Screams
And makes
No sound
I have nothing new to say tonight.
Love,
lisapink
she listened to her heart above all other voices
Monday, April 25, 2016
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
ethical love
I - we're? - contemplating so different than anything I've ever known, so different I'm not sure it'll ever seem like reality. I've spent years reshaping my beliefs into logical, well-reasoned conclusions. So while this may be a foreign subject to just about anyone I've ever known, to me it seems like something worth thought.
We're going on seven years together. Our four year anniversary is in two months. It still surprises me, how long we've been together. I think it might always. And it will always seem like there was no life before this. In some ways, there wasn't. My life can clearly be divided into not with Jesse, and with Jesse. We've been hanging out and kissing all these years and it feels just the same as it did all those years ago. I was 20 years old and didn't enter adulthood until he came along and we became each other's constants. The one we could hold on to and count on to never give up, never turn away. When we fight its half with anger and half with sickness at being angry with each other. I hate sleeping away from him. Even a nap.
When you can count on someone like that, the desperate love we were taught as teenagers turns into safety and peace. I don't worry about four years, seven years, twenty years from now. This is the way it will be.
And as I learn that safety, and as I learn more about myself, about the world, I see that human connection has more possibilities than limited scope society gives us. I recognize in myself that I have so much love to give, more than enough for my wonderful husband, my crazy dog, my family of choice. I want to connect with others. I've struggled for years. How much of that has to do with not allowing myself to love the way that I am made to love? I care about people. I want to see others happy, to hear about their lives and struggles. I want to laugh with them and make them laugh. But its not enough. I want to love deeper. I want to hold them when they cry. I want to be a part of their lives, I want to be someone they can count on.
I want to stroke their hair, hold their hand, lay my head in their lap. I want to love emotionally, physically, spiritually, mentally. Because I don't think I was built to compartmentalize love.
Ironically, I think a lot of that has to do with growing up in a family that lacked physical affections. A family that also didn't love unconditionally, that spoke in secrets and emotional outbursts and alliances. So now, when I look for love, I look for the opposite of all those things. Maybe its a little crazy but its what feels the most honest to me.
So its possible that listening to society about monogamy has severely limited my ability to form genuine human connections.
I'm reading a book called "More Than Two: A Practical Guide to Ethical Polyamory". I'm talking to Jesse. I'm taking it one step at a time, not rushing into anything without knowing each of our thoughts and feelings. I don't know if anything will come of it soon or ever. We may decide its not right for us. But I'm not afraid that exploring it will damage us. We respect and care for each other too much to let that happen. And we respect and care for each other to deny experiences that may benefit our souls. We are lovers, partners, best friends, and we are also individuals. This is our one life on this earth. We both feel we have no reason to believe we will have another life. And so we will live, trying to be better, finding happiness where we can.
love,
lisapink
We're going on seven years together. Our four year anniversary is in two months. It still surprises me, how long we've been together. I think it might always. And it will always seem like there was no life before this. In some ways, there wasn't. My life can clearly be divided into not with Jesse, and with Jesse. We've been hanging out and kissing all these years and it feels just the same as it did all those years ago. I was 20 years old and didn't enter adulthood until he came along and we became each other's constants. The one we could hold on to and count on to never give up, never turn away. When we fight its half with anger and half with sickness at being angry with each other. I hate sleeping away from him. Even a nap.
When you can count on someone like that, the desperate love we were taught as teenagers turns into safety and peace. I don't worry about four years, seven years, twenty years from now. This is the way it will be.
And as I learn that safety, and as I learn more about myself, about the world, I see that human connection has more possibilities than limited scope society gives us. I recognize in myself that I have so much love to give, more than enough for my wonderful husband, my crazy dog, my family of choice. I want to connect with others. I've struggled for years. How much of that has to do with not allowing myself to love the way that I am made to love? I care about people. I want to see others happy, to hear about their lives and struggles. I want to laugh with them and make them laugh. But its not enough. I want to love deeper. I want to hold them when they cry. I want to be a part of their lives, I want to be someone they can count on.
I want to stroke their hair, hold their hand, lay my head in their lap. I want to love emotionally, physically, spiritually, mentally. Because I don't think I was built to compartmentalize love.
Ironically, I think a lot of that has to do with growing up in a family that lacked physical affections. A family that also didn't love unconditionally, that spoke in secrets and emotional outbursts and alliances. So now, when I look for love, I look for the opposite of all those things. Maybe its a little crazy but its what feels the most honest to me.
So its possible that listening to society about monogamy has severely limited my ability to form genuine human connections.
I'm reading a book called "More Than Two: A Practical Guide to Ethical Polyamory". I'm talking to Jesse. I'm taking it one step at a time, not rushing into anything without knowing each of our thoughts and feelings. I don't know if anything will come of it soon or ever. We may decide its not right for us. But I'm not afraid that exploring it will damage us. We respect and care for each other too much to let that happen. And we respect and care for each other to deny experiences that may benefit our souls. We are lovers, partners, best friends, and we are also individuals. This is our one life on this earth. We both feel we have no reason to believe we will have another life. And so we will live, trying to be better, finding happiness where we can.
love,
lisapink
Monday, April 11, 2016
a still life is the last i will see of you
I read an article last week about the gray area of being suicidal. Suicidal ideation is treated as a black and white symptom -- yes, no --- off, on --- danger, safe. It isn't. Not always. Feeling suicidal can be as complicated as thoughts of death in between moments of life.
