"I Wonder..."
Part III
The Hot Crazy Matrix
Click On Link If You Want To Refresh For This Final Installment To Focus Away The Control Of Past Disappointments
By L.G. Flores
This is what I want to finish with: Furby affected me and I survived, but the habits of desperation didn't all go away. They repeated with Spooner after extremes caused distortion and I wasn't thinking clearly. I convinced myself I was perfect for him, again, it was all about a "him". It took another person to introduce a concept that would lead me towards more emotional balance and freedom from the longing and pinning that has helped with writing, but I wasn't living my life out of grief because I felt a loss. For some desperate reason I really wanted him to be in to me, like that would improve my life, make my problems feel less shitty, be a comfort I trust. Someone I was curious about being in very close proximity with.
It was unlikely with him due to distance but crazy me then thought I could fix that. How, I wasn't sure, but I had an iron strong will to move mountains in my head. I wasn't asked to, but I was willing after the dust settled on my end, because he was a better alternative to the men I had been committed to, or were having sex with and I wasn't attracted, but did it anyways. I didn't really know him even after 2+ yrs, so I was able to turn him in to whatever suited me or my issue of the day because I was that out of it. What I was told that put it in to perspective was "He's not the only option you have." And when I did meet a different option, I wasn't grieving what got played up in my head. It was short lived, but it was proven I could have eyes for other men again.
My crazy bitch friend that is kicking ass being a co-parent with her ex, so their kids could feel security in knowing they have both their parents with them; she came up with a great one about women and how they attach themselves to dysfunctional situations. She said "We're in love with the men we want to create." and it didn't take long to take that in deeply.
“Spooner” was someone I created, he wasn't his real name. He had stopped being him, after he didn't let me take back what I said. But I grew from this, fuck I'm writing a fucking epic of a shoretale kick started by one old statement he fucked up emailing me if he wanted me to let him take it back, even after he went away. That was what I will make a legend out of, and other men have pondered his statement, and they adopted it as a conundrum of what it could mean and what could resolve it. The one that I liked best was “Are you the pinball or the pinball machine?” A mind over matter, be stronger than what opposes your mind where the psych outs are.
But it was two other statements he made that solidified me wanting to really get to know him and see if I was right, and he was the better alternative.
#1 I walked right in to that one, when I said I was exhausted from being so anal retentive with details of a project I was working on. It was Winter, he had taken a nap and he woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't go back to sleep. He mentions he's cold before I gave him pun fodder. He said "We both have problems. I'm pissing ice cubes and you're constipated."
That was a beautiful comeback, because bodily functions isn't exactly something for a guy to make a gal laugh with, it grosses them out, heck it takes really having to go, to take a dump in a dude's bathroom when she's over at his place and she does worry about the stench that came out of her butt. Like my mom says she doesn’t fart, she holds them in or goes to the restroom to toot. But we were both part of the Doc scene, so saying things like that is more funny than crude, because it's natural. It comes with breathing and when you stop and your muscles relax, your shell shows how much it really gives a shit about dying. It was brave to roll with that pun potential, and I joked that he had me at constipated.
#2 Was even weirder, that's not a pun. He used two words put together in a longer statement, but those two words together, side by side; it felt more like he's perfect for me, than the other way around. They are not words I hear spoken or read from this new century often and that's a shame considering the times. He used words I use, and the two words we related on, I've used them and inspired folks that needed to remember why they are in the service.
These two words are idealistic because of a jaded majority that doesn't see why they are important to understand the depth to them in their simplicity. He probably thought nothing of it which would make him a tough contender to beat, even in just memory because words like those matter too much to not consider. Those two odd and out of place words were:
"My Countrymen."
