Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Ignis Fatuus.

It takes me about 8 times longer than a normal person to actually believe someone when they are telling me bad things about themselves; when it goes against everything I thought I knew about him or her.  I am at least 100 times more likely than the average person to believe all the good things about people, and keep believing them even when I shouldn't.  I begin by believing all the good things, and no matter how many times people lie to me or take advantage of me, I go about my life believing the truth, which is the lie... it's not real.  I believe all that was before, and nothing after...  nothing after someone reveals the bad.  I like the before.  I can convince myself the admitting of lies is pretend, and the truths revealed aren't real.  I can convince myself I am right.  I believe in the good things.  I believed in all the good things.

I try to for Goodness Sake.  I want to be angry and hurt for the right reasons.  I want to be hurt and feel absolutely gutted by people who reveal the very shocking and painful things they have done and lied about... I try to remember that someone can say, "I love you, " and that doesn't mean anything at all.  "I love you," can be a lie.  I love you is the coldest, most despicable lie ever told.  It's heartless.  It's soulless and heartless. Cold and heartless.

I'm trying.  Don't.  Don't.  Just don't.

I've just spent...  Let's see, how many years have I been writing this blog...  Because it's been that many years in which I have blamed myself for every fucking thing that other people did to me, and the lies they told. I probably deserved only 50% of the blame, taking on 100% is a heavy burden.  And I have done that. And no medication fixes that shit.  I deserve almost half the blame for falling for any kind of lie, and believing in people who should clearly reveal something to me that shows me their true colors.  I fall in trust with people.  And I trust them even when they don't deserve it.  I trust them when they tell me not to trust them.

I wish I could say that I've learned a great lesson, and that I'm writing this because I'm finally believing in myself and my own intelligence, and that my heart is not broken by liars and cheats and users and abusers... But isn't my heart the problem?  Didn't I become a teacher because I cared about people?  I cared about every single child, my students, and I believed in them.  I believed in them, and didn't give up on them.  My grampy taught me that.  Every day, every person has a new start.  "Every day is a clean slate."  I believe that still.  I believe, unless someone is inherently evil or ignorant, that every day is a chance for each of us to start new, and be better.  Stop living a lie.  Tell the truth.  Say we're sorry.  Help someone, even if you have burned your bridges with another.  Be a blessing to someone every day.  Be a blessing.  Be a blessing.  My nanny told me that.  She said she wanted to live her life that way, and her biggest regret in aging is that she couldn't always do that...  She thought she wasn't.  She is a blessing to the world with every breath she breathes.  She is a blessing.  The way she sees the world and her love and care and prayers are the blessings Heaven is made of.

Now, I shouldn't swear in sentences even close to those talking about my nanny.  She would not like that one bit.  And it's not right, to drop the F-bomb anywhere near Nanny Tops.  But I'm angry.  I'm angry and when I get angry I say bad words.  I'll add a picture here to break this up:

Maybe one more:


Fuck people who use other people.  Fuck people who are selfish and only care about themselves.  Fuck people who don't care if they destroy other people's lives, just so they can get what they want.  Fuck them for not even having the heart to understand that life isn't part of a piece of fiction where things fall apart, then the story ends and you assume the characters keep going along, and life turns out okay for everyone.  No. Human beings aren't all resilient:  Some hearts aren't so resilient; some minds aren't so resilient.  Fuck you for destroying a human being on the inside, turning her insides to char and ash and rotted, putrid self-loathing. And the story doesn't turn out okay in a few chapters... a few volumes... an entire series.  Sometimes she doesn't recover... ever.  She lives that way the rest of her life!  You have killed all that she was, and all she thought she could be, and all she wanted to be, and all she believed in...

Guess who gets to blame someone else after he trashed his wife, and cheated on her with no regard?  She isn't what you want, but she's okay.  Content, you were.  Are.  Not happy. Content with your life.  Fuck you.  Poor you?  Poor you, who doesn't get to be happy?  You blamed someone else, to your wife, so you could continue to be content, and that person suffers...  with that hot poker in her back.  You say it will make me feel better, even if she says, "No.  It will kill me."  Kill me.  And when she falls apart in front of you, you think, "Great, I can get what I want now."  Fuck you!  The problem with people who believe in others, and believe their heart knows how help...  is they want to help.  They want to save people.  They save everyone but themselves.

The way to feel better about all that?  Believe in the good.  Believe good intentions were meant, and felt, and it wasn't his fault.  It wasn't his fault.  So whose fault is it?  People like me take that blame on our shoulders and say, "How could I?"

