Life = Drama

I shouldn’t feel like this. I don’t want to feel like this and yet I do.

My life is a soap opera. It’s drama-filled and it’s never boring. I hate it. It’s never a happy drama; something bad is always happening. I could name around ten (10) things right now that aren’t even close to good, but I don’t want to rant about everything.

I only want to get one thing out of my system. I’m so stressed about it, it’s not even funny. It’s scary. I’m anxious and freaking out and crying.

I’m honestly afraid that I’m going to lose my fiance. I honestly fear that I’m going to lose the man that I love.

Why? Because I made some bad choices in my past and they keep being dredged up when he’s just managing to stop thinking about them. And it isn’t as if I like to think about what I did in my past either – I hate it and I would rather not think on it either – but it’s harder for him. We got together right afterward. As in, less than a month afterward.

And I didn’t realize it at the time, in fact I didn’t realize it until my fiance pointed it out earlier this evening to me, but I had inadvertently lied to him.

At the time my fiance and I started our relationship I was just coming out of my bar-hopping/partying/drinking/sleeping around phase that lasted a whole three months. (Not very long, right?) Well, I don’t remember exactly when I said it or in what context, but I said that I wasn’t “that kind of girl” – the kind to sleep around or lie or betray him. And to be quite honest, I’m not. I just fell for him and I fell hard. When I told him that, and I can guarantee this, I didn’t think of myself as any sort of bar slut or some sort of floozy.

But he thinks I lied to him just to get with him. I didn’t and I’m scared that he’s going to leave me. He was angry about it earlier. He made a point of telling me earlier that when he was growing up it was said that the type of woman I was weren’t the kind for relationships and the men who tried to get in relationships with them were the stupid ones because they eventually ended badly – i.e: with some sort of betrayal.

I cried so hard. I told him straight-out that at the time I didn’t think of myself that way at the time and that I really am not like that. I told him that I was sorry for inadvertantly lying to him. He didn’t say anything. He pretty much stayed quiet until he had to get ready for work.

I didn’t want him to go to work. I was… am… afraid that he’s not going to come back.

I miss him.

I love him.

I wish someone could explain to me something. Help me.

Advertisements

Recollection of a Dream

It was a time of war. Everywhere I looked there was sadness. Buildings were crumbling to the ground, everything in various shades of black, brown and red. I was searching for something. I could feel it inside of me. I had been looking for days, weeks, months; you could see it in my eyes and on my body. I was worn down and hadn’t had a shower in a long time.

It was like I was in tunnel vision. All I could think was “where is he? why can’t I find him?”

Then a little boy ran past followed by more children. And then I knew. Somehow, I knew. I had found him.

Quietly I followed the children; they were playing some sort of game – chasing each other with not a care in the world. They had no idea what kind of world we were living in. That made me smile a bit, before I remembered what I was searching for.

I came to the entrance of one of the many refuge sites. They were hard to come by and very well hidden to the rest of the world. Those who wanted to stay away from the war – the young, the elderly, the disabled – hid there.

I was a prisoner of war who escaped to find my child. The enemy had captured me early on; I knew they were coming for me and I gave my only child to someone I trusted, a semi-elderly woman past her prime, to watch over him until I, hopefully, came back to get him.

She was here. He was here. I could feel it in my heart.

As I walked through the dark tunnel – there was no electricity – women, men, and children of all ages looked at me in fear and awe. I can only imagine how I looked to them. Occasionally I would stop and ask someone who looked especially kind, normally a woman, if she knew where the woman I was looking for was. I was always asked many questions and then pointed forward with a smile. My hope was growing.

Finally I stumbled upon her. I found her with her back to me and so I observed her. She had cut her now-gray hair short; it used to be long and wavy, mid-back. I didn’t think I was gone for that long. Had I been?

She must have sensed me behind her because right before I called her name she began turning around to face me. She didn’t look surprised, just… determined. There were children behind her, some sleeping, some looking up curiously at me. She motioned for them to go and play. I looked at all of the boys; which one was mine?

I spoke to her: “You know why I’m here. I told you I’d be back.”

Her eyes got harder, fiercer, more determined. “I didn’t think you’d make it back alive. You can’t have him.”

I choked back a sob, bringing a hand up to my chest to steady myself. “He’s my flesh and blood. I trusted that you.”

“He’s mine.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks now. There were people staring from their seats in the hallway. I didn’t care.

“You have eight children of your own! He’s my child! Give him back!” I yelled it to her. I was crying, scared.

She snarled at me. “You abandoned your own child to go with the enemy. He’s no child of yours!”

I cried even more. And then a child came running up to me, wrapping his arms around my legs, hugging me. I looked down in surprise. Was he…?

He looked up at me. “Are you my Mama?”

I leaned down and hugged him tightly as I cried. I could see the tiny features that grew with him in the baby I gave birth to long ago. This was my baby boy.

* * *

I woke with tears streaming down my face. This truly is the recollection of a dream I had last night. It was one of the most vivid dreams I’ve ever had and I can’t get it out of my mind. It scared me out of my mind. I could feel everything. I knew everything that was going on. I could see myself as it was happening. I hope something like what happened in my dream never happens in real life.

Poem: “If Only”

Pardon me if I cry
a little.
Is it all right if I cry
a little?

I swear it’s not me you’re dreaming of.

I didn’t mean to say
the wrong things.
I don’t want to fight.
I’m sorry.

I don’t even know what we’re fighting for.

Can’t you just
let me know
what bothers you?

Isn’t it
easier
talking,
communicating?

I’m so sorry that I ever disappointed you.

I know I’m not
perfect and
that you
have flaws
too.

Can’t you just see me as I see you?

Why do we fight
with our silent
words?

