Rise

Today was such a therapy session while driving for Lyft. I mean, it’s just amazing to me the people I have met. They really touched me, specifically Khristina and Elizabeth.

Khristina is a professional wrester from Japan by way of New Jersey. After a three year relationship, she was happily engaged when it all fell apart, and so to mend her broken heart, her high school bestie invited her to come visit him in Japan, and so she did, renting a bike and a tent and cycling from North Japan to South Japan. “Little old women would give me bread and fruits, I would sleep under bridges and on the side of the road, crying the whole while. It was crazy and therapeutic, and by day 20, I was happy I was there.”

Three months turned into six years, and she stayed by finding work as an English teacher, and somehow, someway transitioned into wrestling. She found Japanese people “difficult to connect with” yet still tried dating, having two relationships that didn’t work but still proved to be a learning experience.

A casual invitation to a party lead her to her now finance, a beautiful Norwegian woman with whom she has found her forever home and heart.

Christian said that every relationship has proven to teach her something, although in the beginning of the break up it’s hard to see that. Pondering this, I realize something: it’s going to the movies. If you happen to sit in the front row, you can’t see the screen too well. I mean, you get the gist of what’s happening, but you don’t get the perspective you would from stepping back.

I wanted to know about her relationship and how long it took her to heal so that I could have a comparison for my own relationship fail. Khristina said that she can tell I deserve someone who will make concessions for me and not compartmentalize everything. “Not meeting your children after three years is absolutely ridiculous,” and I agree but I also know that I kind of ALLOWED it to happen because I said we could keep things separate. I told him that we could keep us just us and the kids just the kids, the two didn’t need to meet. Same with travel. I told him he could travel and do his thing and like a good, docile little woman, I didn’t say anything, I held my tongue, afraid to rock the boat because I knew it would piss him off. What I didn’t think about was WHY it would piss him off. It would piss him off because he KNOWS he should be taking me, or at least asking me! But no. He wouldn’t. He didn’t. Again, my bad for letting his treat me this way. We’ve all heard that saying right, ‘people will treat you the way that you let them.’

And it was this sentiment that was echoed by Elizabeth, a very pretty 28-year-old Jennifer Garner look alike but with blue eyes. Married for three years she and I initially talked about kids and siblings, how her brother, “would torture her by having her Barbies walk perilously along a cliff and then fall to their deaths.” She asked if my boys would do things like that, and I said no, they really get along, nothing physical, more love than dislike. She asked if I wanted a girl and I said of course I would love to, but being that I don’t have a man and am 45-years-old, I don’t think it’s happening.

“Oh, you don’t know that. This is the time when your body is like, hey girl, I could be dropping more than one egg because the end is near and that’s when you have twins!” I laughed. She goes on, “And they’ll be twin boys by the way, just so you know.” I laugh harder, “So then I can’t even name them Elizabeth!” Now we both laugh.

She checks her phone, “God I hope my husband made dinner, but I”m sure he didn’t. I just talked to him, and he annoyed me. But I love him, I’ll tell you,you can have the relationship that you think you can’t have, it can happen and will happen when you least expect it. My last boyfriend was a sociopath and this guy I’m married to now, I’m so happy I met him because he allows me to be the best version of my self in work and outside of work, just me, because I know that I have his support and love and encouragement at home.”

At this point, we had driven from Venice to West Los Angeles, and were sitting in my car in front of her house, engine off, talking like girlfriends about our relationships. It blows my mind and immediately set me to tears as I drove home that there are people out there who are so damn kind, people who don’t even know me, complete strangers that believe in me, and are rooting for me. And then I think about all the events that lead to THIS particular person being in my car, like all the events that transpired for Lyft to designate THIS person to be in my car, and for me to get my heartbroken ass out of bed where I was binge watching The Handmaid’s Tale to start driving, even though I really didn’t want to.

Right now it seems so impossible to meet anyone who will meet the qualities about Christopher that I loved, let alone surpass him. To meet a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to love or be loved in return. I can’t imagine anyone replacing him, so high is the pedestal I’ve placed him on, despite it not being reciprocated. I don’t know what I’m holding on to. I guess I am just sentimental and loyal. I believe in romance. But I have to remember who I am, a mother, a lover, a friend, a sister, a daughter, and auntie. I just really need and want to be appreciated and valued in the way that I appreciate and value my partner. I give everything. Chris didn’t. And he knew that and said “it’s hard to be with someone who is giving you their all and you don’t give it back.” And why you ask didn’t he give it back? He just couldn’t. He wasn’t capable. I like to think he’s like a man in a wheelchair whose legs are weak. He could find a way to stand up and see me eye to eye, meet me halfway, but instead he stays in the chair, unable, unwilling to rise.

