And The World Began Turning Again

Image found on etsy.

In a filled restaurant. The hub in a small town, on a Friday night. I looked across the restaurant, and saw him sitting with a group of people. A sudden intake of breath. My stomach fell to the floor, when his head turned in my direction.

Glancing at each other. Offering ourselves a moment of eye contact. In that moment, it was back again. In that fraction of a second, everything completely stopped. Which was fitting, as the memories had begun to flood back, washing over our eyes as the waves wash over a shore.

What an oddity it was to have one’s heart outside of one’s body. Standing there, across a room, facing each other.

Years had come and gone, others had come and gone. And still, it remained.

It was best said by Freud, who professed that “our beds are crowded.” Our beds filled with the ever-present ghosts of our past.

And the glance ended as abruptly as it had come. In a blink. Both of us looking away in denial. Both of us bringing our attention back to those at our tables. And the world began turning again.

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Written: September 20, 2015.

Adieu

Life has a way of often showing us that our plans and dreams are actually implausible, leaving us feeling as wide-eyed, child-like idealists. Things don’t often go according to our plans. Possibly, there is Man in the heavens rearranging our fates and our stars’ alignment with one swift movement of His hand; as a chess player moves chess pieces across the board. Perhaps we are simply not privied to the masterful, big picture; only seeing from eye-level, not able to witness the aerial view.

It’s a memory that I stumble across from time to time: We stood there, bickering, once…as we so often did. Sometimes for the sheer pleasure of getting under the other’s skin. Someone, hearing us, asked “Were you together in a past life?” You shrugged sheepishly. I laughed. “Surely not.” How strange the concept was at that time. Now I often wonder: Was there always something familiar about you? The way your eyes lit up and crinkled when you smiled? Your deep, belly laughter? Or was it possibly something underlying, not nearly as evident, which drew me to you? Within me, you saw more than a mousy, shy girl. You knew my heart, my strength and my boldness before I had even become aware of it.

If I had it to do over again, I would choose you. As I’ve done time and time again. Having known you has enriched my life, altered me immeasurably, and bettered my soul.  Ten years of infuriating madness. Ten years of uncontrollable laughter. Ten years of unconditional, unstoppable love. There is not, nor would there ever be, a question of my choice. Undeniably, it would always be you. Again and again.

As this year has been filled with exasperating monotony, where it felt as if each day lingered on as its predecessor had. Looking back, it has been filled with significant changes. Our paths began veering from one another. The sand in our hourglass dwindled down, as time began to run out.

How does one begin to say goodbye? How does one back away? How do two people stop talking when they have become crucial fixtures in each other’s life? How does one cease to love someone painlessly?

I choose to not dwell in the pain or void of this life, but the hopefulness of the future. In another life, in another time, we will meet again. Perhaps then, the debt will have been paid; the Man in the heavens content; our stars will align; and our paths will again intertwine.

Until the next time.

I bid you adieu, Sweetheart.

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Dated: December 30, 2015.

Parallel

Image found on flickr

Unceasingly Parallel.

Never perpendicular.

Lives never meeting.

Always almost.

The gap unconquerable.

Unceasing.

To go across would be like swimming against the current.

Alas, we’re set to always trod the same direction,

but down separate roads;

You and I.

Kipling once said:

"Oh, the East is the East,

And West is West,

And never the twain shall meet."

Is it really that far?

If I look closely, I can still see you.

Mischievous grin,

glistening eyes;

you see me too.

Heartbreaking.

Breathtaking.

I smile across the way,

you give a slight wave.

I guess this is how we will always be.

Always almost.

Lives never meeting.

Never perpendicular.

Unceasingly Parallel.

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Dated: July 14, 2014.

T-Shirt

photo credit: ajaedmond.com

This piece was written August 16, 2014.  Hope you'll enjoy!

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I smile at the very thought of it.  Like sunlight beaming in the kitchen window, making even the dust seem magical; or the smell of Dixies baking in the oven; or the feel of the water splash up on your legs as you walk along the beach.  The memories are warm, and affect the senses.

It was a simple shirt.  It made me smile.

I hadn’t thought that much about it.  It was a gift.  It has just been a t-shirt that reminded me of you.

Later, you told me it was your favorite.  And I smiled.

Even after you had worn it for a few years, you still loved it.  Holes had covered it by then, and she often asked you why you still wore it and why you wouldn’t throw it away.  You told her the same, that it was your favorite.

But then, after telling me that, you looked at me and smiled.  You leaned in and whispered, “It has holes all in it, but I still love it.  Because every time I wear it, I think of you.”

That memory fills me with sunshine on my dreariest day.  It brings warmth to my skin...warmth to my soul.  It was a stupid shirt, but it meant the world to you; and ultimately, it has meant the world to me.  

Nostalgia

Do you ever genuinely MISS characters from novels?  TV shows?  Movies?

