I feel like I should be getting something out, for all the thinking I do. My thoughts are half formed, and not ready for words. They are where I am, halfway between the practical and the spiritual, trying to pull them together. It's clear how scattered I am by looking at my lists of things to do. I have housework, paperwork, medical concerns, job concerns (web design AND sewing), and social life, at some point. I can't possibly finish it all in one day. I cross off three things and add four. Then I space out and wish for a retreat to read and meditate and center myself. I recently started getting high once in a while. It's relaxing, but there are certainly no answers there. I think that will a be short lived activity.
Fold all the laundry (5 loads?)
Clean the bathroom
Some kind of food prep for dinner
Find a dentist for the kids
Finish changes to R's website
Clean up sewing area, clean sewing machine
Try to remember to eat, and drink enough water
Crash into bed at a reasonable hour this time
What's going on in my life and what is going on in my head seem to be at odds.
My kids are constantly chattering and sometimes it's at me and sometimes not. They're leaping all over the place making me edgy because they hurt themselves all the time but I'm tired of telling them to stop so I just let them hurt themselves and muster up a "there there" and a kiss on the head or the arm or whatever. It gets old fast.
What's in my head is a desire to contribute to the big wide world in some way. Creatively, compassionately, intelligently. But I can't seem to get a moment's peace to even put it together. I want poetry. I want dancing. I want beauty. I get destruction, sore joints, and stress. I need to find peace in the eye of this storm.
Last night I was feeling emotional. Emotionally strong. In need of connection with someone outside my house. I have a few friends going through some tough mental work times and first tried to connect with them, one by one. But that didn't work out. So I texted Josh. He told me he was going to The Woods, which is conveniently close to me. I told him I'd meet him there. I could feel it, it was time to face all the things we never talked about while the wounds were still fresh. But here it is nearly 8 years later and we'd both been picking our wounds in secret. So I met him there.
Being a bar, the drinks started immediately. But, being in my condition of not wanting to drink much, I topped out at 3 weak drinks and about 8 glasses of water. Josh had several shots of whiskey. He kept trying to get me to drink more, as if I'd be more interested in him if I drank more. I told him that drinking wouldn't change anything but could possibly make me sick and I knew my limits. We talked about recent life happenings, just updating each other on our lives, and then knew that if we wanted to go deeper we'd have to go somewhere else. We walked to a bar down the street that is more low key and Josh had another drink while I drank more water. I flirted with him quite a bit and he flirted right back and we decided to take a cab to his house.
When we got to his house I had to assert myself over his roommate's dog, dodge the cat, and gush over the monitor lizards that were still living after all these years. Before we went upstairs to Josh's room, he did a line of cocaine. He offered me some. I refused. I knew that he did drugs now but it was so surreal having it right there in front of my face. Actually I averted my eyes. He's the one who convinced me above all to not experiment with drugs in our teen years. And how irresponsible, to offer me something like this, in my state... post brain-surgery.
Throughout the night we'd alluded to the idea of having sex. My mind has been barraged with sensual nostalgia since my frontal lobe was messed with, so the idea of feeling his skin on mine again was appealling. We got to his room and messed around a bit. He kept trying to do these little dominating moves but I could tell he had me on a pedestal. No amount of shoving on the bed or hair pulling would take me down from up high where he had placed me. He wanted to travel back in time. He stared at me and touched me and told me I was beautiful, over and over again. When I felt his skin on mine, it wasn't the same. It was this bloated mess of a man who was under too many influences. I searched his eyes, watched them twitch. I felt his head, felt him sweat. He couldn't perform, and did another line of cocaine. I told him to just face it, it's not what he really wanted. He wanted me to hold him.
"I think about you every day, Josh," I told him. "I've thought about doing just this, right here, so many times. I wanted to know what feelings would come up. But now that we're here..."
"Don't say it," he interrupted.
"Now that we're here..."
"I realize that my idea of you, of what we were, is in the past."
"I don't want it to be past."
"It is, for me."
"I just want you to be happy," he told me, for the 23rd time that night.
"That's just it, I *am* happy. I'm so happy. I have a purpose, I have children, I have a partner I can lean on and tell anything to. I have an amazing group of supportive friends. So much has happened and it's all been good."
"I'm happy, too... for the most part," he said, unconvincingly.
I had all kinds of advice. Stop drugging yourself, trust yourself, take risks with yourself, accept love. I told him some of it. But how much could get through at that point? I still love him, but he's frankly not my responsibility. I cringed when I typed that. I want to save him from whatever this is. I want to save myself of the guilt that comes with someone I hold in my heart being out there floundering. He proclaimed himself still *in* love with me. Unable to trust anyone else, after I left him. It's not his fault I left him. It's not even my fault, as it was a good decision for me. Perhaps it was selfish, but it was growth.
He does have some good things going for him. He likes his job, makes enough money for his own life, has friends who adore him. But, as he told me, he's not feeling it. I think quitting drugs completely would be a good first step. It's not really the thing to say to someone currently under the influence. He doesn't appear to have a physical addiction, but more like a personal addiction. He wants his mind or his body to act a certain way so he uses drugs to accomplish that, rather than using his mind. My greatest tool in my journey has been mindfullness. I only recently learned that was the term for what I was already doing. Trusting yourself to use your own mind to get through the hard stuff in life is the greatest gift you can give yourself.So ultimately I'm left knowing even more that my decision to jump ship was a good one. I took a risk and it was just what I needed. I see now that I really do trust myself more than I did when I was with Josh. I know myself, I trust myself, I love myself, and from that I'm able to extend that trust and love and desire to know others. I don't want to sound like I've got it all figured out, because I certainly haven't. But I'm proud of how far I've come. And I'm proud of facing what has been dogging me for so long, this connection with Josh. What can I do but remain here and open to talk? Open to connect to him on the level he needs to be at to sort stuff out for himself. I know what an amazing person he is. I see his potential to touch the world. I have such faith in him that I don't know if he feels.