Marriage

thief2

Acute Pain.

Do I want to go there?  No, but I’m going anyway.  Call me sadomasochist.  How can I heal if I refuse to look at the pain?  I choose to look at it today.  I know it’s going to hurt.

It all started the day I found a document.  You had left it on the kitchen table for me to find.  We were married already.  We had promised to be true and honest to each other.  Perhaps this was your attempt at being truthful.

I saw the folded document on the table, picked it up and looked at it.  I started reading and as my eyes moved down across the page, my heart sank.  I could hardly believe it.  My thoughts were transported back in time to the previous months, the previous years.  You had been playing me all this time!

I walked to you and handed you the document.  You were pale and frightened.  I looked you in the eyes and asked you:  “Why did you do it?”  You said you were sorry, tried to explain and started crying.  I just stood there and listened to you.  I don’t know what my exact thoughts were at that moment.  I was confused.

It took me several days to pick up the pieces of my heart from the floor, reassemble them, find my brain and reconnect it, attempt to start thinking straight again and find a solution.  Eventually I did find one.  It cost me a lot, but you were my wife after all and my job was to forgive you and help you, not condemn you.  I was a good Christian boy.  It took three and a half years to repair the damage that you had caused.  I was confident that you had learned something from this experience, that it would never happen again, and that our relationship would be strengthened in the process.

You promised to never do it again, I remember.  But you did it again, the exact same thing at the exact same place.  I was baffled.  I couldn’t believe it.  But I was patient, I sat with you and asked you to explain.  Your eyes became watery and you said it was because of the place:  “When I go there, I don’t know what happens but I lose my mind.”  I understood, and we agreed to never to go to that place again.

I thought the matter was resolved.  But then, you did it again in secret.  We were not at that place and I was not with you and you did it deliberately and tried to hide it, but I found out.  I questioned you and this time you were a bit more defensive and said that you were not perfect, that you could not control yourself, that we needed to put in place some kind of strategy to help you.  So I worked up a plan.  It took me many hours of work.  I showed it to you and you agreed to go with that plan.

I thought the matter was finally settled but as the months and years went by, I noticed that you were not following the plan.  You were twisting it every way you could in order to gain hidden benefits, all the while pretending that the plan was brilliant and working.  It was not working.  You were cheating.  I decided to check everything you had done in the previous two years and realized, to my horror, that you had found a way to fool me using the plan.

At that point I cried.  I realized that this was no weakness of yours, it was intentional manipulation.  You had this secret agenda to trick me since the beginning and your crying and apologizing were part of it.  I was devastated.  I started questioning my own sanity.  I started hating myself for being so naïve and forgiving.  I should have left you the first time, before we had children.  Now I was more stuck than ever.  There was no way you would ever change and there was no way that I could ever trust you again.

There is a name for what you are doing.  I learned it this week.  It’s called Domestic Theft.  My soulmate is a thief and nothing can be proven since we are in a financial partnership called marriage.

Heal or Kick Butt

Heal1

Yesterday I wrote that I live on a planet where I experience separation and loneliness.  Then emotions of great sadness filled my eyes with tears.  Afterwards I thought this was weird because I love being alone.

At this moment I am completely alone in the house.  My wife and son are out of the country and my daughter is away visiting her grandma.  I will be alone until tomorrow.  I’m enjoying it.  So then why was I so sad when I realized how lonely I was in this life?

Because of the absence of people like me.  People like me?  What’s so special about me?  No, I’m not special.  I think everybody down here is lonely and it has to do with transparency again.  Since we can’t see what others are thinking and feeling, we are always alone with our thoughts and emotions.  I am blind to other people’s true colors.

Or am I?

(The female cat wants to be caressed.  How do I know?  Because of the sounds she makes and the way she moves.)

Maybe I am able to pick up people’s vibes more than I think.  Yesterday I was walking around the neighborhood and I stopped at the hospital.  I didn’t go inside the building.  There were benches near the front door and I sat there for a while to rest.  I was looking at the people.  Some were walking, others were sitting.  I was not judging them or anything, just observing.  I saw a guy who had tattoos and a little pony tail on top of his head.  He was crossing the road and holding a cell phone in his hand.  Suddenly I felt a pain of anxiety inside my stomach, for no apparent reason.

I wondered where this anxiety came from.  Was I feeling this guy’s emotions?

