Crying doesn't make it better.

What is hope anyway but the triumph over fear?

I think I still have it, maybe not for the things I want to have it for, but I have hope still. I have hope that I can stand tall again and get a grip on my life. I have hope that I can find my pride and put my heart back together. I am a grown up after all.

All my life I've known what to do when someone damaged me. I would cut them out of my life completely, I walked away and never looked back at those who harmed me.

A person could cease to exist in my own little world.

Events could be completely erased in my head.

Its been a life saver and a sanity saver.

I still know of the events and people, but it is like they happened to someone else, like I read it in a book.

I just refuse to remember. I know of at least 20 times I've done this.

Only once has it ever left any lasting damage to me and so I am stuck with 2 phobias that I am constantly fighting while yet still unwilling to actually rememember the event that caused them.

Truth be told, I've made so many adjustments that it isn't really necessary for me to overcome my convenient memory loss. I've found numerous ways to improvise.

I can't think of one good reason to remember. No good can come of it.

I can't do it at will though. I wish I could right now.

It hurts to remember.

I can't forget him when he keeps appearing.

I can't erase him from my heart and mind when it seems as though he is engraved there.

I can't fight him when he uses my own weapons (words) to hypnotise me.

I can't figure out what he wants or expects from me.

All I know is he isn't saying he wants me in his life. He infers it though.

He knows how deeply I read things, he fills his excuses with veiled hope and shrouded regret.

I don't know whether its intentional or not. He's smarter than I am. Not by much though.

I don't dare focus on the fact that maybe he is regretful and wants me to continue to hope for us. I don't want to be stupid. I've been stupid enough.

I know I am the one who chose to walk away.
I didn't cause the pain though and I didn't cause the fear that brought it.
I tried to fight it. I didn't win.
The fear was bigger than my hope.

At least I actually did something instead of sitting around whining about how scared I was that I would lose him and every dream I had. I fought to keep it. I just lost.

I asked him to stop writing me last night, I know I can't go on like this.

Its torture. Part of me wishes I didn't. I am still watching the mailbox, but the longer it goes empty the more distance there will be.

I've always hated the distance between us. It is the root of our problems. Now I am grateful because the distance might be the only way I can pretend it all didn't happen.

I tried to save him, I tried to save us....all that's left to save is me.

I'm not as good at this as I thought I was.

I find it is a lot easier to fall in love than it is to fall out of it. It is a lot easier to believe in fairytales than to face truth. It is a lot easier to deal with dreams than to overcome the effects of a nightmare.

My steel spine feels as soft as jello. My heart isn't hard, it is broken.

Words are all I can relate to, all I understand. I'm manipulated, controlled and consoled by 26 letters in the alphabet.

There ought to be more.

I read this today.

Have you even been in love? Horrible, isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens your heart and it means someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses. You build up this whole armor, for years, so nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life... You give them a piece of you. They don't ask for it. They do something dumb one day like kiss you, or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore.

Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like "maybe we should
just be friends" or "how very perceptive" turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a body-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The Kindly Ones by Neil Gaiman

I also read his responses to my scathing e-mails. I stayed strong. It wasn't easy. It should be getting easier. I should be able to delete his emails, or at least not read them. I'd be happy if I could just ignore them and not respond. You know I did. He knows I will too. He knows me so well. I don't know what the purpose is.

There was the usual yadda yadda about my wonderfulness and how I deserve better and how he is so sorry he lost me. Yeah, it was a choice and I can't be that wonderful, because I wasn't the choice he made. He actually got his divorced finalized this past week and a half. Yippee! What does it even matter? As long as I don't matter enough to be part of his life why does he keep writing me?

He also pointed out that his profile was always set to just *dating* and not LTR. Fine maybe I am remembering it wrong. Its hard to keep track of words on screen and words in my ear. I know that we talked about forever and that is definitely a LTR, so it doesn't change the fact that he misrepresented his intentions to me, doesn't matter exactly how.

