Waiting for my Christmas elf......

Christmas day and I cried. Now, this is nothing new. It has been the theme of 2006. However, these tears were different. They were shed over the love shared between a pig and a spider. Yeah, my family and I went to see “Charlotte’s Web,” and yeah, I cried. Death is sad, even a spider’s, well, at least this one’s death was sad. I spent all day with my family and all four of our dogs. Truly a great day. Wonderful, actually. Diet starts tomorrow. Woop woop! Shit, I really did just say, woop, woop, didn’t I? The end is coming soon.
One of the things I have looked forward to all year was getting to make love in front of the fire place, by the Christmas tree. Probably a strange, irreverent desire, but still… Obviously, that didn’t happen. Maybe next year, or the next decade. Somewhere in there.
I just found out about ten minutes ago, that the plans I have for New Year’s Eve in Telluride fell through. A bunch of us where going up there and stay for a few days. It was going to be a blast. Unfortunately, I just discovered that there will be four cats in attendance as well. As they tend to make my eyes and throat swell up, and breathing cease, I decided it may not be the best way to bring in the New Year. I believe I have mentioned my birthday curse. Well, there is also one on New Year’s Eve. Not as bad, but still, not good. I thought this year was going to be a change. I knew it would be hard as I would not be kissing the boy I love (who, I realized this week is never coming back—I thought I already had experienced that revelation, apparently not), but I would be surrounded by several of my boys. So, now I am not sure what the plan will be. Maybe there will be other enjoyable plans, maybe not. Either way, I am fairly certain 2007 will enter into existence and begin the ongoing rush towards the next Christmas… with all the joys and hurts in between.
I do have to say, though, I am fully aware at the moment how charmed my life truly is. I have a Mother, Father, and Brother that I not only love, but enjoy being with. I have two phenomenal dogs who I fall deeper in love with every day. I have amazing friends. A lovely house. I have experienced love I never dreamed possible. Laughter and food still exists. And, re-mastered “The Little Mermaid” DVD is still on my DVD shelf waiting for me to pop it in and worship at any time. Damn! Life is good! Praise Jesus!!! (and, no, I don’t mean that sarcastically, so fuck off! ;) )

random tid-bits

This weekend saw the passing of one of my very favorite days of the year. My annual ‘gay boys’ Christmas dinner. It started nearly five years ago with me, TB, JS, and TC. This year, there were thirteen people in attendance. Every one I invited is someone I trust to the highest degree and has greatly affected my life and increased the wonderfulness of said life. There was a moment at the very beginning of dinner, right when I first sat down, I simply sat, breathed for a second, and took in all the love around me, all these equally amazing men (each in their own individual way), and was truly thankful for how my life has progressed. Sure, this year has been harder than any before, a fact that still shocks me, and in some ways continues to increase in difficulty even to today. However, I would not go back, there is very little I would change, and I am humbled by the beauty that is so clearly defined in my life. Would that everyone could be so blessed and surrounded by such a vast and diverse expression of love.
The house felt extremely empty the day after my boys left, but full of good memories of the night before. I am slowly able to enjoy my home again, as the pleasant times occur, allowing me to overlap the ghosts of relationship past that still seem to linger in every seeable space. The blizzard outside is keeping me captive in my home today. A fact that would normally drive me insane, but is kind of welcome today. I got out just enough to run to the store and get food for tacos, and now my car is stuck in my driveway—at a very strange angle. I have read the latest novella of Kelley Armstrong, played with the puppies—they are so cute in the snow, cleaned fish bowls, done ever more contemplating of the why’s and how’s of ‘the relationship’ and of what the future may hold, and I may even begin working on a novel idea that has been rolling around in my mind for the past month or so.
The other day, I got a call from my mom letting me know that she and dad are going to go to a Christian counselor to talk about my issues around gayness. I am proud of them for taking the step to talk to someone, as they would not have done so years ago. However, I was under the mistaken impression that they were gradually becoming more accepting of how my life is. Well, I guess no news is not always good news. I hate that it hurts them. Who can blame them? By all that we know and were taught, their child is going to Hell, and is doing nothing but rush towards that destination. I would be distraught too. Any parent who did not feel these things would be dead inside. Still, I really was hoping that they were beginning to believe that maybe that subject was not so black and white. As has been demonstrated to me oh so clearly over the past several days, I am perpetually caught in wishful thinking that has no basis in reality and can cause others to misconstrue my intentions and sincerity.
The year is drawing to a close, as you may have heard. This year was 100% different than what I expected or anticipated. I have no clue what to expect for 2007. Maybe that is a good thing. Maybe not. Regardless of what is to come, I have learned this: life will continue (until it doesn’t, anyway), strength will be broken and cemented again, loves will deepen, though some may get lost, there will always be something to cry, ache, and mourn over, and there will always be something to laugh at, rejoice for, and embrace in love.

