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RelationshipThat Hard, Bizarre Thing Series

That Hard, Bizarre Thing #38 of 45: “Time for Space”

by Angela

(NOTE: Written about an experience in the past, does NOT reflect the present.)

(A letter I wrote to Girlfriend after I asked her to go to Seattle for two weeks so I could be alone. Until this point we essentially spent every single day, all day long, together. So cutting off contact, even for a little while, felt like a big deal.)

I love looking at your photos and vides. Memories from several years ago, before we were anything at all. And I love you. Every photo I see, I love you with massive, overwhelming, giant love. I look at younger you and love her, love everything in her. I love the old video about your former crush, your passionate expression of your feelings, just so you. Expressive, full of color, full of texture, full of angst, full of awe about this world and the beauty within it. And I love you with all that I am made of, with everything I am I love you.

And you love me. And you are thinking of me, and also thinking of her. You are missing me, and also missing her. You are texting me in the darkness at 3am, and your delayed replies tell me you are also texting her. She may very well be the last word you have before you slumber. She may very well be the first when you awake.

I am breathing, Breathing through what feels like heartbreak while in the presence of treasured love. Breathing through the narratives that tell me this is not what being loved should feel like. Breathing through the challenging idea that you could feel so much for her and still love me large, still want our life more than anything else.

I wish you only wanted me. Only loved me. I wish I was your whole world and you admired other women, enjoyed other women’s company, but love? Feelings of love? Feelings that look a lot like love? I wish they were all for me.

But they are not because they are not supposed to be, at least not in this moment. I am meant to learn to hold this with grace and beauty and thrive. I am meant to relinquish ownership and any notion that you are mine. I am meant to be someone who revels in your presence because you have chosen to build a life with me and I with you, not because I am awarded exclusivity to your feelings.

Or I am meant to be someone that fucking falls apart and produces inspired art that serves… someone. 

Or I am meant to just be another human being who survives heartbreak and that is it. 

Who knows, really. 

And now I remember why I asked you to leave and give me space. So you know what it feels like to be separate from me. And I know what it feels like to be separate from you. So you know what it feels like to only have her. And as frightening as that is for me, because who knows what reality will surface, it is time to find out. Who are you without me? What do you want when we are an ocean apart, and my voice and face are memories, and our life is 2650 miles away? Who are you, really? What do you want, really? Who do you want, really? And these same questions for myself. 

So I think we should stop texting, stop talking, stop saying goodnight, stop it all. Cut off all contact for the rest of your stay in Seattle. I know in my heart of hearts that this space is meant to produce gold, that it is the pathway forward.

This terrifies the shit out of me and makes my heart feel like its been reduced to teeny tiny pieces. But I believe in it. And I believe in us. And I believe in you. And I believe SO MUCH in me. And I think we will, in the not-too-distant future, look back on this time and laugh at what a big deal we made of it (“Remember when we were apart for 13 days and it felt like the end of the world? Hahahahaaaa, we were different people then, hahahaha.”) but I also know that we will look back and see it was completely worth it.

I love you. Though love is not a big enough word for what I feel for you. My baby, my turkey-leg king, my protector warrior, my brilliant artist, my visionary alchemist. Mine, but not mine. I love you. 

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RelationshipThat Hard, Bizarre Thing Series

That Hard, Bizarre Thing #25b: “5 Reasons Why #2 – Insatiable Craving for External Validation”

by Angela

(NOTE: Written about an experience in the past, does NOT reflect the present.)

Reason #2: Insatiable Craving for External Validation

This all happened during a time we were starved for external validation. Attention. Compliments. Being thought of as cool. Showing off our skills. Being seen as having value, being seen as “above” on the ladder of hierarchy.

And Girl felt like a cat, at first. Guarded, mysterious, finicky, skittish. So of course, we were like “YOU! YOU ARE THE ONE!” because we are programmed to want what we cannot have. And then, when she finally came around, wow. What an explosion of love, though mostly for Girlfriend, but some of it leaked toward me in the first week or two. Our home is the first place that ever felt like home? Our love is the only unconditional love she’s ever tasted? Holy crap, we were hooked. We were also given magical, exclusive access. She’d show up almost daily, tell us stories that seemed like secrets only we had the privilege of knowing. The cat chose us, and we were so special. External validation flowing strong.

