What changed? Did you learn something new about me? Did you do that play and realize I was like that spoiled rich girl and my laugh would become insufferable? I think it would be helpful for me to know. For me there were some irreconcilable differences, some things that came up about me that I needed to deal with. That didn't change the way I felt about you. I guess when we broke up it seemed like the right thing to do for now, but I didn't think it would be like this. I think it would help to understand how things changed for you, if you are willing to tell me.
Its just really hard for me to move through. I don't know what is true. I tried to be honest with you. I was too honest at times. There are things (especially negative, critical things) I wish I hadn't said. Honesty is so wierd. What I am feeling is not true most of the time, so if I honestly express whatever lie I am believing, is it truely honest? Is something honest if it is sincere, or does honesty have to do with a relationship to an objective truth?
Along the same vein, you are a good actor. You are so different now than you were before, and you are so good, that I can't tell what is real. What did you say that you meant? If something drastically changed in the way you felt about me, I guess that explains it, but overnight? Or were you acting? (Then or now?)
I guess when I broke up with you I thought it was a break. Not forever. Not broken forever, just a break.
Maybe I can be summed up still as the girl who doesn't know what she wants.
You don't have any obligation to me, you can't fix me, but I think you could help me complete the loss. I think it would help to understand. I never want something like this to happen again, and maybe you could help me.
I guess I feel really ashamed. Like I don't know how to stay in my own skin. I don't know what was true or not true (were you acting then, were you acting now, did I do something unmentionably horrible that changed things? Did I reveal something about my character that was horrible? When you look at me, am I disgusting?)
Jaim.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Am I addicted to longing?
"Your at your best with an ache in your chest and a worn out old song that you play..."Allison Kraus It Doesn't Have to Be This Way
"You're addicted to your sadness, 'cause it creates a touch of madness--the kind you like inside your veins. Oh why are you so hardened, when you know you could be pardoned--I guess you will not let go of the reins." Waterdeep Hardened
"You're addicted to your sadness, 'cause it creates a touch of madness--the kind you like inside your veins. Oh why are you so hardened, when you know you could be pardoned--I guess you will not let go of the reins." Waterdeep Hardened
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Falling......
Its about 10:00 AM. I am in a valley at 11,300 ft. Its just windy enough on this cheese-wedge shaped boulder I am sitting on to keep the mosquitoes at bay. There is life on this seemingly dead rock. The quartz-laced granite slab is home to copper, forest green, chocolate, mint and grey lichen of all different textures and shapes. The ground cover is patchy and sparse. Little white flowers dance with violate daisies and yellow mini-tulips. Wind whips east through the valley and prevents the knotty pines from holding on to their foliage on their west sides. Two mountain lakes sit to my left. I can't see them right now. Patches of snow dot the green landscape like sand traps on a golf course. The valley echoes the voices of my friends who climbed a mile up to the Continental divide for a day hike. I didn't go with them. My heart hurt too much and I have quarter-sized blisters on my heals.
If I stay busy I don't have to face the long loneliness. Its like I am falling through a dark shaft. Occasionally I can grab onto a hand hold long enough to feel stability. With one compulsive push after another I can start to climb out. The classes I took this summer were like a latter. I had a syllabus and I trudged through the set of grips like a latter, one rung at a time. When the class ended, the ladder disappeared and I was falling again.
New York was a sturdy handhold. I slept in, walked around the city with Sara, indulging in the best seafood, retail therapy, a Broadway play full of hope in resignation, the Museum of Modern Art. I visited Sister Maris Stella, one of my best friends in college turned Manhattan nun, and saw Frank, my fabulously holy friend who just finished a Masters in Environmental Policy from Princeton. He will be moving to DC to work on saving the world. I met new friends. Christie is a beautiful NYC gymnast who took us to her beach house in Connecticut. It was this enchanted 1930s cottage where famous writers would write their books. We swam in the lake for two days and played a word game called "Banana Grams". Katy is a NYC songstress who took us on a romantic picnic in Central Park followed by badmitten on Thursday, and then Tour de Chocolat on the following Tuesday. We stopped at four stops 1) Coconut Curry Chocolate and the "Rooster". 2) "Spicy" and "Rosemary" 3) Balsamic Vinegar and black sesame covered chocolate 4) A giant decadent chocolate chip cookie and a "wicked mocha" which was this spicy coffee-flavored iced chocolate sludge. Even the way home was a distraction, with lots of drama as Sara and I harangued this Italian New Yorker named Mike into sitting at the airport bar with us and drinking too much.
