Trying to write on the new film for the Ark Theatre but just can’t seem to get the brain going in the comedy direction tonight. Had a great lunch/coffee meeting with the fabulous Madame H, sans our partner-in-crime, Ranger Smith, on this script and was hoping to take advantage of that creative energy but the heat and the clowns seemed to have sucked all of that right out of me. Which may explain why I am totally sucked into Justin Timberlake on HBO.
There are so many things in my head that the heat has stuck to the top of my mind so maybe I can get rid of some of it here.
My ex. He seems to have happily moved on with his life, has a girlfriend of about one year. I can’t help but wonder if he treats her better than he treated me. Of course he probably does. I thought he treated me great when we were first together. Will he continue the cycle of abuse and attack her in the years to come or was that just a treat for me? Was my personality why he became so abusive to me? Is that possible? I guess so because someone stronger would have been able to stop the abuse before it got to the suicidal point. Is she that strong? Will she be that strong 20 years from now? Or has he learned?
I am so angry about him and with him because there will never be the confrontation where I get to say, you hurt me and scarred me and damaged me in such a way that I don’t think I will ever be able to truly love someone again. You shattered me, you devastated me. You took no responsibility for the damage, just let me lay there, bleeding inside, broken and mangled, and told me it was my fault. You had nothing to do with the way I felt and the way I reacted. I never really got the chance to say, FUCK YOU! You need to stand up and grow some balls and say, “You know what, I was wrong. I treated you horribly and I discounted your feelings and your heart. I hurt you in a way I never meant to because I never understood my own feelings and my abusive upbringing.” I’ll never get that closure and that resolution. I’ll just stand by and watch from a distance as you happily move past me – the one you said you could never live without. And I am angry because you never fought for me. Not in all the counseling sessions where I tried to reach out to you, where I tried to figure out how I could not leave you. Not when I was almost dead and ready to die for you, to make you happy, to kill the things in me that made me fly, even then, you never fought for me. When I told you I was through, you said okay. You never chased me. You never reached out and said you missed me. I guess you were through, too, and just weren’t ready to admit it until I made that decision. It hurts that you didn’t fight for me. We were together almost 20 years and you let me go without a fuss. Deep down, that makes me feel like I meant so much less to you than I thought I did. I was not worth fighting for.
And you, who I should be past, who I should not care about anymore, who I should just let the fuck go. You, who I can still feel in my heart, despite wanting not to. I can’t figure out how to get you out of my system, even though you have chosen to remove yourself so far from my life. Again, I am feeling unresolved, unspoken feelings. What was I to you for that time? Was it just me? Was I the only one who felt what was there? You never told me, you will never tell me. You didn’t want me so you walked away from me, without a word, without a sound, leaving me to wonder where we are, who we are. Are we still friends? You’re in every frame of my new life. I want to scream at you, rail at you, for hurting me so much yet pretending you don’t see it. You broke our friendship and you broke my heart and, yet, you stand there, unscathed, unaffected, untouched by my hurt, my pain.
And Cute Boy, so unattainable yet so… there. Do I want you simply because you’re there and I can’t have you? Do I want you just because I want someone and you’re cute and funny and in my orbit? I see so many things in you that I don’t really want in someone, yet I can’t help but find myself drawn to you and your talent and your warmth. I hope you don’t see it and that I can hide it until I find someone else to focus my attention on because, otherwise, I’ll be in the same place I am right now, wanting, needing but unable to touch.
And my first ex. Okay, I know you read this so I’m torn between being totally honest and being delicate. And I’m not sure what reaction I will get fro you if I write honestly about what I’m feeling. I’d say stop reading here if you don’t want the honest truth but I know no human being can stop reading when they see that phrase so let’s see how honest I can be, knowing you’re still reading. I am confused by your return in my life. I have often wondered about you and where you are and what has happened in the past 20 years since you left me. I am uncertain how I feel about you being in touch with me. I’m not even sure how much I want to tell you about my life, although this blog has pretty much laid my life open before you. However, you have not been in my life for 20 years so the me that writes this is not the same naïve, innocent, wide-open 25 year old who left Canada all those years ago, her broken heart and her few possessions packed in her Volkswagen. And I know nothing about your life with the girl (in my mind, she’s still a girl) you left me for all those years ago, breaking my heart, destroying my life, shattering all the dreams I had for you and me. Sometimes, I hope your life has been miserable and that she turned out to be horrible and awful and that your marriage is a sham and you’re ready to pack your bags and leave her behind, just like you left me. I wonder if you’ve strayed from her and if you ever strayed from me in the short time we were together. Sometimes, I hope your life has been full and happy and everything you wanted it to be when you left me, as you obviously couldn’t find what you wanted with me. I hope your beautiful children have been the blessing in your life that I never had in mine. But sometimes I hope you suffer excruciating pain in your heart, despite my best intentions at wanting you to be happy.
I guess it comes down to the fact that I am feeling unloved and undesirable and unwanted. I feel like I’m carrying this huge pile of baggage that make men run when they see me coming. They love and respond to the fact that I am driven (“weirdly driven”, thank you, Ranger Smith) and focused and have laser-sharp intensity but they don’t want that in their life. Or they are disappointed when they discover the wounded soul underneath that laser stare. And they want the easy ones, the easy life. The ones who only want them, who only need them to be there to be whole. I wish I could be that person. I tried to be that person. But that only drove me to count pills and want to leave everything behind.
I can’t be that person, yet I am not sure that this person I am and I am becoming is one who is going to find that other half, that man who can take all my intensity and all my baggage and all my “too-much-ness” and not make me feel that I am lacking, that I am not worth fighting for, that I am not worth being with when they’re afraid of me. I’m afraid I’m going to be this person the rest of my life – this driven, incredible, talented, amazing woman everyone seems to see me as – yet empty and alone and devastatingly sad, having no one to hold, no one whose hand to take, having a single bed as my life grows and blossoms and becomes the thing I’ve always wanted – at least half of what I’ve always wanted. How is this life complete without someone to share it with? Not someone give it up to, not give it away to, but to put out my hand and say, come with me on this amazing journey ahead. Don’t be afraid, I won’t let go of your hand and I want you to hang on to mine with strength and love and power. There will be times when I lead us on this journey but there will be many times when I will want to be led. I don’t need a leash but I need a guide, someone to walk the path with me, explore the caverns and the vistas and the dry lands and the marshlands and the fjords and the glaciers with me. I need someone brave enough to show me their tender underbelly and trust that I won’t gut them with my anger and bitterness and mistrust and hurt. Someone to be as open and wanting and needing as I am, so we won’t have that want and need anymore, except for each other.
Gee, I wonder why I can’t write comedy tonight.
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