Parts of Pain & Love

"I'm through with doubt
There's nothing left for me to figure out
I've paid a price
And I'll keep paying..."

- Dixie Chicks from "Not Ready To Make Nice"

Not to make any sense...but just to breathe a moment today...

I've been having a lengthy internal dialogue for many months now. I've chosen not to write about it because the purpose for me to write thoughts, is to get the feelings "out of me." I have definitely wanted these ones inside....I guess to understand that you would have to be an expert on me, OR have read each post here over the last decade, OR be one of my dear close personal friends--of which none exist any longer--OR I could try and sort it to the best of my limited words...

This dialogue has reminded me that I'm not dead, nor should I want to be even though I still feel like my world has been ripped apart. The conversation has been a lengthy debate; pros & cons; regrouping; what is right and what is wrong and based on that, are my actions(and others)--justified...But it's more than just that. I'm in such constant pain, not only from Randy no longer in my life, but for losing all the people I needed most as well. Some may argue that I didn't lose anyone. I pushed them out or away. I would know because I made that argument myself. The truth is that one may--and will--see whatever truth that makes them feel better. That's sad, because friendship should be about making each other feel better. What I ultimately decided for myself is that if I have to explain that to anyone, or if I have to ask for the most basic level of respect and attention from a friend when I'm at this level of pain in my life (or ever really), then I left the love for myself somewhere back on the road less traveled.

How does one manage then without the normal supports one would assume to have during this time? I have kept myself sedated much of this year. During that time, the dialogue has kept me secured, focused--to have written before now I fear that I may have lost myself in a zone of numbness.

I remember a time before Randy when my world fell apart. Then, I was the teenager who would meet Cardwell and butt heads. I was conditioned to be that person. I didn't know that then. I didn't see that--then. I was not aware that my teenage anger and frustration would not be as easily deciphered & dealt with as I would have liked by 21. It would be the bulk of my 20's discovering what I was so conflicted about. Actually, I remember many times when an emotionally immature self was moved very dramatically over several instances...All of those times would help to graduate to the more level person of my 30's. But the more impulsive & strident self would remain as part of my make-up; a part of me designed to keep me going from a time even earlier when my blueprint ink was setting.

I was a child the first time my world was destroyed. That child has remained inside of me all these years as the man has emerged...

So the death of someone close to you is bad...kinda goes without saying: understood that it will be a pain unlike any other; a thing so out of one's routine & reality that no matter how you think you'll deal with it----it's not like what you think. BUT HERE's THE KICKER that I was REALLY not prepared for... Randy's death would unlock all of my repressed & neatly compartmentalized emotions that I have learned to live with. This intense pain had been felt before but I didn't feel it as pain. I incubated it as anger all growing up.

I was taught:
-That the people I love & trust the most will leave me unprotected, vulnerable and hurt me as much as they love me.

But, I was also taught:
-That an Angel would show Love didn't have to hurt. She would leave lipstick traces; the physical touch of love would not always sting.

Immediate Thoughts; After Posts

Sunday, July 17, 2011:
Spending yesterday with part of Brandon's family, I am totally aware of what I don't have and what others take for granted.


Sunday @ The Fox (12:30am)
What I love about the under 21 clubs are the Kinder Queer who (no matter how bad or good the music) take every opportunity to flaunt their dance skills; many with bravado fascades mix in some with true talent and it makes all the insecurity of finding themselves disappear for a few hours. Their souls are alive like they will never be again. It's poetic & quite beautiful. :-)

SATURDAY, JULY 16, 2011

"But that's not an invitation...that's all I get."
-The Cardigans

I think I do a poor job of communicating when I'm spent, done, through; in need of solace; don't want to participate anymore; need to be alone. I say "poor," because of the common reaction when I respond with irritation after I thought I had explained myself. The irritation is often met with surprise.

Maybe I am communicating completely clearly and the fledgling friends (of less than 5yrs) and limited mothers haven't graduated Jeremy 101 yet.

"I just want to touch your heart. May this confession be the start."
-Aida

El Cielo

To Cardwell:
OH MY F-ing G-O-D! You must be one happy MoFo right now w/Grandma & you'all sent me a message & I received it LOUD & CLEAR! Here I am on the bus going down MLK Blvd & Brenda, a sixty-something black woman, sits down next to me. She proceeds to talk to me about the woman who cut her husband's penis & put it in the garbage disposal, Facebook & then sees her bargain store & gets off the bus.

"You speak Spanish, Jeremy?"
No, I said to her. "
Well, I'll see you en El Cielo! In The Sky!"

---
---

Earlier, I had trouble deciding which bus I was getting on. It was actually quite a bigger, indecisive ordeal than it normally is for me... Now I know why.

Now I definitely know why. :-)

Halfway Home

"Halfway Home" -Jason Mraz

I go a whole month without writing as I tried to focus on other endeavors. From that focus, I got to see Nathan in Las Vegas. I've begun to get to know new people and clean out the ones who are just not making the life thing any better. Taking the time to pause and hand write over the past month has usually brought tears to the surface. I've also endeavored to not be as paralyzed by those as I've been in the preceding months.

People can really be shitty sometimes; be it the billion things that are self-important, the true tragedies that make us less human to others or just the awesomely vacant personalities that I've let hope overshadow through the years. I'm not saying that I'm necessarily any better. I'm sure I've had my moments in the past six months where my abilities of friendship have been strained. I'd like to believe otherwise, but I leave room for the possibility in someone else's eyes... For what more than perceptions of other people are we really in the end when we leave nothing tangible behind?

"Now you're drowning me with talk of four leaf clovers..." - The Cardigans

As I've been drowning these months since Randy passed, I haven't received a single call that was not somehow initiated by me from my mother. I removed her from my Facebook account yesterday after the adult & the child in me decided to post this to her wall:

"We're (your children) are all happy that you have found someone that makes you smile. That said, if you want to hear from us, the phone works both ways. Please stop the pattern of choosing a man over your children or keep it up and stop wondering why we don't go out of our way for you. I love you & this hurt to say, but the truth is what it is."

I began writing her a letter, but then I realized that no letters I've ever written as an adult to her had made a bit of difference in her behavior. I am what I was made forged out of what she is what she was made & the men who she allowed to shape me. It's just time to do what is right for me now and leave hope well enough alone.

Gail was kind enough to wish me a happy 4th as they go off to the river for the weekend.

You know, with family members like these, it's no wonder I have always sought out to create my own family. It's no wonder why when that creation falls apart so do I.