Thursday, December 10, 2015

... and another one...

I'm driving through the intersection, the light is green.
And then my tongue hurts from where I bit it.  I bit it because my airbag hit my face with ferocity and in a surprise attack.  And once I am cognizant of the fact that my airbag has hit my face I hear my mind say, "here we go again". 
Some silly young girl has gone through her red light and hit my car - I am spun through two lanes of tracking into the road traversing mine.
My car is written off.
I am in a daze, I am shaking but I am alive and for all intents and purposes pretty good save multiple bruises, a few minor lacerations/contusions and whiplash.
My first call is to him.
It always is.

The next few days he is solicitous and will not leave my side.

And then it all becomes too much for him and he says he is going to spend a few days at home.

And then he avoids me.

And now what hurts is not my neck, or my hip, or my head or my legs; it's my heart that hurts - again.

But I do it to myself every time.

How many Internet platitudes have I read in the last month that remind me that I cannot make someone love me, That I need to set him free and if it was meant to be, he'll come back to me?

I think I've read them all.  I'm sure I've re-posted many of them on Facebook myself.

I try to insinuate myself into his life again.

I remind him that Christmas is an open invitation.  He tells me he is not sure he would want to commit to that.

He wants to move into a rooming house again or find a room to rent somewhere.

He would rather take a million steps back and live in the squalor and filth where he was living when I first met him rather than be with me.

Squalor and filth are better than me.

This accident really hurt my heart.

Tuesday, November 03, 2015

Void Cheque

Today I sent sexy flirty emails to the guy that always seems to step in whenever you step away.  I wanted the ego boost.  I wanted to feel attractive and desired.

After you and I talked last night about the kids and what I could do to facilitate a better relationship between them and you I realized that my primary role in your life is just facilitator.  I am here to make things easier for you in the realms you struggle to navigate (like teenage daughters, rides, etc).
Turns out facilitator is not a sexy job for a life partner.

I've read the literature (and even the last page of the internet), all of which states I must find my validation internally.
Well guess what - old habits die hard.
I'm seeking it externally.

You refuse to give it to me.
He will.

I'm sad and lonely.
He will fill the void (ahhh innuendo how I've missed thee).

Monday, November 02, 2015

Shhh... it's a secret... but I think I might be back.

                Since you left, I lie a lot.  I tell everyone I’m fine.  I tell everyone that I’m working out to keep me busy and not think of you.  That’s not true.  I work out twice a week and pretend that I’m working out every day.  I hide at home the rest of the time downloading television shows to keep me occupied.  I’m not really planning on running a half marathon, even though I told you that too.
                When you asked me if my weight loss was due to not eating, you were right.  I don’t eat properly anymore.  But if I tell everyone my weight loss is due to exercise I don’t get the flak I know I probably deserve.

                I know things weren’t right between us.  I know that we can’t go back.  I want things to be right between us and I want to go back.  I don’t want the change.  Even if, as they say (that nebulous they that constitutes the friends who want their input recognized) the change will be for the better, I don’t want that change.  I want the life I had with you.  I’m paralyzed without you.

                Here’s the main problem, I know I was paralyzed with you too.  I could not go out and enjoy myself at events without you; because that meant that we weren't together.  That meant that you could be somewhere having fun without me.  I wanted you to want to be with me as much as I always wanted to be with you.  Apparently that’s not healthy.  Why can’t wanting to spend 24 hours a day with the person you love be healthy? Why can’t an unhealthy obsession with the person you love be the most magical beautiful thing in the world instead of a symptom of something far more insidious?

                My relationship with you both as your life partner and now your ex can only be summed up in one word – paralysis.  And I don’t want to move.  I don’t want to change.  I was comfortable in that paralysis.  This is the most honest analysis I've ever put out there of our relationship.  I wish it were not true.  I wish this were instead, one of the lies I've told since we broke up.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009


Write bitch write. Those are the only words of advice I have for myself. It’s been over a year since I quit writing altogether. No more online journal entries, no more stories on napkins not even mini notebooks. Nothing.

I quit altogether. Other than two cathartic poems that haunt me, I have nothing to show for an entire year of my life. It is the first time in 15 years that I have no record of my life, my emotions, or the stories in my head.

Today I read that writer Dominick Dunne died. When I read his novel “The Two Mrs. Grenvilles” I was captivated. It was a novel that I could not put down, and yet, I did not like the style of writing. The juxtaposition of fascination and boredom was my first foray into the knowledge that an ability to write well (or at least to tell a story well) supersedes my passion for specific styles of writing. I just read that despite the murder of his daughter, he completed work on the very novel I could not put down; this, despite the mourning and emotional turmoil in which he was engaged.

If, Mr. Dunne could write despite the most debilitating of all events (the death of a child), why would I allow myself to stop writing? It is foolhardy and egotistical to assume that my problems and pains are of greater store than his.


I’ll be taking my advice.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Upside down you're turning me...

Dearest Internets,

By now you are well versed in the fact that Bounce is ape shit crazy.

But now I am treading in waters I've never been in... and I'm scared that a tidal wave will bowl me over and leave me a tattered mess at the bottom of the waters.