I'm in a dark spiral and I can't find a way out. I'm not alone, either. Around me I see distinct pools of darkness, consuming and sucking and suffocating. Yet we're all separate, blocked by barriers stronger than ourselves. There's no reaching out, there's no saving each other. Instead we watch each other drown with a detached misery.
I work hard to distract myself from these feelings. With varying degrees of success. Lately its been more difficult. Its not that I don't think I have anything to live for. I love my husband. I love my dog. I think we could have a good life ahead of us. But I don't know for sure. All I know is it isn't here yet. Instead we're struggling in almost every aspect. Financially. Socially. Emotionally. Feeling fulfilled. Feeling sexually satisfied. Dealing with one stroke of shit after another. If we can only get through this... then what? Our future is as terrifying as it is hopeful. Where will we live? Will we truly be able to start over? What if wherever we go, we end up alone? Will we ever have the happy family we dream of? Or is it all impossible? Are the answers we're relying on just lies we tell to help us feel better?
If I could, I would just stop. Just sit, and not move, and not think, and not try, and not feel. That's what feeling suicidal is like. I don't imagine pills and knives and ropes. I imagine nothing. I imagine the nothingness inside of me expanding, filling, pushing out, becoming my entire world. Its a desperate and dismaying desire. I hate wanting it, I feel myself needing it, I am spinning and closing my eyes and crying and breathing fast and falling and tearing apart and screaming and I am perfectly and horribly still.
But none of this really matters, does it? Because when things matter, you can see it. There are changes. There are actions and reactions. There is help and there is a way to succeed. You know when things matter. Its part of human intuition. And this doesn't matter. I know that all too well by now. None of this matters because tomorrow will be just like today. It will feel the same, only worse because its added to all the yesterday's I felt this same way. Its one step forward and two steps back. As misery adds up, it is negatively multiplied by the ability to reach happiness. Twofold. Threefold. Tenfold. Countlessfold.
At this point I doubt my ability to recognize true happiness. The amount of times in life I thought I've found it, only to look around and realize that tangible feeling hasn't been around for awhile, makes me distrust myself. I clearly don't know. The only thing I do know that those who try to tell me what true happiness is for myself are just as wrong. So I'll keep guessing and second guessing and being wrong and trying again and figuring out I wasn't even looking in the right place to begin with but being no closer to knowing where the right place is. Its exhausting. It is so tiring. I can sleep and sleep and sleep and I will never feel like I truly have the energy to begin this search one more time. But what choice do I have?
None at all.
love,
lisapink
I'm in a dark spiral and I can't find a way out. I'm not alone, either. Around me I see distinct pools of darkness, consuming and sucking and suffocating. Yet we're all separate, blocked by barriers stronger than ourselves. There's no reaching out, there's no saving each other. Instead we watch each other drown with a detached misery.
I work hard to distract myself from these feelings. With varying degrees of success. Lately its been more difficult. Its not that I don't think I have anything to live for. I love my husband. I love my dog. I think we could have a good life ahead of us. But I don't know for sure. All I know is it isn't here yet. Instead we're struggling in almost every aspect. Financially. Socially. Emotionally. Feeling fulfilled. Feeling sexually satisfied. Dealing with one stroke of shit after another. If we can only get through this... then what? Our future is as terrifying as it is hopeful. Where will we live? Will we truly be able to start over? What if wherever we go, we end up alone? Will we ever have the happy family we dream of? Or is it all impossible? Are the answers we're relying on just lies we tell to help us feel better?
If I could, I would just stop. Just sit, and not move, and not think, and not try, and not feel. That's what feeling suicidal is like. I don't imagine pills and knives and ropes. I imagine nothing. I imagine the nothingness inside of me expanding, filling, pushing out, becoming my entire world. Its a desperate and dismaying desire. I hate wanting it, I feel myself needing it, I am spinning and closing my eyes and crying and breathing fast and falling and tearing apart and screaming and I am perfectly and horribly still.
But none of this really matters, does it? Because when things matter, you can see it. There are changes. There are actions and reactions. There is help and there is a way to succeed. You know when things matter. Its part of human intuition. And this doesn't matter. I know that all too well by now. None of this matters because tomorrow will be just like today. It will feel the same, only worse because its added to all the yesterday's I felt this same way. Its one step forward and two steps back. As misery adds up, it is negatively multiplied by the ability to reach happiness. Twofold. Threefold. Tenfold. Countlessfold.
At this point I doubt my ability to recognize true happiness. The amount of times in life I thought I've found it, only to look around and realize that tangible feeling hasn't been around for awhile, makes me distrust myself. I clearly don't know. The only thing I do know that those who try to tell me what true happiness is for myself are just as wrong. So I'll keep guessing and second guessing and being wrong and trying again and figuring out I wasn't even looking in the right place to begin with but being no closer to knowing where the right place is. Its exhausting. It is so tiring. I can sleep and sleep and sleep and I will never feel like I truly have the energy to begin this search one more time. But what choice do I have?
None at all.
love,
lisapink
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