(An edited) Farewell
I think all men (perhaps especially those employed as spies) desire at least one person with whom they feel they can share anything. This blog has fulfilled that role in my life and has become, in effect, my mistress (because, unfortunately, I cannot marry her, as she is not a real person but, rather, a one-way forum for dispensing my thoughts and feelings). But the time has come to kiss her sweet mouth — that never uttered a word — goodbye. She heard much, but she never told a soul. If I was a spy, I would keep coming back to her.
The purpose of this blog was to help me deal with my divorce. I started it days before my divorce was finalized in 2018. Unfortunately, since then, my life has overwhelmed me in an unexpected and disgraceful way. I held onto two things during the most difficult days: the love I had for a woman named Cindy and walking with God. But, today, I am not in a healthy place. I'm not where I wanted to be when I ended this blog. I contemplate suicide every day in too intricate a manner (and it appears I've made a decision about all of that), my body is unhealthy and unkind to me, my mind is tired and blurry. Before things get any worse, I'd better end this thing. It will be largely painless, as I've left most of my pain here on these pages.
I wanted to end this blog when I was in a healthy place, but perhaps it's merely allowing me carry around my pain. When I started this blog, I was still married. Not only that, but I still talked to Cindy from time to time. Today, only my relationship with God remains. In the last 2.5 years, I had a fundamental reorganization of my life. God cleaned house. I endured the faltering of two relationships — one of my choosing and the other decidedly not — and was upheld by the third. Not only that, but I saw the double bind of my collective abuse, which is having no control over people abusing and neglecting me yet taking the blame for it, rear its ugly head once again. This took root in my youth, persisted in my adult years, my marriage, and the aftermath of my divorce. It was a tremendous amount of trauma to sort through. And then there is the desire to please those who abused me, which is eternally troubling and difficult to dismantle. But, through that and more, I became much closer to God. If anything good came out of what I faced, it was the work of God. What should have destroyed me did not, and I am stronger in Him.
To the girl I loved hard: you are perfect to me. My regret is that I wasn't a better man and fell so far short of what you needed. I will always think of you when I hear the name Cindy. There is an old saying that says you didn't cross my mind a thousand times; you crossed it once and never left. That holds true. You made me very happy. Though I knew it wouldn't last, I hoped it would. I thank you for the happiness you gave me and the lingering memory of your smile. I hope I made you happy, too. I held onto you too long and I'm sorry. I just wanted something good in my life. You were more than good; you were the best.
While I went through such pain I hope to never experience again, you were like the sunshine that broke through my clouds. I loved you long and hard after you made it clear you couldn't move forward with me. I needed to love you and, perhaps, I always will. There is no getting over you, sweet girl. I know better than to try, so I won't. When a man has experienced the best, he simply cannot stomach chasing the rest. And that's true because even the thought makes me sick. The heart is a strange, unknowable thing. Mine wants only you. Though I've entreated my God many times to take this feeling away if it is His will, it remains. It wasn't stopped by your words, by my reality, or by God Himself. It is love. It keeps loving because it must. What I wrote about you had to be said, otherwise, my heart would have exploded. I wished to show you instead of using such crude, ineffectual words, but it proves that love must love. It will find a way to express what it must. To keep love inside is a cruel sort of death.
This blog, I admit, is strange. I posted a lot of stuff here. I shared it with only two people, though they probably no longer come here. Still, for telling only two people, this blog amassed nearly 11,000 hits (on 426 posts) at last check, which is pretty amazing to me, though it did run a significant amount of time. I didn't write for hits, which is why this is the only time I mention this. I wrote as a form of therapy. And I wrote more than that. My love letters will remain. My thoughts and feelings will stay. But I must move on. There is simply too much pain here, and right now I don't need pain. I need to heal. My God, please heal me.
