A Lesson in History

On the way to work this morning I listened to excerpts of Beyond Vietnam -- A Time to Break Silence
a speech by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. made a year before his assassination. I'm not usually moved so easily, but the words were spoken for Vietnam however it made me grieve for the horrid war in Iraq. The parallel conundrums are astounding. Mr. Bush was obviously not a student of history nor a vigilant in the current events of the 60's and 70's. I'd like to think his deficit in judgment is a result of ignorance, but I'm afraid it is simple stupidity. Go ahead, read what a real leader thinks:


"...I knew that I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghettos without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today -- my own government. For the sake of those boys, for the sake of this government, for the sake of the hundreds of thousands trembling under our violence, I cannot be silent.

For those who ask the question, "Aren't you a civil rights leader?" and thereby mean to exclude me from the movement for peace, I have this further answer. In 1957 when a group of us formed the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, we chose as our motto: "To save the soul of America." We were convinced that we could not limit our vision to certain rights for black people, but instead affirmed the conviction that America would never be free or saved from itself until the descendants of its slaves were loosed completely from the shackles they still wear. In a way we were agreeing with Langston Hughes, that black bard of Harlem, who had written earlier:

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath --
America will be!

Now, it should be incandescently clear that no one who has any concern for the integrity and life of America today can ignore the present war. If America's soul becomes totally poisoned, part of the autopsy must read: Vietnam. It can never be saved so long as it destroys the deepest hopes of men the world over. So it is that those of us who are yet determined that America will be are led down the path of protest and dissent, working for the health of our land.

As if the weight of such a commitment to the life and health of America were not enough, another burden of responsibility was placed upon me in 1954** [sic]; and I cannot forget that the Nobel Prize for Peace was also a commission -- a commission to work harder than I had ever worked before for "the brotherhood of man." This is a calling that takes me beyond national allegiances, but even if it were not present I would yet have to live with the meaning of my commitment to the ministry of Jesus Christ. To me the relationship of this ministry to the making of peace is so obvious that I sometimes marvel at those who ask me why I'm speaking against the war. Could it be that they do not know that the good news was meant for all men -- for Communist and capitalist, for their children and ours, for black and for white, for revolutionary and conservative? Have they forgotten that my ministry is in obedience to the One who loved his enemies so fully that he died for them? What then can I say to the Vietcong or to Castro or to Mao as a faithful minister of this One? Can I threaten them with death or must I not share with them my life?

... This I believe to be the privilege and the burden of all of us who deem ourselves bound by allegiances and loyalties which are broader and deeper than nationalism and which go beyond our nation's self-defined goals and positions. We are called to speak for the weak, for the voiceless, for the victims of our nation and for those it calls "enemy," for no document from human hands can make these humans any less our brothers.

And as I ponder the madness of Vietnam and search within myself for ways to understand and respond in compassion, my mind goes constantly to the people of that peninsula. I speak now not of the soldiers of each side, not of the ideologies of the Liberation Front, not of the junta in Saigon, but simply of the people who have been living under the curse of war for almost three continuous decades now. I think of them, too, because it is clear to me that there will be no meaningful solution there until some attempt is made to know them and hear their broken cries..."

Realizations

I look back on the previous posts and in my journal and wonder how this came so quickly. I question my disdain for J. Could it be real? Could I be so disgusted that I am actually repulsed? It was only a month ago that I thought I could salvage something, but then I remember the obvious, that it is over - it has been over for a long time. I knew that.
What scares me is the fact that I don't feel the love for him that would keep me attached. I had the foresight to know things fell apart, but I never expected to actually feel a different type of love for him. I care for the nostalgia we have together but the present is a feeling of sadness and weight.
I realize how much he was bringing me down. I realize that I am actually attracted to other men. I realize that I can be happy without him. I realize that I am happier without him.
I realize that though I never thought I could find someone that treated me as well as J did - I was wrong.

Moving From Under The Power Lines

There isn't much left anymore. Whatever valuables I left were stolen or traded. Whatever love I left didn't follow me. It is amazing how quickly we lost what we built over six years. It isn't all gone. We still have places to sit, blankets to curl up with, and one little tv to watch the news. I have left, though. Figuritively and literally.
I am changing so quickly. I feel invinsible at times - even prosperous. That is, until I am enticed into the crackerbox house and his world of insanity. I can't help but fall for my own trap, over and over again. I seem to think that I can save him if I'm a friend. However, he remains toxic. When he is messed up, I hate both of us.
I could not help but want to move on quickly ... to create a different life - to move from the toxicity to a life full of worth. I have finally been emancipated, now I am figuring out where I go from here.