And for Girlfriend? Oh my gosh. The way Girl made her feel, at first? Girlfriend sat on a pedestal of pedestals, she was wisdom incarnate, she was a goddess and god, she was the physical manifestation of what had only been a fantasy, a veritable dream woman painting come to life, the motherfucking sun. And for Girlfriend, who moved from kingdoms where she was adored, respected, and held in great esteem, to our home with children who barely noticed she had any skills at all? Girl was the water to quench Girlfriend’s long-held thirst.

I mean, at least Girlfriend was love blitzed and had good reason to get attached. I was just next to the explosion, trying so hard to find scraps and crumbs for myself. Wanting Girl around just in hopes that she might give me something, might SEE me for even a second, might acknowledge that I was someone of merit, too. Which is why I did not want to lose her, because I’d lose access to any possible morsels of validation that I really really really wanted from the cat. I mean, Girl. Crazy. Pretty much an all-consuming desperation for her to tell me that I had value like Girlfriend. And an equal desperation for Girlfriend to tell me I had value like Girl. 

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RelationshipThat Hard, Bizarre Thing Series

That Hard, Bizarre Thing #24: “Moment of Clarity”

by Angela

(NOTE: Inspired by a journal about past events, does NOT reflect the present.)

An epiphany I had while very sick, and attempting to boost my immune system by lying down on the grass and dirt in the middle of the backyard. Yes, all the neighbors were like “What the?”

To Girlfriend:

I see it now.
I see it clear as day.
I think Girl is acting like my friend because I am yours.
And that is the only reason.
And Girl is not even doing a good job.

I think the truth of it is:
Girl does not care if she hurts me.
Girl is more than willing to hurt me.
Girl is eager to hurt me.

I do not matter
because Girl wants what she wants,
and there is nothing more to expect from her 
than this.

And the pain is holding what I think I know,
but seeing you want to give her everything,
wanting to spend a lifetime with her,
this girl who seemingly wishes 
I did not exist.
Perhaps wishes
you were alone.
and I know it,
and she knows it, 
and I feel like you know it, too.

That is why the Universe gave me perplexing feelings for her,
that is why the Universe draws me to her.
So I do not hate her.
So I do not despise her.
So I do not pluck her from our lives.
So I do not hurt her
the way she seems ready to hurt me.

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RelationshipThat Hard, Bizarre Thing Series

That Hard, Bizarre Thing #23 :”More Angry Poem Rants”

by Angela

(NOTE: Pulled from a journal about past events, does NOT reflect the present.)

“Lost”

She is your muse.
She is your sunshine prism.
She is your diamond,
and I am your rock,
solid beneath your feet
carrying you so you may
reach your arms upwards to her.

Everything you do is for her,
your creations, your memes, your art,
so she sees, so she hears, so she knows,
and I am pushed to the edge of your universe,
a nameless star.

How do I do this?
How do I walk this broken-glass path, 
shards of everything I thought we were, of everything I thought I was.
How do I do this?
How do I breathe in and out 
with lungs made of lead, and air thick with the ashes
of our life that has been burned to the ground?
How do I move these bones rattling in my skin?
What do I do with this heart scraping my ribs,
scratching the flesh of my chest,
carving “THERE IS NO SAFETY HERE!”

There is no solace here.
There is no love here.
There is no her here.
There is no you here.
Just me.

Just me in this fucking empty hall
with no one to hear my knees hit the ground,
with no one to lament my shredded-flesh feet,
with no one to bandage my bleeding soul.

“No Power”

You both tell me I have the power
and I laugh, because what power is this?
To plunge you both into misery?
To switch off the warmth of your suns?
To submerge you into the pain I feel every damned second of every damned day?
The power to make you both resent me? To make you both hate me?
The power to take away “the person you’ve waited for your entire life?”
The power to make it impossible, so you leave me so it can be possible again?

THERE IS NO POWER HERE.

I have no power.

Dear Angels, dear Masters, dear Guardians, Mother Gaia,
how do I do this?
How do I show up tomorrow and the day after that?
How do I live this life where my love has become nothing?
How do I live in this Universe where the love of my life revolves around someone else?
How do I let this girl into my home?
How do I let her gifts sit on our shelves?
How do I speak to her when she rejects my words?

