Lost Refuge, Shattered Heart

This blog used to be a sort of refuge for me. A place I could go to express my feelings, share the days events or a dumping ground for the deluge of thoughts that swirl in my head. But since I learned that my ex-girlfriend has found a new love this blog has become a torture device that even the most sinister a soul wouldn't put to use. I've looked at our old pictures, each of us smiling, holding each other...laughing. I've stared into the giant picture of her eye from the May 2012 post for what feels like hours. So much so that when I close my eyes I can trace every detail that her iris fibers had designed. The brown tints with the yellow and gold highlights. Those eyes that I got lost in day after day...week after week. For two years those eyes were a safe haven for me. Her breathing the sound that comforted my soul. Her smell that intoxicated me...that I would give almost anything to have near me again.

Sigh.

I sit here and torture myself, reading my past posts about how much I loved and adored her. Still. But she belongs to someone else now. A writer, like me. But better. A divorced, single mother. A woman who is "granola" just like she is. Natural, country, homegrown. An activist. A true lesbian. How do I know this...you would be amazed at what you can discover on the Internet when in the middle of the night you are possessed with plunging that dagger deeper, further into your heart. Oh the games my head plays. The images that replay, the laughter turned into tears. I don't need any enemies when I have my own mind to bully and dismantle me from the inside out.

Sigh.

I want to be happy for her, she deserves it after all. Maybe now, she can have the relationship that I couldn't give her. Maybe now she can see her worth, the worth I spent so much time trying to reinforce. When we found each other, she was insecure about everything. Lost. Always in doubt of herself. I hope that by the time it ended she finally realized how amazing she is. How beautiful she is both inside and out. I hope that she can have a relationship free of her own demons. Despite my contempt of this new girl, new relationship that she is in...I love her enough to still want happiness and joy for her. Yes, I hate the idea that this new girl gets everything I once had. Everything I still wish I had. But to some degree or another this new girl has me to thank...Lisa wouldn't be who she is now without our relationship. For better or worse.

But God the pain. The thoughts. The endless visions of what was and what is now. Sigh.

Lisa, I'm sorry that I couldn't be what you needed, wanted. I tried to make you happy, make you feel loved. In fact, I loved you more than anyone before. I worked harder in our relationship than I ever had before you. I listened better. I loved harder. I gave you access to parts of my soul that no one has ever seen. I let you love me when never was that even considered before you. You were my "first," the love that I never thought I would ever have. I have missed you every day since you left me. I know that all these useless words provide no comfort, not that you will ever even read this...but I'm so lost without you. Without my best friend. But I wish happiness and love for you. I hope you can live free of the demons that haunted your soul, the soul I loved more than life. Happy birthday by the way...the 25th comes soon. I will always love you.

Sigh. This is the pain I never wanted to feel again. The pain that almost literally killed me last go around. My heart just can't take this. I can't do love anymore. I can't love someone so much only to have that love stolen and shattered. I know I appear strong, but I'm not. I'm weak. Fragile.

So very fragile.

Hopefully someone will love me someday.

Upon further introspection regarding my past relationship with Lisa, I am less inclined at this point in time to place all the blame on my shoulders. I am no longer confident that the ending came because of me solely. While my perception of what it must be like to be in a relationship with me has not changed much to speak of, I am more open now to the notion that it at the very worst is likely 50/50 fault wise. I wish I could say that it was never me…but that’s just not a possibility. So why am I thinking of my ex you may wonder? Well, she is often on my mind, in my dreams. But specifically on my mind now because of a conversation with someone at work who thought she and I were still dating. I advised that Lisa broke up with me a while ago because I wouldn’t make more of a commitment to placing myself in her “life” and spend more time with her kids. My coworker asked “why not?” I blankly said, “she wasn’t willing to get a divorce or even move out of the house she shared with her wife even though they were separated.” My coworker looked at me in stunned silence.

