Fave Tune: JST’s Lost Myself to Loving You

This beautiful song has become the soundtrack of my mind for the last couple days… the lyrics are brutally honest and accurately reflect the current state of my relationship with the vet.

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Welsh Witch

His name escaped her lips between a whisper and a sigh,
Years pass in fragmented silence after friendship dies,
Her life still has no answers and she still wonders why
He slips into her dreams before the mourning dove cries.
N.2018

 

I have two unfinished drafts waiting for me to click publish, one political and one personal, and both can wait. My mind has been on an old friend all day, with a soundtrack of Rhiannon playing in my head and I don’t know why. He was wearing a well-fitted black suit with the white artist shirt that he lost years ago, much younger than he is now, tall and slender, when I saw him in a dream a few nights ago. He smiled and nodded, didn’t say a word. I woke up feeling the deep ache that comes with lost friendship. It comes with the knowing that I will never hear his voice again. That I will never see his scrawl on an envelope tossed into my mailbox. In his mother’s words, “That’s Life.”

Then today. I spent the day online researching demolition debris. Yeah, for real. Don’t ask… will explain later as right now, I have too many questions without answers. But, that’s kind of what THIS is… it’s demolition debris from an old friendship that got demolished, smashed to smithereens, and occasionally a fragment washes to the surface. The soil of my life is contaminated with memory and emotions.

I need a Rhiannon, an old Welsh witch with three little birds… come sing me to sleep so I can wake up feeling whole again.

Fave Tune: I Don’t Want to Know

I woke up with this Fleetwood Mac tune in my head and a clip about recognizing narcissistic behaviors with a check list to determine if you are in an abusive relationship in my inbox.

Oh, great. Please do not jump to conclusions.

I don’t have it in me to tolerate an abusive relationship. I’m too old and weathered to put up with psychological bull and I don’t know how to deal with physical abuse. I’ve seen too many women beat down, so my response might be with deadly force. You will know what happened if my next address is Marysville.

In fact, I periodically question my ability to tolerate relationships of any kind. Maybe I should stop writing blogs about it or venting over telephone lines.

Nah… that would be self-abuse.

Rest assured, dear friends, I am not in an abusive relationship.

Maybe my last post gave the impression that he expected me to drop my projects to do what pleased him…  nah, asking where I kept the broom was NOT a clue to make me jump up and do housework.  I told him where it was, and HE swept a floor.  He doesn’t try to control me. I’m the one who felt like I needed to take a night off, spend more time with my man… no manipulation on his part involved.

So, it’s okay here…. thanks for caring!