f.u.

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I miss Bennie today. Can’t put my finger on why. I just do. Fuckin bullshit. He’s dead and suddenly I give a shit. There was a time when I’d lie awake at night praying for his death, fully expecting that, sooner or later, it would come by way of my own hands. Now, I’m falling apart without him. I’m so angry with myself for that. I did love him. From the second I ever laid eyes on him. But, that’s the problem with me…Once I love someone, I won’t let them go or let them down if there’s any possible way to avoid it. I’m what you call a stupid bitch like that.

Jay called yesterday. We were talking about our phone plan and he mentioned that he had taken his dad’s memory card out of his phone. I told him that it was ok, I’d pick it up next time I was down there in case there was anything special on it. He said, “No, Mom…I still have his laptop and I put everything you need off the card onto it.” Sonofabitch! I knew there was shit on that card, but I didn’t want to see it. I wanted to keep our boys from seeing it. All the time, Jay was worried about what I’d find. I love that kid. Both of my boys are good men. But, I’d never have put that on one of my sons. Never.

 

666 Memory Lane

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It’s a peaceful morning here, as usual. Miss Cocoa has taken up a spot in the litter box and the girls are outside rolling around and playing in the sunshine. As for me, I’m just smoking and waiting for my pain pills to work so I can clean the kitchen.

I haven’t cleaned since Bennie passed. I keep putting it off, thinking that, if I take his cup off the table by his chair, he’ll be gone for good. But he’s already long gone and I’m being silly. In the back seat of my truck are two large plastic bags, full of the work clothes he took with him when he left for his last job. My brother loaded them up for me when I came home two weeks ago. I need to bring them in and hang them up, wash what needs to be washed, and find someone who could use them. They’re all fire retardant and are very expensive to buy. I know there’s a young hand out there needing work clothes and feel terrible about keeping them. I just don’t want to bring them in. I don’t want to touch them. And I don’t know why.

Life with Bennie was difficult, to say the least. He made sure of it. He cheated on me before our first anniversary, and never stopped. He seemed to enjoy ‘accidentally’ letting me find out. It hurt so much, at first. I thought I’d die, honestly. But, I was busy raising our boys and they worshiped their father, as he did them. I could never justify hurting them by taking them away. I even asked Bennie if he’d keep the boys and let me go. He said there was no way he’d do that. So, I stopped taking his cheating personally and went on with life.

I think what I hated more, much more, than his cheating was his bullying. He hit me a few times over the years, shoved me around, spit in my face. Just bully shit. Once, he got a butcher knife out and I figured I was about to get it. He had it raised over his head and I was just staring at it. I knew that, coming downward that way, it was gonna hurt like a motherfucker. I saw his arm start to move and shut my eyes, but, instead of stabbing me, he brought the knife down and stuck it into the kitchen table. When he did, his hand slid down and it cut the shit out of his hand. I was shocked. He was shocked, too. I grabbed the first aid kit and wrapped his hand up for him. Things were very quiet after that and, a few hours later, we went to his mother’s house for gumbo. The boys were already there, as they spent most weekends with his mother. His whole family was there, as well. They thought the cut was a defensive wound and they were very outspoken about it, even in front of my boys. I couldn’t tell them the truth, so I left.

Looking back, our relationship was very abusive. He knew I loved him with all of my heart, and he used that as a weapon against me. Eventually, I just stopped feeling a lot of things. It’s funny…the things you can get used to just to get by. I really hated the screaming. Bennie would get so angry that his face would turn red and he’d shake. He’d get right in my face, almost touching nose to nose, and he’d scream at the top of his lungs calling me every name he could think of. I was raised in a violent home, so it probably never bothered me as much as it should have. I had no natural fear of violence…still don’t…so I’d just sit perfectly still and zone out while he screamed. Spitting in my face was always the grand finale. I knew that, if I had moved an inch, he would have beaten my ass, so I almost feel fortunate that I was raised the way I was.

There is so much more to recall about that man. Things I don’t want to recall. I guess that I need to accept that he never loved me like I loved him, even in the end. One of the last text messages he sent was to a woman who he’d been seeing off and on throughout our marriage, long before we were separated. She wanted him to leave me and be with her. He told her that he couldn’t, or I’d get half of everything. The thing is, we were going to hire surveyors to split this land in half after he got off of this job, but I told him that I’d be fine with the back eight acres and a tiny house. That parcel is on a separate deed and he could just do a family sale to me. Done deal. That was the plan. He got everything but just one little bit. He’d have lost virtually nothing.

