A journal of sorts. Respectful comments and followers are welcome. No haters or trolls allowed.
This is why I don’t sleep at night…
I cannot turn off my mind.
I failed Annie. I tried with all my might to keep her safe and protected, and in the end I could not save her. The biggest failure of my life.
I have accomplished nothing in my life. I have not made the world a better place.
When I leave this rock, no one will remember me 10 minutes later.
Existing in the prison of my mind.
Happy New Year everyone! 2022 will be a much better year in my opinion. I received validation recently concerning my feelings and grief and while I chose not to take advantage of a major recommendation, I am hopeful for the year.
After 13 years and nine months, I finally succumbed to meeting with a therapist. There was good and bad as a takeaway.
The good was validation for me that in losing my friendship with “A”, it reflected a lack of context to some of my comments. Did I mean what I said to be offensive? No. Did she try and further the conversation in asking for an explanation? No. However, I can now see how she might have taken something I wrote and saw it in a different light than what was meant. For that I am sorry, as in my usual way, when I feel judged, I simply cut things off and disappear. I could have and should have made the effort to resolve the misinterpretation of my message. The takeaway is that I learned something from this and will not make that particular mistake again. I wish we could reconnect, but I doubt she is interested, and the result is my loss of a friendship.
Now for the bad.
Dealing with my grief and depression over the 13 years and nine months (but who is counting?) has been an epic struggle. The therapist had some constructive exercises I could go through when I feel particularly anxiety burdened, but her main recommendation is a no-go for me.
She wanted to prescribe some meds that would smooth out the edges and provide some relief. As the daily process of being medicated evolve, I would feel less and less anxiety and my thoughts of Annie would become less prominent in my mindfulness. When I asked her if I would still remember everything from the past and be able to recall anything I wanted from our relationship, she said that over time those memories and feeling will wane and a more stable mental process will remain.
Nope! Not going to happen! I will never knowingly do anything to eliminate my memories and recollection of every moment Annie and I had together. Never!. Without her in my thoughts, life has no meaning for me.
So, I will take what I can from her remarks and skip the drugs. It was a worthwhile exercise, and the good parts I will take along the road of life with me.
There are 69 days left before I celebrate Annie’s passing for the 14th time. This year I have no one to spend that day with, but that is ok.
I am hopeful that I can find another friend to write with and have conversations with. It will be difficult, but I will give it the old college try.
So…here is to a new year. I will work hard to write more often and be more creative. The dark spaces are still my refuge, but I think I am in a better place to deal with it all, while embracing the darkness that gives me so much happiness. No drugs required.
It has been a while since I last wrote. Truth is…my mind has been going in so many directions, it has been quite hard to even attempt to focus.
When I lost my connection to a friend recently, a huge hole opened up in my life. I worked hard to be a good friend, empathetic, and a good listener. After the connection was lost, I realized it wasn’t enough. There just wasn’t enough interest for her to want to explore my thoughts. I am a good listener, but sometimes you just wish the other person would want to listen to what you had to say for a change. It hurt a lot to lose that friendship.
Having the benefit of hindsight now, I realize a large part of the equation, is the fact that my baggage will not allow anyone else to get close.
When Annie died, my heart was broken forever, but that was not the worst of it. In the real life that went forward, my soul was crushed. I think I can finally come to grip with what I knew to be true from that very day.
The pain of losing her crushed my soul to the point that there is no longer any room for anyone else. Annie brought me a certain joy that no one else will ever be able to give me. I have spent over thirteen years attempting at various times to find that sort of connection and it has been a fruitless endeavor.
Annie was a once in a lifetime love that cannot be replaced. I never thought about growing old without her and yet, here I am. I tried to join her. Twice actually. On two separate occasions, I purchased one way tickets to Thailand. In each instance, I failed to follow through and cancelled those flights because I am too much of a coward to take my own life. The pain of living without her is a constant in my life and no more than a few hours can ever pass without me thinking of her.
So here I am…just another aging guy who manages to live a life in the darkness of pain and memories of of what I had and what might have been, no matter how bright the sun shines.
