The fall

I fell down. When you fall down sometimes you scrape your knees, get bruised, or break bones.
My friend Simon falls alot. It's part of his physical condition, he knows it, expects it to happen and has prepared himself by knowing what moves to make to help prevent damage. He has learnt how to protect himself for falls. I admire my friend. He has taught me alot.

My falls aren't the physical kind. I fall emotionally. I try to think of why I fall. Maybe it was because I wasn't looking where I was going? Maybe it was because I wore the wrong kind of footwear? (Shouldn't wear high heels while mountain climbing). Maybe it was because I wasn't really sure of my footing in the first place? Maybe I was pushed?

I've learned that the reason doesn't really matter. "Who dunnits" don't always address the solutions- the future personal "to do" lists necessary for healing.

Life is full of falls. I have fallen down alot in my life. It's just annoying that I keep falling in the same way and in the same place.

I wasn't prepared for the last fall and I hadn't learned to protect myself, to fall in a way that would cause me the least amount of damage. There was nothing to cushion the blow.

Obviously I fell from a great height..because I really fell such a long way, screamed a long time, and landed very heavily. I tried to use alcohol to ease the pain. It didn't really work, just gave me a headache and dragged out the hurt. The drunken broken hearted only end up validating the heartbreaker- "that's why I left" they say, pointing self righteously toward the mascara smeared in the tequila soaked puddle at their feet. (Ofcourse it had nothing to do with their stone cold sober lies and carefully planned betrayals.) I forgive myself my heartbroken
reactions. I understand why I fell.

Where I landed was great pit full of muddy anger and slimy self pity. There were tears of loves gone by, floating timbers of former relation-shipwrecks, ripples of "who done me wrong" resentments bubbling with "if only's"...

It's a slippery mix and hard to climb out of. At least it's warm. Climbing out of it means facing the cold brisk air, shivering as you dry off.

You have to be careful as you pull yourself out of this slow-sanded pool. Don't be reaching
out your hand for help.

Caped crusaders who need "damsel's in distress" appear wearing hero masks. They hold out a hand to help you up and out, only to backhand you with the other and push even deeper into the pit. Spider man turns out to be sticky boy, superman turns out to be mega pimp, and batman turns out to be a blood sucking dracula. Behind every hero mask hides a bluebeard.

I've been such a sucker for superheros. My first love was astro boy. I guess that was an early indication that I would be bound to find two dimensional lovers in my future. My romantic life has the storyboard of a cartoon.

In the pit of the broken hearted you need to be still. Others may call out to you, encouraging
things like "get over it" and "do you need a wahmbulance" and "you wet your bed, now lie in it"...and "get off the pity pot" -you can't always heal the way others insist you heal.

I tried it. I tried faking happiness. "Look at me, I have moved on! Ta da, I am
so looking for a bonk right now and I am sooo big and stwong!" Nah.
That have a nice day shit is for the shallow, the narcissistic and the
hollow hearted. I just have to wait. I have to wait for time to do it's thing-
put a bit of gaffa tape around my soul, stay honest about how I feel and rest.

You have to be still. If you thrash around the wounds open, they bleed.
Then those pesky vampires appear. They come to feed off that energy..
the blood. Your misery simply becomes a feeding sanctuary for fang wearing
love vultures.

Good grief or bad... it cuccoons you in a salty blanket. I guess that helps you heal. If the grief wasn't there when you came crashing down you might smash into a million fragments. At least it softens the fall.

Life is full of falls. I fell without a parachute and as I hurtled towards the earth I really thought someone would save me. I really thought leaving myself so unprotected was a brave proof of my love and courage. It was just stupid.

I am not guilty of faithlessness, I am however, guilty of stupidity.

I know though, that if stupidity was a crime I would be in a very crowded jail. I've not been the only fool in love. I just want to stop being a repeat offender.

I have had the kind of blind trust and naivety that a telemarketer prays for. I walked with a bullseye on my heart, and my heart was on my sleeve, not a safe place to wear it.
My pain isn't private either. As a child I was a better seeker than a hider. I would make
a terrible poker player. Because of this I don't fit in well with this mechanical reasonable
time. I love therefore I am. I wonder how Mrs. Descartes ever coped with Rene? All that amming and thinking- no room for soul in that "reasonable" world.

Mastering emotions is one thing, denying them another. Making "reason" the ruling
way of being seems to be like pimping out your own humanity to please an automative
society. Surely that time is at an end.

This last year I found out my husband was having an affair, I lost my house, my dog and all I knew to be love, stability, home and belonging here in this foreign land. It was like being
in a bad country song. It hurt - and to be hurt by such a cliche brought me to
my knees. Ugh...to be left for the "other woman" is utterly devastating. No need to
go to an ashram to get your ego broken, just date my ex.

No amount of pleading, crying, screaming and praying changes anything. It
did help me move through things faster though. Slowly I began rebuilding...
I began to try to renovate myself...self examination followed by action to
be sure I took responsiblity for those areas within myself that may have
been non relationship friendly. I began climbing out of the pit.

then ..someone gave me a hand..and offered me a comforting heart...

and words. Words words and words. Such beautiful words. "You're beautiful" and
"I love you" and "I love the 'essence' of you." When did that change into "you're an asswipe
and a simple bitch", and "you are replaceable" and "you've got to change"?
How do "I love you notes" scattered around a room become "an irritation and indication
of 'excessive behavior traits'? Drawers full of porn are okay? "I love you notes' are
sick? And so I fall again...

He wore a superhero mask and Michael Jordan shoes. He spoke in 12 step cliches and prayed in the warm limelight of grateful sponsees. He was more X than Malcolm, more talk than
walk and put the ass in Onestas.

When his mask slipped, there stood the familiar grinning bluebeard.
Turned out all he ever wanted was a temporary tooth fairy. I was just a
replaceable vagina, an exotic trophy to wear on his arm at various occasions,
and back up mature aged booty for in between his affairs with barely legals
and crack ho cinderellas.

His serenity nearly killed me. He has groomed his enablers to disregard
the fourth step. He is part of a group conscience that seems to have no conscience,
their silence a mere tacit agreement that this outdated sexism and predatory behavior is acceptable. Kelly's bar becomes Killers bar. How can there be principles before personalities
when the group is ran by the unprincipled?

My love and trust in others has cost me. I am four thousand dollars in debt. I
ended up in a hospital three times this last year. I am exhausted. I am pissed off, and hurt.
I can't heal wearing someone else's band aids.


I won't lie about it. I will try
not to lie in it. But I don't want to reach out to be hurt again.

I am going to climb out of the pit.

I am going to make my own way.

I am going to be like my friend Simon, and
learn how to protect myself for life's inevitable falls.

There will be no more "falling in love."

I intend to rise in love- along with the like hearted.

I love therefore I am.