Dicks

Dicks. They can ruin your whole day. Yes, if they are used in the correct fashion, they can make your day. But most of the time when we use the word “dick” to refer to anyone, it isn’t a good thing.

I am dealing with an adolescent, one who doesn’t want to grow up or accept the responsibilities that came into his life 12 years ago. I cannot help this. I cannot fix it. I cannot placate him or make his life better. He has to do that himself, but if he will is anyone’s guess.

But I am exhausted from dealing with it. It is like having a child of my own, and if you have been reading any of these posts, you know children were the last thing I ever wanted to deal with. After a certain age these “children” will not listen, will not ask for help – no, they will pile their shit onto you and expect that you will just take it. But I am not on the receiving end of the manure pile. I didn’t begin this shit – I came in at the middle, and am willing to help – but that is not what you want, and I cannot discuss anything with you right now.

Fuck it. Why even try? This is not easy. Relationships are not always easy. But what I had with my husband flowed. Flowed. This one does not. It is a constant worry of what will be the next shoe to drop? I am spent by this. Is this what happens to couples that are in their later years? Not middle age, but not in their 20’s? Somewhere in between, when you wake up one morning and realize what you had imagined for yourself in your teens in not the life you are living?

I want to cut and run. I am over it. I am over trying to make everyone in my goddamn life happy, except ME. I want to be happy. I want to find that and my bliss. And I don’t know if this person, if this relationship is holding me back. Hell, he won’t even fly across the Atlantic for me. That should tell me a lot.

I fed his fucking feral cat this morning, talking to him because I thought it would soothe him and the cat. Did I complain about all the flea and mosquito bites I got while sitting on the step, doing this for him? No. Because I wouldn’t be doing it if not for him. But I discovered yesterday that sitting with the cat calmed me, talking to it as it ate. Even as my skin was be assailed by insects. But does he care? No. Just about Zinka, Lime Disease, etc. That’s bullshit. That’s not living.

I lived, and have lived many lifetimes through this one. I plan on continuing this adventure, with or without him. There is too much left for me to do, to see, to smell, experience, to inhale. He might not have the balls to do this with me. Maybe I read him wrong. Maybe I wanted something stable. But really, perhaps, I don’t.

So I don’t know what to do. Other than carry on with my day. My life. If he can not get it together, fine. If he wants to glorify suicide , fine. But he has NO IDEA what that is like or what the thoughts are that will lead you to that. He is moping. He is frustrated. He thinks the word “suicide” will make others snap to attention. You can only use that for so long. If you are going to do it, do it. I learned that from my sister years ago. It’s not my fault. It’s no ones. It’s yours. Own it.

Because suicide is something I think about on a daily basis. Call it what chemicals fire (or don’t) in my brain. Call it losing my husband. Call it life. I have a lot less to live for than you. All I have are words. And if my words don’t touch others, than I have nothing. I have memories. But they are my own. I am happy to share, but they are close kept secrets. I only share them with a few. On days like this, I am sad I shared them with you. You think because of my disease, it will allow your tumultuous mind to find some peace. Gods speed, man. You are one of the lucky ones, and you don’t even know it.

Everyone. Everyone goes through this. Did I live my life the way I wanted to? What would I have done differently? How could I be where I thought I would be? You got someone pregnant, the same year I lost my husband, my life. I don’t know if we were supposed to intersect, but we did.

But I cannot help you. YOU have to help yourself. You are strong. You can do this. If you fail, you fail. But I have faith in you. More than in myself. So buck up, Buttercup. Deal with it. Get help or get out. Make a goddamn decision and stop spinning in circles, as you always tell me to do.

© Sorrow & Kindness

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