I have some friends and acquaintances who I see every once in a while, but they are kept at arms length. No one knows what is in my mind, except you who may read my entries here, and I intend to keep it that way for my own benefit. I live with my heartbreak and crushed soul and while I can designate the place to embrace my darkest thoughts, I cannot allow anyone else to penetrate into my inner sanctum. People are so disappointing, and I do not wish to add any more baggage to what I already deal with every waking moment. I know in my heart I will join Annie one day despite my being a coward. Life is finite and that day will come eventually.
Recently, I had the opportunity to travel from my home and sleep in a strange bed. It was there that I have found a new friend. It was a nice bed…very comfortable and spacious.
Once I got into the bed however, I found a human sized pillow along with a note explaining that this pillow was meant to be hugged when sleeping. Well, of course, I had to try it and it brought back so many memories of Annie.
One of the many things Annie and I loved to do was to just lay in bed, all stretched out hugging each other with nothing between us. It wasn’t just about making love or having sex. It was the comfort we felt with each other in the naked state.
When our schedules were not filled with meetings or clients, we took every opportunity to do this together, even during the day time. Annie would purr and push her body back against me as I hugged and enveloped her. Her actions told me that she felt safe in this bed with me and that in turn made me so happy. The fact that this action provided her with a sense of security was overwhelming in some sense.
Well, Annie isn’t here any longer, and yet, this simple pillow helped me to re live all of these memories of those intimate moments of trust and safety with her.
I don’t seek out another to share these memories or even to make new ones. People are so disappointing to me on so many levels. It has been frustrating to say the least and that is why I choose to not even try any more.
But…I do have a new friend now. I think I will purchase one of these pillows. The feeling of serenity it gives me is indescribable, and I don’t have to worry about being judged by another human who does not even attempt to understand my feelings or thoughts.
From the moment Annie and I met, we both knew that there was something special happening.
Somehow, we both realized that we understood each other in a new and exciting way.
Annie “got me”, and I her.
No one else had ever seen me in the same way that Annie did.
We spent the next glorious year exploring everything about each other. Nothing was out of bounds to investigate and experience together.
When Annie died, my whole world came crashing down and in my heart, I knew there would never be another who could so readily see me for who I really was. I refused to give anyone else the chance to fill that space.
Some time ago, I met someone who triggered that response as soon as I met her. I thought to myself, now here is someone I could trust with my stories and explore my feelings with.
But I was wrong. Like so many who came before her, she showed me that, no…she really didn’t “get me”.
So, now, it is back to the refuge of my darkness and silence. I am exhausted and just too damn tired to make the effort going forward. Why even bother, when it all ends in disappointment?
I have been thinking on this quite a bit lately.
While none of us are immortal and we all will face death at some point, I have to wonder what my thought process will be when my time arrives.
It is not just about me however. The reason this comes up at all to me, is because my thoughts always, and I do mean always, turn to Annie.
I did everything I could to protect her from the haters and from harm during our time together. Yet, my mind cannot accept that I could do nothing to save her from the inevitable.
I was not there for her at that moment, and I will never be able to forgive myself for that. I wake in the middle of the night quite often with tears in my eyes, wondering what she felt as she faced that moment. Was she aware of what was happening to her as her body failed her? Did she know that I was not there beside her? If she did know, would she ever forgive me for not being with her in that moment? Was she able to carry my love for her with her?
I feel a certain terror and anxiety over this constantly, and there is no resolution for me, because no matter how much I might cry out to her, she cannot answer.
My time will come.
I have not yet boarded the last train to clarksville just yet, but I am on the off ramp to that one way track. And…the thought of facing my own demise without knowing what she felt haunts me.
That is where my mind goes and I have not been able to find a way to stop it.
It has been thirteen years, three months and eight days since Annie passed from this world. She has been with me in spirit every day, and my love for her has never waned. Often, I think of the day when I will join her wherever she is.
Mindful of how others might perceive my grief, I have managed to prevent those thoughts and feelings from seeing the light of day when others could also see them. I have become an expert at hiding myself.