Sunrise, Sunrise

This is what I saw when I first woke up this morning ... looks like something out of an Andrew Wyeth painting.

My Blog layout

I'm having a little issue with my blog header ... I'd really like the old one back, but I messed up the picture size on photobucket and can't figure out why it isn't being restored.
So, this is what it is for now. I'm still trying to figure out how to put my blog roll back on and just what the hell widgets are.

Heroine's of Our Day

“One of the things that I think characterizes my generation — that characterizes me, anyway, and others of my generation — is that I’ve always been surprised by how my life turned out,” Dr. Faust said in an interview Sunday at Loeb House just after the university announced that she would become its 28th president, effective July 1. “I’ve always done more than I ever thought I would. Becoming a professor — I never would have imagined that. Writing books — I never would have imagined that. Getting a Ph.D. — I’m not sure I would even have imagined that. I’ve lived my life a step at a time. Things sort of happened.”

Drew Gilpin Faust was just appointed Harvard president, the first woman president. Being raised by a feminist and along with my interest in gender studies I understood early about our androcentric society (though I must mention the recent shift in education).
After Lawrence Summer's comments it would seem to me that Harvard may be playing a catch up game, but that is my skepticism setting in and I would like to think this new role model has earned the job on merit alone.
I always imagined myself a career woman, having children late in life after I have a well established career and maybe having a husband - maybe not. Life didn't go that way, but now I'm seeing the possibilities in my life as a single woman. Though I may not necessarily agree with the politics of some of these women (Oh yeah, they're human too) such as Drew Gilpin Faust, Hillary Rodham Clinton, Madeline Albright, and Sandra Day O'Connor they are great examples of the result of the equal rights movements.
These publicly successful women are an inspiration to me and probably many other women. As a single woman I feel empowered to know how much things have changed for my sex. There is still improvement to be made, but the "first's" keep coming locally and globally (Nancy Pelosi, Michelle Bachelet).
It is amazing to me that now women are actually in the majority of college populations and yet there is still a glass ceiling, but improvement is being made and I can see my children living in a world with many female leaders.
Women and minorities must be represented in our government. If we will truly have a representative republic then shouldn't there be more women and minorities in congress? I'm not asking for affirmative action in congress ... I'm asking for people to be more accepting of candidates that aren't white and male.
Fight the man ... Support our Women.

Other Posts & Random Comments on Sex.

1. Carrots (you really have to look this one up while it is still posted - it is the 20th post card.)
2. I'm famous.
3. Why dating is going to suck.

By the way, did I say I'm getting divorced, I mean really, do I not drag on for what seems like hours on this shit. Sometimes I just think: get over this shit and move on. Hmmm ... how many one night stands could I have in a week? My numbers are quite low, so doesn't that give me room for "experimentation." I do love people ... yes, I said people, boys and girls. Got a problem with that? If they know where my clit is, why I say right on. Whoa, it seems the later it gets the more self disclosure begins. Oh, fuck off if you have a problem. Go read something else. Sex is sex ... it's all in good fun - romance or not. Don't get me wrong, it's great to share it with someone you love, but sometimes its great just to get laid. I mean am I right or what? Who cares what you think ... I'm right.

There was drunk dialing, now there is drunk blogging.

I am not drunk. I am tipsy. I had a few rum and cokes and danced my ass off tonight. I called J earlier in the evening to discuss the further divorce situation which resulted in a sudden feeling of hopelessness and despair. M was my savior and encouraged me to take another friend, K., up on an invitation out to the bar. It was a fabulous time! Now it is 1:30 a.m. and I'm happy as a clam.
This ability to go out and dance my ass off (which if anyone knows me, knows that I love to dance - sober or not) and have a few drinks without any guilt rocks! I got all gussied up and went to the bar and laughed, screamed conversations over music, and I even indulged in the dreaded "girl posse to the bathroom" ordeal. Columbia has passed an ordinance where there is no smoking in public places, which sucks for smokers but rocks for nonsmokers - a.k.a. me.
I could get used to this freedom ... even if I don't care to go out often, this is another reason why this separation and divorce is a positive move. Rum makes divorce look like a cake walk.