Now if this doesn't place me as a 10 with crazy for digging he’s a patriot, then I need to aim higher which I have. Which is why August 25th under a New Moon, I'm aiming towards a symbolic moment in my life where I do feel makes it a milestone in achieving a state of grace, even with the hardships that are emotional more than anything. Willingly being open to attacks by Jihadists for challenging their views on how others should be treated, if they do not convert to what they say only the faithful are, I'm already fucked as a female; if I don't piss that Boy's Club off, then I'm sure I'll piss off another one like with Zealot Christians that condoned lynching, burning crosses on yards, protesting military funerals because “God Hates Fags” hence why our troops are dying; and females too while I'm at it because some want preferential treatment because they were born female. That’s not having equality with the males.
The crazy is, I rather be more "Chaps" for a while and focus on doing more with my healing. If I'm ranked by “hotness” factor, then it's going to be done by new men I have not friend zoned myself with yet, for I have not met them and I'm avoiding online dating sites for now, and I don't chill at bars or night clubs. And if I do go, I'm wearing my uniform because I don't want to give guys looking to score, any ideas when they see me hanging out with my girl friends that are interested in meeting men and having sex with the ones that pass through their personal filters. I think a guy would give up with me because my personal filter requires what isn't typical and I want to take things slow and build up towards intimacies. I also have to be clear on detaching if another guy makes himself scarce after we do the deed once. “Hit & Run”. Well better than “Returning To The Well” for that reason alone.
God & Goodness that is the entire Universe and then some, if there was a man created that I'll end up with willingly with joy in my heart as it is in theirs, your force must really like me because it's a tall order because I’ve been fickle in the past when I needed more time and experience to mature.
For now, I rather be the contrast of a black clergy shirt, black trousers, black boots looking like "The Man in Black" the late and great Mr. Johnny Cash was; to my girl friends’ form fitting, more provocative styles, in high heels they'll start whining about how their feet hurt, but knowing this very well from the last time they wore them, they wear them again anyways. This sucks for them, since I can't tell who may have a foot fetish anymore, so I can approach them and politely ask if they mind massaging my girl friends' feet; it would be 'win-win' all around! I’m spiritual, not a prude and I wouldn’t mind a foot rub either.
It's the least I could do as a wingman, though usually it's being the cockblocker that can get creepy guys that don't get my friends are not dancing or drinking with them because they are not interested. These crazy bitches can fight, but I'm the one that looks more like a boxer, so dudes back down because drama would happen otherwise. They most likely would kick my ass, but getting in a fist fight with a female gets looked down upon.
Knowing this, I only swing if I’m pushed to, because I really don't want to get my ass kicked over my friends attracting attention because of their outfits making them pretty hot and tempting. But if one of them is in trouble, fuck it! Bruises fade; cuts and scrapes heal, along with fractured bones. I may not like how my nose would look after getting popped, but it may add more character to my face. Dude busting my front teeth, they may have done me a favor and I get dentures so I don't have to get braces. And bleeding? I haven't had much of a period since 2009; it would restore the balance if I bled some.
Yes I'm half joking. Chances are it would be me most likely carrying the scrapper of my group over my shoulder, away from the fight their temper almost got them in if I didn't get in the middle like a sensible friend would. There is no honor in getting in a fight that if there was drinking, I'd bet it would be over something stupid. There are better things to throw down over and it has nothing to do with the designer high heels on sale.
I'll probably get my hair pulled by her and long nails clawing my skin, besides getting socked so I can put them down and they can go back to a drunken catfight, but I can afford to be laid up in pain, from a beating that didn't kill me, where as they...
They are single moms that need to hold down their jobs so they can provide for their kids. They can't miss work that helps them provide for their little ones, and aching and taking care of them at the same time can be prevented. I'm permanently disabled; I live off my Social Security insurance benefits I paid in to when I was still able to hold down a job. It's more practical if I take the brunt rather than them. I know they'll come to my house and make it up to me by cleaning or something. I'm not half joking.
So yet more evidence I'm a 10 on crazy for thinking this way, but my friends are my family. Heck my sister calls crying from a payphone one time when we were teens, after her bf and she got mugged. He's the same bf that laid a finger on her and I couldn't keep my promise of "or else." because the coward hid and she wouldn't say where I could find him because she was that mindfucked from getting hit by the asshole that claimed he loved her. I have a “White Knight” personality and I acted like I wanted to be my father’s favorite son. Nietzsche had lots to say about this with women.