The trauma from my childhood, the PTSD, and the further victimization in adulthood split my core personality into pieces, or alters. I lived much of my life in a dissociated state (dissociated identity disorder), and those alters were voiceless. This blog allowed those alters to speak — some for the first time. Their voices were "heard," if only for a moment and if only by a mute mistress. Freedom looks like many things to many people. This is what freedom looks like to me. God put me in a unique position to understand how my childhood abuse impacted all of my relationships and life decisions. It was two summers ago when He spoke to me about that. I still remember where I was in the woods as I read The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I still remember His voice telling me this was the key to unlocking the mystery of what went wrong in my life. It was the most significant revelation to come from this whole process and something I never expected to find in the beginning.
The only significant theme I didn't write about was the possibility of going back to my marriage, which was a narrative that stretched on for years. I was prepared to enter counseling with a local preacher to that end if God gave the green light. I was concerned I made a mistake and earnestly sought God's direction. Needless to say, I never got that green light. The number of questions this surely produces in my readers' minds is probably indicative of why I never got the go-ahead. Altogether, my remaining blog drafts account for approximately 130 pages of unpublished material. Some men drink. Some gamble. Some do girls. Apparently, I write.
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| I feel like she's naked under that. Maybe that's my imagination. Nevertheless, she is walking away. |
The song Bring Me Back to Life explains how I feel probably better than I can with many words. This is the post I've been dreading — where I say goodbye even though I don't wish to do so. But necessity drives our lives as much as desire. Perhaps, if desire wins, this blog may someday be brought back to life. This blog was as much lyrics and love longs as anything else, so it's fair to end on this note (pun intended). That's probably enough drama. I think we're done here.
Thank you for reading.
***
I end this blog on a specific date — July 16 — for a reason. It was the day Cindy broke off our relationship three years ago. If you think I'm just being morbid, let me explain. If you would have told me then that three years later she would not be in my life, I would have said that sounds about right. If you would have told me I would wait three years (more than 1,000 days, or roughly 10 percent of my life!) for her, I would have said you were crazy. Not because she isn't worth the wait, though. She is. No, because I'm not traditionally a patient person. So for me to wait three years for a woman is remarkable. I just wanted the world to know I waited that long for her because she is worth it. And I was prepared to wait longer if I thought it would do any good. I kept the door open as long as I could, and she closed it every chance she could. This is not a battle of wills I can win. If you think I'm just a wimp, think again. The number of unanswered emails, texts, chats, cards, phone calls, and the like is staggering. I did not give up easily. I even made a book full of love letters for her. Literally nothing had any effect. The problem with choosing the best is the best isn't apt to choose me back.
I can still see her in her dress as she sat beside me and told me the news that she could no longer have a relationship with me. I can still feel her heaving in my arms as she cried when we parted for what I thought would be the last time. But I choose to remember the actual last time I saw her last summer and her smile as I drove away. That's how I'm going to remember that girl.
I don't blame myself for wanting to hold onto her for so long. I just wanted — and felt I deserved — something good in my life. And what could be more good than her?
What is poignantly sad is I know I won't have what I see when I venture outside my little world, things like families having dinner in the park, couples walking hand in hand on the street, holidays and birthdays with the family. That will never be me. No woman in her right mind wants to be with a man who has as many problems as I do. No, my path is clear: to spend the rest of my short life alone. I know who will have those things, though, and knowing is good enough.
It's true Cindy is autistic, and her autism prevents her from forging a new path. But that's too simplistic an answer. Human beings are inconceivably complex. Even if she wasn't autistic (and I wouldn't change her for the world), it would have been nearly impossible for her to move on from what she had, regardless of how she was mistreated in her marriage. With her autism, it just made it impossible. She had a good situation — a situation I essentially ruined.
Being with her ex would probably make her happy, as she has a need for what she is used to. And I know she loves him, though she may call it something else. It's semantics, but it looks the same. And there is the biblical factor as well, which states that we leave our parents and cleave to one another in marriage. Well, some do. She did. I don't think I know how to cleave. Anyway, it is hard for one to un-cleave. Unless you're me and you don't really care for other human beings and don't know how to bond, to begin with. I'm more leave than cleave.
