Forward

How can I move any place but take one step at a time and move forward on this horrific journey?

The relentless puking every day has given some peace…until…I remember once again the act’s of betrayal and unending excuses.

I hang my head low in my horse paddock and wretch with dry heaves’ until I am nearly too weak to stand.

I shovel horse shit into manure bucket’s with such anger.

I am tired.

And…through this walk of absolute betrayal of lies’ and dishonesty I am finding my voice.

I never deserved to be abandoned or treated and thrown away.

I was devoted, committed and in “this” for the long haul.

YOU left me.

And now, as my puking subsides, and my need to fold myself up in a blanket and cry for hour’s on end…

I am finding my voice.
I am finding my power.
I am finding my strength.

You don’t deserve me.
I am far more worthy than your lies and excuses.

You are a cheap son of a bitch.
Your egocentric thinking justified your affair…with someone forty year’s younger than you.

YOU are the weak one.
NOT me.

Forward steps…

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Healing.

I found two beautiful quotes today regarding healing and I’d like to share them.
“Do not look for healing at the feet of those you broke you.”   Rupi Kaur
“The human heart has a way of making itself large again even after it’s been broken into a million pieces”  Robert James Waller

 

As I walk and often stumble through my recent journey of late, often day’s sweep me away with overwhelming sadness and tear’s of a love lost.

I seek and search with all within me to find healing for my heart.

I am well aware “healing” will not come soon and I can accept the inevitable onslaught of tear’s and panic attacks.

A true love lost is not easy to accept.  And I am working on that.

I have loved furiously, passionately and believed I was “his.”

The bitter pill of truth is so hard to swallow but swallow I must.

 

I hope my heart will grow large, once again.

 

 

 

_

Collateral Damage

By definition “collateral damage” means  something “Pledged as a security, denoting something pledged.”

Damage  means “Physical or emotional harm in such a way to impair one’s value, usefulness or normal function. To inflict harm so to impair one’s value.”

As I have reflected back on my marriage vows to my husband, and honestly, his to me, there was never an intent to cause “collateral damage.”

When and where did this go all so wrong?

We loved strongly and with passion.

Life came with challenges we did not expect…

I, foolishly, believed we had the ability to endure.

 

I BELIEVED in “us.”

I believed we were partner’s, shoulder to shoulder… no matter what.

Sadly the easy way came.

The “innocent” flirting I warned him of.

The clothing she wore, I spoke to her about, that was “inappropriate.”

I was scoffed at.

Was I the fool for not trusting my intuition?

Evidently so…

And now…as I try to find solace and peace knowing I was “just”  collateral damage, I am attempting to find a way to get through each day.

Answer’s often come too late.

Excuses’s are not valid and blame is not reasonable.

You were not there…

I am simply your “collateral damage.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shattered Pieces.

The sound of the glass hitting the wall jolted me out of my "coma" like state.

As I began to cry, yet, again, I went about to clean up the mess I had made.
One of the larger shards of glass, glinted my reflection, in the afternoon sun and I flinched…

Sunken eye’s, drawn in cheek’s, dark circles under my eye’s with tear’s streaming down my face.

How could this be happening to me?

 

How could my life be shattered like the shard’s of this glass in a thousand piece’s ?

And then I vomit.

 

This has become “my new norm.”

I get up, usually drenched in a cold sweat, have a cup of coffee and a smoke on my tiny porch and then run to the sink to vomit.

And this is the beginning of my day.

I am confronted by continual lie’s and deceit.

I shake while I shower…uncontrollable shakes undulated through my body and I wail and have even beaten my body for “not being good enough.”

I have been blamed, I have been shamed.

I have never felt such a depth of humiliation and betrayal…and yet…”I” was wrong?

 

I have loved like I never loved before.

For twenty-two year’s I gave my heart, soul and body to a man I believed was my “one and only.”

 

ONLY…I was the fool.

He found fucking a twenty-six year old much more appealing than hanging through the tough stuff with his wife.

He found that fucking her in OUR bed, in our barn, in our vacation home and even in his truck much more appealing than “dealing” with the realities of true life.

So…as my day’s go by…

Trying to teach my body NOT to throw up and have panic attacks. I am learning we are all “weak”, and while writing these words’…

My husband is without excuse.

He abandoned me, our daughter and he will own this.

I have loved this man and gave my “all” to the best of my ability…which by far…was not “perfect.”

 

  • And now I need to vomit, again…=(

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love in the midst

I cannot claim to own this phrase.
These precious words came from a therapist.

