Never went to the rodeo & Eternal catch 22.
Last year, I stood there eating a corn dog while my husband rode the rides.
I've always wanted to ride a mechanical bull. I love cowboys. I love anything that's very true to american "boy".
When I watch my love's hands at work on anything, it turns me on. Boy hands. Gosh.
I've always loved that. Opposite of idle hands, the movement & the concentration turn me on. God damn.
My husband has no parents. He has his Sister & her husband. The problem with drinking roots from his father. I can imagine the evening.....anger & frustration rampant....Papa wants to go out & his dad tells him "NO!". He was fed up. He looked his father in the eye and told him to leave them alone, to get out & never come back....that he was never around anyway. He became a man that night. His father never came back. Papa took the force of truth & power & scared his father away. This has instilled a great guilt in my husband, who believes he also took away a husband & father to his sister that night.... Who claims that the only thing his dad ever gave him was a drinking problem.
I can't imagine having Sophia & not having a parent to call, or share her with. That right there is heartbreak enough. For your life to change so drastically & not have a rock. Thank God for his sis, or he would be this lonestar to the wind for real. Though I know he has felt this very way before.
He says that right after, he went out and became a co-dependent junkie. After doing this for years on end, he finally kicked the habit & switched to drinking. Drinking so much I can hardly imagine how he ever even got a chick. From what I can tell, the amount was enough to make a man fall asleep standing & drool profusely. Now, it's not as bad...for his standards. He really keeps to alcohol only on the weekends. Beer throughout the week. And not even that much alcohol on said weekends.... enough though, so that it's noticeable to me, when we're out at a function & I have to deal soberly when he's not. The shit is taking a toll, and I feel as though he's starting to come apart physically from it. I asked him to try. Try to stop. He agreed.
I hear voices in my head. The voices mess with me so bad. I know you're not supposed to care what anyone else thinks. And inside my body, in my innermost, I rebel so hard against myself. One part says, "what they think....yada yada...." and gets me all anxious.....there's this slice of my brain that DOES care. Care's so profusely that it borders on paranoia. The other side of my brain notes that we only have ourselves. The other side of me see's that it's just us. No matter who claims to be a part of this family. WE are this family. The three ... excuse me.... 6 of us.... including the animals.
I just want to give them what they give me. Shit. Nothing but shit. But I never would want to make a person feel that way. It's my eternal catch 22.
My Mother.
She knows how to stick a fucking stake in my heart. She knows that I care that everyone get's along without a problem & I want those around me to be happy almost to a fault. No matter what I do. I am suffering from something that didn't make her happy about my life. Sometimes I call my Mom a whore. I don't even care that I do.
Ouch.
I'm glad I got that out of my fingers. Because everytime I say to myself, I won't ever let her in again, so that she can lash out on me. I do. Plain and simple. I open up like the fucking bridge that opens up for the ship on the river.
I find that lately I'm not so fond of the people around me. I'm frustrated by it. More than that, I am exasperated by it. And I feel alone. I feel like we took this trajectory course into some unknown land. And we did. But, everyone around changed. Or was it us? It's hard to tell sometimes. But for the most part I just can't shake that others seem so fake & cold & not what I expected them to be. Especially those I've known for quite some time. Maybe that's the frustrating part about it. The evolution is not in a favorable space.
FUCK.
I've always wanted to ride a mechanical bull. I love cowboys. I love anything that's very true to american "boy".
When I watch my love's hands at work on anything, it turns me on. Boy hands. Gosh.
I've always loved that. Opposite of idle hands, the movement & the concentration turn me on. God damn.
My husband has no parents. He has his Sister & her husband. The problem with drinking roots from his father. I can imagine the evening.....anger & frustration rampant....Papa wants to go out & his dad tells him "NO!". He was fed up. He looked his father in the eye and told him to leave them alone, to get out & never come back....that he was never around anyway. He became a man that night. His father never came back. Papa took the force of truth & power & scared his father away. This has instilled a great guilt in my husband, who believes he also took away a husband & father to his sister that night.... Who claims that the only thing his dad ever gave him was a drinking problem.
I can't imagine having Sophia & not having a parent to call, or share her with. That right there is heartbreak enough. For your life to change so drastically & not have a rock. Thank God for his sis, or he would be this lonestar to the wind for real. Though I know he has felt this very way before.
He says that right after, he went out and became a co-dependent junkie. After doing this for years on end, he finally kicked the habit & switched to drinking. Drinking so much I can hardly imagine how he ever even got a chick. From what I can tell, the amount was enough to make a man fall asleep standing & drool profusely. Now, it's not as bad...for his standards. He really keeps to alcohol only on the weekends. Beer throughout the week. And not even that much alcohol on said weekends.... enough though, so that it's noticeable to me, when we're out at a function & I have to deal soberly when he's not. The shit is taking a toll, and I feel as though he's starting to come apart physically from it. I asked him to try. Try to stop. He agreed.
I hear voices in my head. The voices mess with me so bad. I know you're not supposed to care what anyone else thinks. And inside my body, in my innermost, I rebel so hard against myself. One part says, "what they think....yada yada...." and gets me all anxious.....there's this slice of my brain that DOES care. Care's so profusely that it borders on paranoia. The other side of my brain notes that we only have ourselves. The other side of me see's that it's just us. No matter who claims to be a part of this family. WE are this family. The three ... excuse me.... 6 of us.... including the animals.
I just want to give them what they give me. Shit. Nothing but shit. But I never would want to make a person feel that way. It's my eternal catch 22.
My Mother.
She knows how to stick a fucking stake in my heart. She knows that I care that everyone get's along without a problem & I want those around me to be happy almost to a fault. No matter what I do. I am suffering from something that didn't make her happy about my life. Sometimes I call my Mom a whore. I don't even care that I do.
Ouch.
I'm glad I got that out of my fingers. Because everytime I say to myself, I won't ever let her in again, so that she can lash out on me. I do. Plain and simple. I open up like the fucking bridge that opens up for the ship on the river.
I find that lately I'm not so fond of the people around me. I'm frustrated by it. More than that, I am exasperated by it. And I feel alone. I feel like we took this trajectory course into some unknown land. And we did. But, everyone around changed. Or was it us? It's hard to tell sometimes. But for the most part I just can't shake that others seem so fake & cold & not what I expected them to be. Especially those I've known for quite some time. Maybe that's the frustrating part about it. The evolution is not in a favorable space.
FUCK.
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