Where did
we go
wrong?

Why won’t
this end? 

I hope
this ends.

I love you.

(c) K.C. 2013

(c) K.C. 2013

Written a decent amount of time ago when my fiance and I were in a tiff. Neither of us are confrontational and are more the “silent fighter” type. It was a long, drawn-out and torturous time for me, and I assume him. Thankfully, everything worked out in the end. I only recently found this and wanted to share it.

A Sad Realization

I was in town doing some grocery shopping today with my fiance and children and we passed one of the funeral homes in my town. I told my fiance as we passed it that I wonder who important died and because there was so many people in attendance. Literally. The funeral home itself is very large and has a large parking lot and has a large parking lot. What shocked me about it was that the two stores on either side of it, Walgreens and CVS, and the learning center behind it parking lots were all full, plus there were several cars parked alongside the road. There was a line several people long, fifty or more, to get into the funeral home. I was amazed at the amount of people who had shown up. The last time I had seen a funeral procession that large was when one of my friends died in a car crash in high school several years ago.

After we got home from our two-hour shopping trip and putting away groceries (my fiance volunteered to cook dinner tonight), I got online and did a search on the local newspaper in the obituaries; there were no visitations or funerals scheduled for today in the paper. It took some time, but I eventually remembered the name of the funeral home and searched it on google, finding the web address. I went to the site and went through the “current services” and when I found the service for today I wanted to throw up. I just started crying.

Today’s service was a visitation for a little boy only two and a half years old, six months older than my youngest child.

I cried for several minutes. It could have been five; it could have been ten. All I know is that I sat at the computer screen staring at the little boy, the image of his innocent face staring back with eyes that will never see again.

Thoughts kept running through my head: “It could have been my child” “What if it had been my child?”

And then I felt callous for the way I originally reacted; I thought that it was an important person in the community that had died – someone older, wiser, more known in the area. I felt like a horrible person and more tears flowed.

My realization is this: you don’t have to be old and wise to be well-known and loved in a community. I realize that the majority of the people at the visitation were more than likely there to comfort the child’s parents and family, but it’s not that. The child died. He died before his parents. He was only two years old.

No parent should have to feel the pain of their child dying before them.

As I read the obituary for the little boy, it sounded as if he was well-loved and very smart. He was and had been attending an early learning preschool and was a very active child, both with other children and his parents and family.

Just because a child is young doesn’t mean that he’s not well-known and it most definitely does not mean that he’s not well-loved. In fact, it probably means the very opposite. Children are a community’s backbone; it’s who we become in the future. Every child lost is something to mourn.

I cry for the loss of the child. I cry for everyone, including myself, who didn’t have the chance to know this little life before it was taken from him. I cry for the life that he could’ve lived.

Tonight, when I go to bed, I will light a candle for this little life in honor of his soul’s passing. May he be blessed wherever he may be.

Paranoia and Insecurity

Insecurities. Anxiety. Paranoia. That’s the very definition of me right now. I fret over everything and I’m so, so scared.

I’ve mentioned before that I was married once and divorced said man. I mentioned more recently about the custody issues because he moved out of state. We’ve went to court once and there is a continuation in effect for him to get a lawyer (he showed up pro bono). It’s been nearly three months and there’s nothing on the case, but I’m starting to get worried. He’s starting to get more active in video chats, Skyping, and on various social media he’s claiming he’s a “Mother of Three” now and he’s starting to buy the children toys.

I guess I should mention that my ex-husband is currently in the process of hormone-replacement therapy (HRT) and turning himself into a woman. :-/

(He wasn’t like that when I was with him. Just saying.)

Anyway, he’s doing more for the children, but I’ve got a bad feeling about it. I think it’s for show. I don’t think that he means it. I think that he’s trying to show that he “cares” for our children so that he won’t have to pay as much child support to me, so that I won’t get full custody (like I want), because he’s a spiteful, vindictive, manipulative person. He did this the first time around during out divorce. He lied multiple times and I’m so very scared now. Nobody believed me then and I don’t think anybody will believe me now.

I just want to cry. I want to scream. I want someone to listen to me and believe me and do something about it. I want somebody to help me. So much.

And it’s not just that.

My fiance starting college classes two weeks ago. I understand that college life is tough. This is his second semester since we got together and it’s not any easier. But I never see him. Ever. He spends most of his time at my place because he’s only renting a room at somebody else’s house and, even though it’s cheap, he says it gets slightly awkward when he’s there alone during the day.

So he comes to my place and takes his computer upstairs and is there. The whole time. From early in the morning when he gets here till late at night with, I don’t know, two 20 minute breaks in between? There’s a bathroom upstairs, so no need to worry about that!

I feel like he’s pushing me away. Distancing himself from me. And he said himself that he’s low on money (he’s paying for my Internet and helps with food every now and then), so then why do I see him paying for random things when I pop in upstairs to say “hi” and to see how he’s doing? He’s paying for a Skype account? Why? No, I didn’t snoop on his computer. He was using his computer while I was up there and I saw it. It just made me wonder.

Like I said at the beginning, Paranoid is a pretty basic definition of me right now.

He constantly seems angry or upset and I can’t get him to talk anymore. I just… I don’t know. I’m so scared. I’m losing so much, I’m afraid to lose so much. I know I over-think things and this is probably one of them, but I can’t help it. I don’t have anybody to talk to. He used to be one of the few people I could talk to, but now… I’m afraid to even ask “are you ok?” because he doesn’t like me asking him that question.

Everything’s just backwards and I don’t know what to do.

Like I said earlier, I just want to scream; I want to cry; I just want somebody to listen and help me.

That’s all I need.

I need it so bad it hurts. 😥