“She was still married, you never told me that!” I guess I didn’t think it was important enough to mention…but it was important enough to keep me from fully investing in a life with her. I went on to explain that it had been two years that I had been waiting for her to make a move and none was made. Yes she spent a great deal of time with me in my “life” and I should have spent more time in hers but I felt so out of place and foreign in the house that they still shared. I just couldn’t make myself comfortable there even though both she and her wife, yes separated but still married, told me that it was “cool if Deb comes over.” I guess I just couldn’t imagine holding hands with or talking about personal things or being girlfriends in front of her wife. My brain doesn’t work like that. And try as I might, it still doesn’t.

With all that said, I know a major reason for staying in the house she shared with her wife was to take care of the children. I admire that devotion and had promised myself that I would never place myself above them and the importance they have. I think that’s why I didn’t push harder for Lisa to find her own place…to actually ‘separate’ from her wife. Maybe things would be vastly different had I been more firm in my convictions. I don’t know. Maybe things would be just as they are now…me missing my future with someone I loved more than any other. I’m sadly happy that I didn’t spend more time with her children, the pain of losing them would be more than I could handle…given how hard the loss of previous girlfriends and their children has hit me. I refused to involve myself more in their lives until Lisa showed action in creating her own life away from her wife.

So it seems that she and I were doomed from the start…I got what I deserved with this because I got involved with a married woman. But her pull was so strong I never would have been able to resist her love regardless. Her touch remains white hot on my skin, forever scarred. The feel of her skin like a scalding ember from a fire that has been blown out, her smell has taken up residence in every vacant sinus. I miss deeply what was never mine to have. I miss the future that we shared and talked about, eventually I know these will pass and fade away. But I will love her forever. And I’m okay with that.  

Hopefully someone will love me again.

The Proverbial Bridge

With all this anti-gay stuff going on, it has triggered some internal strife in my soul. Shadows of things I had locked away in a box, hidden in the attic of my mind, covered by better memories and lessons learned etched in the stone that keeps the box closed. But recently a ladder showed up, the attic was opened and the stone place holder removed leaving the box without cover...without protection...and regardless of the once gentle hand lifting the lid, the shadows have escaped leaving my mind to ponder things I put away. The damage has been done. I've spent my adult life trying to hide from those shadows. Trying to rationalize leaving them in the attic to collect dust and rot away. And it's all been undone. The shadows work methodically within me, unlocking little cages of thoughts only to leave me sliding backwards and chaining me to that damn box that I worked so hard to leave behind. Each link on the chain a church lesson. A song. A pamphlet with words that sting like acid. A prayer to be like the other girls at my church. Me pleading with God to fix what he had screwed up. Each and every link, heavier than the previous one.

Here...see inside my brain, my soul. Have a glimpse at just a fraction of the chain that binds me to seemingly never ending torment and unhappiness.

" Some suppose that they were pre-set and cannot overcome what they feel are inborn tendencies toward the impure and unnatural. Not so! Why would our Heavenly Father do that to anyone? Remember, He is our Father."

"Homosexuals can be assured that in spite of all they may have heard from other sources, they can overcome and return to normal, happy living."

"The answer, it is not all right. It is wrong! It is not desirable, it is unnatural, it is abnormal, it is an affliction. When practiced, it is immoral."

"If someone seeking your help says to you, I am a homosexual or lesbian or gay...correct this miscasting. It is simply not true. To speak this way seeds of doubt and deceit about who we really are."

"To the misinformed who believe God make them that way...This is as untrue as any other of the diabolical lies Satan has concocted. It is blasphemy. Man is made in the image of God. Does the pervert think God to be 'that way'?"

"Having same-gender attraction is NOT in your DNA."

"There is a falsehood that some are born with an attraction to their own kind, with nothing they can do about it. They are just 'that way' and can only yield to those desires. That is a malicious and destructive lie. While it is a convincing idea to some, it is of the devil."

"It was not God who made them that way."

