Exorcism Fanatica

Ghosting is a shit way to deal with ending relationships. I have first hand been on both sides of them as to why this issue makes me want to pound glass into my knees every time I have to deal with it. In addition to it being emotionally abusive, malignant and shallow – It’s THE weak fucking way to back out of something that maybe didn’t go your way, or maybe was more than you could handle at the time. Either way it’s wrong, and here are MY fucking opinionated reasons why.

That Trust
What you just did was throw out a huge majority of tangible trust that the person will ever hand you again. Because who knows what life is going to throw at you or them next, you have already wrote down that if things get “unmanageable” – your behavior may prove unreliable and could possibly lead to disappearing again without fucking warning.

That Shattering
This behavior is directly abusive, especially to people who are very empathetic. The leaving without a word being said is emotionally damaging similar to people dealing with death. The immediate absence with no resolution is selfish and cowardly and shows that you had no business being in a relationship in the first god damned place.

That Reasoning
Everyone deserves an explanation (excluding physical abuse obviously). When you agree to be in a relationship with someone you most definitely are responsible for your reasons to end (and ending) of said relationship. Just because the city is not your shade of red doesn’t mean you can wipe it all clean when you still have the paint brush in your hand. BOTH parties owe each other ONE direct chance to explain themselves.

That Going On
The other person has a fucking life. And they have no reason to spend weeks or months waiting to see “why you left”, or “why you fucked a co-worker”. People need the resolution to move on with things, and your ghosting can send them into an ‘infinite loop’ of trying to figure out and resolve what they did wrong. The sooner you tell them, the sooner the healing starts. Just because you DON’T HURT and moved on quickly doesn’t mean the other party is immune. They are entitled to that resolution, YOU OWE THEM THAT.

That Respect
If you can sit for weeks after ghosting a long-term relationship without any resolution then you obviously never respected the person long enough to even commit to them. This is abhorrent behavior when there are still inbound feelings. I can’t even describe the amount of damage this does. There is no guarantee in love ever, but as one side fails the other side falls. This lack of integrity reflects upon your character, and other people in future relationships will see that.

That It’s Fucking Over
You could just say that. It may sound harsh but I would rather of heard that 100% of time, every time. At least then you know. And although blunt hurts, blunt is definite. And sometimes you need to hear that. Put on your fucking adult pants and handle your shit. Life goes on, people get over shit. The fact that you remain to ‘be weak’ and trail it on into some fucking nightmare ‘go between’ is ridiculous. Own your actions so that you BOTH can move on.

And fuck shit. I hate this post. It’s one I’ve written and deleted twice. But I guess coming back to writing it again shows the validity in that I need to leave this here. This type of treatment just really vividly pisses me the fuck off.

 

Heavy rain with a chance of fail.

I could rattle on about anger but I’m not. I could stumble through some epiphany of “what does anything mean anymore” regarding the deafening roar of the present but I’m not. I could say that “hey oh I’m not sad at all”, but I won’t. Because it’s mostly untrue. I could braid any of the previous into some kind of frail “self-help bullshit” story like I have in the past but I will try not to. Because I’m really not compelled to do any of that. As of now.

So exactly what? I guess I would say that I am mostly numb. Outlined in shades of abandonment. Definitely let down.  Slightly shocked, but then again not really. Do I care? Absolutely. Do I contain the energy to feel like I need to add resolution to anything? Of course not. Did I behave and adhere to things that are solely my own? I feel I did. I don’t claim a perfection of  behavior by any means but I do have a predictable “relationship regiment” that I am likely to follow. Mostly simple things. I don’t lie. I have not been unfaithful in 22 yrs to anyone that I have been romantically involved with. I don’t rally in manipulation nor do I subplot mind games to outwit the obstacles of love. I trust easy. I trust the honesty that I receive, and I value that brutal honesty highly.

Nothing is perfect. We are not wired that way. We are littered in flaws. It’s ok, I understand human consciousness becomes oblivious at times. Like tunnel vision, the blurring of sidelines, choices become less apparent all the time…we fall, we fail – I get it – over and over. But still, ultimately when you step back (and you should do that quite often), you always have to be ready to own your damn life decisions. The good and the bad. You know people can preach about “tough love” and whatnot.. Yes. It’s not rocket science. Life owes you nothing. Ever. There is no fine print in the book of the world that says “if you do this, you will get that”. That just does not exist. In every sense of this phrase Always be mindful of your fucking actions, they will paint your story across your face. They will turn the pretty in you, into the ugly that other people see. And that to me, is the most disheartening residual fallout in relationships. I never give up on people easy. I rarely throw in the towel until I absolutely have to. I am always the first person that’s there to pick you up, holding the pieces against my side saying “this is fixable, just give it the time – it’s ok”.

It’s the cancer of half-truths that are sewn into what you want to read as ‘your narrative’. I don’t fully understand how people begin to wear that. They would rather re write their story (ex.” ghosting”) and make it something else so that they can stand outside of the reality of their own choices. It’s easy math I understand, in our brittle lifespan no one wants to feel discord about anything they do – but sometimes you need to step back and say “hey I fucked up, I made a mistake – and I am truly sorry”.