As soon as I heard what street intersection she was at, instinct was to get to her as fast as I could to calm her down and walk her back home as her body guard since her bf wasn't much of one. I was 15/16 at 5’1” yrs old weighing a buck ten, and they were 18/19yrs old; taller and heavier.
I didn't look both ways before running in to the street to cross it. A car I didn't see but the driver seen me, slammed on their breaks when I flew out the front gate, wearing dark clothes at night. I just ran around the front end because the sound of his breaks did cause me to veer a bit. I thought about it longer than a second after we got back home, but I almost got hit by a car, running to my sister's aid. If that's not love, then I'm just bat shit crazy.
Looking back, she could have walked her own ass home without me guarding it. She wasn't that far from home, and she knew side streets to cut across, but she was still in shock and couldn't think straight, so I did right getting to her even if I almost got run over. I'm closer to my friends than to her that wasn’t very nice to me. Me defending her if anything indicates for those I do like what I'd do to be there for them. And I could tell y'all exactly why.
No one defended me when I got fucked over pretty bad; I was punished instead from 14-16yrs old at the worst. But I made friends with older punkers, and they are the ones that bought me enough time to un-mindfuck myself enough to get me to the next stage of surviving. I was still fucked with, but according to the craziest bitch of my bunch, she said I made it this far because I am that strong. I thought it was because I had Guardian Angels and God had a plan for me. She said again, no, that it was because I was and am stronger than what I give myself credit for. The saying about God’s faith in our abilities to handle things comes to mind. I read a meme that played on that, and the punch line was "God must think I'm pretty badass."
I keep trying to conclude but I think I needed to keep typing and process that even with temperance from giving time time, taking my medication to help with the symptoms from being Bipolar; applying what I have learned in therapy, and “Let Go & Let God”; there is still the stigma associated with being Bipolar. Just as this one meme I read that a guy I would guess, could have been a chick too, created, reminded me of it. His meme was "I think my ex girlfriend is Schizophrenic, and each of her personalities is Bipolar." That meme had a shit load of "likes" and "shares" here on FB, indicating others agreed he was funny.
These mental illnesses are no fucking joke, but even I have a sense of humor about it. I just teared up because it hit close to home and I'm reminded of how my “babbydaddies” didn't feel any compassion for me when my depression I couldn't control, not with how they treated me.
The first that got me to swing, bringing out the boxer in me, though I did go limp after I realized what I did in frustration; he kept putting down my mental health issues. "You and your depression! Your depression, your depression!" He didn't want to admit it to himself, that he was cause of a lot of it, and I was feeling better after I left him, but then he showed his crazy.
The second offered to help me get my daughter back and he was going to help defend my parental rights. The fucking Maj. wasn't showing I could count on him, just like it was with Furby. I was reluctant but at least I didn't marry him in a church, in front of my friends and family. He actually isolated me from them and kept making matters worse, but I was the one that was diagnosed Bipolar, not him; so his command believed him when he would say I wasn't taking my medication and I was manic when I called my KV to help me because he was abusing me. But since spousal abuse against women typically is only considered real/believable if there was proof of being beaten, he knew better than to leave evidence.
He wanted to so bad by his knife hand to my face, but he knew if he touched me, he wouldn't stop taking out all his anger towards the world on me and he would have ended up in the Brig for me ending up in the E.R. or dead. Thing is with him and what I endured for his sake because he did have his own PTSD issues from deploying to Iraq with the Grunts, even mindfucked I wanted to help my husband from a loveless marriage, like a good military wife “should”.
He was doing classic tactics to break someone. He actually boasted how much of a good tactician he was. Well in the end his reason for wanting to divorce me was because I was "high maintenance" and it was like walking on eggshells. I wasn’t the one waking him up screaming, and he wasn’t sleep deprived from taking care of the baby and me. And I didn’t have a motorcycle we couldn’t afford, but it was therapeutic for me.
