Amber's Abode

Amber lives, God laughs

I don't even know where to start blogging today.  Guess I'll start by cataloging my feelings.  Since I have time to write because my stupid paratransit ride didn't come to pick me up for church, telling the dispatch that they came in and waited for 10 minutes by the door which is not true because I was waiting by the door.  Sigh.

Anyway.  My feelings.  Someone is going to be angry when they read this possibly but I don't care at this moment.  If you don't want to get angry, stop reading.  This is my blog.

Yes, that's right folks.  Amber did it again.  Giving all of her heart energy to one of her best friends, helping him through bad relationships and insecurity.  Eventually we get back to the point where he says he loves me.  I'm open to it, because I love and value his spirit as well, except for the fact that he's engaged.  And I will not be the other woman.  She doesn't deserve that.  Neither do I.  The plan is that he is coming here for the week surrounding my birthday.  Before, while he was engaged, I justified that by saying that because our friendship has been online only, he needed to see me so that he could let go of this inflated fantasy ideas that he has of me, so that he can go into his marriage with an undivided heart I wanted to help him with that, to give him the best life possible.

I was struggling with this for in days and weeks as related in a previous blog.  What do I do with this?  What will I have the strength to turn away from?  Then, sometime in the beginning of this week or so, she gave him back his ring again, breaking the engagement.  She has done this like five times before, using it as an emergency relationship rescue, because she knows that he will sit up and take notice of whatever's wrong and try to fix it in order to avoid hurting anybody and being alone.  He always goes back because he can't stand seeing her tears.

While apparently currently mine mean nothing to him because he can't see them.  Apparently he doesn't care that I was just learning during this week to relax and enjoy being loved because for once, I didn't have to worry about anyone else.  That I was thinking that he might not be one of the ones who leave.  Just maybe. 

Getting a little ahead of myself.  Anyway, I knew from simple pattern recognition experience that he would end up back with her, but it is an unhealthy relationship, not good for him at all, so I was hoping he would have the strength to stay away this time.  For himself.  Not just for me.  (Because I am mature enough to know that unless you find a purpose and worth in yourself you're going to be no good for anyone else.) Or at least truly think about it.  Apparently they separated bedrooms for awhile, like that was supposed to be a sign of real love for me or something.  I wasn't very impressed with that because I knew nothing would change in reality, unless he got out of that house, even temporarily just to think for hours at a time.  I begged him.

Get out of there.  Just go.

I can't.  All my stuff is here.

It's just stuff.  Buy more.

I can't.  She loves me.

She loves what you do for her.  She broke off the engagement like five times now.  And just today, she broke into your e-mail to spy on you, for Christ's sake.  That is so wrong.

That's my fault.  I ignore her, and she's jealous and insecure.

Oh, so you're saying that because some things I did made my ex jealous and insecure, I deserved the abuse?  I just thought the last one.

Just get out of there.

OK.  Click.

I knew what was going to happen before I even hung up the phone.  Hoping to God I'm wrong.  But I know.

Sure enough, hours later.  Ring.

Large sniff.  I'm sorry.

What's wrong?

We made up.

fuck.  Back to the position of being the other woman again.  Anger.  Tears.  I won't do this.  It doesn't make sense.  I'm a worthwhile person, why is my heart always the one to get trashed?

I'll tell you why.  Because I'm understanding and won't hate him for it, where she would.

And she's there.  And she can fix his food and his bed.  And fuck him without having to worry about interface ports and positioning and pain.

After all, he loves my spirit, but I do have a disability that he doesn't think he could deal with.  He also is scared because for this week, since I've felt free to, I was a little more forward in trying to talk to him about what could happen between us physically when he comes here.  Not that anything had to happen for it to be a good time.  And just that I was excited about the possibility and the freedom to express it.  But apparently expressing it is wrong and dirty, even though he has told me his reaction to thinking about me on more than one occasion.  Apparently, is too much for me to do the exact same thing.  He was looking more forward to the fun time and the plain cuddles.  I call bullshit.  He is a middle-aged man with a normal sex drive who has been into me in one way or another for the better part of nine years.  He can talk about it all he wants, but as soon as I start reciprocating, sheer panic.

ooooooh nooooooooo, Mr.  Bill!  A woman with a disability who is sexual!  Quick, hide the kids!.

Around and around with different words for the same statements, basically telling me that I'm worth crap, not worth fighting for, not even when I'm right about fighting for your own self-esteem.  And all of his insecurities come from places I can't help, that I can't change.  I'm tired.  I'm exhausted.  I wonder when I will stop being the casualties in other people's wars.

I leave angry.  But then I can't sleep.  That's my only, well, one of the few.  Iron rules I have for myself.  Don't go to bed angry.  So I have workers here hand me the phone in bad, and I call.  Voicemail.  Thank you, Jesus.  I leave an apologetic one.  Maybe I can finally go sleep now.  But no.  Five minutes later.

Ring.

Large sniff.  Oh God, what now?  This is rapidly approaching a ridiculous state.

I told her that I love you and that you love me back.

fuck.  Back around the circle again, only now you're doing it to us both.  What the hell is wrong with you?

She told me to call you back.

Something is awfully wrong with that..

I'm still coming there.

Why?  So you can be wining and dining me for a week like the Princess you say I am as some sort of consolation prize before you fade into the sunset?  Maybe get a couple of good "snuggles" (i.e.  lays, screws, fucks) in while you're at it?

That's not fair.  There's going to be no fading off into the sunset from you.  I'm coming to work out the details of our future.

Wait.  Back the bus up.  What the bloody hell?  Our future?  So you are doing the same thing to her, just pacify her until you can come see me and therefore choose me because I'm the one in front of your face?  Couple of problems.  First, I can't let you hurt anyone else.  Second, you have to go back.  And then she will be the one in front of your face for the rest of your life, so we arrive at where we started.

I have to come there.  I can't get married without seeing you, knowing for sure.  I have to make my choice.  You used to understand.  You told me I can come to help me make my choice.

Yeah, but that was before you made it on your own.

I choose you.

You choose whatever's easiest and/or there.  I have just gotten sick to my stomach again because of this turmoil.  I need help.  Goodnight.

So I am now here.  Empty of tears and anger at the moment because I'm exhausted and bruised.  And back to square one.  With the struggle of all the boundary stuff because he is no longer free, again.  Sigh.  I know I deserve better than this.

The saddest part is that I will probably still let him come here, because I want an oasis, which he offers.  I also really need physical contact of any kind, which he also offers.  Plus, I do care about him and want to help him do what is best for his life.  I always do this, for everyone, as naturally as breathing.  Always at the expense of myself .  But it always seems to be the best thing to do, the most pure, the most me. 

I'm just not sure how I will be able to live with myself afterward this time.  I guess we will see..

Please, nobody hate me hereafter for my scars. 

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