For Jenna (non-exclusive)

[liveweyerd]

She sat in her chair perfectly peaceful. The thunderstorm in the distance lulled with ambience. The headache tablet she had taken earlier had a small amount of opiate and gave her a soft sensual pleasure. She ran her fingers through her hair, gently raking her fingertips across her scalp. All ready late she had taken her sleeping medication and dozed in and out. Always with a cigarette, never burning herself or letting it go out. She sat with her eyes closed, to avoid conversation, only opening them to sip the cold chamomile and lemon grass tea. Fully aware she watched him from time to time. He seemed so frustrated, restless, hiding repressed anger. Testy. Did he catch her gaze? He asked "We aren't happy are we?" Laconically detached she answered, "You are not feeling well." Closed her eyes again. She hadn't much patience with his mindset. She had shown him and read to him from numerous books on achieving calm and inner happiness. She had shown him intellectually stimulating websites. She had watched website studies with him teaching the methods of living a fulfilling life.
She would rise very early in the morning, have coffee at the patio table and scrutinize her flowers, which had broken the earth to start their growth, how were the newly planted beds doing? It had been too muddy the last two days to do much in the garden. Tomorrow she could pull a tall patch of weeds from the soft earth that grew in a hidden corner. She had many things to do. He seemed to be limiting himself to napping and watching movies. He complied with any request she might make but it troubled her that he lacked his own schedule and interests. Where had her partner gone? A physical problem had ended their sex life some time ago. She had grown used to it. It demoralized him. They loved each other and each knew that and were secure in it. Although the Constitution entitles us all to the pursuit of happiness, he just didn't seem to have the energy for it. She had her bad and down days too but always bounced back. She thought that finally their definitions of happiness were very different. She looked for an internal compass, a ready smile and a hearty laugh. She thought his experience was more emotional, thus fleeting and sentimental. They considered themselves united They journied alone but rode the same train.
7/8/08

[shutterbug]

Thank you dear sweet Tena....creatively lovely.

[liveweyerd]

She knew, understood thoroughly, that a symbiotic love between them would suffocate her and strangle him.

She remembered the Oedipal symbiosis with her adored and adoring father at 2 1/2 years old; and the modern archetype of Hera's jealousy and rejection in the role of her mother. The myth leaves the baby abandoned on a mountain top. She, the child, remembers the betrayal, viscerally, and the exile upstairs without dinner. She had been caught in a double bind, destined that either choice she made would be bad. She is still angry because of the certain knowledge that she was innocent. And helpless. It is her first memory.
7/9/08

[liveweyerd]

She never forgot..
Today, she never forgets.
It is the tag end of the yarn that unravels the skein of complexities, invisible tangles, knotted rivalries and wrapped dynamics that make up the whole. It still holds all in it's shapened form. It is woven together by the many years of the cue comments, the clenched jaw, the taunting twinkle in an eye and all the routines that make it function.
Is she the only one that sees it? That is likely, as she was taught to see it.
It doesn't matter anymore whether she was an unwanted child by her mother, or that she never had a mama to turn to.
Father tried to balance it all. But she will always know, too, that he was a coward.
She is the only one in the family who has discerned this. That the hero has clay feet.

She compensated.

Her parents are happy together now. She is glad of that. Very glad.

They would be devastated to know her view of her childhood. Nor does she forget all that they did do so well.

She just knows today to guard against and avoid certain things. Most important to know is that it is what it is and it will not change, not to expect anything different.

7/10/08

[liveweyerd]

Thank you, Shutterbug, for reading my stories.

They matter to me.

[shutterbug]

your words are beautifully conceived and masterfully strung together.

I especially like, "the clenched jaw, the taunting twinkle." You are very good at illustrating thoughts and feelings. Bravo my dear, bravo!

I look forward to reading the next!!

[historyteach]

I agree!

Shalom!

[indigo]

Beautifully conceived Tena.

indie

[liveweyerd]

They sat in their chairs over morning coffee. He has become a parrot with his woes of depression; the list of failures, real and perceived. He is a lifetime loser and she has made a terrible mistake marrying him. It ends with the pains of his son being in prison and proof that he wasn't a decent dad. He can do nothing right. The litany of depression rarely varies and she could nearly repeat it like a rosary. Perhaps it is the very sameness that makes it dreadful.

