clearing the jam

trying not to over think

driving myself to distraction since he ♥ left, trying to remember without ‘thinking too much’. Trying to fix him in my mind, to capture him indelibly, imprint him on my brain.

“Hey there,” he said, when I called yesterday.

I wanted to talk to him about an energy thing we’d been discussing (not to mention just wanting to hear his voice.)

I asked him how much time he had – two minutes? Five minutes? He’d said he was out on the tracks in his truck.

“However much time you want,” he said.

***
Last night around 10:30 a fierce wind blew a line down somewhere (or perhaps a tree fell) and took out our power.

I was grateful, really – I’d been on such an endless round of nervous energy, living on my nerves, as the Brits say, that I’d nearly exhausted myself.

But I couldn’t seem to stop, couldn’t seem to let go.

I think what was happening was that I need to let him ♥ go, set him free.

In some way I don’t have words for.

Or, maybe it’s *me* I need to set free.

I’ve always felt that men and women are held to different rules – that women are expected to be – loyal? or something – more than men are. That men are free to wander, as they please, come and go in *all* realms of life. While women are expected to watch from the sidelines.

Well, I don’t play by those rules, and I never have. I play the way *I* want to.

And he ♥ accepted that.

So now, I owe him nothing, except whatever I owe him in my own mind.

And I don’t think *he* thinks I owe him a thing!

So it’s quite freeing, really.

Except – I don’t *want* to be free any more.

For once in my life, I *want* to be possessed, to be owned, to be wanted more than anyone else in the world.

To be the center of someone’s life and heart and universe, his being wrapped around mine, and mine around his.

I’ve never been ready to settle down before. I think it all comes from meeting the ‘right’ person – it’s experiential, really. Once it’s happened, you can’t go back.

He asked me, when we first met in the parking lot where I was trying to install my car battery, why I didn’t have a husband or boyfriend to do that for me.

I was flattered – the assumption that I was ‘marriage material’ is one that has, heretofore, escaped me.

So *that* was what caught my attention first: He outright *said* that he considered me marriageable. Which means *he* would consider it.

It’s not that no one’s ever said such a thing to me before, mind you, now that I come to think of it – it’s just that it never struck me as something I’d actually want to *do* with that particular person. In other words, it was never the right *one* saying those words.

Hm.

***
And then, after the power went out, I simply went to bed and slept, dreamlessly, I believe, until sometime in the wee hours when the lights came back on, and I was awakened briefly, but too tired to put out the overhead light which I’d accidentally left on.

I woke up a few hours later, tired still but revived from a powerful dream.

I dreamed that my brothers and my family wouldn’t help me, and in retaliation, I dumped my bully brother in the garbage can. Ooh, it was so WONDERFUL to see him lying there, trapped and helpless, unable to get out.

I began to suffocate him under all the garbage, someone was helping me, I’m not sure who.

When he began to grow weak and stop struggling, I let him go, and pulled him out a bit to see if he was still breathing.

I am becoming merciless, just like *they* are. Without pity. Without remorse.

And yet it is selective – I wouldn’t hurt him ♥ for anything in the world! But only because *he* is so careful with *me*.

You see, it is so *easy* to be careless, to cut someone and ‘leave them bleeding’.

And then the wound, if left untended, festers. And possibly becomes – what’s the word – not bilious – argh, can’t think of it.

Anyway, it turns all horrible and messy and poisons the person.