Letting Go

I've been holding on for a long time.

Longer than maybe I should have.  Longer than maybe that most other folks would.  Longer than anyone else thought I could, or should.

Walking along the edge of a cliff, feeling the pull.

For a while I was balanced, poised, steady.  Things got a little...rocky...a little...rough...but I kept walking, kept going.  "Surely the path will smooth out eventually...won't it?" became something of a mantra for me.  I am tenacious (stubborn would be a more accurate description - tenacity seems to be more of a virtue, and I don't really feel virtuous), steadfast, determined to find my way along.  I don't like to give up!

Somewhere along the way, I skidded on some scree.  I teetered, reached for something to hold onto, found nothing but empty air.  Flailed.  Stumbled.  Slid.

And over I went.  Toppled into the sea of sky.

Somehow, before I joined entirely the wheeling denizens of the air with my own graceless, downward flight, I caught hold of an edge.  Only just, scrabbling for better purchase, stone gnawing at my flesh, tearing, tattering.  I sought better purchase, tried to pull myself up.  I was too weak.  My weight, the weight I carried, was too much.  Arms trembling, fingers slipping, I tried to call out for help, but I had no voice.  Perhaps I was too scared, but I like to think I was just too damned tired.  I am certain that some part of me didn't care to hold on any longer.  Why should I?  The damage being done was too much, and holding on hurt.

Eventually, the inevitable - I fell.

It was bad, at first.  Everything seized up and the air rushed past, the rock face blurred, creatures of the sky cast curious glances at my plummeting form.

Fall long enough, far enough, and you relax.  Did you know that?  You sort of accept what's happening, and one can only maintain that adrenaline rush for so long before the fearful becomes the norm.  It wasn't fun, and I kept looking for a rope, a root, something to grab and stop my fall, but there was nothing. 

I'm still falling.  It's a terribly long way down, after all...

