The Pain of Addiction


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You are toxic. And I hate you so much for it. But I love you. How could I not love you. You’re my family. So I try again, knowing I will only fail. Each time I swear to you and myself that I’m done. And it’s all a vicious cycle of toxicity. A cycle that ends with my emotions boiling over into a fit of rage. A burning rage of desperation to save you, anger that you won’t try to save yourself, and agony at seeing you this way. And I try to pull you from the quicksand but you refuse and only try to pull me down with you forcing me to let go again. I hate you for it! But I don’t hate you, I love you. 

“Don’t call me I can’t do this anymore”

”Stay out of my life I’m done”

”Don’t come back”

But when my phone vibrates and I see your name, my defenses crumble and I reach for you again. I try with every fiber of my being to save you. You can’t help someone who won’t help themselves. I know it to be true but I can’t stop myself from trying. Each time is the last time until the next time when I give in again. And I will try knowing I will fail; until the day when the messages come no more. 


Communication is Complicated


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“My ex sub kind of told me that I was ‘too safe’ to tell things to. He had difficult things to share about himself & he knew I’d be understanding & supportive. He wasn’t internally ready for that acceptance, so couldn’t bring himself to tell me. Communication is fucking complicated.”  Ferns

Communication is fucking complicated. Normal relationships already have communication difficulties at times. Now add into the mixture internal struggles, traumatic pasts, insecurities, vulnerability, shame, guilt, and all the other negative emotions that can accompany a relationship and it can be a recipe for heartache.

We all have some sort of “baggage”. Some people more than others. I could go on and on about the negative impact it has on relationships. But we know the steps to that dance already. Instead let’s talk about  feeling safe, supported, and accepted.

I once blogged that I have never fully revealed my whole self to anyone. I have allowed friends and partners to know only parts of myself. In most of my relationships, this was because I never felt safe enough. In my heart I knew my relationship with those people, friends and lovers, was not built on solid enough ground that it would not crumble under the weight of it all. However; twice in my life, I felt “too safe”.

It sounds almost absurd to say someone is “too safe” doesn’t it? I was so used to not feeling safe enough that I didn’t understand feeling “too safe” when it happened the first time either. It happened because I knew with that person I was fully and unconditionally loved, supported, and most importantly…accepted. I knew in my heart, without any doubt, that I could tell her these things and it would all be okay. She would stand by my side, continue to love me, try to help me anyway she could, and see me no differently. And to me, in my screwed up mind, that was not okay.

Shame and guilt are powerful emotions. You can’t support and accept someone who hasn’t forgiven or accepted themselves. There are some things I am not ready for that kind of acceptance. I’m not sure if I refuse too or can’t forgive and accept myself. I’d like to think I haven’t also gone the way of resenting that person for being “too safe” as some people have done. I don’t think I did, but I’m not sure honestly. I can understand where the negativity would switch to a “how could she be so accepting” or “what kind of person still loves me after I told you this horrible thing?!”. I’ve seen it happen with others. However, I think mostly with myself I directed that resentment inward. For me, instead of resenting her for being “too safe” I grew even more guilt ridden and angry at myself for her having to go through it.

I wish I had the answers. I could tell you that if you have a partner or have had a partner in the past that views you as “too safe” that it isn’t your fault. You did nothing wrong. You did everything right, in fact. You were gentle, strong, patient, caring, loving, supportive, and accepting enough. No, there isn’t anything you can or could do differently. Because it has nothing to do with you even though sadly you suffer the effects too. You are and were as perfect as you could be. They just aren’t or weren’t ready. I know it’s not fair.

On Blogging


I am an embarrassment to bloggers. Every day I say to myself, “I am going to blog today”. And every day I either get busy, distracted, or draw a blank on what to write about. Most of the time I am constantly working and it’s hard to find time to blog. In fact, I am typing this post from work. Shhh it’s our little secret, okay?

Sometimes I ask myself why I even keep a blog. I can’t count how many times I’ve burnt blogs to the ground and started over again later. I own a graveyard of blogs. I am trying to keep this one; though, because I know there always comes a time when I feel I need a safe place to just let everything out. It’s not a popular blog. It’s filled with hundreds of grammatical and spelling errors that make you cringe. But it’s my place; my mental getaway when I need it. It’s like my stuffies. I don’t always need to cuddle up to my stuffed animals but knowing they are there helps.