Yet, my mind has managed to turn on me. While I know in my heart, I will never give up on the memory of Annie, I seem to have another woman break into my thoughts more frequently than I could have predicted. My friend I have written about a few times has become an important part of my life and thoughts, even though we do not see each other as often as we have in the past.
It is a platonic friendship, at least at this point. We have never shared a romantic embrace, kiss or anything like that. And though these things have never happened in real life, they occur more frequently to me in my dreams.
For the last two days, I have been bedridden with illness and there is where my mind decided to attack me. I may have been delusional in my illness, but I prefer to think of it as a harbinger of possibilities, even though the universe will not give that to me.
You see, she appeared to me at my bedside yesterday. I felt something take hold of my foot and when I turned, there she was. I watched as she shed her clothing and stood before me as she pulled back the blanket and joined me in bed. The visual of her beautiful, nude, melanin body against me with her braids covering our heads like a curtain, was such a rush that I had a difficult time breathing. She has shared quite a bit of her damaged journey in growing up, and I knew in that instance, I finally had the opportunity to show her how a man could not abuse her, but treat her with physical love.
And then a neighborhood dog barked, my eyes flew open, only to find the bed empty next to me. It was all a dream.
So close. So close to showing her a loving experience.
I must be losing my mind when my dreams are more real than the reality of my life.
Writing this blog has never been easy. Reconstructing all my memories of Annie and the life we experienced together during the short year we had each other has been heartbreaking and uplifting at the same time. Make sense?
Until this past week, I have shared this blog with only two other people that I know in person. From them, I receive only respect and encouragement to keep writing and express myself in the only way I can, as I am not an eloquent speaker.
This week, I shared it with a third person. Someone whom I have known for 6-8 years in social settings, always seemed like an open minded person. We discuss many topics, and I have been supportive of her struggles during Covid, as that is what a friend does.
Sharing this with her was a terrible mistake. A side of her came out that I never knew existed. Rather than give me understanding and empathy over the words I write, I received hate, bigotry and disrespect. After reading most, if not all ( I could tell by her comments), she decided to die on the white privilege hill of her own making.
To paraphrase, since I never had the thought to record her comments, she could not understand why I would ever love an Asian (American) like Annie. I wasn’t sure if she was taking issue with Annie being Asian or transgender, or both. To top it off, she took issue of my writing about my feelings for my black friend. She wanted to know why I couldn’t simply find a white woman.
Well, she is now gone from my life and I have no regrets about it. How dare she comment on who I loved back then, and who I have feelings for now.
The hate and comments I endured during my time with Annie was common back then, even though I knew nothing of it until Annie and I became a thing. It was a constant worry for us wherever we went…would she be safe…could I keep her safe…constant vigilance as to who was around us at any time or place. It was exhausting to fear violence that could erupt without warning.
I thought that was behind me after all these years, but with what has happened in this country with the murders of black folks, and the terrorizing of transgender POC, I realize that this country is no better off than it was back then. Now, when I go out in public with my friend who is black, will my whiteness bring on trouble for her as well? Must I scrutinize every person that comes close to us when we are in public?
I have no solution to this dilemma, and I absolutely refuse to give up not only my friendship, nor my feelings for her. I will fight the haters wherever I find them. Who I choose to love and be seen with is no one’s business and I will make that crystal clear to anyone who gets in my way.
I waffled back and forth as to whether I would delete this blog. Yet, I find that I cannot let the actions of bigots deter me living the truth of who I love and care for.
If someone has issues with me writing about my relationships and friendships with women of color who may be transgender or cis, then just get over yourself and stay off my lawn.
I do not, nor will I welcome you into my life.
So, if you have read this far, just know that I will keep on writing about the women who have made such an impact on my life. This is not only my truth…it is their’s as well.
Structure is a vital component of daily life, at least for me.
During this period of Covid, the structure that at one time helped to regulate my days seems to have vanished. As the days turn to weeks, and the weeks have turned to months, it appears that I am adrift most of the time.