She cannot be his therapist, her comments are worn cliches.
Until today.
Today she dared to tell him that she could not help him and maybe when he was unhappy enough with it, he might look for answers and help.
He acknowledged that to be true and said he was most scared of how bad he would have to get.
She urged him to lay down and rest. He hadn't slept well and, as importantly, she wanted her peace back.

The air was too heavy to breathe, and suffocating. She slipped out into the patio for air and sunshine, a change of scenery. Even the flowers appeared oppressed, beaten down by a heavy rain a couple of days ago and now besieged by heat.
She sat down at the patio table and allowed the tears to well up and spill. It was a short selfish cry. She couldn't have articulated it, nor did she want to. Right now all she wanted was the peacefulness in her chair back.

She decided to follow the advice of her support group, to busy her hands and clear her mind. She carried the big box of things sorted out to donate to the thrift shop and put it in the car. She washed dishes and put the fishbowls to soak in very hot water. Then dug out three books to inspire her stories.
That was not to be. He got up and they remembered errands to be done before the weekend. And the key had been left in the wrong position so the car battery was dead. She forgot about her books. While he charged the battery, she phoned in the re-scheduling, sat in her chair and smiled at the resilience of her comfort there.

Her closest friend and her daughter called, simple pure happiness that.

In one of their workable arrangements, she took a nap while he watched a movie.
After, the morning's tensions have faded with the sunset. She remembered a forgotten tub of sweetened sliced strawberries forgotten in the freezer. Keen of their bedtime snacks, it strikes them as serendipity and they eat them frozen like ice cream. They might as well have been kids with cotton candy in it's effects.

He went to bed first, hoping for respite; a good night's sleep without nightmares.

She is contented again, dozing in her chair, indulging her cigarettes ritual, relaxed into an altered state of consciousness. She waits for her heart and mind to open and hear where she ought to focus, staying clear and empty so it may enter. There comes one word, and it surprises her.....responsibility. She knows now she must see it anew, turn it over and look through many lens. Now she could go to bed. She slept deeply, peacefully, dreamlessly.
7-11-08

[shutterbug]

perfection.

[liveweyerd]

She is propped up with an abundance of pillows, listening to the falling rain collide onto the tin. Pillows tucked asunder so she feels no gravity nor chill of rain. The rain is goosebumps and shivering, she knows this surely because just yesterday she ran through a downpour with bags of groceries. And only from the curb to car, her chauffeur; well, he'd always been her driver!, had spotted her in the checkout and pulled almost onto the curb outside the exit doors.

That's where she had lost herself yesterday. She had run into the house, it took three trips, to bring in the groceries and dropped the bags onto the floor for him to put away while she ran for a towel to wrap her head and stop the rain from continuing to drip onto her shivering body. She stripped off her wet clothes and dove into her bed for its warm hug. Snuggling into too many pillows and the too heavy comforter, the embrace enlightened her to the fact of how very tired she was. Tired in every sense of the word. She was calorie-deficient, she told herself. And that's where she got lost.

She woke between 8 and 9, the same evening by her reckoning. He told her it was am, the next morning and offered to make coffee. She agreed to the coffee but didn't believe the time. In her chair and completely disoriented, he smiled too big and told her just to have a seat until it got dark. His demeanor suggested that all her senses were playing a trick on her. Secretively she checked the time on her telephone where it was written am or pm. AM!

That's how she lost her Sunday, too.
She didn't magically synchronize with the clock. The coffee didn't make it feel like a new morning. She let the day trudge through its timekeeping. She remained listless and waiting for it to get dark, as she never really fully woke up at all.
It really was all a daydream.