And there is so much updating to do - this may be a multi pronged story.

So let's start at the beginning.

When I first met D, he was a "random". There was no expectation of anything beyond the obvious. As the nature of our relationship changed, so did our expectations. And then I found out that he was a "recreational" drug user. Which, call it what you will, I call a drug abuser.

We had a very dark and dysfunctional time of it at the height of his drug use. Somehow we prevailed. Somehow he managed to pull himself off the drugs. Somehow, he managed to live "one day at a time". It was the beginning of a rebirth of sorts for us.

He opened up to me about all sorts of secrets that he'd kept compartmentalized from me. Things of which I had no idea. Some things fell into place once the truth came out, but in another way it opened up a whole new set of questions and queries. We went through another set of dysfunctional weeks with me questioning his every move, giving him no leeway to breathe.

And then some joy came into his life. He reconnected with the mother of his children and was suddenly able to have phone calls with them (the girls) again. He started sending child support again.

Things changed.

Two weeks after the joy in his life, he received a devastating call from the mother of his children (let's call her G-lady). D's mother was being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. There were phonecalls back and forth that evening. By the time we were winging our way to the province of his birth, the woman who had power of attorney over his mother had already had the life support removed. His mother passed away three hours before our plane touched down.

G-lady, her fiance, and D's oldest daughter were at the airport waiting for us. It was a difficult reunion of sorts. It was the first time he'd seen his daughter in 4 years, and the first time he'd seen the G-lady since demonizing her in his mind. Circumstances were now entirely different. The G-lady was looking after his mother and his grandmother. She was raising not only his daughters, but her and her fiance were raising the fiance's three daughters.

The week we spent in the province of his birth was an absolute dichotomy of emotions - the joy of reunions, and the sorrow of the passing of a beloved mother. He reconnected with both daughters (heretofore known as D1 and D2), he spent time with his best childhood friend, he spent time with his brother, we spent time with his grandmother and we spent time with G-lady and the rest of her family.

I was touched and fully absorbed into the joy and the sorrow of the occasion.

There were very few bumps on the road to his reconnection with his daughters. And a whole new path had been forged for us.

Talks began of us eventually moving back to the province of his birth. G-lady was very strident about it, as she recognizes that her children need to know their father. I was utterly charmed by the idea of being a part of this instant family. I fell in love with his grandmother and his daughters.

G-lady and I forged a slightly uncomfortable but not strained bond with each other. Both recognizing that in order for us to accomplish what we want, we need to be in each other's corner.

After the week of sorrow and joy, we returned to our province.

The love that D and I showed to each other thereafter was a sight to behold. We had grown stronger during that week as a unit, and looked forward to a positive future together.

A few weeks later, G-lady called and asked if I would mind flying back to help clean out D's mother's apartment. For me this is not some feat of amazing fortitude and funds, as I am still on Mr Neighbour's airline passes. I agreed and spent a day with the G-lady and D's cousin, working on the apartment.


In an earlier conversation with the G-lady, she was careful to piss in all the corners, i.e mark her territory. And whilst I understand that emotion, I thought it unnecessary.

G-lady: D1 seems to be having a better time of things lately. She's showing much more respect to my fiance now that her father is in the picture.

Excellent. I'm sure her father has much to do with that, as he told both D1 and D2 how much he liked and respected your fiance.

G-lady: Yes, D1 was just saying that it's ok that she has two fathers, because she can love them both. Of course she said that she only has one mother, and I agreed. She asked if she had to like you, and I said "no, but you do have to show her respect";

Now I ask you with tears in my baby blue eyes... was that necessary - of course not - it was simply a dig. But I took it for what it was - and let it go.

Bounce: exactly G-lady, she's entitled to feel anyway she likes especially in such a confusing time when suddenly her father has reappeared in her life and is bringing along someone new. I fully understand that.

Which god help me - is the truth - who wouldn't understand that.


Well the weekend I went out to help move, G-lady told me that she hadn't informed the girls about my being in the province, as "it would just confuse them that you're here and their father isn't".

Unfortunately G-lady hadn't thought about the transportation logistics and realized that the girls would actually have to see me after all.

When we met up with them at the end of the day, who was the first one to come running into my arms - thrilled to pieces to see me? Why none other than D1.

mmmmhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm (hope you can see my neck weeble and wobble with that mmmmm-hmmmmmmmmmmm)


Anyway.... neither here nor there - that's just me being silly and petty


As the weeks went on, I joked with W.I.B that I had become G-lady's "go-to girl".
G-lady started calling me with silly little things. W.I.B questions whether or not she even has friends.
But the fact is, it must be hard for her to maintain friendships. She's the lost generation - the one with the most stress. She's caretaker to D's grandmother and caretaker to five children. When would one even have time to nurture friendships in a scenario like that.

She's a good person. She wants what's best for those around her.
She has raised the children phenomenally. She works hard.
Absolutely, she's strident and bossy and a know it all... but good lord ... the girl has to be in her situation. A wimp could not do what she does.


Which brings us to her most recent request... the one where I felt manipulated, and used and like a pawn... but more later folks... I have carpal tunnel from writing this little missive already....
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