January 27, 2007 ... Psych Ward

Keep in mind this was the second day I was in the hospital ... welcome to my world of depression. A misfortunate disease. Rest assured, these feelings have nearly disappeared with medication and a whole lot of therapy this week.
Again with the marker (We couldn't have pens or pencils for the risk of hurting ourselves) but at least this one works. It is a sharpie no less (I was getting a little high after a while). I've tried calling "everyone" that has a local number but I think they're all at the 11:00 meeting getting together afterward. I fucking hate that I can't have my cell phone (The camera phones aren't allowed because of confidentiality reasons.)
I feel like my life is in shambles once again. I don't feel like I have the strength to pull myself up, of course, that is why I have everyone I love and everyone in Al-Anon. I so badly want to be independent. I don't know another person to leave their addict on their own. Mom left because she had us and Rick, Mi***** left because she had Al*****, everyone else I talk to did it for their children. Sometimes I wish I had kids so that I had a reason to survive, a reason to get better, but doing this for myself is rough. I'm not sure I love or feel worthy of myself enough to do this. I am separating from J because of my logic, not because I want to. It is the right thing to do for both of us. I miss him so much aright now. In the past I had him and more of a drive to move on because WE needed to move on. I love him more than I could ever express. I want it all to go away so badly and then that is when I start trying to numb out - I start believing suicide is the solution to my life's misery. The times of misery compared to real joy tip the scale. This is no way to live but I'm afraid removing J. will not be the answer. I still have to grow into all these choices I've made. I try to pray but the words feel empty. I try to visualize another stage of life better than this but all I see are clouds waiting to pour rain on it all. Why can't I move past my past? Why cant I accept it and move on? I am powerless and my life has become unmanageable.
As I read this I realize that I am not powerless over my actions, my life. Powerless over others actions, yes. S. told me she wished she'd never been born ... it is me that should have never been born. It is me that should quit. On quarter or more of my life has been frequent bouts of absolute hell. HELL. She is such a gem, such a blessing to this world, I am nothing but a burden on myself and everyone else. I know they'd be sad but they'd get over it and in the end their lives would be better without one less complication ...

Voluntary Admission ... Number 5

I have spent the last 5 days in the psychiatric unit of Boone Hospital. I guess I didn't have it all under control like I thought. BIG surprise. More to come ... just an update. I have lots of journal entries that are going to be transferred to blog posts. Because really, who doesn't find that shit interesting. Okay, back to watching the snow fall and dreaming about my next dosage of klonipin.

Where are the Storm Clouds?

It seemed so simple ... write a check, sign a paper ... walk away and let the process begin. I have been waiting for the thunder of remorse. I have not lost my conviction or clarity, but the unknown is a slow torture. I know that what I think I want is not what I will get, nor what I will need. I simply want a normal life, but normalcy is elusive and foreign.
I no longer know what I want. I have always known that I want J, but I'm not sure what I want from him or even if I should ask for his friendship in such a critical time. We both question whether this relationship is beyond repair. So, I sit in this bed and watch the evening pass away. I have made the decision to legally end my relationship and the rest is so fuzzy. Are we really going to stay true to our vows even after the legal marriage is dissolved? I'm afraid I have devised a plan to stay connected so that the eventual split will be a slow process so to delay the intensity which so often sends me to the place where I begin to plan my escape. I have made these choices. The choice to file for divorce. The choice to try to live on my own. The choice to move on. The choice to create a new life. The choice to reinvent myself. So, I must want to move on, but why is it tonight I stared at the orange bottle, spilling out the blue tablets, with tears caught in the lenses of my glasses wondering who would take Roxy and who would have to find me. Truly, how angry will M be? Won't she understand?
If one more person comments on my super human strength and resilience I am going to prove them wrong. What choice do I have? Really? I've tried taking my life so many times that I'm even a failure at that. But, I have made momentous changes. I separated and filed for divorce in the time span of two or three weeks and have yet to feel an ounce of remorse. I know this is right. I asked for clarity and I received it. I have goals and I know that I have a purpose in this life, but everyday is such a roller coaster that I'm not sure I can hold on at times.
From the choices I have made it seems I want to live. I want more from my life. It is funny ... an anomaly of sorts ... I acted in logic and thoughtfulness instead of emotion and trauma. The sudden shift makes me want to believe that there is something out there that cares. Maybe it is just my own evolution ... my own will power, but it rose so quickly, and I am so sure, I cannot believe that this is of my own doing ... it cannot be.
J and I met Tuesday and I can barely remember what I said. I knew I would fuck it up. His appearance was but a ghost of how I remember him. His hair was so short, his eyes sunken in so far, his shoulders so narrow. I tried to ease into the news, but before I knew it I slowly and softly spoke the words. He reacted just as I predicted - with restriction and the look he assumes when you know he is trying to wrestle whatever emotion is inside. It is always the emotion that I wonder ... is is joy? is it pain? is it hate? As the conversation progressed I explained my desire to stay within our vows, just live separate lives for a while until he can do the work he needs to do. As usual, this man and I were on the same page. He needs to disconnect from his mother and I. He needs to rebuild his life on his own without our help. That was one motivating factor for my initiation of the divorce ... maybe he would realize his need for maturity and take on his sobriety by himself. We left with hugs and a tender kiss on the lips and multiple "I love you" statements. Somehow, that didn't set me at ease. I am scared what he has thought the past couple of days.
My greatest fear is based in my selfish need for acceptance ... I do not want this to end at the blade of an axe. If it does end, I want it to end like a small leak - slow, but eventual.
I fantasize about the possibilities ... studying abroad. Meeting new people. Having a drink after work without the weight of guilt. When things were good with us they were great. An enviable relationship. His clothes are still in the closet. There are even a few dirty dishes in the sink from his short stay while I was on vacation (yes, I do the dishes that often).
Uncertainty can be the demise of a codependent ... yet it seems it is our life's mission to control it.