She'd waked just in time to see the "Valentine" pair of bettas complete their mating. That was lucky timing since the female had to be removed right away lest she be killed by the now ferociously territorial male. Eventually, on auto-pilot, she fed the fish and changed an half dozen or so into fresh water. Hoping to snap out of her daze, she asked him to set up the next breeding tank. A more aggressive breed, the crowntails, ought to liven things up and the female was about to burst with eggs. But, no, today is a day out of the "Twilight Zone"! He ought to be chasing her fiercely taking love bites out of her tail fins. Instead, she paraded around him, flirting, trying to begin the courtship chase while he meandered cluelessly, looking over the new tank. He is intrigued by its corners, he's always lived in a round home.
7-13-08

[liveweyerd]

Her head feels vacant and the vacuum aches dully. Depression is trying to creep back in.
She really was calorie deficient, over-tired and had not taken her medications each morning. Her sleep schedule was completely turned around now.
She had been so worried about their budget, she would drink a glass of milk and smile and say "Hey, it grows cows!"
Last evening, when it was time to write, all she could remember thinking and feeling was frustration with the fish. She had enjoyed them so much when they were lined up on a bookcase beside her chair. Spent hours watching them. But she had disposed of the bookcase when they received his inheritance furniture. She had moved the fish to the spare room which was to be her "fish hobby room" where she would spawn and grow jars and jars of baby bettas. It wasn't working out according to her decision about how it would be.

She sat up late last night and read a mystery, which she promptly forgot as soon as she had turned the last page.

The word "responsibility" floats in and out of her mind. She has learned this is a process resembling learning a new language. All that she has noted so far, is her first reaction is guilt to clean the house, do the dishes and get to that pile of laundry. It would be nice if those things were done, she thinks wryly, but more revealing is that this is her earliest conditioning about women's responsibility. Her mother dutifully met these responsibilities perfectly and as a number one priority. Her subconcious meditations are digging into her tap root. She resented her mother for it; indeed, the house came before the children.

She keeps thinking about a line from a prior page "he had always lived in a round house." relating it to changes, especially sudden changes, in life. Would anyone like to speak or tell a story about that? She doesn't believe her experience gives her a normal human view.

This is the first page to be written in the morning without a longhand first draft. Is it evident?

She plans to neaten the house today. Not everything can be done in a day, but she can make the surface look like it is. She will enjoy having it in order and it should free her mind a bit to let responsibility speak to her.

Laughing heartfully, she realizes that probably everyone here does that every day, not with the house per se, but with themselves, maintaining the surface in order to?????? Wow, there are so very many reasons we do this. To hide, to fit in, to be able to operate in society, even minimally and......?????
Mostly it works. She does it well, smiling and greeting anyone who comes within 10 feet of her, finding something to compliment anyone who is more than a passerby. She needs to do it her way because she does not understand "small talk", she hasn't been able to learn it. He is very social and will chat with anyone, she enjoys the vicarious sociability.
Left to herself, she would wind up interviewing the other, focusing more and more on the sociological and psychological aspects. She prefers now to people watch and listen, tho' sometimes the urge to ask a question to satisfy her curiosity becomes overwhelming.

However if she spends time with someone over a period of time, they notice something.
She doesn't know what it is, it seems to be that they realize she doesn't think like others, she doesn't draw the same conslusions that others automatically do. Nor is she motivated enough to strive for conformity. That is a completely relative concept, as there are so many cultures and "normalities". No, others do not see things the way she does.

She enjoys talking to him and her daughter, they can get on the same wavelength. Because she respects them very much, one conversation with them is more satisfying than chatting with a roomful of people. No comparison, actually. She would not want to be in a roomful of people unless it were a classroom or gathered for some common purpose.

She is not herself today, the writer rambles and gets in her way, digressing, distracting, lacks organization.

Lesson learned.

7-15-08

[nandm]

Thank you for your thread. I have truly enjoyed the reading. Better than a book as I can't wait for the next days writting.

PS. signed up for that massage for the 2nd day of the cruise just before we stop at Juneau, Alaska. I have never had a real massage so it ought to be a good experience.

[liveweyerd]

Thank you for such a meaningful compliment!

Today I have interviewed him, he is too bashful to write or talk into dictation, so the writer remains the same to add details and explanations and fill in his comments.

