dailyprompt-2028 – Stories That Are All True

Daily writing prompt

What brings you peace?

Praying for Aada and me as we move away from each other has given me an enormous amount of peace. I didn’t act very Christian and I have a lot of sins to atone for. I spend a lot of time in the forgiveness department, because no matter what, my reaction to her lie was wrong. I shouldn’t have popped off and decided that her flaming me should have been addressed here. But you have to believe that no one in my life is capable of lying, and only Aada had that history with me. The lie she told went from inert to complicated.

That’s because she kept up the lie for 12 years, not a few days.

It affected why I moved here, the choices I made in my personal life to put no one else above her. Why I pray for her every night.

“God of the universe, protect my precious Aada.”

I chose Aada because it fit the pattern of the prayer.

Why she can give up on this relationship and I’ll always think of her “somewhere, out there.”

Probably because she also made me afraid that “somewhere, out there” was closer than I thought. Now that time is here. I have gotten what I’m guessing are more dedicated fans than most. My only job is to be who I am, because I think they’ll like me over time. It should not be lost on them that I’m crazy about them because she is.

Her attrition rate is high as shit and she passed that feeling onto me, wanting to have loyal friends who had my back and picking more carefully than I ever have. She taught me about leadership, true leadership, and I’d get in the mud for any one of you.

To her EA… my prayer is partly that you’re always there for her and partly “good luck. God bless.” 😉

That last part will tickle Dana, because she knows exactly how I say, “good luck. God bless.”

One of the many pieces of wheat scattered among the chaff.

Sometimes I think about going to church just so I can say all the words of institution with the other abject sinners. None of us get away from it, I’m not being judgmental. We all have these dumbass attacks that render us mute in their stupidity, when we know we’re wrong and the consequences are more than you were prepared to pay.

I have felt that pain every day, and getting rid of it is the most important thing in my life. I am losing my grip. I don’t want to forget that I hurt you, but learn to live with it. I am not living. I have trapped myself.

My bipolar disorder ate me alive because I equated two things that weren’t true vs. your lie.

I’ve realized that my faith became letters to you a long time ago…. that I’m always talking to God, you’re just icing.

I used that space for everything, the repository of all my secrets. You could bury me and I’m sure you will. That’s why my fear of you is such a white flame. That this relationship has never been real, just a job.

No one is that busy.

My hospitalizations would have been better if you’d come to visit me, because I think humor is the best medicine. If you can laugh in a mental hospital, you can laugh anywhere. I think it would have been hilarious if we’d made our first meetup at Methodist or Sinai. All I needed was some reassurance. Your words rang hollow on the page.

Your words rang hollow is a phrase that will stay with me, because there were so few times you were willing to get real. I see now that you wouldn’t want to, because you think that you don’t have any say in what I write. Not only would I let you in, I’d let you edit. That’s not nothing.

I hate that the yellow string is fraying, but I am doing my best to maintain the chord that runs between us with good vibes and the occasional Red Bull. I don’t want you to think that I carry around negative feelings. I have to concentrate on the positive because I’d like to forgive myself one day.

Your words only ring hollow because you wanted them to- you always had so much more to say and didn’t.

I’m sure I’ve freaked you out more than once, but it has never stopped you from dropping a note when you know times are tough for me. I have no illusions that will still happen, but I do carry a flame of hope that something will change your heart down the road.

If not, I will keep talking to God. I will never choose another face for them. Your face just looks like a “God.” It suits you.

I should have asked you to Skype more than once. The internet is a rabbit hole, and how you ended up as the face of God rather than a normal person. There’s as much mystery to you as there is to God, especially with no in-person breaks where I did something normal like trip and fall into the pool.

It was your words that let me drown, but in a good way….

Though most would call it baptism by fire.

It was the kind of fire that cleansed everything around it, allowing me to relax in deep, enriched earth.

What brings you peace?

As I went down in the river to pray
Studyin' about that good old way
And who shall wear the starry crown
Good Lord, show me the way.....

I started this morning by singing.

I am not sure that it brings my housemates peace, but that’s not my issue.

Yesterday, I got some clarity about the relationship with Supergrover that I hadn’t had before. Her reactions looked like they have for the last eight years. She dismissed everything I was saying except the worst of the worst, when it’s not important. The things I say that are positive are every bit as powerful if only she’d take them in. But she’s not looking for that from me. From me, she wants something she can rail against, or at least, that’s how it comes across to me.

Not once has she asked me why I wrote something I did.

Not once in all of this current round of fights has she picked out anything nice to say about me. Yes, I will absolutely lose my shit at times. I will also freely hand over a large amount of love. But you can’t take it if you don’t see it. I hope that I’m getting through to her, but what I have realized is that it doesn’t matter. I’m never going to be happy with a relationship that consists of me writing something and her telling me how horrible it is that I’ve said something instead of trying to comprehend it.