Do you suppose I am his ego feed? Maybe he is just trying to make his guilt go away by trying to make me feel better. It doesn't work. I only feel worse because I am too smart to believe his words over his actions. It makes me feel worse because I want my heart to be right just once, instead of my head. Maybe he just wants to make me think he didn't mislead me, or that if he did it was unintentional. I still have all his letters though and if I understand anything in life it is the power of those 26 letters in the alphabet.

I hurt all over. I don't want to eat but I am going to binge anyway. Today is for cookies and cake and not for makeup or hair brushing.

More than anything I wish the only man who ever really loved me could hold me once more.

I would crawl up on his lap and bury my face in his chest and cry until I had no tears left.

Somehow he'd make everything all right again.

I miss my Grandpa.

A woman wears her tears like jewelry. ~Author Unknown

I took his necklace off my neck today. I thought I was choking. I took off the ankle bracelet too, afraid that I might lose my balance once again.

I don't know what to do with them really. So I put them in their boxes and put the boxes on a shelf I never go to. To give them back I would have to see him. I already know how easily he can convince me with those lighter than blue eyes. Too odd not to stare into and once there I would fall. I can't give them away to anyone I care about. It is like a jinx on them. I can't throw them away because they have a power all their own. Maybe I will pull them out now and again and look at them. Remind myself how hearts can burn and still not feel a thing.

The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones that look the most real, the most brilliant. ~Salvador Dalí

Right now I wonder if love really exists. I haven't dated anyone since he broke my heart and probably won't for a while. I'm also not leading anyone on. I don't do that. I give everyone my blog address so they can know the truth.

The countless gold of a merry heart, The rubies and pearls of a loving eye,
The indolent never can bring to the mart, Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury.
~William Blake

I recall how he waxed poetically about how wonderful I am and how I need and deserve so much more than he can give me. Like I didn't know that already. I'm pissed because he misrepresented himself to be that man who would at least try to give me what I need and deserve (not to mention all the love and caring I wanted to give right back) and to be looking for the same things.

He called my love a treasure. Yeah right.

What man would pass up a treasure?

I was a time filler.

That in-between woman who fixes a man's heart so he can love someone else. He never loves the in-between woman because she is the one who saw him when he was weak.

Clasp my love around your neck,Wear my heart on your finger.
My soul will be your pendant: I live to adorn you -
You're the precious one. ~Grey Livingston, "Genuine Adoration"

One thing I did learn, if you pick up the pieces you don't get to keep the whole.

I would rather be adorned by beauty of character
than jewels. Jewels are the gift of fortune,
while character comes from within. ~Titus Maccius Plautus

He talks about how he let me slip through his fingers and not how he shut the door in my face.

He takes no responsibility whatsoever for his own actions or rather lack thereof.

He never admits to deceiving me or playing with my heart. He just makes a veiled reference to the baggage on his ship which I assume means his fear.

Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away;
Give pearls away and rubies, But keep your fancy free.~A.E. Housman

I'd rather have roses on my table than diamonds
on my neck. ~Emma Goldman

In choosing fear over me, he lost a lot more than a couple of pieces of jewelry.

The most precious jewels are not made of stone, but of flesh. ~Robert Ludlum

Amor animi arbitrio sumitur, non ponitur

We choose to love, we do not choose to stop loving.--latin proverb

I stole that quote from a friend of mine (and right now I only have just friends) on the dating site Plenty of Fish (which despite my poor judgment is still a great free dating site).

It really is the perfect quote for him, he is a tough on the outside and soft in the middle type of guy. A perfect quote for that type of site.

I was played. I know this now.

I don't know why he emailed me letters telling me how much he loved me after I called it quits. (that is why I gave him the 2 week window to come to his senses) Some pathetic need to hang onto all the hearts he takes a grab at I guess. I felt so guilty about breaking his poor little heart. I felt bad about giving up so soon and the tough choices I had to make.

I felt like a failure because I couldn't break through his *wall of fear*. That wall is nothing but a prop. That way he can get a woman's full attention without ever having to commit to her or give up any real thing from himself.

He's going to be lonely here in a few years when his children finally grow up.

I felt sorry about that too.

Now I just feel kind of stupid.

I'm going to get over this.....My heart might be made of glass, but my spine is made of steel.