Though the world had to revolve around him and his fucking career that he was not in it as a patriot, he was in it for authority; I was high maintenance when it was me that had to accommodate him because he went to the front lines and I didn't. My pill dispenser had me so ‘Valley of The Dolls’ so I could hold on until I was able to make a break for it, once my family started seeing there was more to the story, but they still didn't understand what happened back in 29.
It wasn't that it was a hardship duty station every Marine, Sailor, Soldier and Airman that has been to it, can confirm what basically is, it's not like it is for those at Camp Pendleton, but four years that's where I was and if it wasn't for friends again I may have not lasted as long. As far as I know, other than the bullshit certificate I got in appreciation for being a military wife from my ex's unit when he was Green Side, without me having to have lived with him; there is no commendation given to the women and children, for surviving what followed the male service members back from being "over there". I think I deserve a fucking medal to throw in to the ocean, for what I went through because my mind still bleeds sometimes because of that man.
Does trauma fall under the crazy to avoid?
I don't associate all service members with him which some women would have.
I didn't damn the whole fucking US Navy when some of the Sailors over at Robert E. Bush Naval Hospital, didn't investigate before they got in to their "Vigilante" mode, and made sure I couldn’t report him to his command. It wasn't the Green Side Docs that served with my ex before they all ended back to the Blue Side, on base that did it. They are actually the ones that raised the bullshit flag with him because he wasn't coming off as "okay." and his anger outbursts were becoming more frequent.
It was the Blue Side Squids instead, my ex manipulated and he got away with it because the CO's secretary I had to go through to leave a message for him since I was being dicked around with him not being available or the XO, was part of his pack. The wives that want to get out of harm's way and leave behind the trauma, are also lumped with the wives that are considered "Lying, Cheating, Whores" that are “self-centered”, and “spend all the service member's money” and deserve to suffer. Again no investigation, just automatic vilification. And money wise, I did contribute to our house hold and when I got $10,000 in back benefits, it went to his credit debt he kept getting back in to, because if he didn't pay it off, he would "lose his security clearance". That money was supposed to go to hire a lawyer to fight to defend my parental rights to get my daughter back, but I was a push over and he was too lazy to get a second job delivering pizzas. That would have interfered with him playing his video games he purchased on credit, or going cruising on his motorcycle that was also on credit.
Other Blue Side Sailors redeemed the US. Navy for me, by being good people and were open to listen, and it helped. They were aware what happened to me, does happen and were able to tell I was affected mentally.
I'm still Gung Ho and want to be part of the Home Front effort. I want to advocate for our troops.
The trauma is there, but I think I am handling it well like my doctors say that are authorities on the subject. My friends say when they have a bad day; they know they can count on me to help them feel better with my sense of humor, so that didn't die. The push over I was with him, is what died when what couldn't kill me made me stronger.
He knows, they both know, I'm not intimidated anymore by them and I'll keep my promise when I face off with them both in court. The UCMJ isn't part of my case with my son's father anymore; it's a civilian justice system that he can't manipulate like he did back in 29, here in L.A. My children will get their mother back, alive, well and happier.
I have plenty of reasons to be bitter, but I felt it would crazy to allow myself to let those reasons win and control me. I am gun shy when it comes to romance, but at least I don't feel the pressure to experience it. If God, Goddess, Universe, and Light with back-up on Angels and Saints, all think I'd be even more happier if they add on a companionship with someone special that isn't of my blood or my platonic relationships only, and that's what Karma wise I set myself up for; then he was created long time ago for me, as I for him, so I wouldn't have to create him like my friend said us women tend to do.
But Karma for me could also be that I won't get the other chance to aim for true love with a mate that I was with for the right reasons. It wouldn't be a punishment to not be monogamous with a man that kept his promise of growing old with me. I may find out marriage isn’t really for me. Or I live with quiet, resigned grace on certain days I become sentimental. That happened to me yesterday while journaling. I touched to hold on, the picture I have of Tonantzin/La Virgen de Guadalupe, a peacock rhinestone brooch for Oshun, a cross for my cool cosmic hippie uncle Chuy, and I cried from feeling worried. It didn’t last long, but that sentimental display showed I want to appreciate romance.
