May 22, 2006 - 12:24 a.m.
The silence between me and my son Bubbles is maddening. Heartbreaking. He rejects me for not being fully straight. I tried meeting men online. The older I become, the less I tolerate their petty insecurities, and demand for the young, slim, and beautiful. Women, gay femme-butch womyn are more at ease with everyone. At ease in their skin whether it be soft and smooth, wrinkled, tan, filled with sun spots and freckles. How I love the feel of a woman's soft skin. Rolls and padding gently placed and developed from years of fighting the bulge. If men only knew the battle we females go through. Can't have a freakin' bowl of chips, salsa, or one ice-cream sandwich without the fear of gaining another five pounds. I walked six miles today trying to forget my troubles. In the rain alone wearing Sharper Image headphones that reduce the ambient noise. Those tiny ear buds don't work for me. I have small features. And it's like sticking a wad of chewing gum inside my ears. Painful and frustrating when the damn things loosen their way out of my ear openings. I prefer the external, padded, comfortable ones. Even if they look like I'm in a recording studio walking outdoors, the outside woman.
Numerology and name analysis revealed my inner strength and creativity. Where I fall short is on close, personal relationships. Putting my needs first. Others call it survival of the fittest. Or having a male dominant personality. I suppose I developed one being the stronger of the oldest. Physically and mentally. I suppose I saw early on that men get catered to because of their gender. It makes women feel needed, wanted. The need to be someone's personal assistant, cook, companion, slave.
The easiest path of least hurtful existence is to accept my current fate and life choices. Why make it messier and more complicated with new faces. Find inner strength and happiness in the small victories of life. Mastering a difficult music score, planting a garden, moving to a new location, learning a foreign language, accomplishing a delayed project. Some type of gratification that doesn't involve substance and alcohol abuse.
Every day I fight the darkness alone. Without help from a bottle or needle. Or three snorts from white lines. That's how I developed a strong inner self. There was no one for the child left alone at age 5. No one staying the night for the child who loves to camp outdoors. Except herself and siblings. And grandparents when they stayed the night. I remember them driving home after dinner only to return early the next morning when mom was in the hospital.
Enjoy your new life. And the person you choose/chose to be with. We kid ourselves in thinking fate rolled the pair of dice. It could have been one night when we picked up the phone, returned an email message, met for a first date. Leading to a lifelong journey together. One decision making its imprint on the next and succeeding ones. Slamming the brakes, experiencing a crash, dying, or breaking the rear window to escape the only way off the road. A change in scenery. The years speed by quickly. I'm standing in front of their marker. Reading the names and dates. Knowing it will be my turn in a little while.
~ Soldier Girl