He will never forget the day he saw her.
They were in the Watering Hole which had evolved into a camradarie of invisible wealth, influence and the world's best steak. Its design was unpretentiously comfortable and did not feel like a bar, although the core group met daily at an elevated table.

He designed much of it and had done all the artwork including a full size mural in the dining room but he sat separately. He was a people watcher.

He and everyone else noticed her and her girlfriend from work. They had been in with a group before and all that was known was that they worked for a gas pipeline company and spent money like it was water.
The two ladies were joking and laughing, playing the room and having more fun than anyone else but it seemed obvious that it was a private party and no one intruded.

He became aware of her and studied her, he had an artist's eye and was very observant naturally. She was so unlike other female patrons, or even the townpeople. He found her long dress mysterious and intriguing. Everytime he had seen her she wore long dresses and stacked clogs on tiny feet and carried herself tall, long-legged. She was aloof and powerfully confident. She turned smiling, looked him full in the eyes for a moment and turned back to her friend. She sparkled. Her foot bounced restlessly up and down, to him a sign that she was open to dating. He didn't consider her approachable but maybe her friend was. She was too classy and monied to be interested in him, he assumed.

One day he invited them to the elevated table known as the liars table where the real talk went on. They leapt at the opportunity and considered the invitation permanent.
Clearly they were curious and wanted to fit in and they "the gas girls" had drawn quite a bit of curiosity themselves. He was still intimidated by the way they spent money but made it a point to be polite and welcoming. They were friendly to him and he introduced them around.

There came a day when someone said something negatively bigoted. She responded strongly, addressing them all, sure of herself and caring for no one's opinion of her. She rejected all explanations as unacceptable excuses. He felt embarassed and ashamed for all of them. She was genuine. She would accept no truce. Eventually all made peace with her. Not that they had changed their views, he knew, but to end the clash and keep the money coming. They were careful not to speak that way in front of her again.

After that, she loosened up, and with drinks threw off all constraints of manners, education and professional role and delighted in being earthy, often bawdy. He still liked her but began to think she was a party girl. She was still unique in his eyes.

One night seated at different tables he passed by her returning from the men's room. She stopped him to tell him she wanted his tee-shirt. It said, "Practice Random Senseless Acts". He asked what she would give him. She offered her sweater, they could exchange shirts right there. He told her he wasn't going to walk around in her sweater and returned to his seat. His buddy, Bo, admonished him, "What are you doing?! She just hit on you!" "You don't know much about fishing," he replied. "First you cast the bait out near where you think the bass is, if it strikes, you throw out a top bait and just let it sit."
And.
About that time she came gliding over to his table.
Bo's mouth dropped open and he was surprised. He really hadn't expected her.
She told him that she was serious, she really wanted that tee-shirt. Again he told her no. She tried to negotiate a price. No. Finally she blurted out that no man told her no. That strengthened his resolve.

Today he wishes he had given it to her because he would have been the talk of the town.

That was the beginning.

7-15-08

[liveweyerd]

He was 58 when they met.

Life has many beginnings, transitions and endings.

She has lived so many lives, touching the gamut from glamor to ordinary to noir. Many transitions were not of her choosing and others were based on whims of curiosity.

She doesn't want to do a full review. It is enough that she lived them. They have provided her experiential knowledge, partly digested. She senses that the time is coming for her to pick up the pieces of raw knowledge and transform (or be transformed) into a whole cloth of wisdom. She has no idea how to do this.

She has studied the major tasks and phases of life. She knows that it is innately human to create order from chaos.

She isn't ready for this seemingly overwhelming work.
She prefers to laugh and say that she certainly hasn't been bored. Those who know her very well see the bloody shards of pain hidden in her eyes.

She is comfortable finally. They are each other's love and security. She does not want her life disturbed. She does not even want it entering her dreams and disturbing her sleep. She knows these things cannot be taken for granted but loves doing so anyway.

For a couple of beats her heart thuds with fear.

It is her responsibility, one that she has been neglecting, to strengthen her spirit.
It is surely as important as a sink of dirty dishes.

She will focus on being open-hearted. And remember that compassion isn't just for other people.

7-16-08

[shutterbug]

i really like the meeting story....