Violence in the neighborhood

I have one of thoooooooose families.

I like to say we put the *fun* in dysfunctional.

My personal lineage goes back to Charlemagne on one side and the family of Will Rogers on the other.

I am basically the result of generations of blue blood gone slumming.

I have all the benefits of an indirect yet fully integrated (well except we don't have oriental or jewish people represented yet) family now. I love the various cultures that I get the opportunity to participate in. At this point the vast majority represents white trash, middle class white and black, reservation and non reservation Native Americans (there is a difference when you try to live completely *white* but aren't...I'm one of those). We also have a smattering of Puerto Ricans, Mexicans and 2nd & 3rd generation Poles. I have learned to not just accept, but to embrace all the various cultures. These people have brought out the best in me. I know what truly matters because of the family I relate too.

Its hard to believe that just a few generations ago my great Grandfather, who was a leader in the KKK disowned his own daughter for marrying a Cherokee (the beloved Grandpa I talk about so often). I hope Great Grandpa Cole turns in his grave. He was an evil man.

I also have the unfortunate propensity of some of my supposedly *higher class* relatives to snobbery in its various forms.

Kind of ironic now that I am the one in the ghetto again.

Blood will tell. I need to work on my attitude.

Me at 17.

My neighborhood is basically not white. I look white. I am 3/4 white, I guess I should look it. When I was young girl and lived in this area though, I didn't look so white. My skin has grown paler with age. The shape of my face has changed somewhat due to maturity and dental work. I don't blend in anymore (I was often mistaken for Mexican descent as a teen). My friends as a teen were mostly not white.

I thought I could move back here and not have any problems. I was wrong. It makes me sad that anyone would judge, by my pale look, that I would bigotted and discriminatory. It bothers me that I struggled so hard to better myself and now my improved speech and carriage makes people I want to be friends with actually wary of me.

But what really pisses me off is that last night, at nearly 10 pm, 4 well-dressed boys who happened to be black came to my door and asked to see my son. I let Walter go to the door so he could talk just a minute with these boys who he thought wanted to be his friend and learn about skateboarding (Walter did not actually know them). One of the boys sucker punched him for no reason other than he was a "white boy in the wrong neighborhood".

I probably should have called the police, instead I just told the little brats off. Promised the next time they came to my door I would call the police. I probably should have dumped a pail of water on him so he would have to explain that to his parents....but I didn't. I've got to move. Walter can not blend in with his white white skin and his hazel eyes. Walter is the target I've always said didn't exist.

For years I've said everytime I had to be tough and strong, and everytime I defended the rights of minorities (of which many of my family are). *You can take the girl out of the ghetto, but you can't take the ghetto out of the girl*.



I don't fit in anymore.

Quid pro quo

To be honest, I don't know whether we've broken up or not. We have serious issues though. No contact for 3 days and the previous 2 days were not so hot.

He's been swearing he loves me from day one. He still is. I love him, at least I love what he lets me love. I don't believe he loves me. I think he is fooling himself. He wants to love someone but he is afraid to let anyone actually into his life. He pretends pretty well.

See I don't think a person is capable of loving someone they don't trust.

I don't want to be a secret. Yet while he is a part of my life....I am not a part of his.

It feels untruthful. I'm not willing to be a part of anyone's lie, even if the one they are lieing to is themself.

I explained my current situation and my feelings about these matters to him in much greater detail.

His answer was that he was afraid that he or his children might be hurt by actions I've given no indication I would do, someone else did those things to him.

In a nutshell, he wants to be in my life, be friends with Walter and for me to keep out of his life.

It doesn't work that way with me. One person can not do all the sharing. It is unbalanced.

There is no room for fear in a relationship. You can not love a person you are afraid of.

I told him off pretty good in my last 2 emails to him. I told him to take a couple of weeks to figure out what he wanted his life to be and who he wanted in it. If he doesn't call by then I will know I am not it.

I will move on. Immediately as always. Life is too short to be lonely. I will say *Next*. I just need a definitive answer from him, either by his words and actions inviting me to into his life, for real this time, or by the lack of them. I'm prepared to go in either direction.

