Only The Lonely, Part 3… Chickened Out

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Insomnia strikes again, no that’s not true, depression has entered the room and insomnia is riding it’s coattails.  Three nights now, it’s bad.  I’m upset with myself as well, I chickened out.  After convincing M we would talk tonite after I returned from men’s group I got cold feet.  She was watching something I forget what and then the old fear of rejection slipped in and convinced me to shut up. I have never been good at speaking up for my own needs.  I will always give in rather than create a confrontation.  It didn’t help that I wanted to talk about male sexuality and my own needs for physical intimacy.  I didn’t think she would listen to what I had to say personally so I found a series of short articles about sex & intimacy and a husbands needs in marriage and thought I would just read them with her, they are really well written.  You can check them out here. I couldn’t speak about it so eloquently myself so I thought this would open some dialog. I’m not sure how to get her to realize that without physical closeness, sex, I am slowly starving to death and simultaneously drowning in loneliness.  I have gone back forty-eight years to being that little boy again.  Every night I come to bed alone, shed a few tears then commence rolling over, over and over again in an attempt to sleep, but it never comes. I have almost given up asking God for someone to love me.  She’s either in the bed five feet away or in the living room. She never gets the message I guess. I love her but sometimes I have to ask myself why? So, when I tire of spider solitaire I find myself here pouring out my heart hoping I will tire and find some much needed sleep.

I have another therapy appointment this morning but I am thinking of chucking the theophostic prayer healing and asking for an evaluation for an anti-depressant.  Right now my faith and hope are running seriously low and I want to chuck the whole holistic approach. Maybe that is just sleep depreviation talking. I should feel a little better because M has told me it’s ok to ask about a referral/advice on who my therapist would recommend that she see but I am not holding my breath. Now it’s time to try that horizontal hold thing again.

Only the Lonely, Part 2

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I hesitate to write this morning wondering if I share too much, it has been a long, long, lonely, nite.  Starting with a tear-stained pillow my mind would not turn off, a vortex of every imaginable emotion, loneliness, anger, desperation, suicidal thoughts, I just want the madness and overwhelming confusion in my brain to stop!  I’m not suicidal, I don’t have a plan and as a HSP I learned I am less likely to do it because I am consumed with the thoughts of what it would leave behind.  NO vengeance on my mind.  Pissed off, Oh Yea!  At her at me, wondering if its time to pull the plug on this sad excuse of a relationship.  I think of it often but that would be giving up and I’m not ready to do that, not sure I could do that.  In a couple of hours I have to get dressed for Church, I don’t want to go today.  Dressing will mean putting on that facade, the happy face, I am so far from happy it isn’t funny.

M and I had that talk the other nigh, it’s a start I think although I did all the talking and this time I didn’t hold back, much….  she talked a little, very little, did say I always back her in the corner with talk of sex, Really, It’s been twenty years, Yea! it is on my mind, Then she says “I don’t like sex”  No shit Sherlock I think to myself.  I tell her I know, remember the honey moon?  Three nights and we made love one time, She wears a sexy little baby doll nite which i get to see for just as long as it takes her to walk out of the bathroom and turn out the light.  In the last thirty-seven year I have seen nothing!  So Yea, I AM PISSED!  That nighty, never to be seen again.

OK, so now I know what I need to do. Facade or no I do need to go to church.  I need to dump all this anger and confusion at the foot of the Cross.

 

 