...but I think my wings are coming along nicely.

~~~~~

Someone and I are no more.  We...I...have reached the point where there's no reconciling our differences.  Although I didn't want to, I found myself feeling compelled to call the police a few nights ago, pushed by his drinking, his anger, his verbal and psychological abuse of me, of the kids.  I'd asked him to move out some time ago, to give us some space and time to breathe, collect ourselves, patch up the worst of the damage and see if we could rebuild.

He didn't.

And then things broke down entirely, and I was dialing the phone with a stomach full of dread, a heart full of hurt, a head echoing with hateful, blaming, goading words and the sound of fists pounding on the glass shower door while I tried to wash my hair.  Enough. Was. Enough.

I will not be the supply for a narcissist any more.

He will not remove himself from this house, despite having been asked and asked, so I will be forced to begin legal proceedings.  I don't like this.  I feel that I must, though, because what happens to me makes no difference to me, but my kids?  Are another story entirely.

I did the thing I dreaded, never quite believing what I was doing even in the moment.

Here's hoping I finish building my wings before I go splat.

Where do we go from here?

My relationship with Cygnus has taken many blows.

We have survived the complications of polyamory (his complications, as I have never been able to make other connections, have other relationships), both as they affected us and as they impacted other relationships.  We have survived cheating and lies (on his part), rage , alcoholism, and drug addiction (again, on his part), and being pushed through the meat grinder we call a justice system.

We have survived advertisements on Craig's List for NSA (No Strings Attached) sex for him while I was out of town, and the anonymous mailing of printouts of those ads to me, and the repeat of the advertising months later.  That I knew about the first lot beforehand didn't make the second easier to bear when I learned of them not through discussion, but through seeing them on my screen thanks to others pointing them out.

We have survived his alienating every one of my friends and family members and many of the people I call community out there in the world.

We have survived my mental illness, kids, weather, his moving out, and his insane jealousy at the mere idea that I might be talking to another man (with no intent to act sexually, plainly stated to everyone with an interest at the very beginning).  He can't even stand that another man once complimented me very prettily and made me smile and blush because of it.

We have gone through so much.

But.

Now, nearing the end of his time in prison...now...we are not surviving.  We are failing.  I am tired.  I am tired of the abuse.  Tired of being told that everything I do is not enough, or not good enough.  I am tired of the narcissism.  I am  tired of the anger.  Tired of the blame.  Tired of the bitterness.  Tired of being denied my emotions or emotional support because of his anger.  Tired of feeling as though I must dim what scant light manages to shine forth from me because it threatens his ego, his fragile sense of self.  Tired of feeling that I must live only for his sake.  Want to know what it is like?  Go read this.  I did, and cried, because yes.

I have tried to save us.  I am a strong swimmer, a strong woman, but I can't save the titanic if I'm the only one bailing.  Now, too little too late, he is trying to talk, saying he wants to do the work.  Now, after insults and lashing out and words calculated to devastate, now when I have told him honestly that something has broken, has died, inside me and I don't know if it can be repaired or revived, now he wants to make the effort, and...

And I don't think it's working.

I know it's not working.

I know it is futile.

I found some value in myself, and he tried to kill it.  I did something I'm proud of and he railed against me for excluding him.  I strive to provide a childhood for our daughter and he complains about what he's missing rather than exulting that she is experiencing wonderful things in the world through the many people who adore her.

I get it.  He IS missing out, he IS stuck in prison, but we're imprisoned, too, and I yearn to be free.  I have to be free.  I have to be able to breathe, to sing, without worrying that somehow I will wake the slumbering giant of rage and it will terrorize us.  It's not right to expect us to molder away here, stuck in the moment in time when HIS choices put him where he is, but expect that, he does.

I have tried to tell him over the last few nights, but he won't hear me, keeps trying to turn the conversation to something hopeful or distracting, and I'm too damned tired to fight him for conversational supremacy but I have to, have to make him understand that this isn't his home any more, that I will love him forever but can't live with him any more, we are not partners and haven't been for a very long time and I don't have it in me to carry us both any more.

I'm lonely, and tired, and aching, and lost.  There's no road map through this place.  Where do we go from here?

Reaching Beyond

When I was a child, truly a child, I was deeply hurt by...events in my life. I won't go into what, or who, or why here, because that isn't the point. The point is, like any child, I reached into my resilience, bounced as best I could, and continued on with the business of life.

I've know heartache since those first deep wounds to the soul. I've known what it is to be infatuated and rebuffed, to think I loved and be denied, to long, to yearn for, something more than my solitary existence. I had to learn to look beyond, to reach beyond, what I knew. I had to find Faith, to find Hope, and cleave to them.

I always thought I would be married forever - that, although I carefully wrote my vows to say "...as long as love lasts..." and not "...as long as you both shall live...", I would not have to remind myself of that...clause. I thought...I hoped...that love would see us through the difficulties I knew were ours to face...if only because I have known depression, deep and abiding, for so long, I know what it throws at a relationship.

I have had to reach beyond the darkness, strive for the light, even if it was only the grey, uncertain light of level days and not the brightness of joy.

I've never broken my word - not once. I so rarely give it, and only when I am certain it can be kept. I do not take vows, oaths, lightly. I have had to reach beyond endurance to keep from becoming an oathbreaker, but I have managed...and I'm alive because of it.

I do not lie unless it is for the greater good. I won't lie to save myself a little grief...it stings my honor. I have had to reach deep into trust and love, hoping that they would help soften truth when I could not bring myself to speak untrue.

Tonight...technically, last night, I found another beyond. I found the place beyond love that is cold, dead, and unyielding. I went beyond endurance to a place where I cannot bring myself to care that my actions, my words, may wound and wound deeply, because my need for solace was greater than my need to be compassionate, forgiving, loving.

I am beyond tired of defending my honor at every turn because of a suspicious mind. I am beyond tired of defending my honor as I am called (direct or intimated, makes no difference to me) liar, cold-hearted, uncaring.

I am beyond tired of being blamed for what my heartfelt words have become, have engendered, have inspired.

Weary to the bone, to the heart of my soul, weary beyond all endurance, weary of T lashing out at me because he misread, misunderstood, misinterpreted...I reached beyond my here and now and asked for...contact.

Asked for and received.

I asked a friend to call, to speak, to reassure and give me an anchor point. Without hesitation, he answered, spoke, reassured, anchored - reached beyond his own needs and answered mine.

And now?

Now, I am reaching beyond reason, feeling my way blindly down roads never travelled, cloaked in darkness...reaching beyond guilt, blame, recriminations, anger, sorrow, and regret. I am done. I am reaching beyond, and believing...believing that I will find what I am reaching for.