Issues

I hope those of you that have read this blog have enjoyed it so far. I have tried to touch on different subjects each time I post. I want them to be thoughtful and informative, a little window into who I have been and who I am. I also hope that some may be food for thought. That you think, I think I learned something.

In writing these I find it increasingly hard to just write it out. The emotions in that time can come right back to me and I have to table writing for a while. It drives me crazy too. You think you are over certain things...

My previous story about my son's father and I, is a very good example. There was so much more to the story. So many more agrivations. I had to really sit back and decide how to taper it down and still be understandable.

I am hoping you will bare with me. I am hoping someone is reading this. I have so many stories to tell. Some have not even happened yet. They just need to be lived.

Poetry Time #7

 The Morning After


You left me alone on my island to die
Friend
I said, no
You thought it was a passionate moment

I was passed out
He asked to be with me
I said, yes
You left me alone

When he said I could take it
I said, no
You thought it was a passionate moment

He flipped me over
You heard me too
I begged him, no
You left me

I passed out
The pain
The fear
You thought

I woke up
He was done
I thanked god
Passed out again
You left me on my island to die alone

He disappeared
Satisfied in my humiliation
Hours later
You come in
Its time to leave
I'm with you on my island dying alone

What a piece of work
I mumble
What do you mean?
I have no answers
You thought it was a passionate moment

When I tell you
You do not believe me
You leave me

Then you do
And choose to ignore it
You wanted it to be a passionate moment

I threw up all day
Scrubbed my body
A million different way
Stared at walls
I am left on my island to die alone


written in my mid 20's

Sex, Drug, and Rock n Roll Part 2

So he wasn't very pretty. His words were ugly and meant for me. No one wanted him in their band. He painted very little now. It was very clear he wasn't Italian. Now he just stayed up all night singing a song I had hoped was for me. I'm sure it wasn't.

Yes, I stayed with him. My parents were not going to have a baby and I as a burden. They had their own problems. So came the big day.

I had been in labor for three days. I was uncomfortable and trying to find a way to make it until the next day for my scheduled C-section. My best friend at the time was spending the night so he could take us the next morning. I wasn't going to make it though.

At some point the guys went out for a smoke. While they were out, my boyfriend felt the need to unburden himself on my friend. He was having sex with other woman. My friend set that aside for two weeks.

I gave birth to beautiful little replica of us. It didn't save our relationship though. We could barely hide the animosity while either of our moms visited. And finally Andrew came clean about what he had been told.

I was devastated. Yet all the signs had been there. For a few minutes I tried to convince myself he was lying. Andrew and his wife came over and we drove around Seattle for an hour or so. I cried and we tried to figure out a way to get out of the situation. I was foolish and thought I needed to stick it out. I got home to a dark house and sat there.

Not long after this we received an eviction notice. Things were almost always tense between us. We were lucky though, our sons growth and discovery were constant. Giving us a reason to come together. He was the best thing we ever did.

We moved into a dump in one of the crappier parts of Seattle. I became the mother of two children. I went back to work early. He lost his job and no one would hire him. So he became Mr. Mom. Smoking pot(and god knows what else) all day while watching our son.

I never knew what would send him in a rage. If I didn't start eating my food and tell him how great it was immediately, it was an insult and taken from me. I really didn't like to burn my mouth. If I said the sky was blue, I didn't know 'what the fuck' I was talking about. If I didn't want to have sex when he did I was a prude. If I wasn't as into it as he was...

It came to the point where I decided if that was the way things were played, I should get some satisfaction too. He went on a tirade during sex and belittled me, I just started laughing. This had a not so pleasant effect on him, deciding to choke me. After this happened a couple of times I changed my mind.

My family came to visit and could tell the relationship was strained. My sister offered her assistance with my mom's backing. For the first time I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. The dissolving of this relationship began.

He has since been cut off but the ex was looking off in the other direction. Winner...

 In a matter of weeks I had gone home and gotten a job. Made arrangements to stay with my parents.  I came home and packed up. There was talk of  it being a separation and once I found a place we would see where we wanted to go. It never happened.

Two years later, I was listening to my headphones as I walked through the first floor of the hospital. A familiar tune was playing and I stopped, took a detour to the bathroom. "I know place where I can go.... oh into your arms, oh into your arms, into your arms, I will go." I'd heard it a million times in my sleep. He didn't even write it.