Its ironic, that the very thing he was afraid I would do to him, cause pain to him and his children, is the very thing he has done to Walter and me.

I think the thing that makes me angry (and I do have some anger) is that I questioned him extensively (BEFORE I ever got serious with him) about his last relationship and whether or not he was really over it. Its been over a year, according to him, since its been over. She's moved on and he indicated he was more than ready to do the same. I've been as honest with him about what I want out of life as I am in this blog, he said he wanted the same. He's lieing to someone....it doesn't matter whether its him or me.

I want to believe that he loved me, at least in the beginning. It sucks to think I've been fooled. there was never any need to lie to me. I would have kept my feelings in check then, but I still would have dated him. He's a perfectly wonderful man except for all this BS. I have no idea what happened to change things. It wasn't me. I haven't played any jealousy games nor have I hidden anything from him. I don't understand the reason he doesn't want to let this relationship go where it would have already gone naturally had we lived closer together.

Things are worth working out if he comes to his senses. If he doesn't, I can't be sorry about our time together but I will never speak with him again. I will miss him. I could never settle for friendship. It would never be enough.

I think he's being foolish if his words were not all lies. If he spoke the truth even half the time he's going to find out that most women are not like me, and the ones who are have been taken a long time ago. Especially in this area. I don't know about my chances either.

That's the whole part of this thing that makes me so sad. I will love again, but not so fearlessly. At least I've finished crying.

Fear is not an option.

From the movie *The Princess Diaries*

In a letter to his daughter, Mia, the deceased Eduard Christoff Philippe GErard Renaldi, Prince of Genovia wrote:

Courage is not the absence of fear but rather the judgment that something is
more important than fear. The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not
live at all.

I like movies like that, my inner child comes out (She is still 11 and waiting for Grandpa's next visit) and her heart and mind are open to all the good lessons that these modern day fables can teach. She isn't cynical and still believes in happily ever after. She hasn't lived that much of my life yet.

My Grandpa used to tell me that when I was really afraid that I only had three options. The first was to stand still and let it overtake me. Surrender. Let fear win and I would lose. The second was to run from it. Ignore it, but he said it wouldn't go away, it would always be right there behind me and I would always feel it breathing down my neck. The fear would hunt me down until it completely took over my life. The final choice was to fight it. Face it nose to nose and stand a chance at beating it. He told me that when I get knocked down I can lay there or I can get up and walk again.

Grandpa wasn't much for sissies or cowards. I'm not much for them either.

I understand fear though. I have two phobias I have yet to overcome from a childhood incident (which is why my Grandpa actually had this talk with me when I refused to get into a rowboat because I am afraid of drowning...I got in by the way, with a life jacket). I'm not as afraid as I once was of drowning and/or being lost, but I still have a way to go.

My fears are valid fears, based on this incident where I was lost and did nearly drown. I was only 4 years old and unable to save myself. My fears are NOT unfounded.

Right now I can swim in pools, not well, but as long as I know I can save myself I am ok. I will go up to my neck in larger bodies of water but my heart is pounding. I love boating now, and I don't have to have a life jacket on, just nearby.

As a young child, I was afraid to walk down the street. I go new places often now. Its never easy and seldom very far just yet, though I have driven across State. One day I will go farther. I fill my car with things that make people laugh, a whole bottle of brake fluid for instance, also transmission fluid, antifreeze, and oil, food, water, a telephone, map and a compass. Usually there are blankets and a change of clothing. If I could afford GPS I would have that too. This is even for the city where I live. Still I will drive if I have a valid reason to go somewhere, I just have to be able to survive being lost.

Trying to swim and trying not to get lost are both still capable of knocking me on my ass with a panic attack which often goes into an asthma attack. I deal with the attacks. I fight my fear.

I don't let fear beat me. One day I will knock fear completely on its Ass too....I will swim in deep water and I will travel at least across the country to see the Grand Canyon or something by myself.

I tell you all this because it is an explanation as to why I am not reading you right now and spending so much time writing (though the posts are yet to come). I am trying to get strong by purging all that which weakens me. I am fighting fear right now....and I am not winning. I probably won't. The fear *has come upon me*, to quote Job.