the moment after pause

Well, I did it. Last night (Friday) after I had my girls over for Christmas dinner, I slept in my bed. If I could have afforded it, I would have bought a new bed, new mattresses, new everything. I couldn’t. However, I did buy sheets, the nicest sheets I have ever had. Very comfortable. Turns out, I am glad I could not afford a new bed. I experienced the greatest love of my life in that bed (no, not talking sex). Why would I want to trash that?
I didn’t cry. I guess I did enough of that the night before taking our old sheets off. It was unreal sleeping there again. It felt as if I was stepping back into a life I had left behind. I have felt different all day—not to mention that my back already feels tons better. I missed the dogs terribly, and I could tell they missed me when I let them out this morning. There were moments, like when I would end up sleeping on my side, that I expected to feel his arms encircle me as they always did. Of course, they did not, and I simply hugged my pillow tighter. Bitter-sweet. But, as stated before, I would not trade a moment of our time together. I would do it all again. I never believed I would experience a love so great.
In what was hopefully a good omen, I had one of the most sensual (non-sexual) dreams I have ever had. Hopefully, that bodes well…
I feel stronger today. Love him no less, miss him no less, but know that I will survive in a way that I have not really felt sure of. I am sure this will come and go, but it is a feeling I have missed. No, life is not how I want it right now, the man I love will not crawl into bed with me tonight. I will not get lost in his kiss. I will not wake up to his face. However, I will wake up. I will go see my glorious dogs. I will see my new wonderful roommate, AV. I will work out, scrapbook, sing, and see friends. I will know, that though not with me, he is still out in the world, he exists, and I will be happier than I was a year ago just on that fact alone. I pray that he will be happy, even if it is not me that helps provide that. I pray that he will know how truly amazing and what a phenomenal man he is. I pray that he knows that he is completely and unconditionally loved—and not just by me.
While I may or may not cry at some point in the morrow, I will be alive, I will be purposeful, and I will rejoice in the love that I had and lost, and in the life that I have before me.

