A Realized Quantification

Over this last week, with all of the struggles, challenges and happenings I have constantly waded through for much of recent memory, I came to a realization, an epiphany of sorts.

Work related issues, training, reports, dealing with the state AND local government, with my lawyer, and the effects of nonsensical (and possibly illegal) actions taken by the soon to be ex-wife, asshole neighbors, blithering and dithering idjots on the roadways, bills and other personal obligations, have all been dog-piling me for the last week. Or rather pile-driving me. No lubricant.

At one point, while touching base with my mom, who despite her blind spots and shortcomings, I still love and trust very much, (moreso even since the passing of my father) that after catching her up with all of the absolutely out of my control shit (and the things that spin wildly out of my control) that I suddenly went from bored recounting, into full on, expletive laden, low rumbling, elevated volume ranting. A full venting of the spleen that took about ten minutes before a quiet settled over the line, and she said she was sorry, and wished she knew how she could better help me.

To which I said "Two weeks and two thousand dollars and no cell signal might just do it." and we laughed at that. I then sighed and started fighting off more laughter as I realized out loud to her, saying and I quote: "I'm fucking fraying end to end, I don't know how much longer I can keep this up, I feel literally fucking retarded and absolutely exhausted, I'm thirty fucking four, and I feel like I'm three hundred years old. I'm too god damned tired for thirty four, I've not had more than five hours sleep a day in almost a fucking year, I live like a vampire, and when I do sleep more than five or six hours, I feel like I'm hung over. Everything either feels strained, pulled sore or cramped, and if just one more decently sizable thing happens, I'm either going to shut down and just sit mute in the middle of the floor for a week, or the person physically closest to me in that moment is going to die and I'll be in jail for six to twenty years. I'm tapped out. I've been in full on fight or flight panic crisis superhero mode almost nonstop since fucking November of Twenty Eighteen, and any breaks or trips I've taken to cool off, relax or recharge, haven't actually worked because the stress just follows me like a starving fucking dog, and no sooner do I get back then it's all just worse. I have nothing left to give anymore. I want to sell everything, give away my cat, fix my car up, pack my sword, my gun and two bags, and just fucking vanish into the wilderness, and if anyone really wants my ass, they can bring a friend and some guns and just fucking try it, because you fuckers are not taking me back alive! I'm done with playing nice, playing by the rules, busting my ass trying to accommodate everyone, and then getting fucked in the ass over it, so everyone else can shit themselves and fuck themselves just fine without me. I'm not playing the game that any more. Maybe its time I played my way, by my rules for a change and we'll see how that works."

My mom then instead of counter ranting or reprimanding me (as she is wont to do) simply asked me if I felt better, and then if I really meant any of that, and then said she wished I was a bit more careful about saying such things, telling me that she fully understood the frustration, and the impulse behind it, but that she didn't want me to do anything that I couldn't bounce back from, overcome later, or undo if I wanted too.

I get it Mama... and thank you. I'm not planning anything too drastic yet. but hey, thanks to my insurance, therapy is almost as cheap as booze, and I can drive my car afterwards, and aside from the total morons they let out on the roads, driving soothes my heart.

Hell, only time I'm ever even halfway happy anymore is when I'm layin down scratch, grabbing gears carving corners, and rolling down the road in excess of 70 with some classic rock or synthwave playing in the background. Even in my old worn out "shit box" Camaro.

Only way it could be better is if I had a pretty girl in the seat next to me, but my first choice has gone now.

Oh well, car's faster (I drive more aggressively more like) with just me in it anyways.

Funny how it is, my first love is now the only place I can find solace... Not within the soft curves of a woman, but within the hard curves of a car.



But fuckit, give me ANYTHING with curves, and I'll make that bitch sing.

Resolved

People always say you should follow your heart, you should listen to yourself, you should always take the action or make the choice that makes you happy, the desire of your innermost being.

The Bible however says the heart is deceitfully wicked Above All Things and only God can know the true heart of a person.
I however, I've come to the conclusion that if both are true or at least somewhere in between is true, then I should listen to my heart and I should think very critically about what it's telling me and that I should likely perhaps do the opposite.

This having been said, my heart it tells me that I should have hope, that I should remain in the relationship, that I should justify the relationship, that I should do whatever it takes to salvage and repair and restore the marriage and I should hold tight to the friendship, that I should fight with all that I am for this continued status, of the loving husband who is also a dear friend.