Yet, it perpetuates...  friends seep in and say, "I will save you.  I know you.  Look at how amazing you are.  Look how strong you are.  Look how much love you have in your heart."  It's so good to have someone lift the responsibility of the fucked up shit off your shoulders.  It feels so good to breathe.  When was the last time I breathed?  I can breathe again.  Thank you!  My goodness, how could a stranger care so much? That's because the world is good, and people are good, right?  Believe in all the good things.  Good people save us from the fucked up ones...  Until their intentions aren't to be a friend at all.  They can't be your friend. They never wanted to be, stupid.  They can lay you to waste with a few words, sharper than any blade.  "Figure out your life, you're messed up."  Really?  Really?  Fuck you.  Did you see that puff of darkness come out of my chest where you cut me?  That's just the remnants of the last one.  I'll sew it back up and hold that powdery, ground up, darkness in.

Hold on.  It gets more complicated.  Because the more you let people in, the more you, in turn, hurt other people in your life.  You say, "I have a friend to talk to, he makes me feel better, see how much happier I am?!"  And you think it must be a great weight lifted off the people close to you, yet it just starts to burn up their insides too.  I mean, unless they get something out of it.  Happier you, might mean they get something they want from you.  Most people want something from you, even if they really do love you.  They want it at the expense of you.  They don't see the damage that can cause, is causing, will cause.  Where are we safe?  The only place I have ever been safe, truly safe, was with my grandparents.  When I was with nanny and grampy, they didn't want anything from me but my company.  They radiated love, and felt the love radiating from me.  Love reflects love.  Good reflects good.  Healthy hearts beat together.  The warmth and love and appreciation from Nanny and Grampy was the only truth I have known.    I hope you have a nanny and grampy like mine.  I wish I had known how deeply I needed them, and prepared myself for that loss.

My children... their love is pure and good.  It's different, though.  They need something from you, always.  And they can't see when you might have nothing to give, even if it's just for a passing moment.  They miss the empty eyes.  I think as children get older they can become a mother's truth.

I'm empty now.  It's because I am fighting my greatest ignis fatuus.  When I walked into that house, it felt a little like walking into my grandparents' house.  It felt safe and warm and giving and that I was just myself...  I felt safe.  A friend...  Is it worse when it's not a a stranger at all, but a long time friend who comes along and is ready to save you?  Oh, well, you see, you find out he was a stranger all along.  He was a stranger all along.  And he wanted everything from you, and he said, "You opened yourself up to me and I took without regard for [you]."  He said, "I'm selfish."  And for 8 months I have been fighting those words, (and there were other awful words... And he treated me like I was not a human being, that I am not a human being...), wanting to believe in the good.  There's been a mistake.  I'm not stupid.  I used to be one of the strongest women I knew.  I was strong and I was proud of myself because my grandparents were proud of me.  And I have become the weakest, most pitiful excuse for a...  an anything...

I've been forced to face evil.  I have been forced to examine myself and search for my flaws and accept that maybe having a fucked up biological father who abused us, and being raped when I was 17, broke me apart, and started eroding my insides, and my strength, when I was still a kid.  I had all the other responses when I was so young:  "I am stronger because of it."  "I learned I could be manipulated, and I will never let that happen again."  "I could have ended up marrying someone like that, I could have thought that was love."  "If it hadn't happened I would..."  You know what?  I would have been normal and healthy if that hadn't happened to me.  And maybe that's what women should be able to admit and face down and say, "That was a really bad thing that happened to me, and it has messed up my life..."  And then maybe move on the best we can...  Instead of pretending we're somehow survivors and therefore better for it.  No.  No.  That's not the truth at all.  I died a little when that happened.  And I could never get that back.  I never have.  And I'm had small deaths since then.

Yeah!  Fuck that noise.  Look at what has happened to me since?  I have been manipulated over and over, even though I'm married.  And I've given up on teaching, because I don't believe in myself...  because one time was enough... two times...  More?  When you know you were duped and weak, you become a duped, weak person.

But I accept the 50% I am responsible for, in all of my adult situations.  And I'm not the kind of person who can just write those things, all those bad words and accusations without feeling extreme amounts of guilt.  No, no... erase all that... it was my fault, right?  I believed.  I am naive and stupid.  I spend many days feeling like I can't live with the shit that I'm responsible for.  And I need to actually be a grown up and stop obsessing over the past, and living in the past, and blaming myself or anyone for the past.  I'm allowed to be angry.  I can be angry at them, and angry at myself.  But, then, like my nanny, I have to forgive.  I know I have to forgive and move on and stop.  Stop.  Stop.  Then go on living...

Still falling
Breathless and on again
Inside today
Beside me today
Around, broken in two
Till your eyes shed
Into dust
Like two strangers
Turning into dust
Till my hand shook
With the way I fear

I could possibly be fading
Or have something more to gain
I could feel myself growing colder
I could feel myself under your fate
Under your fate

It was you
Breathless and tall
I could feel my eyes turning into dust
And two strangers
Turning into dust
Turning into dust
--Mazzy Star

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