Will ending my blog ensure her happiness by reducing competition for her affection? I don't know, but her happiness is more likely in that case than if I keep writing love letters to her. As a last act of love, I close the cover on this blog. Be happy, sweet girl.
One interesting thought about Cindy's situation is I think it's possible she will see her life replayed at least in part in her daughter, as I think it's likely she also is autistic (it has a genetic component), though undiagnosed. Autism hides in females, and they look completely neurotypical. What a unique perspective on something that remained hidden most of her life. Of course, I could be wrong about that, as I am frequently wrong about just about everything pertaining to Cindy. Also, she told me I have a habit of talking down to her, which, of course, makes both her and me feel awful. I wish I had known that earlier.
What other awful things have I done or said the last 3.5-plus years? Do I even want to know? Yes, I always want to know. It doesn't matter now, of course, but it's possible I can change now. What a loser I've turned out to be: an overprotective jerk who talks down to people. That guy never gets the girl. That guy gets to fall down an elevator shaft to his death. Some girls seems to like guys like that, though, but no girl deserves that. So that's some stuff to work on. It's been a long time since the patented Cindy advance-and-retreat advanced, and I can see why. She has a lot better options than me.
A caveat: my life is in God's hands. I may return here to write again, but God will have to change my heart. My heart has turned on this project with a viciousness that I didn't expect, though it has been in my mind a long time to do this. Still, God can change hearts. If He changes mine, I'd be happy to come back and write more drivel.
Update: I wrote this post weeks ago. Since then, I feel God directed me to change course. I intended to end this blog but did not have permission. Apparently, I don't get to make decisions about anything anymore. I wrote much more here about many things but felt the need to redact. Some things are still too personal, even though this was supposed to be my farewell. I have no scheduled posts. Anyway, there are far more interesting things going on in the world than my blog. This year isn't done with us, and I look for something big to happen by the end of the year, probably in November. Maybe they'll release the real virus after everyone is convinced the first wave was a hoax. Then they can justify their $1.6 billion Novavax vaccine. Or something else. Lots of scenarios. War. An act of terrorism. Something with the election. The name of the game is division. They are accomplishing nearly all of their nefarious goals because we are too busy fighting each other to notice. Of course, I'm praying against what the enemy is doing, so maybe it won't happen and life will get better for everyone. Many Christians are already offended because they didn't think they'd ever have to endure what happened. If that is the case, buckle your seatbelts, guys.
So, the above I wrote when I intended to end my blog. I thought perhaps Cindy would go back to her ex as a result of me ending my blog, but that's dumb on many levels. The die has already been cast. What is done is done. Nothing I write will ever change that. What I say or do has nothing to do with any of that. I kicked her off all my social media years ago in an attempt to do the same thing. All it did was make me look like a jerk. Even now I'm not on FB, as I think I fully understand how to wash my hands, thank you very much, as well as the horrors of racism. I'm nearly 43 years old and know quite a few things, guys, but thanks for trying to educate me so thoroughly. I was going to explode if someone posted one more thing about the virus or wearing masks or saying my part to combat racism (as if mere words will change someone's racist heart) or whatever else they wanted me to think or do. But I digress. Nothing I did or said could have changed the course of Cindy's heart. That much I learned.
This blog may not be done after all. Sorry. I was in full self-destruct mode when I wrote this post. I'll have to talk to God about that some more. Maybe I should end it, but until I hear as much from God, I can't. It's clear I push those closest to me away when I am under extreme stress and/or experiencing personal chaos. Pushing this blog away shows I have literally no one else to push away. This is truly the only confidant I have and the closest thing to someone who cares (or at least listens, as if she had a choice).
Over the course of this blog, I lost everything and everyone (with only one, my son, returning) and found everything I need in my Heavenly Father. Whatever strength and time I have left I will try to do the will of God. That is all I know, so that is what I will try to do. God brings things back to life, though not always how we expect. I hope to use this new life in a way pleasing to Him. Thanks again for reading.
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