You can’t help a little old lady across the street if she doesn’t want to go, and I’m done letting her bang her purse on my head. I’ve tried too hard, and it made no difference. She is allowed to think the worst of me, because I have now done enough within myself to know that her words are complete bullshit because she’s taking everything at face value and writing off the negative as something I’m doing to spite her.

I’m not describing my emotions and my life in 3D, I have been hurt in some way and must feel like I need to destroy her.

You don’t get sentences as full of love from me as mine were if I think you’re a villain in the story. She’s not the villain, but she is definitely the antagonist. Instead of talking about it, both presenting our issues and reaching a consensus, she has walled off at every turn. It’s demoralizing to an enormous degree, because to me it’s like she became a totally different person. She couldn’t see my love and attention as a good thing.

I’m tired of having my peace disturbed, and yet there’s always going to be one more thing before she goes. Always. I could be more consistently loving if I felt it back, because there would be so much less anger involved. I could stop saying that I’m done and not done, because there’s something about the relationship that’s truly worth saving. I wonder all the time how we got to this place. How many twists and turns the path has taken, all of them good in retrospect and hell on earth then.

The thing that will stick with me is that over the last eight years, I have had fewer and fewer instances of days where she was genuinely happy and willing to reciprocate the good stuff. She has no problem expressing anger, and I hate it when I’m the target based on something I wrote with absolutely no context for what I was going through when I wrote it.

Exhaustion has set in. I think of her as the past now, because she doesn’t want a future and has told me that too many times, while also reaching out. But I’m not innocent here. I’ve also called it quits and reneged. What is interesting to me is that we kept up that fight for years without truly walking away.

I had to need peace bad enough to say the relationship wasn’t worth it. That I couldn’t live with shitty communication no matter whether we were at fault or whether it was a reflex of being virtual, not having the smarts to change mediums when it was possible.

It leaves me with a sense of panic as I move forward, but that’s because everything is unfamiliar and new, not that I’m incapable.

I have said all of this before in a hundred different ways, but it’s not for her. It’s to remind me to stay strong, that my complaints were valid…. that just because it’s not important to her, that doesn’t mean it’s not important. Her life is so big that I can see why I’ve always been in last chair, but I didn’t think I had a leg to stand on until I did.

Breaking the pattern of trying to please her so that we both got what we needed was the wrong answer for the relationship, but the right answer for me. That’s because she’s not listening to me, but I am.

I cannot tell her that I love her even when she’s angry, because she wouldn’t believe it. She stole my peace. I was writing some of the best pieces to ever come out of me whether they were angry or lovesick. She’s bound and determined to treat me as if she has low self-esteem, because if she didn’t, she would believe the positive things I say.

She would believe that I think she’s absolutely gorgeous.

She would believe that I love her anger, because when she stands up for herself, I teach myself my own value.

One of the most painful aspects of our relationship is that I’ve written this set of entries more than once, and either something I say will bring her back around, and perhaps part of seeing all the negative for her is having the will to walk away when she didn’t before.

It makes it easier to walk away when you’re angry, but it doesn’t bring you peace. I think that’s a large part of why we’ve tried so hard. Neither one of us really wanted to leave things unresolved.

I let out all my anger, she keeps hers in. I don’t think it’s personal to the two of us, necessarily. I just think she keeps a lot under wraps and this is just part of it.

This is because there is an instance in our past where she didn’t tell me something because she wasn’t sure of my reaction….. but that once became all the time.

I cannot fault her for this because I made it happen, but I can say she does bear responsibility in shutting down two-way communication. She doesn’t open up, ever, just blames me that I want those things from her. Everything is not good enough for me, when I just thought it was time to fish or cut bait because I was tired of my thoughts and feelings being invalid. That I could either walk on eggshells or not have a relationship with her at all. This is not a one-sided problem. My anger management is just now coming to fruition, because I literally needed years of distance to get over what happened between us.

I changed, desperately seeking self-compassion because I knew I could not get compassion from her while she was angry. While I was changing, she wasn’t. She’s still in the same emotional place I left her, because I realized that my anger needed to tamp down on its own, and part of the anger was everything she wasn’t saying.

She didn’t take in that our agreement was stepping into a river and going with the flow. My positive emotions were getting dammed at every turn. She stood in the negative emotions, bathed in them, took them as fact.

The entry she referenced said something about her not being able to steal happiness anymore, but she didn’t ask me why I said it. I needed to stop the neurodivergent urge to explain things more and better, and if the person isn’t listening, to try and keep explaining until you’re understood. I didn’t do anything by explaining it one time, so surely six will do it.

I learned that I needed less of all of it, because I could find the things that made me unhappy. I could not find the things that gave her joy.

As I went down to the river to pray, I learned when I studied the good old way, it just wasn’t that great.

When we should have baptized each other and walked away clean.