But I can't do that, because that's what my heart wants as much as it hurts, as much as it takes out of me, as much as it longs for the marriage that we once had or at least the pretenses I was operating under when we were first together, when we were first married. But because I now realize the above having been said already about the deceit, the dishonesty and the ignorance of the heart, if I'm to be both ethical and pragmatic, if I'm to hold true to my ideals, my ethics, and my Doctrine, then I simply cannot do this.

While I yet value the friendship, and I value the history of it, even as I value the depth of it, and moreover I value the longevity of it and lastly I value the intimacy of it or at least what it was "Once Upon a Time" it no longer holds its own weight.

However at this point in time, that aspect like all others in the relationship, has degraded to a point that I do not know if it can be fully or in part, salvaged or saved, but whatever may be saved I do genuinely wish and desire to save and realistically believe is worth saving, however the marriage in and of itself I now question.

More than anything else I question the authenticity, I question the intent and I question the goal.
I cannot in good conscience listen to My Heart in regards to the marriage.
I cannot with any measure or metrics of ethics, pragmatism, realism, objectivity, stoicism or even emotionalism ignore the path that it is taken.
I cannot go on putting myself in such a position as this.

It is why I regrettably, have come to the now inescapable conclusion that at this juncture the marriage is in effect null void and over, legal status notwithstanding, as I am personally incapable of separating romantic attraction from physical intimacy or contact, as I am incapable and unwilling to accept any measure of romance without a physical application or context and as I am currently in such depths of frustration, anger, confusion resentment and despair that I cannot be the best person I can be, that I cannot move forward with becoming a better me and I cannot at this stage with any measure of contention, application or justification continue at this stage or any other beyond this point, be married to a woman who says she loves me with her words then does not example this with any of her actions, her attitudes, her choices or even now increasingly her words or lack thereof.

While it pains me on many levels, the pain itself is nowhere near as substantial as I am led to believe it should be, it is a dull relief rather than a searing piercing anguish that I feel coming to this conclusion, a large part of me is resolved, not yet at peace but resigned in this and content with the mild nature of my reaction to this development and whatever parts of me that do feel anguish and despair are at this stage by my estimation minor and irrelevant.

Perhaps I truly am monstrous, perhaps I truly am far more cold-blooded than anyone could ever imagine.
Perhaps too many years of wearing my heart on my sleeve, of being tender, empathetic, kind and understanding, reasonable and accommodating and then of being punished for this, of being bullied and abused and targeted because of it.
Perhaps it is all culminated now in the cast-iron shell that is built around my person.
Perhaps it is the clarity of age.
Perhaps it is the Spectre of my mortality that grows slowly but surely.
Perhaps it is simply experience tempered with wisdom, knowledge, understanding and curiosity that could have forged this armor upon me, isolated me and my heart from the greater impact and the potentially devastating fallout of this decision, perhaps maybe I am both more worthy and less worthy of that which I desire.

Who knows for sure, I do not but it is irrelevant whether I know it or understand it, I can only acknowledge it for what it is and for whatever undercurrents of sorrow there may be, such prevailing of the winds upon of my person, of my soul and the impulse incorrect of my heart, bring me to the conclusion that it is not I who has changed so radically, it is I who has grown slowly unwittingly unknowingly, it is I who have come to greater understanding with myself and the world that has brought about this acceptance, for it is not I who has so radically transformed myself, it is not I who has operated either with knowledge or in ignorance, with purpose and intent or by happenstance, with deception dishonesty or an inauthentic mindset, but it is you.

And for that you do have my pity and my sympathy and even my understanding, but you do not have my leave to continue this behavior directed at me and for that, any pain that this causes you, I truly and fully regret. But I also ask that you remember with clarity, I've only given you what you asked for, I can only pointedly remind you to remember, that you wanted this.

I have sacrificed much of myself, for your benefit, even things I did not intend, and even things that were not necessary, all for you, and your good, even in ignorance, I have given up many things for you.

For now at the very least, I do not intend to wound, I do not intend to harm, I have only ever wanted what was best, what was good, what was kind and what was necessary for you, but I can no longer say that you intend the same for me. Your selfishness which I have watched you battle for the entirety of the time I've known you, has now seemingly won out.

So is it not fair play for it to turn about for me to finally be just a little bit selfish on my own behalf? I do not think anyone would argue against that, at the very moment I certainly cannot.

In all candor, for the longest time I could not imagine my life without you in it, but now... I find I have a hard time imagining my life with you at all.

And that, if I am honest, is what hurts the most of all.