That's where I've found myself this past weekend.  I have found myself desperately missing Tatiana and Alexander...fictional characters in Paullina Simons The Bronze Horseman series (An awesome series based around a couple in Leningrad, Russia during WWII).  The problem?  I do not know if I'm emotionally prepared to read that book again.  No lie, I read the first book in a matter of days...but in those few days I felt as I'd lived a whole life.  Their journey took me through so many emotions.  I just am not quite sure I am prepared to go through all that right now.

But...you know how a song can take you back to a certain time or a certain place in your life?

Reading has always been an escape for me, so sometimes books do that for me.

The year that I read that series...it was the dead of winter...  Which in Florida, translates to "cold and wet."  I remember being all bundled up under blankets, reading late into the night.  During that time, I was also coping with a broken heart, and having just been separated from someone that I cared about very deeply.

While I have been toying with the idea of re-reading that series, particularly the first book, my mind has wandered to that period of time in my life.  While it was a tough time, I wrote some of my very favorite pieces during that time.  So, I thought that I would share some of those with you this week.  I hope you will enjoy.

A quote from The Bronze Horseman. 

Push

I had considered writing this piece as more of a narrative, but then realized that I would not be doing justice to myself, my writing, or my story.

I was sexually assaulted at 23.  And if I'm honest, that wasn't the first time that happened to me.  The first time, I was well under 18.

And don’t you dare feel pity for me, because that is not the purpose of this blog. Do you see the number listed above? 1 in 6. One out of every six women will experience sexual violence in their lifetime. I am not alone in my struggle, I am one among millions.

This year sexual assault has been at the forefront in many political debates. I am not here to discuss politics. I loathe politics.  I feel certain that you can make your own judgment call on that one. I will only say that I feel like its prevalence in discussion by the media has only made it more difficult for victims. It has only vilified us.

What I AM going to talk about today is how this has played a part in my life. I see its effects on my life still to this day.

Neither time did I report it. Not reporting either instance is something that I am going to have to live with and a burden that I will bear. I have forgiven both men, and there is nothing I can do but move forward.

After the first incident, I was terrified to be alone. Only in my adult life did I see how the two correlated.

As a teen, I would listen to our youth pastors talk about purity before marriage, and I was left feeling like I was somehow dirty or impure.  Not by my own doing, but by what happened to me. 

When I was 23, I was out partying in celebration of the 4th of July. I had too much to drink, which is something I will always regret. I was with friends, I wasn’t driving, so I thought it was okay. I was giddy. We were having a blast. There were about six of us that left the bar together, and went driving around. We wound up at a place with a hot tub. One of the guys with us honed in on me, grabbed me from behind, and sat me down on his naked lap. He was determined that we were going to have sex that night. I laughed it off at first, I truly thought he was kidding, or just putting on a show. I tried to get out of his grip. He kept pulling me onto him. After a few minutes of this, the others got out of the hot tub as it was getting uncomfortable. I kept trying to get out of his grip, he kept pulling me back. He had me from behind so I was at a bit of a disadvantage. He was probably around 6’5” and 250 lbs. What makes me angry to this day was the fact that there were two other men with us, who sat back and did nothing. Would you like to know who came to my rescue? My teeny, tiny, petite best friend.

Afterwards, I made light of it. Said it wasn’t that big of a deal. Because that is what I do when I don’t know how to handle my emotions. But I vividly remember getting back to our hotel that night and scrubbing my skin raw trying to clean him off of me. He left me with hickies on my neck. What he took from me was my sense of security.

I am now extremely cautious of who I drink with. I will never get to the point where I am not in control ever again.

I am now extremely cautious of men who push me or try to manipulate me. I am overly sensitive to men who do not take my “no” as a definitive answer.

I set boundaries, as it gives me a sense of control. 

I see sex as separate from intimacy, which is something that I'm working on.

I am cautious about the people I allow to touch me. Even a simple hug. I’m getting better...but it has taken a lot of time.

If someone gives me weird vibes, I get out of that situation quickly.  I've learned to trust my instincts.

There are many things that still plague me to this day.

This year, due to the many news stories, I have heard and read comments (from people in OUR area) like: "Well, if kids were brought up in church these days, they wouldn't get themselves into those situations."  "Well, if she hadn't have dressed a certain way."  Comments like this irritate the hell out of me, because in true instances of sexual assault, when a victim reads/hears this it makes us feel as if WE are in the wrong.  Here are some facts.  I was brought up in church.  The night that I spoke of, I was wearing jean capris and a short sleeved shirt.  And no matter how many times I said "NO!" or tried to get away, he was not hearing it.  As someone who walked through this, hear my words:  I. Am. Not. To. Blame. For. His. Actions.

I guess the real point to this blog post is to get my story out there. I need you to realize that a sexual assault victim is not just someone that you see in a National news story. There are women and girls right here that have been affected by this.  Be careful with your words.

And if you are a victim of sexual assault, my message to you is this:  You are not alone.  It was not your fault.  If ever you need to reach out to someone, I am here.

**All statistic photos were found on the RAINN.Org website. 

Wordless Wednesday