Bennie passed on a Friday, so it was the following business day, Monday, before I could do anything like an obituary. I went on his FB and let his friends and relations know what had happened. The next day, I checked his FB and the woman I mentioned had posted some pretty harsh things about me not caring enough to get an obit done. I messaged her, reminding her that I couldn’t take care of that over the weekend, but that I was getting it done that day. She messaged me back telling me how miserable Bennie was and that is why he died. She said he worried too much about supporting me and, were it not for that, he’d be alive. I told her that wasn’t true, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She said she knew A LOT about our marriage. I informed her that she knew what he wanted her to know. I also let her know that for five years, he’d been free to live with her, date her, whatever he wanted, without any reprisal from me because we’d been separated all of that time. Yep…I guess ol Bennie failed to mention that to her. I haven’t heard from her since then. Score!

Well, I’m gonna wrap up this lil walk down Memory Lane. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but I really need to get some perspective on who I’m crying over. Bennie was my own personal pain machine. It ran all the time. I went dry inside keeping it fueled. That’s the man I have been married to for the last twenty years. That’s why I feel empty inside. Not because he’s gone, but because the part of me he killed off left a hole inside of me that is no longer filled by the daily pain of living with him. I always say he was my best friend. In many ways, he was. But in more ways than that, he was anything but a friend. Maybe I need to remember THAT.

 

Don’t Call It A Comeback

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It’s been a lil minute since I posted anything, really. A few weeks, I think. A lot of…life, I guess…has gone on . Good things and bad things. Although, at this point in my life, it is increasingly difficult to distinguish between the two, since so many lessons are learned from those bad things. Lessons that I deeply value. There is also an ever-growing understanding inside of me that my very worst day would be considered a lovely day by someone else in this world. In light of that, what do I really have to complain about?

One bad thing that I have yet to manage to learn from is living with constant, sever, pain. Honestly, I’ve had about all I can take of it. I hate the pain, I hate the meds, I hate the whole thing. A few weeks ago, I ran out of my primary pain medication. I actually looked at it as a good thing, initially. I took the situation as an opportunity to try to another approach to dealing with pain since I hate taking that medication. It dulls me…changes me in ways that have a negative impact on my life. So, I thought I’d try something new and different. Think outside the box and what have you. I thought that I might actually be able to meditate the pain away. That did not work at all, so I moved on to wishing it away. Still, no luck. After that, I simply pretended that  it wasn’t  there every second of the day. Mind over matter. THAT DID NOT WORK. For once, I have encountered something that I cannot simply power through, no matter how badly I’d like to.

Went to visit Mom and my grandfather. While I was there, I visited the doc as a walk-in that Monday. I couldn’t wait for my appointment to get some relief. My doc wasn’t in, so I saw another one. Dr. L. First off, I had to take a drug test for the first time. People who take scheduled meds are now required to take drug tests. If you don’t have the prescribed drug in your system, what are you doing with it? It’s a legit question, considering that my forty dollar bottle of meds has a twelve hundred dollar street value. Even so, it feels demeaning and invasive. It feels like judgement, which it’s not. After that, it was a bit of a wait while they processed my test. The nurse came back to inform me that I had passed. What? Okay…I think.

The nurse explained the importance of drug testing, in the context of all the new DEA regulations. Were the DEA to review my file and see that I had not been drug tested, the clinic could be sanctioned in some way, and my doctor could be severely disciplined. Seriously. The DEA? Those silly bastards can’t keep crack out of our elementary schools, but they’re going to spend their time harassing legit doctors and the patients who need them? While I’m aware of the huge problem with these meds being sold on the street, I still find the situation laughable. I went out of my way to find a doc that was not in any way associated with pill distribution. My doc has no ‘rep’. She’s a good doctor who believes that pain drugs were made for a reason and that there is no shame in prescribing them , nor is there any shame in taking them. (We had that conversation one day after I explained how embarrassed I feel when I get meds filled sometimes). In any case, I was happy to be on the verge of getting a much needed break from this pain.

I went to Galveston to get my prescriptions filled. I drove down the seawall for a Sonic coke while I waited. Tourists crowded the island. I had all but forgotten how crowded that place could get on a holiday weekend. The water was choppy and mud brown, and the wind was blowing like crazy. But it was nice to see all those shiny happy people. I really miss that place, since moving up here to tree country.

