Tag Archives: autonomy

The Smallest Connection

To be human is to grieve, because if we grieve we are in touch with the swelling of emotions that make us so complex, the glue that permanently connects the puzzle pieces and fragments that make us human compared to the clinical diagnosis that seeks to pull us to pieces for fragmented labels of understanding. Grief is the soul, the definition of what it means to be human. You cannot be human without grief.

Oddly enough I can create fantasies in my head that cause me to grieve over and over again (which is why I suppose dramas and chick flicks are so profitable), but joining that to the real world is so much harder.

Once again I am drawn to think of him… And I know deep down in my heart that if I reconnect with that pain and grieve the loss of him – not just who he is but on some level the fantasy I made him out to be, I can draw my defenses down just a little bit more and connect with that realm of pain that promotes love and understanding. I loved him, and I still try to swallow that pain and stuff it down which is why in a rare eternity he can pop out of the blue and I’ll still talk to him rather than reject him.

I still hope to work through the conflicts that caused all this because I acknowledge I still love him to some respect, be it the real him or something imagined I conjured up in my head like the sorceress that I am. The illusioned piece of my head says “if you talk things out you can move on without him”, and the illusioned part of my heart says “if you talk things out it’ll draw you closer together, his problem is a fear of intamacy due to an unacknowledged level of emotional childhood abuse anyway”, and the the disillusioned part of my head says “you don’t need to talk to him to move on, it’s a lie. You’ve tried it before and it never works. Lay off the Oedipus complex for a while”, and the disillusioned piece of my heart says “stop trying to rescue him or salvage the past. You’re not a hero or a savior, so stop it.” So how do I grieve without becoming obsessive then… In grief we do carry people in our hearts that we live because we loved them, and it’s okay to express that… But this? There’s something very comorbid about it because it’s codependent. In truth I made him my savior to some extent, and for that I am sorry; not only is it inappropriate and too much burden to bare at a young age, but it’s obvious to me now that he was only playing out a cycle he lived at home through me, and I inadvertently perpetuated that dysfunction, which is in part the comfort he experienced being around me.

I wish I could rewind time with the knowledge that I have now and take it all back, but that’s not moving forward.

That’s where my confusion in all this lies… I don’t know what’s healthy to grieve and hold on too, versus cast out and let go of. I was too emeshed in him, and he just… I don’t know. I placed too much on him, and for that I am truly sorry. I know I’ve come to the pice of understanding when it comes to him before, but I keep revisiting it. I was blown away last October when he told me that he felt as if I understood him better than most people, as I not only believed it to be both true and false, but also dangerous. The sad thing is I feel as if I see him now clearer than I ever was able too in the past, and I think his information seeking was clarification for information I couldn’t provide at that time…. Again, I’m not his savior and it’s not my job to rescue him… Nor does he need it. Once he’s in the right place at the right time of his journey of understanding… If it every happens… He’ll do the work necessary to heal on his own. I doubt he’d want to acknowledge that anyone would have such faith in him (especially out of my mouth), but it’s true.

Truth

It would be nice if one of these days I could look back on us and rather than chronically saying sorry I could look on everything with loving eyes and say “peace be unto you.” Why the strange sentiment I don’t know, but somehow, just to acknowledge that as I have feels so right.

Coupe De Crash

It was a boring late summers night at home, and I needed to get out and do something. My brother wasn’t home, and my son was sleeping, but my “brothers car” was here…. a 1999 Saturn 2 door coupe, gold, and it was all mine to drive. (This isn’t his car in real life, nor anyone elses I know.) I snag the keys, lock the doors to the house, jump in the car, and wonder briefly if I should be doing this. My son is home alone, I don’t have a licence, the vehicle is uninspected (illegal in NH to drive), I’m taking my brothers car without permission- but I Just. Don’t. Care.

I need the wind in my hair.

I need the possibility of the unexpected in front of me.

I need the chance to go out and do something for myself.

I need my autonomy.

I jump on the highway and head to Portsmouth for a chance to get away from it all. I had a sever desire to do some shopping to make myself feel better, so I hit up the mall. I leave with over-sized white shopping bags stuffed with clothes, and paper bags filled with various fragrances from multiple stores. I load them behind my seat and pull off heading south. I was feeling hungry, and decided to eyeball the various restaurants around.

The scenery changes, and none of the restaurants belonged to Portsmouth, but I still identified it as such- still being in Portsmouth. I veer off into a parking lot with some major food chain label against it and walk in. I decided I didn’t like the options on the menu and left. Back in the car.

I make my way back to the house and see if I can spot anything on the way back for food, but I ended up making a side trip. Before me is the less-than-thrilling 5th wheel porn shop, and I decide to head inside. Everything looks the same as it does in real life. The walls are a little more grey than white. The counter is to your left as soon as you walk in. Video’s and magazines beside it to the right. To the right of the entrance is the the toys and such. I look at a set of white fabric hand-cuffs with rope attached to it and longingly wish I had someone to try this out with, but I keep roaming around. I find myself making a full circle ’round the store and back at the front looking at the flavored lubes & condoms. Nothing terribly exciting. I leave and purchase nothing as I have no one to share it with.

As I exit and round the corner to my car, there’s a car that slipped gears and is rocking back and forth in neutral bumping gently and repetitiously against the front passenger door of my car with it’s front bumper. A peculiar site to behold. I get in my car and create a silent mantra in my head. Please don’t get pulled over by the cops. Please don’t get pulled over by the cops. Please dont.Low and behold I turn on the car, swerve it around to back out, and just as I do I get blinded by the headlights of a cop car pulling into the porn shop. I turn the wheel sharply to finish my reverse and pull out but the car stalls. The officer looks at me and beams a warm and inviting smile.

“Yeah, I use to have that same kinda car. Don’t cut the wheel so sharp and you’ll be all set.”

I smile politely at him and try to keep my cool. I finally straighten out and drive into the highway. I quickly come to a delima. The right side of the road has cars stopped that are bumper to bumper, but the left has zero traffic. I figured if I stay to the right and not move I might get pulled over because of the sticker on my car, so I head into the passing lane and watch as someone from the right does the same. I speed off into the night when suddenly a car comes at me head on. Rather then suffering any injuries or serious car damages,  the whole thing gets smacked and bumps backwards 10 feet as though I were in a bumper car. The car that hit me? A cop.

Shit!

I accept defeat right then and there. He glares at me as he gets out of his car and I sit in mine, paralyzed as I rack through all the things he’s going to charge me for. I came to the conclusion of losing at least 32 points from my licence and possible jail time, but they don’t know about my son.  As I step out a few military personnel and  other law enforcement officers are on the scene, but they’re relaxed and side-tracked with their own assigned tasks. One military man greets me warmly. He’s in a beige uniform that has an army tailored look about it. Tan skin, dark eyes, amazing definition to his body…. I like the cut of his jib. Smoking hot. If this were school I’d give him an A+ for his smile alone! We start talking and I try to probe him about the consequences of my actions with the car accident, but he confesses he’s not knowledgeable in that field and cracks a few witty jokes. He’s not only sexy but funny too? Oh, I could like this a lot! We continue to talk and laugh but all the while my anxiety continues to spike higher and higher as I wait for the expected smack down by someone. Finally my anxiety plateaus in my throat as every hair on my body stands to attention.

I wake up. My breath is ragged, nerves are frayed, and sweat is starting to bathe my skin. 8am. Time to hit the morning. I shake it off and get the details of the dream down, deciding to attack it later…. and here I am with you.