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do you ever?

Every morning, as soon as I rise
My thoughts they turn to you
I look at the time
and wonder what you’re doing
If you’re awake and thinking of me too
Laying in your bed
Our feet intertwined
Your arm around my waist
That bed and y face upon your hairy chest
Always my favorite place

Now I put a pillow between my legs
Imagine that it is you
Close my eyes
Inhale your sweater
Scent redolent of you

Do you ever get so lonely
That you think about you and I?
Do you want to call me and ask me over
For us to spend some time?

Each hour that passes I think of you
It feels like every minute
I have thoughts of you and memories
I’m not free of you
Captive, unlimited

Even when I go to sleep
My dreams they are of you
I just can’t seem to escape you darling
You’re infused in me
Stuck like glue

Do you ever get so lonely
That you think about you and I?
Do you want to call me and ask me over
For us to spend some time?

I know they say men are different
You are hardwired a certain way
But that doesn’t really matter does it?
Not when your heart has gone astray
Once you’e made a decision darling
Once you’ve made a choice
There’s nothing anyone can do to sway you
You’ll always stay the course
Whatever conclusions there are to be drawn
Like a painter with a plentiful palette
It is you who holds the brush upon the canvas
Your mind steadfast like a magnet

Do you ever get so lonely
That you think about you and I?
Do you want to call me and ask me over
For us to spend some time?

I want to continue to be your Muse
The one who inspires you
I want to be the chosen one
Always within your purview
I hope you’ll eventually see the light
And the masterpiece that you will make
Will be that of you and I
Together
Equal parts give and take.

trash

I feel like you just threw me away
Trash
Unwanted
Unseemly
Yet days before I was welcome at your door
You said you’d missed me
Wanted to see me more

How do you let go of two and a half years
Just one day decide to not call?
With no word of explanation
No verbal proclamations
Just an argument
Accusations
And then you’re gone.

I feel like you just threw me away
Tossed me aside like a bruised old banana
But don’t you know
That the brown is just for show?
It still tastes good
Still tastes fresh
Makes for a great pie.

I feel like you just threw me away
So much for the ‘I appreciate you” compliment
More like I was just passing time
Waiting for someone better
More delectable
Sublime

But don’t you know that there’s no one better
That I am my unique person, I am me?
I am the one who would cook for you, clean
Take such joy in feeding your fat cheeks

And when I say fat
I don’t meant that you’re chubby
Well yes, you could lose a few pounds
But I loved you as though you were perfect
A David
My love unconditional
Without bounds

I feel like you just threw me away
Like a piece of gum gotten stuck to your shoe
You were quick to eradicate all evidence of me
the detritus of me sticky like glue
But your house is a visual memory of me
I fill every single room
So even though my physical body isn’t there
I am a presence
An energy
in every room
Pictures and paintings
my lipgloss
A pen
A hair clip
My razor
My toothbrush
My side of the bed
The mattress that’s curved
to the shape of me
Tendrils of my hair
All over
Everywhere
You may have pulled away from me
You may have thrown me away
But I will always be a part of you
Me, your muse, Desiree.

Go Climb a Rock

I recently went rock climbing for the first time and I realized something: rock climbing is like a metaphor for life.

You have to think ahead, try to find the most secure path to get to the top. You may stumble. You may slip. You may cling for dear life. You can fall. But, unlike real life, you don’t have a safety harness.

Life doesn’t give you safety harnesses.

And in life, as with rock climbing, despite how much you look ahead, you find that you still sometimes have to look back, because where you’ve been can also dictate where you go. And for all the planning ahead, that looking ahead, which rung you choose to pull yourself up can be the one that gets you where you want to go or could set you on a more difficult path. Doesn’t mean you won’t get to the top, but it could be more challenging.