A romantic relationship however shouldn't be what defines me like my mental illness. I've said my prayers already asking for true love with a mate I grow old along with. I have been dealing with my emotional baggage and tying up loose ends so I can be better equipped to receive the gift it is for the blessing. But I do understand that "sometimes we don't get what we want, but we get what we need." to not quote The Beatles.
I am an hour away from being awake for 24 hours.
What did I get out of this?
I needed to remind myself, whatever crazy is left in me, is nothing compared to when I did lose my sanity and had to deal with my demons head on, in order to make it back from over the edge. Not enough people can say they have dealt with their inner demons and made peace with most of them. That's being in a state of grace after so much hurt felt.
And I needed to explore why a funny video, brought up to the surface this need to defend my sanity to myself, and to recall when other men had to soothe me being rejected by guys like Furby that were not the ones to pay attention to because I was only good for the fuck, but not to walk next to me, holding my hand as the one he's seen with under the Sun, that he wouldn't deny he’s involved with me.
Guys like him don't know what the fuck they want, if one moment I'm special because I'm caring and I stand out as a maverick among the women they had known. And then when I showed I seen him as my equal and do hard work also because I was strong enough to handle it and I didn't shake my ass so a horny co-worker would do my work for me like Furby's ex-gf did, it hurt it was him doing her work for her.
My memory of her was how fucking lazy she was when she complained when ordered to do light housekeeping in the women's restroom, like it was beneath her and she was ready to stick the union of the managers for daring to make her actually work where it didn’t matter how cute she was. I noticed there was a change after the day I was on break and I started helping Furby restock merchandise off the pallet, so he could be done quicker and we can spend our breaks hanging out together, being the "kindred spirits" we called ourselves.
I didn't mean to make him feel less of a man when I did that, and this said based on what the stocking crew explained. He didn't want to be equal. He rather have a lazy girlfriend that wasn't discreet when he was off being a tampon getting bloody for his drill weekend of the month and I wasn't the only one that noticed she wasn't acting like a loyal girlfriend in love.
We both were single moms and she needed braces too, but she remained thin and my weight wouldn't stay low like hers when I began to finally eat a real meal so I could get nutrition and I didn't need uppers so I could run on fumes in order to be a size 3/5. Then my medication that I needed made it hard to thin out. He was so fucking shallow and vain, he chose the one that ended up cheating on him, and didn't act spoken for when he wasn't around to see, because she was "hot" making me not.
This video reminded me that men have considered me the fabled “Unicorn”, going on like they scored because I was giving them my attention, but when it came down to it, it didn't matter if I was their ideal because I had looks, brains, was the cool chick that liked beer and punk rock and was passionate about art and finding beauty where one thinks it cannot exist. It didn't matter when the guys basically took back everything that made me want to try again. It's not a consolation to find out years after I cried for them, that they did want to be with me, in a real relationship; but their own issues held them back, and it had nothing to do with my looks or my personality like they allowed me to think it did. If they wanted to be in a relationship, it was because they liked how I looked and my personality attached.
So they tell me it was them, not me, but it's too late to do anything about it. If they pursued me, they would be untrue to their wives and girlfriends they chose to be with; and I'm stuck with the knowledge I tempted them, by being the memory of the one they shouldn't have allowed to get away. And that they wanted to be with me, not them. But after reality trumps a misguided hope, they return to their girlfriends and wives, and make the best of it without them knowing, their significant others felt what they did for another woman and considered acting on it.
I was told I made some feel like they were not good enough for me, that other men would be better than them and I would be disappointed they don't live up to what I deserve. I didn't set the standards, they did. If my attention was on them, it was because they were perfect to me with what they did show. The problem was I wanted to be loved back, and that was too much for them handle as much as they would have if they felt they could. I also was told I scared the shit out of some grown men that have seen combat because I came dangerously close to getting past their emotional defenses and smiled. How is that not confusing?