Mail Call

Insert any name you think begins with an A and J, cause it makes me feel okay doing this when I think there is some sort of anonymity

A***********,

It must be hell living with me the past year. I've put you through more than almost anyone could handle. I'm so ashamed of myself and I'm terrified I'll never be able to make up for the wrong I've done or the pain I've caused. My apologies just don't mean much anymore - but I had to write and say something. I want our life back but I'm not even sure I know where to begin. We had such great dreams and hopes - such a bright future - and I've all but shattered them all. I was happy with our marriage with the direction we were headed but I still hated me. Everytime you tell me you love me my stomach drops and it hurts like hell because I'm reminded of how I just can't love myself and how you love me in spite of me. These 3 [6 total] years of our life together have been the best and the worst I've known. I've known great joy and great pain. I've become a monster - so different from the man you married. So I offer a humble apology - when I owe you so much more. I hope we can talk again. I love you

your Husband,
J.************

We haven't spoken in a week and the last time we spoke while he was sober was over two weeks ago. The treatment center will allow me to call him Thursday.
I have a 4:00 appointment with the lawyer tomorrow afternoon.

51% of Women Are Now Living Without A Spouse

51% plus one, that is. Delayed gratification is a simple concept, yet a tedious and nearly impossible task. I have asked for clarity and I'm afraid that I have it now. My left hand has lost the white ring of flesh where my rings once rested. I sleep in the middle of the bed now. I lost the awareness of time when he usually calls me at work. There are so many things that have already slipped away.
I've developed enough tolerance to the sour words that I can speak them. It is in my own disappointment that everyone has responded with such relief. If just one person tried to convince me this is not what I should do, I would probably take back everything I said.
I suppose it is a post mark for adulthood with this decision. I am finally disconnecting myself from the deterministic hold that shackles my will.

I'm Everything But Sorry.

Anyone that read this blog before has probably given up by now. I didn't drop off of the face of the earth, rather I fell into the vacuum I allowed my life to become. So much has happened, yet it is the same story over and over again.
In summary, things have changed. I became jaded. I became calloused. I lost perspective.
So, I made a geographical change to see M. I found a cheap ticket two weeks ago and last Friday I was driving to the airport. My mission was clear: get out of my skin - completely. No one can distract me quite like M. The partying was great. It has been years since I've been able to take a drink and not feel guilty. I was able to act a fool and not give a damn ... really I was a totally different person. Once in a while I would worry the other people we were partying with were getting a view of me that I would eventually despise, but when it came down to it I needed to feel something other than exhausted - their opinion didn't matter. I don't regret anything, in fact, I'm glad I was able to let go for once in my adult life and just have a good time.
No one knew my story. No one cared. Yet, one of the most important people in my life was there whenever I had some random obsessive thought ... and then she handed me a drink (just kidding ... sort of).
I woke to a call from my land lord on Tuesday morning. J left rehab and continued his streak of destruction. A couple of hours full of phone calls, sporadic crying, and the familiar feeling of sickness and then it was somewhat resolved and I let it all fall away. I didn't obsess or ruin the remaining time. Weird. For once, I felt the elusive creature that is loving detachment. I was compassionate when his cries filled the speaker of my phone, but I left the pain when I ended the call. So this is freedom. For once in my fucking life I felt like some one's drug use wasn't ruling the speed and velocity of my roller coaster. This roller coaster is about to change.