And it may not work the first time, or the second, or third, but there comes a point when you really want to fucking get there. My get there moment was my third attempt to climb up when I knew my two children were gazing up at me, expectant looks upon their face. I had already scaled the wall successfully and my arms were shaking, no doubt from successfully climbing the wall earlier and my gym workout hours before. My arms were shaking like the leaves on a tree in a gentle breeze. The sun was peeking out from behind billowy white cotton ball clouds, the scent of rain lingered in the air. I pushed onward and upward, determined to succeed; for my children, for myself. And a little bit for all the Moms down below, who were encouraging me with wide smiles and hand claps.

It’s a wondrous feeling when you make it to the top, when you reach your goal. When rock climbing, you literally see things from a different perspective. I didn’t realize just how high up was the wall. And maybe it’s better that I didn’t, because if I knew how far I had to go, would I have been so inclined to try? One of the Moms went up there and, once she made it to the top, she looked down and suddenly realized, “Oh my God. I’m afraid of heights!” She didn’t know until that moment. Until she was IN the moment. Had she known before the climb the height of the wall, I doubt she would have made the attempt.

But having made it up to the top, you see things differently, and that, in turn, makes you feel differently. I was proud, excited, happy. Happy my children saw me struggle and shake, but I persevered made it, even after having fallen the first attempt, barely making it halfway. That’s what actually made the success rate sweeter, the very fact that I failed.

I think that’s just how life works. You have bad times that make you appreciate the good. Sadness makes you appreciate gladness. Loneliness makes you appreciate a friend. Rain makes you appreciate sunshine. And then of course the beautiful rainbows that come forth when the two combine: breathtaking.

Kind of like scaling a wall.

Muse

I feel like you just threw me away

Trash

Unwanted

Unseemly

Yet days before I was welcome at your door

You said you’d missed me

Wanted to see me more

How do you let go of two and a half years

Just one day decide to not call

With no word of explanation

No verbal proclamations

Just an argument

Accusations

And then you’re gone

I feel like you just threw me away

Tossed me aside like a bruised old banana

But don’t you know

That the brown is just for show

It still tastes good

Still tastes fresh

Makes for a great pie

I feel like you just threw me away

So much for the I appreciate you compliment

More like I was just passing time

Waiting for someone better

More delectable

Sublime

But don’t you know that there’s no one better

That I am my unique person, I am me?

I am the one who would cook for you, clean

Take such joy in feeding your fat cheeks

And when I say fat

I don’t mean that you’re chubby

Well yes you could lose a few pounds

But I loved you as though you were perfect

Michaelangelo’s David

My love unconditional

Without bounds

I feel like you just threw me away

Like a piece of gum gotten stuck to your shoe you were quick to eradicate all evidence of me

The detritus of me sticky like glue

But your house is a visual memory of me.

I fill every single room

So even though my physical body isn’t there

I am a presence

An energy

in every room

Pictures and paintings

My lipgloss

A pen

A hair clip

My razor

My toothbrush

My side of the bed

The mattress that’s curved

To the shape of me

Tendrils of my hair

All over

Everywhere

You may have pulled away from me

You may have thrown me away

But I will always be a part of you

Me, your muse, Desiree.

The Girl Who Cried LOVE

love-wallpapers-7

We’ve all heard the story of the boy who cried wolf. Essentially he kept “pretending” to need help when he didn’t really need any help at all. So when the time came that he actually was in dire straights and needed help, no one believed him.

As I sat for lunch with Laura, my friend of 27 (!) years, she asked me, yet again, “So what’s going on?”

And I, yet again, launched into what had happened between my man and I. I almost felt like I was repeating myself, having shared similar frustrations and asked the same ‘why is this happening to me?’ questions I’ve asked and said to her so many times before.

“I feel stupid talking about this. AGAIN.” I play with my zucchini zoodle pasta dish, having entirely no appetite. “I mean, it’s been 2-1/2-years and we’ve broken up how many times? And I’ve been all tears and sadness, unable to function. It’s just ridiculous. At least this time I’m eating, but not so much from hunger but because my body needs it. And if I don’t, I’ll faint. Although I’ve always wanted to faint. I’ve always wondered what that would feel like. But I digress.”

Laura laughs at me. “It’s okay, you just believe in love. And that’s what I love about you, that despite the many set backs and failed relationships, you still LOVE. You believe in it. Wholeheartedly.”