I was told it was because I challenged their beliefs that they couldn't feel love again, and I was inspiring hope back in to them when they decided hope is only felt by fools that don’t know better than to open up their hearts and let me in and not rush me out. I messed with their hold on keeping their guard completely up where they feel they were safer, or others would be from them. I can't make anyone do anything they don't want to do. If these men broke my heart because they were afraid I'd break theirs that was their choice to allow their fear to control them. And yet irony would have it that they meet someone shortly after me and they give them what they were too scared to give me. And the men that aren't afraid of me, I don't feel those tingles and butterflies fluttering about my body as they are near and touch me. And I did pray to God begging to make me feel attracted so I could be with one of them, because they do make me feel welcomed and they tell me what they feel and think, but it doesn't work that way.
With Spooner, he was very guarded with me, then put his guard down, to put it back up again and then slipped up, showing he stresses too. I tried showing him compassion like he showed me, but he changed the topic by not answering my question of what was wrong, answering instead questions that I honestly couldn't tell even looking back, if he believed I could forget, or hoped I would. When I had to blow up, I said the sort of things a future ex-girlfriend would say in frustration. I wasn't his girlfriend so saying what I did, he didn't need that. He had a lot to deal with already with the deployment that was coming up then. I was just a whack job that was presumptuous and unfortunately like it was with the Maj. Intuition is what it is. I want to shut it off because it hurts and I'm respecting his decision now that I know there is nothing I could say or do, to convince him to reconsider I was having a really shitty time like he was, and I cracked.
Serendipity strikes again on my last therapy session when my doc asks me about what is neutral and isn’t. It’s happening it seems more frequently. I already have a plan on what to do, and it includes having no expectations. I’m just a face in the crowd.
Being honest with myself out in the open, well sorta; he was doing things that gave me a glimpse of what I would deal with, if he made up his mind on how close I could get and be up front about how close that would be. Distance was what it was and could be what it could be if one tried, but expectations happen without expecting them. With that line drawn I would know where it was so I wouldn't cross it and I would not have any illusions or hopes he would ask me to help him redraw where he wants it to be, the more he got the feeling it would be okay, he could trust that it would be okay. It wasn’t okay, not with me.
My personality and problems, even with most things handled now, he doesn't want to know. I wasn't a friend that could snap at him, and he would understand like I understand with my own girl friends, and it's not taken personal. It would be seen as someone needed a time out. Once they had it, then a calm conversation can be held about what happened.
Funny thing is, even with the problems he had, and knowing what comes attached with caring very deeply for him, especially when he deploys; for him and the good he did show, in a foolish heartbeat I would say ok to it all, if he said it was first. My problems with PTSD aren't what they were when it was first diagnosed, but being I knew what it feels like, I was the expressive one that can relate to the moments when it's ‘flight or fight’. He didn't have to explain everything, but he knowing I would be there for him, to me that was important because just knowing someone would, helps. As long as the good he showed me, has someone, at least one fucking person available that he feels safe expressing himself with, that's what I ask my concept of Goodness in Heaven to provide him if he's ever in need.
I don't need him to acknowledge I cared anyway. I don't want him to thank me for praying that he always has that. It's a gift from a distance he doesn't need or have to know it was given, especially by me. I'm content because I don't need his permission to follow my heart and ask Heaven to protect that good he showed. He came off as too proud and what he's experienced due to war; I don't care if he finds out and hates me for doing so, considering he's Agnostic though I have a feeling what he thinks Agnostic means, is not the actual definition; then again he may very well know what it means, and that would explain why I did include him in prayers. If he's not jayded by now, it was a fucking miracle and he is that strong to create them for himself.
I've been up 26 hours, I've typed enough for today. (28 Word Doc pgs and 17,801 words composed from 10pm-ish August 2, 2014—August 3, 2014 8:19pm—August 4, 2014 2:11pm—August 7, 2014 12:18am.)