[shutterbug]

just wondering what the characters have been up to and hoping all is well.

love,
Jenna

[hippyhippy]

Absolutely beautiful Live,

I was particularly drawn to

They would be devastated to know her view of her childhood. Nor does she forget all that they did do so well.

A line I could relate to in my own life.

You are very talented and hols so much beauty in your creativity.
Hippy
xxx

[liveweyerd]

She woke with a fierce headache and a mood to match. The foul mood surprized her. She couldn't remember what she had dreamed. She laid on her side and played opossum until he woke, waiting for the surprize mood to pass. He got up and made coffee and served her. She told him straightwith the way she had woken. They both knew that she would remain silent about it. She only talked when she was ready.

It took several hours for it to register in her brain that the headache was hormonal and she felt gratitude wash through her. They used to be chronic migraines.
He pampered her endearingly and did not question her. Again she was grateful, that he let her handle her feelings her own way and simply tried to help her feel better with offerings. He kept her cup full, took out the trash and arranged to get her anti-anxiety refill. He cleaned several of the fish bowls. And, as importantly, accepted that she would not get to the chores she had agreed to do today. He did not press her to go to town with him to take care of things that were more hers to own than his. He left in a manner such that she felt no guilt and was sure he bore her no anger nor resentments.

When withdrawn she either turned to books, devouring one after another after another after another. Or turned to the computer. He even called up her site for her and handed her the computer. She lost all track of time in cyberspace and in a moment of serious quandry about to hit send on a message, thunder rumbled, cracked and the screen went dark. She was deeply frightened that the laptop had been fried and felt a panic deep within her. Loss and fear surrounded her. She sat stunned staring at nothing, listening to a powerful thunderstorm approach, attack and move forward and past. Their lives were very much dependent on the computer. Just as she needed her books, he needed his movies which he watched on the laptop. They had given away 3 tvs. She couldn't imagine the tension this would cause, losing their one outlet and only reliable contact with the world outside their home. She was afraid to tell him. He was facing a momentous loss bravely and she was afraid of the defeat he would feel if his comfort, the movies, was taken from him. And her loss, being cut off from the familar people who complete her world, even as she would not recognize them on the street.

They would look strangely funny...and well adjusted to each other...if others looked in.
He with the laptop watching a movie with earphones on his head because she hated the noise. She in a recliner next to him, separated by a table, reading, engrossed in the mystery of the moment.

He was gone for a long time. She didn't worry. She didn't know where he was or exactly who he was with or what he was doing, but she knew he would return and there was no reason to doubt him about anything.

Finally the storm had passed and she powered up and restarted the computer, sure that it was gone. The relief that passed over her when it booted up was a cold sweat of reprieve. She felt that it had been a narrow escape and soared with thankfulness and gratitude.

He returned, noticing that she had not left her chair and had been on the computer all day. He returned with her refill of the klonopin, knowing that it was not one of her drugs that could be skipped for a week without great consequence. Again she felt weak with gratitude. And delighted at the indulgences of their favorite ice creams, a carton for each of them and their favorite soft drinks that he delivered to her and served up for her. Where would she be without him? She took two klonopin, one to feed the starvation of chemicals from the last few days and another to level her out now. Waiting for her clenched teeth and jaws to relax; these no doubt worsening the headache she'd only been able to knock out for a couple periods of time during the day. And ate chocolate fudge ice cream, partly melted and running down her face, grinning like a child who had stuck its face in the birthday cake.

He had also bought two kinds of fish food for the delicate newly spawned babies. And had bought a used filtration system. She thought him very sweet to have cared for what she cared for and detected that he was becoming invested in the raising of the babies as much as she was. This gesture would bring her a certain happiness for many days to come. Likely much longer than that.

Today she had lived in the moment, leaving for later the abstract concepts and searches for meaning and answers and even, new questions.