Our years have become a joke.
Waiting for this anniversary to come.
Waiting for what?
Blazing pain?
To watch you and her unable to get enough of each other?
To watch you and her drawn together like magnets?
To find out I am nothing after all?
To hear you say nice words, but see your actions betray you at every turn?
The actions that betray the lies you are living?

“She is just a friend.”
“She is just my muse.”
“She is just my crush.”
Yes, she is JUST the single reason for everything you fucking do and every thought you fucking think and there is NOTHING I can do. 

You do not see me. 
You do not hear me.
So I just keep walking, and hope I make it through.

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RelationshipThat Hard, Bizarre Thing Series

That Hard, Bizarre Thing #22 of 45: “Heroin-Flavored Lollipop”

by Angela

(NOTE: Written about an experience in the past, does NOT reflect the present.)

So it may appear like Girlfriend was getting all of the goodies while I was losing the goodies I thought I had. 

BUT, it takes two to tango, so let’s take a peek at Girlfriend’s possible perspective.

Imagine Girlfriend has laid her eyes upon the most loveliest, most intriguing, most delectable, most coolest lollipop in all the land. And she was like “Oh my gosh babe, this lollipop is AMAZING, can I hang out with it?” to which I replied “Yes, you absolutely can hang out with it. Have a great time. Forge deep bonds. It looks delicious. You have my wholehearted blessing.”

Then, as time goes on, I realize I don’t like how much time Girlfriend spends with Lollipop, I don’t like how attached she’s becoming to Lollipop, I don’t like the whole house being sticky or that she always smells like strawberries.

BUT, I am deeply lacking in self-worth, rather codependent and people-pleaser-y plus fawn-y, and under the impression that Girlfriend is way better than me, way hotter than me, and is doing me massive favors by being with me, a dowdy, used up mother of three. I think she is the good-est looking, most badass creature in the entire world, and I cannot live without her, and so I try to be cool about it so she does not leave me. I try to be cool by arranging for them to hang out and encouraging their alone-time and saying super awesome things like “Lollipop can come over anytime!” and “Let’s definitely drop all of our plans for Lollipop at any moment!” and “Let’s buy Lollipop gifts!” and “Yeah, I guess I could tolerate Lollipop possibly living in our house someday.” 

However, in between all of the cool things, I am falling apart. I am having a fit in the garage. I am running to the corner of the street and crying under a big tree. I am beating our mattress with a guava stick. I am sitting on giant rocks in a preschool yard at 2am, shaking my fist at the stars. I am recording pissed-off videos. I am clearly not okay.

But then I force myself to be fine. I gather myself up, remember I am supposed to be perfect, and go back to saying mature-as-shit things like, “Why don’t you spend time with Lollipop while I grocery shop?” and “Let’s take Lollipop food on our date day!” and “Let’s help Lollipop have more money than we do!”

And then, of course, the falling apart in between. 

So you can see how it could be confusing.

NOW, imagine Lollipop is, uh, heroin-flavored. Or whatever the most addictive drug is. (This is not real, no one did any hard drugs, we have no idea what heroin tastes like). And so when I get to the point of “I am losing my shit, I cannot do this anymore, I don’t want to be around Lollipop,” Girlfriend does not seem to be able to stop. She can’t lose Lollipop now. I can’t tell her she can have Heroin Lollipop, encourage her to be addicted to heroin Lollipop, then tell her she needs to throw heroin Lollipop in the garbage and not have any heroin Lollipops ever again. That is not nice.

PLUS, even though I voiced my displeasure, I also repeatedly wavered and backtracked because I also have a weird addiction to Heroin Lollipop and find myself constantly taking back my words, apologizing, saying it was all my fault, and inviting Lollipop over. Even though it kind of seems like Lollipop is trying to steal my partner and screw up my life, I so desperately want Lollipop still in it.

And if I, the cast-out one feeling ignored and run over, still wants Lollipop around… Can you imagine how Girlfriend must have felt as the one Lollipop appeared to actually be obsessed with?

I hope this was helpful.

(NOTE: If you are all wondering WHY we were ever so attached to her, I will attempt to explain this in a later post)

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RelationshipThat Hard, Bizarre Thing Series

That Hard, Bizarre Thing #14 of 45: “Mostly A Poem About… Lostness?”

by Angela

(NOTE: Inspired by a journal about past events, does NOT reflect the present.)

