Posted in iNsideOut

…to infinity and beyond! | 1

Goal: daily blog posts for all of August incorporating the number 8 within the topic of each post. my youngest daughter turns 8 this month and it is the 8th month so I’m rolling with it.

my errantmuse’s prompt: If you had the number 8 (or the infinity symbol) tattooed somewhere, where would you get it and why? was too perfect to pass up.

The e in Love needs some love, eh?

As soon as I decided on 8 being the theme for my posts I started brainstorming ideas incorporating the infinity symbol. That is also why I am using the number 8 rather than spelling out the word as I usually would so that I show the correlation visually with it’s sideways counterpart. Infinity and unconditional are two very meaningful and powerful words that express how intense and unbreakable the bond between Hope, Riley and me is. When I sign off of letters and phone calls I tell them I love them to the moon and back times infinity, its been our thing since Riley was a toddler and they know that means never ending and limitless and unconditional so they can count on it always being. It has made all the difference in going through so much separation and turmoil these past few years, Hope really hangs on it as her safety net in the negative and unloving living situation she’s having to endure. I make sure to show my girls as much love and affection as I can whenever I can so it can keep them comforted until we are together again.

I got my tattoo for all the wrong reasons but for those reasons and its meaning to me as a reminder to never stop experiencing life with an open heart and positive mind I cherish it. When I first got the tattoo it was the infinity symbol unshaded with my now ex-husband’s name inked across what is now filled in. I wanted to show him that I was devoted to only him for life in an irreversible forever kind of way. I know, everyone said not to but I was determined that this would make our relationship stronger and more trusting. Yeah it didn’t. I would still have his name there but for the guy I dated after we separated being loudly offended at having to see it regularly leading my dad to feel sorry for me and not wanting that to be an issue in every future relationship took me in for a cover up. Unintentionally I booked the same artist who had been one of the husband-name naysayers and he got a real kick out of it.

Live Laugh Love was really popular and overused but it was my mantra and I felt I made it my own adding Learn because that aspect makes the others possible.

I was right in my belief that Riley’s dad and my love was infinite – we share our love for Riley and are tied together for life with that. Plus we still have a bond and love and respect for one another that amazes me through everything, we’re family.

Posted in iNsideOut

forgetting the unknown

I can’t stop!
Do I want to stop?
I do, I definitely do, I hate driving myself craZy!
Do I get bored of the lack of drama?
Am I causing it?
No. It’s definitely not my fault.
But I am perpetuating the state of affairs (ugh yes affairs..)

I have no solid proof. I get confused as to what I would need to have? Do I need a recording of them in the throws of passion (bleh makes me sick to think) or is my knowing that for the umpteenth time he is acting like he is cheating (admittedly as well) and him acknowledging my proof of inappropriate communication with another female (though since been disappeared from existence) enough?
Nope.
I’m just belittled and ridiculed that I am craZy and making something out of nothing like always.
Okay I’ve been here I’m used to it.
This time though I’m remembering all those other times.
Since I’m always getting my worries shot down I’ve not stepped back to look at the enormity of it all.
Or is he right and it is all in my head?
So many times he’s said that – he even had me committed when I’d gotten some solid evidence, well that I believed was solid, am I craZy?
This is guaranteed to get me precariously close.

Why don’t I just leave?
I would be asking the same thing of me if I were you.
Realizing that cheating and gas-lighting are both forms of mental abuse it would make a helluva lota sense no doubt.
Then there is my hesitation.
More I’m completely stubbornly determined to prove him right!
He hasn’t cheated, it is all me playing tricks on myself.
Reading what I thought was written plainly in the text messages the flirtations, the plans.
It’s the easier to stomach and live with, I think.
He’s never going to admit it anyway or allow himself a big enough misstep to get caught as he is so very seasoned at the game now.
And see right there I’m Debbie Down-ering and I don’t have any attestations at this point!

I walk the line of sanity very warily.
I think I can put it in the past and move forward, I’m trying, I am.
And then that sinking overwhelming realization that this is just the beginning of this run.
If I could just decide to know what I know because I know maybe I could move forward from there.
We are so good together.
We fit.
No fighting.
Lots of love.
I know, I know then why does he cheat?
I tried to blame myself but I do plenty to keep him satisfied and staying just here.
I want to just be wrong but I also can’t seem to forget what I know I know.
There has been positive confirmation.
Cell phones dropped in soda to contain the truth once revealed.
Now I think I’ll do it right.
I’m not smart enough to walk away but have my wits too much about me to believe the untrue.

That gut-wrenching sinking overtaking my ever waiting.
Another obvious fiction told to hopeful belief, relief, self-foolery rose-colored glasses.
Then poof!
Now all seems legit, on the up and up, square.
Reassurances that it was all in my head.
Never letting it be forgotten how sure I was, but look no way no how, now.
For now.
Lulling me into the comfort of feeling loved, desired, my senses dulled with pheromones.
Falling back into the trap of forgetting.
Easier to pretend nothing ever happened.
It was all in my head, see how good it is if I just let things be.
Yet round the corner, just beyond the month’s end, there’s another one waiting.
Same poor sad soul or new fresh meat, no matter to me.
Suddenly I’m pushing him away, no idea how and impossible to stop once he’s began to pull free.
I’ve done it again, I’m the reason for an always impending end.
Paranoia, craZy me.

Lost hope only grows while waiting, always waiting.
It’s gotten to the point where I want to just enjoy the moments and to hell with the deceit.
Except I still have feelings, pride, hurt, envy that I don’t want to endure anymore.
I’d like to tell you, and nearly have, that I am unsure.
That it’s all in my head.
I’ve nearly convinced myself I’m creating it all again.
I’m not but I’d sure like to really be craZy.