My to do lists continue to grow. Those items on the list that have been completed continue to become smaller with each passing day.
Structure for me has been an elusive goal since losing Annie. What was once the backbone of my existence has failed me more and more as time progresses.
While I had managed to remove most people from my life, in order to refuse anyone else from observing my grief and lack of caring, there are a few people who I kept close. But, as Covid recedes and people get to go about their business in a more normative way, those two or three people now have better things to do.
Pushing everyone, save two or three individuals away, may have served me well in the past, but now, in the present, I am more isolated than I suppose I intended. I can recognize that I need to do something about this, yet there is a complete unwillingness to try and meet new people. I hold onto frail hope to be able to visit with them more often, but now that their lives are moving forward, I am confident I will be left behind. Rather than become the pest that they will shun, I retreat daily into the darkness that has given me comfort these past thirteen years.
It is tiring to watch myself from outside my own body as I struggle to remain relevant to those two or three people, when the truth of the matter revolves around my inability to let go of everything that Annie meant to me.
Most days, my mind is like a rudderless boat, adrift in the sea. Never knowing which direction it will take me. I start things I don’t finish, put off starting new things, with the knowledge that they won’t be finished either, and through it all, the few people who could and would listen to my ramblings, busy themselves with their own lives. I see them less and less frequently, which leaves me to revisit the dark times more and more often.
The darkness of my mind is the friend that provided me a structure of reliving my memories and grief, and I can now see that this friend is not done with me yet.
So there is that at least.
Control is the cornerstone of my existence. When Annie passed, I lost all control over my emotions and mental faculties. Over the past twelve plus years, I not only regained control, but managed to use my control to build walls around my emotions and feelings that are so formidable, that no one can see through to me.
My walls have kept everyone out, and kept the safety of my dark places intact. As a result, I share nothing with anyone in regards to my pain, my grief or the daily suffering I feel I need to endure in order to maintain my beautiful memories of Annie. This blog is the only place in the world where I have felt safe relating the bizarre thoughts that are a constant in my mind, wherever I go and in whatever I am doing.
The loss of control over what I think and what I say, is the stuff of nightmares for me. I could not and would not bend those walls in order to allow anyone else to see inside. Over these years, there have been numerous opportunities to make new friends, or deepen the friendships I have, and yet, I managed to control who I would allow to get close enough for a glimpse into what lies beneath the surface, and thereby, controlling the power that is so willing to strike at me at the slightest opportunity should I decide to share anything.
I have been confident in my ability to shut out and shut down any attempt to breach my walls. I have been comfortable in the fact that I maintain complete control over what I present to the world. Perhaps, my confidence was misplaced. With sudden swiftness, my walls were broken when I least expected it, and when I took my eye off the reason for having them at all.
Some months ago, I met someone, and we have become good friends. We do not see each other daily, at best once a week or so depending on our schedules. We sit and talk about many different subjects. I love spending these times with her, learning all about her past and her dreams for her future.
But…she scares me.
She scares me not by asking some of the questions I have forever relegated to the place where the answers cannot be revealed. She scares me, because when she asks, I answer. I never answer anyone, and yet, she has the power to allow me to go to the places I would never go to for anyone else. And that scares me, because it means I have lost the power to hide myself from her through my control mechanisms, and she now has the power to see me.
No one has “seen me” for almost thirteen years, and suddenly I am faced with the fact that I care for someone so much, that I am willing to reveal what is behind those walls. In one respect, she has given me a peace that has eluded me for all of these years.
But, this peace comes with a price. Since she also reveals many things about her life before I met her, I find that I worry about her quite a bit. I worry about the pain she endured growing up, I worry about the obstacles thrown in her path that she has overcome, I worry about the opportunities she is being presented, because I want her to be able to seize them and use them for growth and happiness.
When I think about it, it appears I have given my power over to her. She only has to ask, to get a response. And that…means I have lost control over my power to hide. At least from her.
After all of these years of pain, I can say that I am comfortable in giving her my power. Without the power over my control, perhaps my healing can begin.
Surprises in The Road of Life 