How bizarre…  I just noticed now, while typing the description of the guy, that what I wrote about him could be said about my wife:  tattoos, little pony tail, holding a cell phone.  Plus his height and the color of his skin were exactly the same as my wife’s.  But she is not masculine.  Although sometimes I think she acts like a male because of her need to control everything.

So now I wonder…  Did I feel anxious because this guy unconsciously reminded me of my wife who suffers from anxiety?

Why would I need to feel this anxiety anyway?  To share her pain?

Why should I need to feel her pain?

Maybe because, deep down, I love her?

Or maybe I have the power to heal her?  I was at the hospital, remember?  That’s where people go to find healing.

I don’t know… but this is what’s coming up in my awareness this morning.  As I’m typing this, I’m feeling the same pain of anxiety that I felt yesterday, although a bit less in intensity.

If this is true (that I do love my wife and that she can be healed of her anxiety), it’s not the first time this idea crosses my mind, and it makes me angry.  Very angry.

Why?

Because I don’t want to get along with her!  I don’t want to get close to her ever again!  I know, I said I was lonely, but I don’t trust her.

But you understand her now.  You know she lies because of her anxiety and you also know where her anxiety comes from.

Maybe, but knowing these things won’t change her.

You want to change her?

I want her to stop lying to me.  No, I don’t!  I’ve adapted to her lies and I’m even lying to her in return.  If she changes, I’ll have to change (again).  I’m tired of changing.  Unless it was a permanent change, but nothing here is permanent or guaranteed.  She could change back anytime afterwards, and chances are she would.  So why bother?

Maybe you can heal her.

Heal her?  What do you mean?  How could I heal her?  I don’t want to heal her, even if I could.  She has to heal herself.  Or God can heal her.  Her angels can help her accomplish self-healing.  Not me.  No way.  I don’t want to be involved with her healing.  This would fuck me up.  It would make me think that I’m a healer.

Maybe you are a healer.

Stop it.  I don’t like these ideas.

Maybe this is what’s coming and all we want to do is give you a heads-up.

Then ok, fine.  I accept that.  But…  I still don’t like it.

It’s your ego talking.

Right.  Shut the fuck up, ego.

Just watch what happens.

Predictions…  *sigh*  Do you have dates?  This fall, I bet?  Same time as the other predictions?  When the economy collapses and the presence of aliens becomes official?

Whatever.  I’ll watch, if I’m still around.  I’m always watching anyway.  Does this mean I will have to trust her eventually?  Why?  For my happiness on earth?

If she admits to all I have written concerning the source of her anxiety, I will be impressed.  But wait a minute…  Why would I want to be happy on earth?  Won’t this defy the purpose of the whole experience?  Will she stop spending and wasting too?  Will she become spiritual?  Oh god…

This is just ancient wishful thinking.  I don’t wish for this anymore.  It’s an old wish.  Scrap it.  It was a wish based on materialistic concerns.

Your wife becoming spiritual is a wish based on materialistic concerns?

No, just the “less spending and less wasting” part.

It would be interesting to watch her angels in action, though.  I did tell them to kick her butt last winter.  The next day she slipped on the ice and landed on her ass.

Maybe there’s more than one butt that needs to be kicked in this world.  There are so many arrogant butts.  Including mine.

*sigh*

Vanity

Vanity1.png

I can’t believe that you are still trying to impress me.  After fifteen years of living together, you are still doing it.

I am not at all impressed by the fact that you are trying to impress me.  It’s not funny anymore.  It’s sad.  Stop telling me how wonderful you are, it only makes you look awful.  Don’t tell me how much your boss and your friends admire you.  This does nothing for me.  I don’t get it.  Do you think this will make me love you more?

You are so proud of yourself.  This is all I hear coming out of your mouth.  How much progress you have made, how much money you make and how many compliments you’ve received today.  It makes me feel sick.  It doesn’t make me want to hug you.

Show me your vulnerability instead.  Allow yourself to be weak and flawed in my presence.  This will impress me, because it’s reality.  The truth is what impresses me, don’t you see?

I know you want to be loved, but you’re doing it wrong.  You’ve been doing it all wrong since the beginning.  Vanity is not what will make me want to remain friends with you.  Not even your smiles.  I want to see you cry.  I want to see you recognize and regret every single word you have ever said to manipulate me.  Your words don’t impress me, they disgust me.  Be real, be defective like a normal person.  Show me the insecure side of you and I will take you in my arms to protect you.

As long as you play strong, as long as you act great and speak in vain, I will not want to be near you.  I wish you would understand this.  I wish you could realize this on your own.  Because if I tell you, I know what you will do.  You will pretend to be vulnerable just to impress me again.  It won’t be real and it won’t work.  It has to come from you.

