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themiddlelayer · 4 years

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I’m an idiot...

And an oxytocin junkie. And it’s killing me. Seriously.

I’ve been in my apartment for a full week now and I’m as moved in as I’m getting for now. There are still a few little stupid things I need like a step ladder and the nails to hang my Frida print but otherwise, things are functioning and I’m comfortable. That’s the easy part.

The hard part? The loneliness. I’ve never lived alone... I had my Kiddo and/or a husband/boyfriend/roommates since I left home at 16. When I lived at home, I was alone all the time... I didn’t have any real connection to my family of origin so I spent most all of my time beginning around age 10 alone in my room. I felt like an outsider in my own home, so I made my bedroom my sanctuary. It was always clean, vaccummed, dusted and in order. The rest of the house was always dirty and as chaotic as a household of 3 (me, my father and my younger brother) could be.

I know that’s the root of my need to be in a relationship. I grew up alone and never felt like I was part of my family so I’ve spent my entire life trying to build one of my own... and failing over and over. Knowing that doesn’t change how hard it is to be single and how scary this feels. Knowing I’m capable, strong, financially stable enough.. none of that stops me from waking up in the morning and crying... feeling like I want to crawl out of my skin just to not be here.

The dark twisty thoughts have started to creep in and I’m doing everything I can to fight it off and keep myself safe. I’m safe right now. And I know what I need to do... but it’s exhausting to constantly push away those thoughts and keep going. Keep showing up for “work” and answering messages from people... people who genuinely love me and want to see me happy and healthy.

I’m in that place where I’m afraid of exhausting Cookie with my stuff because she’s the only person I’m really comfortable with seeing me like this in real life. She’s got an old flame, Shakespeare (SS), who re-emerged, freshly divorced and giving her all the feels again. She’s so happy that I hate bringing my heavy to her.

The funny thing is that she came over on Friday to talk about SS because he missed a planned phone call and she was in the same place I was with LEO... feeling like an idiot for getting all twitterpated over someone who can’t even reply to a good morning message for over 24 hours. She took my advice and messaged him basically asking if she should be miffed about being stood up (they had planned a phone call that he missed) or if she should be worried. He replied right away, saying all the right things. He’s worried about messing things up and worried that he won’t be able to ‘walk the talk’ when it comes down to it because of where he’s at in life right now. Honest. Transparent. Awesome. I’m so happy for her!

But me? I’m an idiot... LEO and I finally had a longer-ish video chat Friday night but I’d had an edible, fallen asleep on the couch then got a message from him as I crawled into bed. Admittedly, I was still a little high when we chatted. And he finally got to see my boobs.. LOL!

I don’t doubt him for a second when he tells me that he loves me and wants to be with me. But that doesn’t change the lack of conversation and the way our schedules just aren’t lining up. And none of that seems to stop me from melting into a puddle of goo when he calls me ‘Babygirl.’ Fucking ridiculous.

If I’ve learned anything over the course of my failed relationships it’s that it takes more than love to make a relationship work. It takes work. It takes common interests and shared ideas about how the everyday things should go... little things that seem trivial, really aren’t. What smells a person loves or hates... where they want the thermostat set... if there is a ‘right way’ to load a dishwasher... little seemingly trivial things that I gave up on really add up and can snowball into a life where I’m small and powerless. I can’t do that again, and I know that.

And then there’s that part of me that’s just flat out tired. Exhausted from a lifetime of survival mode and of all the chaos and deep emotions that came from polyamory... burned out, just like my grandmother used to talk about. Shortly before she passed away she said that she saw me burning so brightly that she was always afraid I’d burn out too fast. That’s what this feels like sometimes.

That part of me wants to just go home to California and be a cop’s wife. No need for the politics and deep conversations. No need for the effort. No need for anything other than just doing daily life and breakfast burritos. I could go back to being the house where the kids come afterschool.. LEO has a 10 year old daughter and a few grown kids... I could help another little woman into the world but maybe she would actually want me in her life, unlike my Kiddo who hasn’t spoken to me in years. Ouch.

Further complicating my emotional state is my renewed connection with McT back in MD. We’ve had several chats, a phone call that lasted over an hour then last night we video chatted for almost 90 minutes. I showed him my apartment and then he walked me through his house, pointing out and telling stories behind all of artwork and knick-knacks. He pulled out a couple of his ukuleles and played them and sang to me. I couldn’t stop smiling.

He’s moving towards filmmaking after writing several plays that have been performed out there. He’s upped his game from hosting burlesque shows and writing into more and more sideshow acts. He does straight jacket escapes, strongman feats like tearing decks of cards and bending things like horseshoes, nails and frying pans, and is working on sword swallowing. He travels to perform while holding down a full time job in a museum in DC. He went to art school and makes a living at art! Unheard of, right!?!

McT makes me smile. We have great conversations... he’s hot. And kinky. Ridiculously smart and witty... and when we talk, I almost always end up feeling like I’m just flat out boring. He’s motivated and has interests... and I guess that’s actually normal, like the product of a happy, healthy upbringing complete with summer camp and the ‘almost became a rabbi’ path. He’s not someone who I could ever see getting married and doing the kind of life thing that LEO wants. He feels like a bright spot or a comet which has its own merits but ultimately I feel like he’d get bored of me if we were to ever actually pursue anything serious.