In 46 years of living, I can emphatically say that I can count on less fingers of one hand – the number of people who are capable of even making a sincere statement such as that. And that is why I am numb today. And probably tomorrow. And I’m sure for the next good while. I am tired of making excuses for that behavior. I grow fucking weary of all the nights wrestling with “why is it a fucking chore for someone to believe that this isn’t  appropriate – I know inside it’s not, so why would I attempt to convince myself that it is?”. Breathe decently. It defines you. Your heart does count for something. If you are not happy where you are, then change it. People will get the fuck over it. But understand that there are finite ramifications in everything you do. Even when you run away from something, it’s still fucking waiting there at 3am. Sometimes you really have to destroy everything in your comfort zone to find your peace, and it’s ok – we are human. But also in doing that, you must say “I know what I did. I see how it hurt, I see who it hurt and next time, maybe in the next venture it will be different. I will be different. I will know then that I am still trying to find my way.”

It tires me. I can’t fix what was broke before I was even there. No one can. That is fucking on you. Why I thought I could change something, was asinine. It was my fail, so it’s my fall. And I will miss pieces of it every single day. You will never see what was right, until you admit to yourself what was wrong. And I guess it takes people a life time of bullshit thrown at them to find that.

So find it.

“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald

Finding air when the heart spins.

Note 1325
Be surprised at what kinds of things you can screenplay in your head. We are our own worst narrators.

Note 976
I left there thinking whole heartedly that I was strong as a bull, storming forward through timbers one hundred feet tall. It wasn’t until later when our minds began to subtitle the projections overhead that I began to realize the magnitude of the forseeable drowning. It was an insurmountable attack that left me staring aimlessly and defeated. I’d realized that my own stories became the deafening hum that kept me paralyzed.

“Certain events, which have actually happened, are horrible, but what is more horrible still is what hasn’t happened, what has never existed.” – Solaris, 1970

Panic // Going over to the enemy of our imagination.

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Sometimes I sit in my car in front of my apartment watching rain break across the glass. The sound is repairing. I may even get lost in it, where I wonder if people think I’m weird for not removing myself from the immediate. It’s a medication like mental floss. It helps me to un feel things that I’ve known, like removing bandages that have long adhered around bound thighs. If it takes me anywhere away from the backsliding, then I tend to lean into it more.

It’s such a dark writhing of backwards composure. It’s your brain in reverse, then forward, then reverse, then slow motion and subtitled – followed by a sinewy commentary to extrapolate any details you may have overlooked. Just to keep telling your insides that you are wrong again. It’s your own horror performance that you cannot shut off. It’s an art of self sabotage that will chip away at the very hope of you being able to reduce your guard to points where you can at least shield off the hailstorm of things replaying in your head. To find yourself grasping for an intermission, a breath, and a lightning bolt of connection that will undoubtedly sever that assembly line of garbage you are lined up to feed yourself in the moments ahead.

Just please undo, that which is done. Wipe those fingerprints away, and begin to peel it the fuck back. Bleach the stain that lingers behind the eyes that you see when you lay down for the fight at 3am. Rewrite the ending and sew underneath it a hand written note that screams “Don’t worry, I’m here – I’m not far…it’s ok”.

Repair, reprogram, rewrite. Find that better ending that you ultimately deserve, and hold on to it with everything you have. Panic, fear and anxiety – are all only temporary, and you are to drown them as furiously as you can.

 

“Gaff had been there, and let her live. Four years, he figured. He was wrong. Tyrell had told me Rachael was special. No termination date. I didn’t know how long we had together… Who does?”  –Deckard, Blade Runner 1982

When it finally ceases to haunt you.

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Some people are better at hiding the disasters, and some wear them like a story across their forehead. You would be surprised at how you will come to know the looks and the mental flinching of personalities when someone has went through any sort of trauma in relationships. Which in actuality, pretty much covers all of us in the functioning world. We all handle it differently on layers and levels, depending on how an individual is wired. I tend to be like a sponge and absorb things very fast, so much that they leave long-lasting fingerprints that never really shave away completely. I know some minds that don’t even shudder around anyone, ever. I wonder if people like that are more like monsters on the inside, somehow staving off the ability to show empathy about anything except for what is the “absolute now”. Some carry it more everyday and some slide out from underneath it all.

I have definitely had struggles with letting things go. I can, and have had unsettled emotions in the past for months and for even years. Love, hate and discord all play and string together more than anyone would think. There has always been this dance that they do. It’s a process, there is grieving and all that – we all know. It’s the cookie mix in the bowl that you cannot ever seem to get all out, but eventually you end up washing whats left away. It’s inevitable, it’s sad, and it feels like too much wasted time. But when it arrives, like an insect that lights on the back of your neck – it delivers the utter and most profound, loud impacted detachment on the human psyche that I know. The art of simply not caring anymore. When it finally ceases to haunt you, it unhooks from your conscious and then and only then are we able to close the chapters. And maybe this time you have to be the monster. Anger is the tool that can fan the flames and eventually snuff them out.

You have to fight in the end to reel back what they took, and use it to rebuild and reprogram things that were lost. It’s always a fight. You will struggle to regain it. And anyone that tells you differently, has not fought enough of those battles. Yet.

A: Dear snake, I ask why that you would hurt me?

S: I will never hurt you. I am always beside you. I offer everything comforting, and loving. I care unconditionally about being close to you always.

A: I don’t exactly feel safe with you. But I know that you care. I will be ok with that.

S: *bite *swallow *leave

A: Why did you bite me, and leave marks that will never go away? Why did you swallow and devour the things that I thought were sacred within our minds? Why did you hide so far away when I needed you the most?

S: I’m a snake.