moments

I am not sure if I should be proud of myself or disappointed. Actually, who cares? What is, is what is. Why label it good or bad. It just is. I cleaned my bedroom about an hour ago. I took all the crap I had piled on top of my bed. I took off the sheets, while crying, of course. They are in the wash machine now. Although I doubt I will use them again. I had not taken them off since the break-up. That would be more gross had I slept in it. There was something about leaving them the way there were, as if by some strange logic they would be there waiting when he came back. You know, because that is what he would want, dirty sheets…
I wish I could say that I had did this because I have completely moved on and healed. That would be lying. What start now? The futon has begun to hurt my back. Don’t know why it has waited six months to start this, but it has. The pain is nearly becoming constant. Therefore, I have to do something. I thought about moving my mattress downstairs, but I have to snap out of it. I have to face the fact that my bed is empty, that it is no longer ‘our’ bed, and that he doesn’t want it to be ever again. I thought maybe I would get on here and talk about getting ready to sleep in it tonight, but I can’t. Not yet. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not. It has to be soon, or I am going to end up doing permanent damage to my back. The other part is that I have been sleeping with Dunkyn the past six months, and Dolan by the futon for the past month. Dunkyn can’t sleep with me in my bed. He is too clumsy and if he fell, he would break something or die. I have fallen asleep and woken up every day for the past six months with him, now, I have to go back to the bedroom where I spent so much time with the man I ultimately wanted to spend my life with, alone. With my dogs back in the garage; the other side of the bed as empty as my arms. TB offered to come sleep with me for a couple nights so that I wouldn’t have to face it alone (my friends amaze me, how they put up with my patheticness, and love me in spite of my brokenness). For some reason, though, it would hurt more to have someone there, even someone I love dearly, simply as a replacement for who I long to be there. So, not tonight. The bed is ready for some new sheets, and then ready for me… Sometime this week. It has to be. I am afraid of being in there. I have not spent more than five minutes in there, and only then to pick out clothes. I don’t want to have to face his absence there. My mind has warped it into some strange time/space continuum, and in there, we are still together. He is still whispering soul-mates to me, and holding me close. His lips still meet mine in there. That reality will be burst when I lie there when he is not. It is the moment I have dreaded for months. Well, for awhile looked forward to, because he would reenter it with me. How can one room hold so much power, so many memories, so many hopes, and safety? The safest I have ever felt on this Earth was in that room, in his arms, his gentle snoring in my ear, the feel of his breathing on my neck, and the tang of morning breath on my nose. I have spent so much time analyzing this and trying to tear it apart, and I still can’t comprehend it entirely, but there it is.
I was so angry the last time I wrote. Angrier than I have been in months. Not at him, just life. I am not angry now, just sad. However, I am more resigned and accepting of the fact that he will never be in my life in the same way again. I have to put the pieces of my life back together, keep the treasures he gave me close to my heart, and truly live again, and I have to do it soon. Both for my back and so that there may be some hope of at least a friendship with him.
Therapy ended yesterday, btw. Can we feel the mountains tremble?

common lies/uncommon truth

Crying over nothing. Hurting for no good reason. Mourning a loss when I should be rejoicing. Things happen for a reason. Things turn out the way they were meant to. One day, I will look back and see how miserable I would be if things turned out as I dreamed. Sometimes the worst thing for us is what we want the most. Take a deep breath, clear my head, smile/laugh, get out there and do it again. This is supposed to make me feel better? This is supposed to make me realize that I am not really in love and that I am wishing for something that will hurt me worse in the end?
Maybe that is all true. Maybe every word of it is exactly how life works. But, maybe, just maybe, that is only what we tell ourselves, or others tell us and we choose to believe. Maybe my cousin Gabe died in the car crash because God wanted to be with him sooner, or maybe because life sucks and is unfair and heinously cruel. Maybe your wife left you so that you could find the real love of your life, or maybe it is because she is just a bitch or that your dick is too small. Maybe you lost your round on American Idol because you weren’t skinny enough, or maybe because you sound like Kevin Federline and Rosanne Barr. Maybe my relationship ended because he would have broken my heart worse years from now, or maybe it is because I fucked things up or that is just the way the song was played, homie.
We tell ourselves a millions things to make life more bearable, to blame it on fate, God, or the other person. Sometimes, though, the blame is with us, and sometimes on no one, but life itself. Sure, there are things that I used to want that I am so glad never came to be. I am glad I am gay. I don’t want to be straight any longer, and am so thankful that those prayers were never answered. So, sure, those times truly do exist, and I am glad for them. Still, why do we struggle so much with just shrugging and saying, ‘Yep, life sucks, fucker. Sorry, Mr. Fucker, I mean.’ As I rediscovered during the Bible study on I Peter, life just does that a lot. I learned other things too, but I am choosing to focus only on that aspect at the moment. Go ahead judge, condemn, pity, scorn. Come back and re-read these words at a less peachy time in your existence.
So, there it is. Many hurtful things happen for no reason, for no greater good. Simply because they can, and they do. However, growth still happens, as does happiness and love. Beauty still exists in the pain, in the devastation, the crumbling existence, and in the tears. I love freer, deeper, and with more utter devotion than I could have previously thought possible. Yes, I wish he were here to benefit from the lessons I have learned and the life that is blooming. But, I know, that’s life. I had thought I was on my way out of this ‘self-made’ prison. I thought a new chapter was dawning. I guess it was, just a different chapter than I anticipated. The hurt is more dull now, but even more to the core of me. No longer does the scalpel slice into me, but the sandpaper is now inserted and wrapped around. Maybe more love and more maturity will come from this. Maybe this is lie too. I choose not to believe so.