I've been crying a lot. My eyes are like dimpled tomatoes right now. All swollen and red. I can't sleep and eating is feast or famine. My thoughts are fast and furious and scrambling up my head.

I had to make a really tough choice. I am not going to go all melodramatic here and say that I will never get over it. I will. I won't say it was the hardest thing I've ever done. It wasn't. I won't swear that I can never love another. Love is what I do. I will say that I have never felt so sad though. I have this feeling of loss and helplessness. I feel pity and sympathy for someone that I cannot reach out to because a wall of fear separates us.

I'm not a crying person. You have never even seen me write that I have cried anything but tears of joy when Celia was safe from the hurricane. It surprises me to cry like this. It surprises me that I am willing to admit it. I just have no other reaction in me.

I prefer anger. Anger makes me stronger. If I am mad enough I will fight, I will fight dirty. I'm a scrapper from way back. I'm the kid that hollered at God himself when life wasn't the way it should be.

But I can't fight this. His fear is stronger than I am. I am beaten by it.

I'm crying because I am whipped by fear and it isn't even my own.

four letter words.

HOPE is a dangerous occupation. Right now I am paying the price for my resolution to HOPE. I don't even know how high the cost will be. I do know that whatever I've spent, the value of HOPE will exceed the cost. HOPE is a bargain at any price.

This week has been awful, some of it I've already written and some of it will have to wait until I heal a bit. Somewhere in the midst of my misery, HOPE called up Faith and the two of them are holding me up pretty well right now. I guess Faith is my surprise bonus gift when I concentrate on HOPE. I'm still going grayer by the minute. I don't want to eat (but I do) and sleep is a battle every night, in and out of it. But I have some kind of supernatural help. Angels all around me.

I know that whatever happens in the numerous milestones I am crossing right now, that it is going to be for the best. I've left it in God's hands. Good Hands. Better than mine, at least I'm hoping.

It even feels kind of like when I had the surgery on my hands. My thumbs were completely useless before it happened. I was in constant severe pain. Everything I tried to do was an exercise in faith because I was as likely to drop something as to keep holding on. I knew what I needed but I was afraid to do it. I did it anyway. I had HOPE for a miracle, even though one wasn't promised.

FEAR (another four letter word) is the truest opposite of HOPE. Fear takes away joy. HOPE brings it. Fear prevents us from planning. HOPE demands it. Fear smothers us and holds us down. HOPE sets us free.

After I had the surgery my thumbs were completely useless. I was in constant severe pain. Everyting I tried to do was an exercise in faith because I was as likely to drop something as to keep holding on.

Not much difference at first.

I wondered why I had the stupid surgery for a couple of months. It wasn't cheap. I had to put my life on hold for 12 weeks all told (and it probably should have been longer). Then slowly the pain eased. I was able to regain maybe 80-90% of the use of my thumbs again. The pain went away. I still drop things once in a while, but for the most part I can hang on. These hands of mine still work, sometimes differently, but they can get what I need done.

Yeah, I had therapy then, and I may need another type of therapy for my present *surgeries* eventually but at least I can hang on.

I'm not afraid of cutting into myself and repairing the damage anymore. A healed injury is better than a gaping wound. Scars fade and we relearn what we can not repeat.

Body and spirit are not that different.

Just being

Its a beautiful day in the 'hood. Only heard two shots last night! ROFLMAO I should be more concerned but truth be told they are just shooting at each other.

I slept easy anyway.

It's like that old series Highlander....in the end there can be only one. Then hopefully the local police force will be able to stop that one.

I was playing a bit in one of my photo programs and found a cute picture of Walter when he was about 6 and manipulated it into something more indicative of what was to come...




By that angelic face you can see why I didn't see this whole adolescent thing coming..... I shouldn't have let him eat his sister's cookies.... What the Hell does she put in those?

At any rate its a sunnier day and I think I've solved my hives problem...it looks as if I've been spider bitten in a few places. At any rate the hives are clearing up...hopefully it won't take as long as the scratch on my nose (still visible after a month) that the cats gave me.

Have a wonderful day everyone. I will be by tonight after work.