together. To those that don't understand, don't come back here and read. But if you get it, if something made you understand me better, or even understand yourself better then welcome. I have posts, and stories and rants and journal entries from the past you my want to read.

In the end I want to be able to express myself, but I want to create a dialogue as well. Good, bad, sympathetic or just plain nasty, I want to hear it all. Because the other thing that I have learnt is I am not in this alone. I am not the only one feeling like this, and as much as I want you to be here for me, I want to be there for you as well.

We all have fears, we all have worries, we all have that moment when we think we cannot live, cannot move on. You are not alone in this. And hopefully by writing through my tumult I can show you that as well.

Which one do I miss?

I cried again tonight.

The pain of losing him comes in waves. When it's quiet and I have time to feel, that's when the sorrow covers my heart. I don't know why really? After everything he did, after he went out of his way to hurt me and I miss him.

But is it him that I miss or the memory of what we had? When we were first together it was brilliant. Or so I remember it that way. Bt it's the way I want to remember it. The nights I awoke and he was sleeping and I felt safe and content. When he would hold my hand as we walked down the street, I never worried. When I would hear his laugh and my own heart was lifted. I remember all that, I remember the way he made me feel and I cry for it's loss.

I ignore the pain or I blame myself for it all. In the beginning he was a champion. He was thrust into a situation that neither of us were ready to deal with. I tried to cope as best as I could. I tried to survive and be everything to everyone. But the more I tried the more I failed. I lost my world, I lost my home and I lost my true family.

I was angry all the time, so angry at everything. I didn't want to live the life I was stuck in and I sank into dispair. I lashed out when I needn't of. I took that anger and rage and frustration out on him and I hated every moment that I did that. I needed help and instead of looking for it, instead of asking for it I turned that pain inwards and sank further and further into my depression.

I don't have the words to express how sorry I am for the things I did, for the way I treated him. I cannot blame him for finding love and happiness else where. The were the things he deserved. I just wish he had left me sooner. I knew the moment he fell in love with someone else. I saw it after that visit to the hospital. I just wish he had left me then and there. It would of been kinder.

Our final year together, from October to the following September, I consider that a period when he sought his revenge on me. When he pulled away, distanced himself from me. I was the change in attitude. The double standards. Everything he denied me he gave to another and as I heard about it, as I watched it, I broke even further. I sank so low. He knew ever which way to hurt me and, it seemed to me that he went out of his way to break me. It became the worst year of my life. He made it the worst year of my life.

So why do I miss him? Why do I still love him? Or is it even him that I want or the memory of the man he could of been rather than the man he turned out to be that I miss? After Andrew died I spent years closing myself off. I was afraid to open myself up and let someone in, to trust again. Previously I isolated myself and lived as a shadow of a man. For a few months he awakened all those feeling in me, I felt whole, complete, I felt like a real person. When my blood family changed the course of my life, when they and he spent two years hurting me, it was a new kind of hell because I was truly feeling again.

In the last several months I have had a major shift in my life. A need to find a way out of the blackness I have been living in and to try and reclaim some of those feelings back for myself. I know I stand on a precipice, one false move and I fall again. I know I should be able to do this on my own. Hopefully I can. But what I want is to know that I have the support of someone that loves me. Truly loves me. I don't want to lose myself again. I need to leave that black void. I cannot keep hurting myself and others the way I have been. I know I should be strong enough to be able to do all this on my own. That 'me' should be enough. But to love agin, to have someone in your life, it's a dream that I never thought was possible, until he showed me that it might be.

So I still cry at night, but is it the loss of him that I am crying for, or the loss of a dream that becomes fainter with each night sleep?