When will you stop trying to impress me?  I can’t take it anymore.  When I see you coming, I want to run and hide.  I know what you will say.  You are so predictable.  I know how marvelous you are already.  I know, I married you!  But each time you tell me how perfect you are, it’s like you are telling me how much of a loser you think I am, because I am the opposite of you.

I know, I should love a person as flawless as you.  I should, really.  But there must be something wrong with me because I hate you.

Dead Romance

Skull Lovers

Why am I still here?

I’m here to piss you off, to remind you that you’re not who you think you are.

All this niceness you dress yourself with, all these friends you surround yourself with, all this makeup and bright white teeth, none of it is you.

You’re a mask, a walking Christmas tree with ornaments and colored lights flashing.  Yeah, you’re a fucking pine tree, all green and greedy, covered with needles.  Without the ornaments you’re just a pile of pricks.

I’m here to remind you who you really are.  I’m your true reflection, the one you don’t want to look into.  I’m the magic mirror here to tell you how ugly your beautiful exterior is.

I’m sorry I exist.  Sorry I was put into your life.  Sorry I never say how wonderful you are and how much I admire you.  Your fake friends can do that.  I don’t do this shit.  Sorry.

You can hate me.  I allow you to abhor me.  Because I don’t flatter you like the others do.  I’m a thorn in your life, ain’t I?  You wish I would leave but I won’t.  You dragged me into your life, remember.  You lured me in like a fish.  Now you’re stuck with me.

I know why I’m here.  I’m here to piss you off because you pissed me off first.  I’m your karma.  I’m the effect of your cause, the harvest that you sowed.  The rotten fruit of your labor.

Admire.

 

Wedding Alert!

Wedding

Where to run, where to hide?
I’ve been invited to a wedding!
A violent assault on the antisocial guy.

My wife knows I don’t like social gatherings, especially weddings, but her best friend is getting married this afternoon.  She said to me with the sad puppy eyes:  “I can’t go there alone, will you come with me?”  I said yes.  That was two months ago.

Now the day I have been dreading has arrived.  There is no turning back.  I have to go.

At least it’s not family.  I know the bride but that’s it.  Never met her fiancé.  None of the guests know me.  I feel better among strangers than I do among family.  No one will talk to me.  Smiles and friendly handshakes, I can do that.  My acting skills are rusted, but when the situation calls for it, I can summon them back to life.  I think… we’ll see.  Hope it doesn’t suck the life out of me.

Sit in church.  *yawn*
Watch the show.  (Hope she trips)
Stand, sit, stand, sit, kneel.  (WTF?)
Clap when they kiss.  (She’s not a virgin)
Congratulate them.  (In two years you’ll be separated)

Then eat, drink and dance.  That’s how people celebrate.  What are they celebrating exactly?  Who cares.   We have food, alcohol and music.  Let’s do what they do.  Stuff your face, get drunk and move your body.  Pretend to be happy.  Woopy!

Freedom Inside

Freedom

Where’s the freedom?

Most people spend their lives looking for love.  I spent my life looking for freedom.  Love too, but freedom was always first.  Love was easier to find than freedom, so I settled for love.  I thought I might find freedom in love.  Bad love took away the little freedom I had.

I hate love, in a way.  Love is a freedom sucker.  Or maybe it’s marriage…

Marriage promised me love but it didn’t deliver.  All my attempts at love scalded me.  Eventually both the motivation and ability to love were lost. And so was freedom.

Today I am stuck at home with three kids and three cats.  Just like yesterday and the day before.  I am blessed.  That’s what they say here:  “You have beautiful kids, you are blessed!”

Indeed, I am “blesse-d”.  The word blesse in French means hurt, injured, wounded, offended.  (My first language is French by the way).  So I don’t mind being told that I am blessed.  I just smile, nod and reply:  “Yes indeed, I am so blesse-d, you have no idea.”

I got sidetracked.  I was talking about freedom.  So, yeah:

Where’s the freedom?

There is very little freedom left in this world.  We are free to obey and free to choose what kind of slave we wish to be… to serve society.  Free to pay taxes, free to vote for assholes, free to buy all the useless junk we want.  Vive la liberté!

I can’t just run outside, jump and dance, run and fly freely like the animals do.  I’d be dead within a week.  Humans are so fragile.  Seems like we were never meant to be free on the outside.

So where’s the freedom?