“Yeah, but I just feel like the girl who cried wolf, you know? Because this scenario keeps happening.”

“No, you’re the girl who cried Love,” she said “but understand, this isn’t about you. You’ve done nothing wrong. This is him. It’s all him. He clearly has commitment issues and he keeps certain aspects of his life secret.”

I think about the time he went on a trip to Fiji and he sent me a photo of the place where he was staying. I noticed on the deck there were TWO suitcases. I zoomed in, looking at the suitcases. “Why are there two suitcases? We only packed you one,” I text him, my heart racing. Because what I really wanted to text him was, “Why are there two fucking suitcases????!!!! What the fuck?!”

Him: “I met my friend here, she gets a deal with the resort, and so I basically get to go for free.”

Me:

“Don’t worry, she’s married. She lives in Australia, so it’s super close for her.”

And like a FOOL, I just say, “Okay,” but inside I’m seething. And upset. I mean, how would he feel if I pulled that shit on him? ‘Oh, yeah, I didn’t tell you but I’m going to Fiji, a very romantic, beautiful place and I’m meeting my friend who is married, oh yes, happily married, and there’s nothing weird about me not telling you, the person I’m fucking, BEFORE the fact. In fact, nothing weird at all about the fact I’m only telling you because you saw there are two suitcases!”

IF I hadn’t discovered the two suitcases, would he have even told me at all? I mean seriously. What. The. FUCK.

And so begins the LIST. The list in my head that I begin to write down of all the things that gave me pause. All the little things that are, in retrospect, hindsight, whatever, RED flags that I painted green. For go. Because I ignored them and just kept going on seeing him, loving him, falling for him more and more.

One thing I realize is this: if a man gives you pause, for ANYTHING, be it a big thing small, or something in between, stop the relationship. End it right there.

Staying is only going to create more feelings, more intimacy, and at least in my case, more hurt.

When he told me about a certain indiscretion that had happened two months into our relationship (but he didn’t tell me about it until 8 months later), I should have walked. I should have bounced. Actually, I should have paid attention more when he shared with me his reservations about us, where we were going and what we were. But now I realize that that conversation was at the same time he was fucking someone else, so OF COURSE he was having reservations about he and I. He was too busy reserving a space on his DICK for some other bitch!!!!

But anyway. It is what it is. Or in my case, what it most decidedly is NOT.

I do have wonderful memories of us. But I keep thinking of them, and it makes me sad. If I hadn’t stayed with him, I would not have SO MANY memories and then would I maybe be less sad? I don’t know. I seriously wish I could just Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind myself and move on.

Ghosted

I need contact lenses or glasses to see. Without either of them, I couldn’t be in the world. Without them, I can’t see far away or even up close, even my boobs are blurry. I’ve torn one contact lens and been forced to wear just one for a few hours, but it’s hard to see that way, my equilibrium is thrown off and I find myself closing the lensless eye to better see, something I’ve also done when drunk and seeing double.

I liken my breakup with W to living my life wearing one contact lens. I can function, I can make do and get by, navigating through life just fine, but it’s not easy. I can’t see as well as I used to, I feel off kilter, as though I was walking along the beach and suddenly there was a dip in the sand that the waves prevented me from seeing. I’ve lost my balance.

W is, was?, my best friend. He was my person. I would share everything with him, any good news or bad, and all the things in between. He would be the first person I would think of when I woke, and the last person I think of before falling to sleep. I put him even before my own children, making so many concessions to make him happy (many he didn’t even know about), doing things for him because I loved him, his pleasure was my pleasure.

I’ve never been so solicitous and giving in a relationship, so submissive and patient. I wanted to be with him ALL THE TIME. Seriously, I would never want to leave his house, his bed, his arms. I loved being in the Nook. That was my favorite place ever. My head resting on his hairy chest, resplendent with black and gray hairs, I could hear his heart beat from there, and I would lay my head there, my right hand pulling gently upon his hairs, our legs and feet intertwined.