One day I will get back into blogging regularly. I’ll come up with some great writing topics and join all the writing prompts. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

AITA: My Father’s Passing


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You know those posts titled “AITA (Am I the Asshole)? Well, lately I’m wondering the same thing about myself. But before you can answer that let me give you the background.

Recently, I found out my father had passed away. I didn’t know he had passed because we were never close. His current wife didn’t see fit to contact me when it happened. The only reason I found out is because a distant relative contacted me out of nowhere wanting to catch up with my father. As a favor, and out of sheer curiosity, I decided to locate my father once again. As it turned out, he passed away two years ago.

After my mother and father divorced, when I was eight years old, my father would come in and out of my life. He would stop contact for various reasons from hiding from child support to moving and so on. And when he came back into our lives, he would always want to act as though he never left. Like anything else, it was never his fault. He was always the victim. What he didn’t blame on life circumstances; he blamed on me. And when he wasn’t gone or blaming anyone but himself; he sometimes had a nasty temper. We once told a social worker we preferred a belt over his hands type temper.

I’m not saying he was a horrible man. I have some fond memories of my father. He sometimes took me to work with him, he went to a couple of my softball games, and he taught me how to defend myself. He was in the operating room when my daughter was born and he provided me a place to stay after she was born so I could get on my feet. He was over 6 feet tall and a husky built man so I remember when I was little I would giggle and yell “wait up, daddy” when I had to run to keep up with him. And anytime he worked on the truck or in the yard I would “help”. Once upon a time, I thought my father was a big strong superhero.

Okay, here is where your opinions come into play. Here is where you get to decide if I’m the asshole. A few years ago, my father had told me he had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. He asked me to come visit him before it got worse. I never went. Not only did I not have the money but I think I had given up. I wasn’t sure I believed him and I think I had just grew tired of trying. And eventually, instead of him disappearing and me chasing after, I disappeared.

I am sad he’s gone because he was my father after all . But I’m more sad and angry that I didn’t have a father like most people had; who loved and protected them. And I feel guilty that I gave up. And as a result of my giving up, my father never saw me or his granddaughter again before he passed.

Different Worlds


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Her and I come from very different worlds. As a result, we often hold very different and opposing viewpoints at times. She has a more positive outlook on life, often sympathizing with people and situations while I hold a more firm and sometimes negative view.

Her: “I feel sad for that person because…”

Me: “They’re a piece of shit”.

One could argue that I have allowed myself to become jaded by life while she hasn’t. This may be partially true. I have no doubt my job is a big influence in how I view people. However, I think a lot of it has to do with the environment you are raised and live in.

Let me give you two examples.

One day, while talking to me on the phone, she went to the shops. I listened quietly as several people took the time to stop, greet her with a smile, and engage in friendly chat. Genuine pleasantries and discussions about each others’ families and careers were exchanged. Each conversation ended with wishing the other well and a promise to catch up later. I remember telling her the people where she lives are far more friendly than where I live.

I don’t remember the exact details of my second example. I remember that while out for her walk Ma’am came upon a woman who needed help. I want to say the woman was broke down but I’m not entirely sure I remember that correctly. What I do remember is that Ma’am let the woman use her phone and even tracked the woman down again later to make sure she was okay. I was not shocked that Ma’am went out of her way to help the woman. She is a great person. But, as I pointed out to her, where I live you don’t let anyone borrow your phone unless you are prepared for it to be stolen. And sadly, no one would have gone out of their way to go back later and check on the woman.

She lives in a friendly town where people greet you when they see you and everyone tries to help the other person out. However, I live in a town that is known for drugs and crime and I work a job where I hear and see the worst of people. Her country doesn’t allow guns while in my state we have open carry. There are so many differences I couldn’t begin to list them all. The point is that I believe environment has a major influence on how we view the world and her and I live in very different worlds.

Just to note; though, I appreciate and love her positive outlook on life and people. It gives me pause to rethink how I see things. Our opposing views don’t cause an issue for us. We just see things differently because of the environment we have been raised and currently live.