The day I got back I rode down to the seminary and finished my paper. At 11:00 pm the security guard let me in the building to slip it under the door of my professor's office. Thursday I was dangling by my fingernails, because my New York Grips had fallen off, my paper was turned in and I just had a loose camping trip grip to keep me from my free fall. I turned on my Zune and did retail therapy at Whole Foods for my camping trip. I planned poorly, but it was all I could do to get out of the house.
I rode part of the way up with Church Sarah, her son, and another kid from church. When we got to John's I rode the rest of the way with him, complaining about my life and the church for the next 25 miles. He mostly laughed. Yesterday I was caustic and argumentative and blistered.
I am falling again. I don't have energy to take a handhold. With your hand in mine it felt safe for a bit, but when I stopped looking at you I realized we were falling together. I got scared. I am better at grabbing on to hand holds (not that I think it does me any good, maybe it is just helping me to avoid the surrender I need to have) I am not good enough to hold you too, and we always end up grabbing for different grips. I can't decide if I am upset because I am falling again, or because I miss falling with you.
If I stay busy I don't have to face the long loneliness. Its like I am falling through a dark shaft. Occasionally I can grab onto a hand hold long enough to feel stability. With one compulsive push after another I can start to climb out. The classes I took this summer were like a latter. I had a syllabus and I trudged through the set of grips like a latter, one rung at a time. When the class ended, the ladder disappeared and I was falling again.
New York was a sturdy handhold. I slept in, walked around the city with Sara, indulging in the best seafood, retail therapy, a Broadway play full of hope in resignation, the Museum of Modern Art. I visited Sister Maris Stella, one of my best friends in college turned Manhattan nun, and saw Frank, my fabulously holy friend who just finished a Masters in Environmental Policy from Princeton. He will be moving to DC to work on saving the world. I met new friends. Christie is a beautiful NYC gymnast who took us to her beach house in Connecticut. It was this enchanted 1930s cottage where famous writers would write their books. We swam in the lake for two days and played a word game called "Banana Grams". Katy is a NYC songstress who took us on a romantic picnic in Central Park followed by badmitten on Thursday, and then Tour de Chocolat on the following Tuesday. We stopped at four stops 1) Coconut Curry Chocolate and the "Rooster". 2) "Spicy" and "Rosemary" 3) Balsamic Vinegar and black sesame covered chocolate 4) A giant decadent chocolate chip cookie and a "wicked mocha" which was this spicy coffee-flavored iced chocolate sludge. Even the way home was a distraction, with lots of drama as Sara and I harangued this Italian New Yorker named Mike into sitting at the airport bar with us and drinking too much.
The day I got back I rode down to the seminary and finished my paper. At 11:00 pm the security guard let me in the building to slip it under the door of my professor's office. Thursday I was dangling by my fingernails, because my New York Grips had fallen off, my paper was turned in and I just had a loose camping trip grip to keep me from my free fall. I turned on my Zune and did retail therapy at Whole Foods for my camping trip. I planned poorly, but it was all I could do to get out of the house.
I rode part of the way up with Church Sarah, her son, and another kid from church. When we got to John's I rode the rest of the way with him, complaining about my life and the church for the next 25 miles. He mostly laughed. Yesterday I was caustic and argumentative and blistered.
I am falling again. I don't have energy to take a handhold. With your hand in mine it felt safe for a bit, but when I stopped looking at you I realized we were falling together. I got scared. I am better at grabbing on to hand holds (not that I think it does me any good, maybe it is just helping me to avoid the surrender I need to have) I am not good enough to hold you too, and we always end up grabbing for different grips. I can't decide if I am upset because I am falling again, or because I miss falling with you.
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