The morning flew by and, before I knew it, it was noon and I was almost back to Mom’s house. She had a really nice lunch laid out…fried chicken and a garden salad. She always makes things special when I’m visiting. While I was doing the doc/med thing, she was getting mink eye lashes put on. I noticed how amazing they looked as we talked over our lunch. Grandad just sort of sat there, not really in the room at all. He’s gotten so old. At ninety, he’s earned the right to ignore our girl talk and just enjoy his meal. But, I do worry about him. In the last year, the signs of age have really begun to set in in terms of his mental state. In his mind, he’s still a Marine and can handle anything. In reality, he has a heater by his chair because 73 degrees is too cold for him in the house.

After lunch, still not having time to shower, I piled on some makeup and tried to do my hair. It was so hot in that house. Even Mom was complaining about it, but she and I both agreed that Dad’s comfort came first. So…sweating it was! lol!

I got my trip back home underway, making a stop to meet a friend. I was embarrassed by my appearance. I’m already a large woman, but I normally look well groomed. Not so much that day! Dear GAWD! It was just the most uncomfortable feeling I can think of. I was in the clothes that I’d slept in the night before, since Mom spilled her Monster drink all over my clean clothes. It had taken so long at the doctor that I didn’t have time to stop and get my nails done, so I recycled the ones from last time. I’m telling you…the whole thing was just…OMG! Plus, there is a weird smell in my truck. Exish and I have been trying to find its source for weeks now. I have no idea what is. I’m actually afraid to find out. Yep…it’s THAT bad. When it was all said and done, I was never so happy to get back on the road home…here…the boonies.

And that, dear people, is that.

you like to watch

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i’m drowning in your addiction
in the flood of pain that you call down on me
you like to watch as i struggle
watch as i try
watch as i sell my soul for you
for just one day
of peace of mind

you like to watch me searching for what you know i’ll never find

you bend me

you bend me
and i become all that you’d have me be
you try me
and i prove that i am loyally yours
you hate me
and i turn the other cheek
because if you knew the truth
if i told you what you really are to me
how much i love you
loathe you
you would blow away in a gale of your own self importance

i wonder if you will ever understand
that the power you have over me
comes not by way of your strength
nor by your innate ability to tear me down to nothing with a few words
the only real power you have over me
is the sincere love that i have for you

Gray

th_UsedToBeHe sits in his chair, the usual look on his face. He is disgusted. Disappointed. Confused, perhaps. He has no insight as to why I can’t allow him to be my man any longer. And, me…I’m just chock full of insight on that subject, but am so very tired of rehashing it all.

Today is a gray day. Inside and out. So much to do and no will to do it. Just sitting here, with my partner of thirty years, staring at one another over a chasm of silence.

brother of mine

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separated by little white lines on the table
between us
no way to cross them
no one to interpret
what we mean to one another
as we stare
across a crowded world
and wonder just when we parted ways
when did death become your life?
and when did i shed my guilty skin?

i owe you something

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for every woman you had
for every time that you took your shot
for every single time you slipped off your wedding ring
i owe you a bullet

you put me underfoot
second best
no matter how beautiful i was
on the outside…inside
the home i made
the love i gave…
it meant less than nothing

now…now that you’re alone
i’m your ideal
the butterfly you can’t catch hold of
i am all that you think about…dream of….
but you’ll never catch me
know that
because i know something you don’t even know
that you only want to catch me
so you can pull off my wings

Unscathed

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My mind was racing when you laid me low
Your eyes…screamed of…of…

I could not get a bead on what you were thinking
But could feel your heart pound against mine
As you bathed me in the violence of your manhood
Raw and cruel and forceful
I cried, but my tears meant nothing
To you
I was only flesh and bone
Allowed into your world
To satisfy
You
Your wants
Desires
No love match here
A beast and his prey
You and I

Though I sit here tonight
Remembering your hand on my mouth
Squeezing my cheeks as I gasped for air…
Your hot breath whispering terrors into my ear
I cannot help but feel that I have been bested
Taken beyond my limits…taken by surprise…
A player forced into a game that I could not comprehend
Your rules
Your world

My prize:
Ungodly desires ignited
Always and forever yours
Marked in ways that only you and I can recognize
Your face is a fog that hovers
Your voice pulsates through my brain
Each word recalled pushes me closer
To the next place
To whatever lies beyond this life
This flesh
Your flesh
Untouched and unblemished
Unscathed

you know it and i know it

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you hate me because i look like you
but i don’t think like you
love like you
hate like you

you fear me because i can see you
how you think
love
hate

you would rather turn away from me
because you cannot bear the fact
that i, the person you least respect in this world,

know you better than anyone else in this world