Without A Second Chance

When you can't kick yourself, you kick other people. I am not a violent person but recently I had violent actions. Don't judge me. Or go ahead and judge me. I kicked someone out of frustration. It wasn't a strong kick or one with much, if any, force. It was moreso me kicking myself for him doing exactly what I thought about doing for a long (read: really really long) time. Kicking myself for the timing being all wrong and things remaining the same. Without a second chance.

For so long I told the story to every person who would listen, hoping they could give me an answer. I never once asked him what happens for fear of hearing something I didn't want to hear and being hurt. Let me tell you how ridiculously dumb it is to jump through hoops to "protect" yourself from being hurt. Nothing get's solved. You're just left with a story that has not one period but three. That elipsos is your end but not the one you wanted.  Your story just drifts off into oblivion.

When it all went down, I was asking hoping for more communication. Before you ask someone to communicate to you, look in the mirror and think exactly how hypocritical you're being. You being me. I was such a hypocrite, I was asking for communication without reciprocating that very act. I did things afterward that weren't true to my core. I blamed it on my gender. You know I'm a girl, so I can be emotional. I can act without thinking. I can write blog posts filled with remnants of the truth but saturated with white lies. White lies that I needed to spread at the time to protect my the truth. That I was hurting and confused. Because you know, my vagina makes these actions okay. I'm just trying to make myself forget so you can't blame me. Can you? It excused my poor behavior. My ill advised actions that were done only to "protect" myself.

Well I finally talked it out with him. Not because I wanted to but because I was forced to. He initiated it and I forced myself to do something different, and speak up. I put my thoughts about our situation on the table. So when I kicked him that day, it was more for me than him. During the conversation at the table I wanted to tell him, "You'll be a lot less desirable to me when you're divorced with a kid, so chose wisely," but I didn't. Of course I didn't. I'm not that girl. I don't want to be that girl, but a big part of me wants him to be that guy.

And as much as I want to tell him, "Be the man today that you were afraid to be yesterday." I won't.

Because at this point, why does it matter anyway?

So here I am with these feelings that have been brought back to the surface. I'd buried them so far down that I believed I was over them. I'd buried them so far that I had twisted them into a false reality. A reality I never really believed but that felt good to think because they "protected"me.

There goes that word, "protect" again.

It reared its ugly head a lot during the past year. At this point I am no longer protecting myself against myself. I'm just living life and taking the good and bad that comes with exposing myself to vulnerability and dismissal. Without a second chance.