Oh…how I wish I might be so lofty and pure…
To look beyond the words of hurt and blame.
Scorching and hateful.

But…
I am not.

I am worn down by blame and hurt and attack.
There is no worth in fighting back.

I will take what is mine and…
I’ll be damned sure to fight for what I believe to be right,…in spite
Of words of hurt and blame.
Scorching and hateful.

And yet…

Is there a way, I wonder
To lay aside the hurt and blame?

The hateful scorching words often unsaid but with a glance are true?

The love…
once so powerful and strong
Pushed against a wall.

Once one, now two, was one again.

Loving the midst.

Tender eyes…
Loving touch…
Unspoken words, yet words finished

I, ever hopeful.

We will find “Love in the Midst.”

Who wins?

The undulating puking over my porch railing…

I love the release I feel when my body empties itself.

The never ending tear’s that strike from out of no where.

When will this stop?

The feeling of being is such a dark hole, I cannot climb out of.

Oh, I have heard the stories, I have read the information.

And…yet…for me the struggle continues.

I cannot hide.

In spite of all my medication and therapy…I am certain no-one has walked in my shoe’s.

I am losing my daughter…=(

My child, who I brought forth between my leg’s, wants to die.

My sweet, precious, intelligent, beautiful, soulful child cannot find her reason to live in this world.

I am broken, beyond words.

I take one step each day, one foot in front of the other, and yet my mind and heart are ever mindful of my child.

I “function”, as it is.

I put on my happy face for the outside world to see…and yet…

I know my baby girl. A beautiful girl wants to end her life because she see’s no sense in living in this fucked up image of what we all portray.

And so I puke over the railing of my front porch, yet again.

The undulating release of my anguish and pain.

Who or what really wins in the end?
Depression or anxiety or multiple diagnosis of our mind?

I pray on bended knee, my child will find some good in her soul.

She will find life worth living because she is powerful, strong, intelligent and so amazing.

I wait…puking, trying to be the “mom” I should be to impart all of my heart’s deepest love to my child.

In the end…

Who wins?

Friendship

“I’m here for you.”

really?

In the throes of my depression when I cannot see how to put on foot in front of the other you say…”I’m here for you.” And yet, you’re not.

“You can talk to me. You can tell me anything, I will understand. I am here for you.”

really?

Days go by without connection even though YOU know my hell.

I dare not ask for much.

I know, all too well how busy YOUR life is.

And, yet…when you say…”I am here for you.”
Are you?

I am the pretend happy face that no-one questions..
Underneath that pretense my heart is shattering in a million pieces…
And no-one knows because I will not allow my need to show.

I need a friend.

I walk, slowly, one foot step at a time.
I breathe. One breath at a time.

I am my own friend.
Me, myself, and I
And I am lonely.

I spare not to burden one with my problems.
I am an island unto myself.

My journey, not known to many because I will not share…
Because…I have heard…”I will be here for you”
And you are not.

“I am here for you”

Are you really?

Tips for the Fat Rider. (What?!)

#truthinmanyways. thanks…=)

Relaxed & Forward: AnnaBlakeBlog

WMGrayButt Derriere, it’s French for cute. And proud of it.

Are you are just too fat to ride? Then go wait in your room.

Did that work? Did you actually go? Of course not. Can we stop this now?

I have a video a friend shot of my horse and I competing many years ago. Showing was challenging in the beginning but we progressed. This was a second or third level test, and things were really coming together.

I remember this video especially because my friend was reluctant to give my camera back to me and the reason became obvious. As my horse and I started the test, the first movement was an extended trot on the diagonal, and that was when I heard them. There were two unfamiliar voices recorded; they must have been standing next to the camera. The first voice mentions how bad she thinks I look in…

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Love in the midst

I cannot claim to own this phrase.
These precious words came from a therapist.

Oh…how I wish I might be so lofty and pure…
To look beyond the words of hurt and blame.
Scorching and hateful.

But…
I am not.

I am worn down by blame and hurt and attack.
There is no worth in fighting back.

I will take what is mine and…
I’ll be damned sure to fight for what I believe to be right,…in spite
Of words of hurt and blame.
Scorching and hateful.

And yet…

Is there a way, I wonder
To lay aside the hurt and blame?

The hateful scorching words often unsaid but with a glance are true?

The love…
once so powerful and strong
Pushed against a wall.

Once one, now two, was one again.

Loving the midst.

Tender eyes…
Loving touch…
Unspoken words, yet words finished

I, ever hopeful.

We will find “Love in the Midst.”