No. Not tonight. Just arriving home from a long weekend in Savannah. I am exhausted. My body hurts every where. My brain hurts. My skin hurts. Finishing a deal on a house and bought my oldest a car for her second year at SCAD. Back up a bit to the house. Some of you who have followed me, hold on! I am moving back in with my wife. Yes. Yes, I know. Scary. I am additionally putting my house on the market. Had considered holding on to it, but no. Going to give this one last try.
That said. A buddy from childhood house sat for me and my zoo of pets while I was gone. He had pulled out our high school senior yearbook. It was laying on my bed. I opened it up and immediately there she was. (She not being my wife. She being my first love. Who I never really let go of.) Worse, there the both of us were in a picture together. It was a club picture. Everyone was being normal and we were jumping in the air. All smiles. It all came flooding back. I remember it clearly although it had been locked away for 30 years. I, we, were so happy. Giddy happy.
I am beginning to hope the parallel universe theory is correct. Hopefully. Somewhere or when. We never stopped being us. We continued on jumping and laughing. We got older and married. Had kids. Dogs, cats, bunnies, pigs, horses. Right now we are in bed. Looking at the yearbook together. Laughing. Wondering who else is still as happy as us.
That is not my universe. Here. Now. I have not talk to her in over a year. After not having talked to her in over twenty before we connected on yes Facebook. When we did talk it was just as easy. Just as natural. Just as wonderful as ever. However, she has a wonderful husband. Four amazing kids. While my life is a train wreck. So. I said goodbye and unfriended her.
I still wish she was part of my life. She has an amazing way of just setting me at ease. However, I have become comfortable with what we had being the past. What ever it was. I did not make it. What I have now and have had for twenty six years is far from perfect. It is barely a relationship. Yet it is what I have. Maybe it is all my fault. Maybe, maybe I have been holding on to first love way way way to long. Not maybe. Definitely.
So here I go. Giving my marriage one more run. No outside interference. Lets see what happens.
Loving this girl. She is pretty new out of Dublin. Hope you enjoy her too
I realy want to write something amazing. A read that will curl your toes, make you cry, laugh then walk away saying “thank you”. However. I have lost it. My voice. Can not find it. My pen slings gobbledygook.
Those of you who know me prepare another purge. The desire to clean slate my site and plant a new me feels good right now. Yet currently I am… Quoting Jesus ” neither hot nor cold but lukewarm.” I need to be spewed out. I am swimming in comfortable nothingness. I dont even think leather thigh high boots and a riding crop could prod me from my recliner.
Let me go find an adventure somewhere and see who I can become. Here is to you my few faithful. Get ready for something spectacular. Searching my mask now for a new and improved version.
Let us begin from the beginning. If you have been in therapy this will feel like a cozy blanket. Or, like take a straight razor to scars you forgot you had, intentionally forgot. Either way, buckle in. Here I go. Welcome to my ride.
Almost fifty years algo I was born, in October. No big deal. Except, it was fifty years ago, and I was not due until December. The medical wisdom in those days was a premature baby should be isolated. Not handled. Only kept alive until their due date. If there were no complications they could be sent home then. There were complications. So I reminded in isolation. Eventually I was released but with orders not to hold me for my first year, for my own good physically. To keep my alive. Both of my parents were in the medical profession. Therefore, orders were followed.
I lived. I can remember back to some point during my first year. This has been confirmed through my mother by means of describing my nursery. We moved when I was two and there are no photos for me to view. My first memory is of me being alone in me crib staring in the hallway from a dark room. I was not crying. However I remember no emotion. It seems I did not cry when left alone as a baby. I knew nothing else.
I have no memory of bonding with my mother. No memory of doing things with her as a toddler. Only sitters. My memories are mainly of wondering alone in the neighborhood. Yes, as a toddler. One older couple especially. The Bettles. They would talk to me and give me root beer.
I will stop here for now only to say. I do not. I do not. I do not know how to bond or how to let go. However I do know now why I will never be able to let my first love go. I the female that told me she loved me. I was a lost duck…..and she was the love I never knew.
She lay between my legs
I feel her hot breath
Snores like a man
You were not expecting that. So sorry. Yet thus is the tale of my current romance. Me laying in my king size bed with her there sleeping. Who am I to complain if she prefers to sleep between my legs. It is rather comforting. Furthermore she begins each night with several minutes of kisses.
How wonderful she is. How devoted. Her primary concern in life, me. I am a blessed man. Who could as for more.
If only we all had PTSD and a similar companion.