"First, it is important to understand that homosexuality is not innate and unchangeable. Research has not proved that homosexuality is genetic."

"If they will close the door to the intimate associations with their own sex and open it wide to that of the other sex, of course in total propriety, and then be patient and determined, gradually they can move their romantic interests where they belong."

"God made no man a pervert. To blame a weakness and transgression upon God is cowardly.'

"There are counseling programs offering sexual reorientation therapy (conversion or reparative therapy) that hold out the promise of changing homosexual orientation."

Welcome to just a small fraction of what I carry with me every single day. Being Mormon is all I know. It is in my blood, who I am, the core of my understanding. I believe in the Book of Mormon. I cannot and will not deny that. Being Mormon is in my DNA. Yes, I am not a good Mormon, I admit that. But I'm standing on this proverbial bridge holding my box with the chain wrapped around my body, much of it falls to the pavement covering my feet. The chain so long and heavy...and I'm alone in this because no one can carry this burden. It is mine and mine alone.

So I'm standing on the proverbial bridge...

My Confession

I'm weak.

I worry...too much.

I spend most of my life waiting...for my life to begin.

I live in fear...that any decision I make will be the wrong one. 

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On a side note I miss you so much sometimes that my heart hurts. I can actually feel it stop, skip and struggle to restart. I miss the way your hand fit so perfectly in mine, your smile, laughter...the laughter when we would get into tickle/wrestling matches in bed. It was contagious. I miss your lips, so soft and tasty. I miss your body, laying my head on your chest listening to your breathing as I fall asleep. I miss my happy place where I was safe. I miss your hugs...the way you would climb me just to get closer. I miss your smell, oh how I miss the comfort in your smell. I miss your touch, your eyes. I miss running my fingers through your hair. I miss the glimmer of light that shows when you walk into a room. 

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I play off like I'm cold and put together but inside I'm lost and confused. 

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Sigh. I hold out hope that someday our lives will meet up again and the timing will be just right and we can be together. For now, I miss you and dream about you. 

I'm weak.

The NFL isn't ready for him...

Well it's finally happened...a football player came out to the world and said he was gay. Now things get interesting. Especially when the NFL is still dealing with the drama with Martin and Incognito of the Miami Dolphins and the bullying that took place in the locker room. The brave soul in this case is a college player for Mizzou, Michael Sam, who will be entering the NFL draft this year. Within in hours there were people from the NFL telling the world what a mistake it was for him to come out, "it will affect his draft status, the locker room isn't ready for this, it will be hard to have him on the team." Then there are others who say "we don't care what he does off the field as long as he brings his skills onto the field, that's what we care about." So many opinions being expressed on this topic...so here's mine.

The NFL isn't ready.

As a male dominated sport...it is by nature a fraternity of epic proportions. It has it's own code of conduct, it's own way of dealing with infractions, it's own language...it's an entirely different world behind the NFL shield. But every now and then the rest of civilization gets a peek at what takes place...case in point when the locker room drama spills out onto the field or plays out in the media. Even then, we only see a small fraction of the whole picture. Even if whatever team drafts him accepts that he is gay, other teams won't. Other players won't.

The NFL isn't ready.

I give Michael all the credit in the world for coming out. I really do. I just don't think players are going to accept him. Things may have gone well in the college ranks but any player will tell you there's a massive difference between college and the pro's. If you ignore the issues that affect his draft status, there is going to be hazing, bullying and other teams and players trying to take him out because he is viewed as a "sissy" and they don't want to share the field with someone like that. In a world where Manti Ta'o is still being made fun of because he was made a fool for having a pretend girlfriend...how can anyone think having a gay player is going to be any easier?