cheerful

Love Lingering

Tired of the ache
Tired of the pain
Tired of the tears, drowning me in rain

Suffocating in anticipation
Suffocating in desire
Suffocating in limbo, heart constantly on fire

Reliving the kisses
Reliving the touch
Reliving the happiness, he bestowed so much

Waiting upon the promises
Waiting upon arms to hold
Waiting upon words, their fulfillment to unfold

Still I yearn
Still I remain
Still I love him, in unending refrain

No more can I want
No more should I ask why
No more doth love find me, yet still I try

Never say never
Never though I could
Never knew love before, despair: termites through wood

Happiness Revisited

I have written over forty pages in final projects for grad school this weekend. So, what do I choose to do with my time at the moment? Well, write some more, of course. What the fuck else is there to do? Oh, did I drop the F-Bomb too early in this entry? Well then, F you! :)
I must have sabotaged myself with my last blog. Imagine that! No sooner did I hit submit than I went to bed and woke up in a state of depression, that increased as the week went on and cumulated this weekend to have a caporal state of its own, along with its own personality, bad habits, and irritating mannerisms. Hopefully, it will have made plans to visit another of its favorite people over the upcoming week, so that the following days will not be a sob fest, as was this perfectly painful frozen Sunday.
I suppose the happiness that I described is still intact. At least enough for me to realize that I shall survive. God, I sound like a singing diva. R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Fuck that. I will settle for less tears and promises kept. Oh, and the moon on a lasso that I can pull behind me so that my face is always backlit.
At least the dogs are still in my world. As I sat in my bathroom floor, crying and gagging, Dunkyn sidled up by my leg and Dolan (having yet to see his daddy in such a state—a true testament on how things have improved) crawled onto my lap, whimpering and licking my face. My normally fiercely independent little pup let me wrap my arms around him and weep into his fur. If only I had a wand to transform those perfect little angels into a real live men. Of course, that man would shed, pee on my carpet, and have an abundance of diarrhea. Not to mention having a little fetish of eat rabbit poop. You know, that sounds completely acceptable. Real love entails accepting flaws and drawbacks. They only increase the love.
Just in time, my therapy sessions end on Wednesday. My therapist is ending the semester and moving on to bigger and better things. Sure sounds like I am ready to move on and face life anew, doesn’t it? I am considering alternative forms of therapy that may have quicker results. Sex therapy, Sonic gorging therapy, and shopping therapy. Should be helpful. In all honesty, the sessions have been very helpful. All but one thing. I was fully expecting to go into the sessions and have her tell me that grieving for six months over the death of a two month relationship was unhealthy, unnatural, and an indicator of other issues. I feared that, but I wanted that. Something to work on. Something to face. Something to fight. Something to change. She didn’t. She said I was feeling things that are completely normal, especially for someone with my emotional make up and sensitivity, and capability for love. Maybe that was her way of saying I was psychotic and I took it as a complement. She never judged or belittled my feelings and emotions. She only tried to confront the negative things I feel about myself and my worth as a result. I miss the churches’ answers. At least guilt and accusations allow you give names to the reasons you are miserable and hurting, not simply state the fact that I am grieving a loss of the like I have never before experienced, and that it is good to celebrate the wonderful things I experienced in my time with him and cherish the ‘gifts’ he gave me.
Really, it all just makes me feel weak, rather pathetic, and lost. If that is what I am putting out to the universe, no wonder he has kept his distance. Geesh.