Her business today was concrete and earthy. They were of the body. As said in an old cliche.....blood, sweat and tears. Each with it's own pherome. Scent and odor, that first primary sense, primeval and incredibly accurate. The body's secret language that most covered with artifical concoctions of all kinds. She preferred the raw and the real. She had theories about the perceived need to cover up the natural self. Perhaps she would do some research someday and see if her theories had any validity. Though experience told her they did. She enjoyed her experimentations and field tests. When she could include her husband, she valued his insights as he was observant in a different and complimentary way. He never minded observing from a distance either, hidden from direct interchanges but filling in what she did not see, being in the forest and hidden in the trees. He rather enjoyed this role. She amused him along with her deftness in switching roles as easily as changing a pair of socks. She was a palette, to project and be the object of others' projections.
They had often entertained themselves with parodies of it. It wouldn't make the Scientific Journal, but they learned and they both were addicted to knowledge in the areas that held their interest. Although it had taken time to weld and meld and work out how their interests could be shared. They had seemed so disparate many times in the beginning years. Now, it came with ease. And, cliched again, they could often complete the others' thoughts.

She chose oblivious denial when it came to the fact of their age difference. Pretended, and it could be true, that age was no indicator of the span of a life. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him.

Now she was overheated. It was dark and if it sprinkled rain again as it did last night, she would go out the back door, secluded, and walk out into the rain, nude, with her hands held high. Welcoming the cooling shower of rain water, exhilerated with the freedoms of her life, washed by the clouds, until she was chilled, (neither shaken nor stirred but high.

7-24-08

[liveweyerd]

She brought up the one word that, between couples always seems to go in a direction not intended. Sex. She missed it.

Then to put the icing to the cake, she asked for her privacy with her writings. It had discomfitted her when he had pulled up a piece regarding dependent arisings. Written in January, she didn't remember it! She'd like to find it again but not by him pulling up her posts in SR. He had said it was an offline piece. It seems to have disappeard?

Upset, he told her that would no longer use the computer and to change the password.
She did. She changed it to "Say what you mean".

She has a peaceful place she can re-visit anytime. When she was single and living in the midwest, her backyard abutted a small lake. In the summertime, the temperature was warm bath water. It was rural and private. Each night, she left her clothing and a towel in the hammock and waded into the water. She had the ability to float like a raft,with only her ears underwater. Above was a canvas of stars dotting the black background.
She never tired of this encompassing sight, sometimes feeling it was for her, she was alone in the lake. Underneath were the sounds of nature, unlike any heard above water and in the air.

When she moved to Florida, she tried to continue her love floating in the bay. Until enough fishermen in the day convinced her that the waters were rife with sharks. They often caught them accidentally.

She does not swim in daylight. And she prefers to be alone.

But she hopes the memories never fade such that she cannot close her eyes and see the night sky.

7-27-08

[liveweyerd]

His eyes were seething. Flat black thunderheads. He answered questions with the fewest words possible, his face set to convey nothing. Biting sarcasm hidden in tone behind blameless words. Some not so blameless.

It was all her, of course it was. Everything he did was toward her happiness. Ungratefully she was not happy today. She was very unhappy.
And he had given up so much for her, he said.

Subconciously aimed for her to feel guilty, but she did not. Feeling sad, crying, hurt, unhappy were not reasons for guilt.

Let this day fall into the grave of yesterday, the past.

7-28-08

[liveweyerd]

...she says that she is going to take a nap, however she must hang up the laundry(not nessesary) She needs to catch up on her sleep, as She has been up most of ,the night comtemplating my Bad ATTITUDE yesterday, yes, I'M THE HUBBY. I'm going to write a few words just to say how much I love her, love everything about her and I try to make her life just a little easier whenever it seems appropriate.
My Lady has been through a lot in her life,as we all have, She now takes my moody nature in stride, She has been a Godsend for me, I simply cannot live without Her.
She has helped me over an alcohol & pot addiction,Now she is my drug of choice, We are totally inseperatable, We almost know one another's thoughts. I simply cannot do enough to let her know how important in my life She has become. I searched all of my adult life looking for that certain someone to share life' ups & downs with. I thank the powers that be for sending her into my life. Sure things get tough but through it all she is my sunshine.
My Mother, god rest her soul, always told me "For every Crooked Pot, There is a crooked lid!" I don't know whether I'm the pot or the lid, but We fit!!!!!!!!