I worked hard to stop caring what others thought. Or to, at least, care much less. To be comfortable in my truths, in who I am, in my expression, in my voice. I fancied myself far down the road of progress, strong, resilient, solidly me. “Good job, me,” I’d say, patting myself on the back.

Then this.
And now I am questioning everything,
Now I am listening to every word I speak and wondering of their value,
Now I am replaying every eye flutter, every lip twitch, and deciding if it was good or bad.
Did I convey what I meant to convey?
Should I have even meant to convey it in the first place?
How am I sitting?
How am I speaking?
Am I too loud, too quiet?
Am I smiling too much, am I awkwardly still?
Am I incapable of being cool? 
Am I kind of dorky or extremely dorky?
Why do I make so many hand gestures?
Are my experiences worthy?
Am I worthy?

Where did she go?
The grounded one with a bit of wisdom?
Where is she now?
The seeing queen with her sword of truth, here to set fire to the world?
Where is she now?
Goddess of light, gateway of souls, four-armed mother, dragon spirit?

She is nowhere to be found,
and in her place a little girl
who is not sure if she can be loved,
who is not sure if she deserves joy,
who stands in warm sunlight on a clear day
holding an umbrella,
waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I thought I loved this child and soothed her long ago.
I thought she knew she was worthy, and enough, and deserving of every good thing in this world.
I thought she was healed.
But here she is,
quiet and scared,
praying she is not alone.

And that is the gift of this brittleness,
that is the gift of the spiral that dances me back to the past.
I discover swirling patterns,
wounds that are crusted but raw.

I find this child
and have another chance to love her,
to tell her we are okay,
to tell her it is all going to be more than okay.
To invite her to lower her umbrella,
saying the sun is a gift,
and yes it sets, but it will always rise again,
And the moon and stars are just as beautiful,
and oh doesn’t nighttime smell so good?
To tell her I will hold her hand and 
we will walk through this together,
however many times it takes.

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RelationshipThat Hard, Bizarre Thing Series

That Hard, Bizarre Thing #13: “Three is a Crowd”

by Angela

(NOTE: Inspired by a journal about past events, does NOT reflect the present. My present relationship is completely  monogamous.)

“Just when you think you are sooooo strong, a young woman blows into your life and you find you are brittle as leaves in the Fall” – Me

NOTE: This was written the day after discovering Girl felt something for me, too. The chariot of anxiety came in QUICK. 

When there are three people. Suddenly the relationship is not your own. There is another player. I could feel whatever I feel, but there is also Girlfriend and her vast influence, and everyone has to be on board for it to work, and it is a large thing to go from two to three in such a vulnerable place.

This place. The questioning of being around Girl and how we alter. I see it in Girlfriend and it frightens me how concerned she seems to now be about what I share, what I say, what I reveal about her when she did not care before. Suddenly I feel I need to edit my words, edit my openness, edit my writing, and I don’t like it. 

I see it in me as well, the pull to put on some sort of show. I question my words, my expressions, my articulation, my stories, everything I am doing. What will Girl think? How will Girl view me? Will I lose her? Will I lose them? Is everything I am saying empty and dumb?

I fear my past is too pristine, my stories too nice, my understanding too small and privileged and fortunate. I fear I have no place. I fear I am on the outside. I fear I am not enough. But I will fight to not let this change me. I will fight to say the words I have always meant to say, dare to share all that is me, dare to let myself be seen and ask to be loved just the way I am. Just the way I am… Have I ever been just the way I am? Do I even know what that is?

The fear. The fear that comes with having something I feel like I am not supposed to have. To have something I feel unworthy of, to have something everyone says should not exist, to have something that is seemingly so leading edge and glorious and brilliantly shining that it is terrifying because how does one survive the loss of something this grand? 

It feels like I have been gifted a pegasus in a world that says they do not exist. And now I am so afraid she will be taken away and my life will always be missing a pegasus, my life will suffer from a pegasus-shaped hole forever even though, just a little bit ago, I had no idea I even wanted one.

(NOTE: Throwing this in here in case anyone is becoming confused. We were never a throuple, Girlfriend and Girl were never officially dating or in a romantic relationship, there was nothing official about any of this. But there were lots and lots and lots of feelings that made it all FEEL very real. I am sure many of you have been in not-official relationships that felt very real. If you have not, then good for you.)

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