He had video of me like this, sleeping and snoring softly. He had video of me writhing in ecstasy from his ministrations. Video of me crying after he made me cum, disbelief, shock, wonder, gratitude. All the videos and pictures, they’re all gone, erased, just like our relationship. In the course of two weeks, I lost my man, broke my phone, and got in a car accident. I suppose it’s better in a way to not have access to all those pictures and videos, to not be able to scroll through 2-1/2-years of text messages. Because I’m sentimental and I reminisce, I look through images, videos, texts, and I think why? How? Why would you say that you appreciate me and now you’re gone? How can the man who says “I wanted you to know how much you mean to me and I value the positive impact you’ve had on my life and how much you’ve improved it,” just WALK away from me? How is it that 15 days have passed and he hasn’t called me? Hasn’t texted me? Nothing??????

“Well, I wouldn’t say nothing,” says my friend Laura, “based on his social media posts, it sounds like he is reaching out to you.”

“Well that’s true,” I say, “I hadn’t thought about that.”

But if that’s true, what is he saying? His not a care in the world posts, his singing songs with lyrics like “I’m a player, and I’m playing just to play,” or “I’m living the single, single, single….life!” well, all those do are tell me that he is moving on and yet underneath it all, I think he’s hurting too.

Social media is like a highlight reel of what’s going on in peoples lives, but there is more than what meets the eye, like the divot under the sea that causes you to lose your balance, or the riptide, the undercurrent, that pulls you out and can cause you harm. It’s not pretty, it hurts, it’s scary. But people don’t want to hear or see that which isn’t enviable or fun. People want the highlight reel. W’s highlight reel would never give anyone any idea he was grieving the loss of me. In fact, it never even showed that he had me in his life.

We were never Facebook or IG official. I attributed it to his career of choice, that he had to seem single for his fans. But now I wonder about that, wonder if it was more because he was playing the field. I mean, think about it. When we first meet, so many years ago, I was the side-chick. He had a girlfriend and yet he would have me come to his house, even stay the night on occasion, and he didn’t even suggest I park my stand out like a sore thumb classic car one street over, no, just park right in front of his house!

We wouldn’t have sex, but we did make out, A LOT, and have lots and lots of oral sex. He wanted to fuck me but he said out of respect for his girlfriend, he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to cross that line. We did this for some time, but he eventually proposed to her and we went our separate ways.

I should have remembered this mentality more when we got back together again, 13 years later. Does a leopard change his stripes? A dalmatian change his spots?

When he tells me that two months into our relationship, he slept with someone, a FAN no less, someone he met on Periscope, I should have been blinded by the red flags waving away in front of me. But did I leave? No. I lay in his bed crying. He of course lay beside me, but did nothing to calm me, except sigh. He eventually said he didn’t mean to hurt me. He would understand if I wanted to go. I then wondered if maybe I should, but then thought he needs to hear and see how hurt I am, to be in this fucked up moment of his creation with me.

I made a list of all the things that gave me pause, that made me think that maybe he wasn’t being true to me. There are 27 things on my list. I read them now when I am romanticizing him. The problem is there are way more than 27 things on the Good List. He made me feel special, he made me feel bad. He made me feel appreciated, he made me feel untrustworthy. He made me feel ecstasy, he made me feel blue. He made me fall in love, unequivocally.

In 2-12-years he only verbally said, “Love you,” one time, on July 23, 2017, as we hung up the phone. I thought I almost didn’t hear him. And then again, in December 2017, he texted, “Luv ya,” when I was questioning him about why he never takes me on his trips with him. “Luv ya, we will go on a trip.”

Now I sit here in this hotel bed of white sheets and pillows, on a trip, all by myself. I think about you constantly W. I think of you ALL the time. When I wake, when I sleep, even in my dreams. I keep crying, I’m crying now, I have to pull over sometimes because I can’t see through my tears.

I don’t want to have a life without him in it. But I guess that isn’t my decision. It’s like he was the sunshine and now everything is overcast, dreary and grey. Gives new meaning to don’t take my sunshine away.

It’s been 15 days since we last communicated. He has gone away, disappeared, left me. But he haunts me. Like a ghost, he permeates my being without even being present, and he lingers even though he isn’t there. And by cold turkey not calling or texting for 15 days, he’s ghosted me.

I wish I could be strong and not stalk his social media, but I can’t help myself. I look at his IG. I don’t look at his stories anymore though. I am trying to just stop looking all together. Of course when I got back to the hotel last night, as I’m channel surfing, WHY does his movie come on? And like, right at the beginning? Perfect timing. I started to cry and changed the channel. Now if I only I could do that in real life.