Catch and Release.

One thing I've discovered in writing this blog is that it seems to permanently release whatever it is I'm obssessing about... the things I write here, when captured in words, get released into the universe and don't come back. I don't want them back. I give them up as if I were igniting them and allowing them to become ash. The universe can have it.

In the few private moments I have right now, I wish to release my hate. All day long I've been saying, in my head, like a broken record (or scratched CD?), "I hate my life. I hate this. I hate living here. I hate him." It just keeps burning a track in my brain, and I'm afraid it'll burn so deeply I won't be able to emerge. Right now I feel like I love this track. I want to sink into it and destroy everything I hate, or run away from it, at least. I want to indulge it, and with a great amount of self-discipline, and maybe a smear of hope, I write it here. I want, more that I desire the indulgence of these passions, to be free. I read a post on a forum I visit that quotes Dostoyevsky; a quote about divine and universal love, despite all things. Right at this moment, when I feel like I'd love to crawl into bed and simply cement my feelings of hate with the seal of sleep, I read the thing I need to hear to free myself. Love is a choice. The quote is imperative.

COMPASSION MANDALA...from The Brother's Karamozov, by Dostoyevsky


...have no fear of human sin. Love people even in their sin, for that is the semblance of divine love and the highest love on earth...Love all of creation, the whole and every grain of sand in it. love every leaf, every ray of light. love the animals, the plants, love everything. If you love everything you will percieve the divine mystery in things. Once you percieve it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day. And you will come at last to love the whole world with an all-embracing love.

I can live freely and openly and deeply in love, or I can indulge this hate some more. Is this hate serving a purpose? It's making me mope around like a teenager. It's also making me want change, which we need. What do I see that needs changing?

I see our children really being ignored. We use the TV so much. We choose to play on the computer rather than engage with them. This is so far from the lifestyle I encouraged at our former home. Why has it become the status quo here, so easily?

Speaking of computers, we use it for our pleasure and release. I use it for communication. To say what I really feel. He uses it for his entertainment, to feel connected, while he was NO CONNECTION to friends in the real world. He also uses it to look at naked ladies doing what he wishes I were doing, but can't, because he'd rather be entertaining himself at the computer. I hate this. I always have. And it never seems to change. I'd like it to change. I'd like him to come to me and start a conversation. I'd like him to ask me to go for coffee with him. I'd like him to offer me a massage, impromptu. I'd like him to talk to me. Have fun with me. Want me exclusively, find ways to entertain me, find ways around our situation to sneak in some love. He doesn't work at it. We're never a we. I've talked about this before. Do I need to talk about it again?

We're in my parents' house. I want that to change, too. I feel like getting a house is an inordinately heavy task for me to strive for on my own, and he seems content to wait here. I am not. I need out. I can wait a couple of months, and then I need my own space again. Money. It's pressing its ugly foot against my neck. I vowed to never become enslaved by thoughts of getting a house, getting more money... because it's soul-killing. I've done it once before, and I'm not interested in feeling that way again. Can I be like a patient Jedi and just sit and breathe and wait for the proper time? Why am I so impatient?

Because I'm filled with loathing, boredom, disapproval, restlessness and hate here. I don't want to deal with the things I see, the piles of work that never seem to get done, the effort it takes to get anywhere. I'm tired of the floors that need work, the walls that have been done poorly, the paint job that needs to get FINISHED after six bloody years. I'm too close to everyone, and have no space in which to be creative. Or alone. Or sexual. Or relaxed. This is why I want to leave.

I need release from all of this. If my mind could open up and find the space it needs just inside my head, if I could just feel love and enjoy the closeness, if I could just embrace the faults and have patience and talk and change the things that can be changed, I think I would feel that freedom I desire so greatly.

And even as I write that, there is a hard little seed in me that hopes somehow, my wish won't be granted. I have a miserable little grouch inside that's sabotaging these desires and tells me I'm not speaking the truth. All I want, it says, is true freedom, and to abandon everything for the sake of me. Truth is, just me is boring, useless, disloyal and misanthropic. Too quiet. Rash. Impulsive. Lonely. Desperately, coldly lonely... a loneliness that seems to echo and clang in its harshness. I don't even find very many people pretty anymore. It's as if the loneliness is taking from me the ability to be intrigued by anyone, thus stabilizing itself. It likes living in me. It seeks company, but hates it at the same time. Because weirdly, it feels good feeling so shitty. You can say so many awful things when you're stuck inside your head. You can utter things that feel like truth, that may actually be truth... but I suspect are not the bigger truth. The Truth with a capital "T". Loneliness and despair is like some kind of miserable masturbation. I hate it. I've fought it for a long time, and I'm standing on the verge.

The true me is asking the universe to take this from me, along with all the other junk, and hear the feeble voice that wants to be full of light, forgiven, pure, loved and loving again. Please help me forget this misery. Make me ready to release it.

Affair with a bed.

I want to find a bed that puts me to sleep. I want a big, nice hotel room that's all my own. No... maybe I want a big bedroom in a house that's mine with no-one else in the house. Yeah. A big bed with a footboard, with a mattress that's long enough to hold my toes when I'm laying face-down. I want a very warm feather duvet and lots of big- fluffy, soft feather pillows, and very soft and clean sheets that smell like lavendar or rain or Downy or all of the above. Then, I want brand-new pyjamas that make me look really hot, and I want to be in them after I've taken a long bath where every bump or errant hair has been smoothed away, and I've been moisturized and perfumed, and my hair has been blowdried and I look sweet and feel warm. A bath, where there were jets, and I sidled up to a jet and it gave me a sweet, hard orgasm. Then, I want to crawl into this empty bed and wait for either a lover or sleep, and I would feel that sweet, hot sinking as I drift away happily.

I'm so cold, and jittery, and itchy and uncomfortable. I hate my pyjamas. I hate that my son is in the bed. I hate my pillow with great zeal. Was it the green tea I drank? The nap I took this afternoon? Is anyone available to take me out for a drink and maybe some kissing? I want to get a call right now and get invited out for chicken wings or pizza and some booze. Or pot. Yeah. I just want to feel pleasure. Warmth, and happiness. Because inside I feel so utterly lost and cold and jumpy and generally worried and sometimes self-loathing. I feel sad a lot, listless, and I can't sleep. This seems like depression, but I don't get depressed. I feel bored with people when they talk about themselves. I'm not bored all the time. Sometimes the conversations are great.

I can't get excited about that wedding tomorrow. I'm not excited about much. I think I'm excited about splurging what little money I've earned on a new dress for it, and dancing with the man I want to have an affair with. Wouldn't it be great if I could do just that in a dark corner AT the wedding? Breaing rules and causing mental chaos is such a turn-on right now.

Then I tuck my kids into bed and relish that feeling of sweetness and remember what it feels like to be happy for a moment. Why can't I hold onto that?

Because I can't sleep. And all I want is a big, warm bed that can hold me.