Don't get me wrong, I know the statistics. Something like 1 in 10 people are gay, so logistically there are hundreds of gay football players in the NFL right now. Even more who play in the NCAA. I get it. But we are in a world that despite saying it's against bullying...still works to separate and classify everyone. White, black. Girl, boy. Rich, poor. Straight, gay. Christian, Atheist. From commercials to everyday interactions our society is primed to distinguish the difference between "us" and "them." The people who have and the people who have not. Granted tides are changing as the younger generation begins to lead our society, with their more liberal views and acceptance for things that the older generation wouldn't stand for. Yes, things are changing...but in this case, where the NFL is still a good old boy's club...it's just not time. Not now. Not yet.

The NFL isn't ready.

You think you know me.

When I was born I weighed 6 pounds 4 ounces. Standard length and was hungry the minute my body left my mothers. I was for all practical purposes a normal sized kid, until about two years before puberty. So I think that puts me around 12 or thereabouts. My parents were getting divorced, my dad had always been verbally abusive so I was okay with him not in my life everyday. I spent much of my adolescents on my own, mom working a full time job and going to school to try and provide a better life for us. I fended for myself food wise, so it was always cereal or box meals. And being alone I spent most of my time inactive. So I gained weight.

The more weight I gained, the more I isolated and stopped doing sports and spent more time hiding from the world. I was a totally active kid, climbing trees, chasing cows, I was outside all the time. The sunset was my curfew. But everything changed around 12. Memories from my childhood came back to me, I became depressed and suicidal and gained more weight. My only saving grace was my personality that endeared me to some of the popular kids, so my place in high school was as the bridge between the unpopular kids and the popular kids. 

But that didn't stop a few from making my life a nightmare. Either constant teasing, bullying, or getting beat up and pushed head first into lockers...every minute stays with me. Or being called wide load all through middle school. All scars that can never be covered. Just like the teacher who molested me in high school, that trauma carries it's own weight. You think you know me...you don't.

College was better but then I was rejected by my church, support system, housing and friends when I came out. And more weight came with more trauma.

The only time I ever lost weight was during a time of anorexia. For a semester I lived on bengals and onion rings. I lost 50 pounds. Then came more trauma, more weight.

So here I am one month shy of 40 and at my absolute heaviest. Yes, my knee injury sidelined my activities but ultimately it falls on my food choices. Fast and easy. Horrible for the body I know. Not to mention I don't usually eat until dinner. 

Why am I telling you all this...because when you see me, you see fat. Over eating and a slob. But I see layers of trauma, depression and loneliness. So when I get bullied online for being fat, it's just one more layer. One more nail in my coffin. I hardly eat, but you don't know that. 

There's a lot you don't know.

Ramblings from an empty bed...

I'm laying in bed right now, my headphones are on and a song plays on repeat. "I spend her love until she's broke inside...I leave my heart open but it stays right here in its cage." I feel the blankets soft against my thighs, in the light of my iPhone I can see my chest rise and fall with each breathe and I can feel my heart beating...pumping blood through my body like a machine. In fact I can feel the steady pulse in my neck as each beat keeps me alive. In the darkness of my room I can see some of the glow in the dark stars that still remain on my ceiling. I can make out Orion's Belt, Einstein's cross and my attempt at creating the  Pleiades also known as the Little Dipper. I'm thinking about my life, the people who have come and gone and the memories that have been created and destroyed. Some people I miss terribly, others hardly warrent a fleeting thought. But I'm laying here by myself with no one to touch, hold, cuddle, kiss, or even talk to.

I'm alone. 

And it's a horrible feeling. 

I don't know if I believe in soulmates or finding ones other half, I don't think I believe anyone can stay in a healthy relationship anymore. I don't know if I will ever be in love again, but I do know that I'm so lonely...it actually makes my heartache. There's no point or purpose to this post, just me...in the middle of the night reflecting on what it feels like to be alone, with no one to love me. I want to believe that there is someone out there I would die for, live for and they would do the same. But I'm almost 40, and I have nothing to show for my life. No children to pass my name to, no awards or distinguishments and I haven't saved the world. Not even my little corner of it. 

Sigh.