Realistically, I need to put my energy into myself, my job, and into finding other things... not people... that make me happy. I know this. I really do.

I’m still grieving the loss of the life with MM because I didn’t really, fully do that. We unraveled in slow motion but it’s really over now. In all likeliness I’ll never see that house again. I’ll never see Bleu or Monster again. And I may never see MM again after he leaves for DC at the end of the month. He was my family and has had my back through this Tampa episode in a way that most wouldn’t. But I don’t recognize him anymore. Our interactions in person have all been cold and awkward and I still can’t talk to him without holding back tears most of the time.

And this Tampa bullshit. I woke up angry at him this morning. Things did not have to be this way. I didn’t have to be worried about running into him at the grocery store... we could have still enjoyed the good... I woke up thinking about making french toast and wishing I could watch the latest episode of Harley Quinn. And then I thought about inviting Cookie for brunch but the place in town with the best benedicts is the place where Tampa and I had brunch that last weekend before he flew back to Florida and a fresh flood of tears sprang. I just want to kick him in the shins and yell, “What the fuck, dude!!?”

I pulled back because I had to for my own dignity, and instead of hanging on and working on things he threw me away. I wasn’t worth the effort because I was too easy from the beginning and I can’t make that mistake again.

Just as my tears were drying up, my phone rang... Washington state. My first love and first lover...

I can’t believe I haven’t talked about him or given him a nickname! Or have I? Well, I’m going to go with “Byron” now. When we were much younger, I came across a quote from Lord Byron that always made me think of him, “In her first passion woman loves her lover; in all others, all she loves is love.”

Byron’s 5 year old daughter was murdered a little over a year ago and they are in the middle of the trial. He’s been homeless, living in his car for awhile now, unable to work due to his own health and then this whole thing with the trial. To say that his life was hard before this is an understatement.. admittedly, he was responsible for a lot of the struggles he’s faced, but he has always kept going.

He’s battled alcoholism, health issues including multiple hospitalizations for diabetes complications, liver cirrhosis and injuries like the broken femur he’s still healing from. Once upon a time ago, he ran a comedy club and partied with celebrities... he dated Tonya Harding briefly and when he told me all I could do was chuckle because she seems like his type. When he was diagnosed with cirrhosis a few years ago, he called me to tell me because he wanted me to hear it from him before he shared it on social media.

We haven’t actually seen each other in over a decade when he lived with me briefly in Texas. He was still drinking then and things got ugly... but he’s Byron and I’ve always loved him so when he got back in touch all was forgiven.

The thing with Byron that always got me was that after my being so in love with him when we were kids and him dating all of my friends... after losing our virginity to each other and continuing to have sex while he was dating my ‘best friend’ at the time... After all of that, I left our hometown and was moving on with life. I met my Kiddo’s father and that same weekend Byron called me out of the blue telling me, “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Please come home and be my wife.”

It was a moment in my life where I literally had two paths unfolding in front of me and I had a choice to make. I can’t say I’ve had a moment so clear in terms of where life could have gone since that one. And I chose my Kiddo’s father, which has lead me to a life where I’ve had a new addresses, new zip codes, new states, a new country over and over rather than going “home” where I never felt at home.

Byron is home...my home in that he knows me under all of this and I only wish I could be there to support him through this now. The crazy thing is that when he called me just now and asked how I was doing, I broke down crying again and he went on about how proud of me he is, how strong and amazing I am... He told me that I need to remember who the fuck I am. And he’s right.

He’s literally been sitting in a courtroom seeing pictures and video of his little girl’s last moments, of her injuries... of the medic on scene going off saying that there was no way things could have gone down like they were trying to say... He’s been dodging the media and turning down offers to go on national TV to talk about it because he just wants justice for her. All of this while living in his car alone in Washington state. And here he was comforting ME and keeping this positive attitude in the face of unbearable loss... all while staying sober, which is huge for him. Holy shit, right!?!

If I’ve learned nothing else in the last few weeks it’s that I’m loved and I’ve made a difference in other people’s lives. People I haven’t talked to in years have reached out to check on me after seeing my posts on FB. People I’ve been in and out of contact with have told me in no uncertain terms that the things I’ve taught them have helped them get through their own toughest times and told me over and over again how strong I am. These are the things I need to hang on to. These are things I need to learn from and in turn be sure that I’m reaching back out to the people who have made a difference in my life.

I know I’ll survive this and that this is the hard part... the grieving and loss of yet another incarnation of myself. I’m really feeling the urge to get a tattoo... a phoenix. Or maybe a butterfly... something that will remind me of my capacity to rebuild and be reborn again like I’ve done so many times before.

I’ll be okay. Better than okay. I just need to ride this out and remember who the fuck I am under all the years of making myself small enough to fit into other people’s (men’s) lives.

Time to dry my eyes again and get dressed. I need to buy water since my water dispenser died on me and it will be a bit before I can get a replacement sent. It’s still under warranty so it shouldn’t cost me anything. And I need to go by Cookie’s for my replacement glasses.

I’ve got this... and I’m so grateful for everyone who’s still out there listening, watching and rooting for me. I love you.

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