[liveweyerd]

IMPORTANT CLARIFICATION:

No one can cause an addiction, control it or cure it.
He had a bad using habit but was not addicted.
She would not have dated for long an addict, knew better from prior experience.
Fire burns, don't touch again! LOL

[shutterbug]

Originally Posted by liveweyerd

...she says that she is going to take a nap, however she must hang up the laundry(not nessesary) She needs to catch up on her sleep, as She has been up most of ,the night comtemplating my Bad ATTITUDE yesterday, yes, I'M THE HUBBY. I'm going to write a few words just to say how much I love her, love everything about her and I try to make her life just a little easier whenever it seems appropriate.
My Lady has been through a lot in her life,as we all have, She now takes my moody nature in stride, She has been a Godsend for me, I simply cannot live without Her.
She has helped me over an alcohol & pot addiction,Now she is my drug of choice, We are totally inseperatable, We almost know one another's thoughts. I simply cannot do enough to let her know how important in my life She has become. I searched all of my adult life looking for that certain someone to share life' ups & downs with. I thank the powers that be for sending her into my life. Sure things get tough but through it all she is my sunshine.
My Mother, god rest her soul, always told me "For every Crooked Pot, There is a crooked lid!" I don't know whether I'm the pot or the lid, but We fit!!!!!!!!

i love this thread and these stories.

i've never been able to glimpse into a real and healthy relationship....especially never seen it from such insight and openness.....nor from anyone i know personally of feel so close to.

this....this is what perfection and happiness is in my eyes.
this....this is what i've always imagined what REAL love would look like.
this....leaves me with feeling some hope still remains - and in a time where even a small taste means more than a full plate of hope during the better times.

I love the quote!

I've been hurting a lot, the past few weeks especially, with deeply laid fears that i'm too broken for any sort of usefulness possibly remaining. These fears, seeming to strike a huge nerve today, sent pain in every direction and leaving me feeling totally crushed and iminent hospitalization being the only way to possibly survive long enough to believe it these fears just 'might' not be totally realistic of what the continued journey could reveal.

i'm broken.
that is a fact i wish i wasn't quite so aware of!

But this thread, these writings, THAT quote, reminded me that there just MIGHT be another, not only willing, but just as crushed and therefore just as over-joyed at the thought of finding someone accepting enough to want to spend the rest of eternity rebuilding - together - EVEN with me.

Thank you.
And thank you some more.

Jenna

p.s. having both sides of the story....reminds me of a story i wrote as a reporter once. It was a story of two sisters, twins, who grew up making paints out of whatever they could find....and grew up learning to produces BEAUTIFUL masterpieces of art together.

The most wonderful part of their work being....that they created each painting together, working side-by-side, each with brush in hand and onto the same canvas.

They signed each piece with both of their first names.

Sadly, one of the sisters died, and the other couldn't bring herself to even pick up a brush for more than 10 years after losing her twin.

But then, she was able to heal to a point where she was finally able to start painting again.

The most awsome part, that still makes me teary now, is that she still continued to sign each painting only with her first name.....but leaving 4 blanks where the letters of her sister's name had always been when they'd painted together.

In this way, she was able to still paint with her sister by her side, for the rest of her life.

[liveweyerd]

Live and I have been together for about 5 years now although it seems as though we have known each other for a lifetime, we are always struggling , it's easier now, with her in my life nothing seems unsurmountable, we have each other to ease the burdens.
I have always been a loner, felt ugly, and uninformed, I felt that everybody knew the "SECRET" except ME, I didn't even know how to dance, until after many, many years I found out that Most were faking it and it didn't matter anyway, nobody was looking at me they were to into themselves, all of mypreconsieved notions about being an alien vanished, I knew I was different, I had more feelings than "NORMAL" people, I cared what I looked like, I cared what others thought, that ,and other qualities I possessed, I knew I was very different and I started to feel good about it.I guess what I'm trying to say is, it's a good thing to be different, most people can't, they are narrowminded and do not have anything to offer to the human race, they do not posess the deep feelings that some of us have,they are the ones that don't have a clue.
__________________
Each small candle lights a corner of the dark....Roger Waters