Only the lonely

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I am lying here trying to sleep, unable, tears in my eyes, dreaming of making love to my wife, married thirty seven years today, we couldn’t be much further apart, I am reminded of the Roy Orbison song, “Only the Lonely” never realized the full title is “Only the Lonely, Know how I feel” and the first line, Only the lonely, know why I cry.  It tears my heart out. I am afraid to go into the living room where she sits in her easy chair in front of the Tv, probably asleep, and tell her how I really feel, the overwhelming sadness, the loneliness the desire for human touch and connection, the emptiness that lies atop me like a heavy blanket. I am coming to grips with this HSP, what it means to be a highly sensitive person. I always thought there was something wrong with me, wondered why I never fit in  and always felt out-of-place, why no one understood me, worse yet I thought it was my fault. So now I learn it’s a genetic trait, simply the way I am wired. I can’t begin to tell you the shame I felt for just being me. “TOO SENSITIVE, CRYBABY! I am slowly learning how it has handicapped my relationship, this constant avoidance of conflict that keeps my mouth, my thoughts and feelings firmly shut inside where they wither and die. I have learned from a friend how do just dump my thoughts and feelings on the page, raw and unedited. I must say it is EXHILIRATING! and strangely freeing, like the first tear to drop. And now I know I can share this with her in the morning. But for the moment I am alone in the bed, not at all how I want to spend my anniversary, I would rather be trying to remember how to make love. It has been so many years now I imagine it will be like the first time, that is not necessarily a bad thing, but I do hope it is not as short-lived. Haha! Just sayin… well this must be cathartic, the tears have dried and I’m wearing half a smile. Time to dump all this and push the button.

For any of you who are unfamiliar with HSP like I was just a week ago, check out this site and look for Dr. Elaine Aron on youtube, her research and book are changing my life.  http://hsperson.com

Happy Thanksgiving

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As you contemplate the true meaning of this most wonderful of holidays I ask that you take time to think not of all the savory goodness that will soon take it’s place on the table before you or even the college bowl games that you will take in later or perhaps the magical parade you viewed in the morning. Instead take a moment to reflect in gratitude on the lives of those who will be seated to your left or right or across that table.  Soon enough all thoughts will turn to gifts both given and received.  Gifts are nice but to my mind they will never be as important as those with whom I am in relationship with, those with whom I share my life, my journey. To my family, friends and my precious WordPress followers who shower me with love, understanding and encouragement as I stumble through life, Thank You and God Bless You!  I am truly blessed to have you in my life!

Happy Thanksgiving,  Barney

 

Damn Remote

 

'Do you think we need more conversation in our relationship?'

 

connection

or lack thereof

it’s what my marriage

is made of

the television

i despise it

it always seems

to come between

nothing real about the audio and pixels

HD, 3D or 4K

7:1 artificial reality

like a thief

it robs us blind

of other possibilities

my heart cries out

to know you

body, soul and mind

instead of your favorite buttons

on the damn remote 

 

Hold Me

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murky

life in the shadows

half dead

half alive

never quite present

hold me

please hold me

let me feel your life

emotions

scrambled

all but the pain

it is always real

hold me

please hold me

let me feel your life

your love

 

Writers Note: This was written while sitting in the cafe at Barnes & Noble with tears streaming down my face.  I had only left the house a half hour before having had a anxiety attack while sitting at the kitchen table on the Mac. Out of nowhere I was weeping and sobbing and filled with dread and fear. In an instant I was straddling time and space, half of me that hypersensitive, lost kid begging for my father’s love in June of 1968,  just days before he died. The other half of me firmly in the present dreading a therapists appointment the following day. Dreading the real work that is to begin, afraid of the answers that may be found, the vast swaths of time that I have no memory of. Most of my childhood it seems  Sometimes I don’t feel as if life is real, like it’s a big lie, a bad joke, like I’m not quite present. More to come I’m sure………

Falling Off

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Have you ever wished for a Delete All button in your head.  I am right now.  I just realized it has been 13 days since I last published. Thirteen days since my last therapy session and not one call from his office telling me that there is an open appointment.  My head hurts with all the thoughts, ideas, potential blog posts that are slamming against my skull trying to get out.  And the guilt and shame. I have been too bummed out, depressed, and pissed off at myself to uncover the keyboard.  Yup, I wish I could just push a button and make it all go away. Well here it comes, as if you couldn’t figure it out.

Barney fell off the wagon.  No! That’s not exactly true, I f’ing jumped off the wagon straight into the pit, and I played there all week, until I was totally covered in mud, like a pig in a pen. I binged, went on a bender, acted up, whatever you choose to call it, it wasn’t good.  Then it was time to go to recovery group.  I felt like shit, still do a little, thought about not going but I did.  I had a ton of homework to do, reading, questions to answer, a lot of introspection.  Home alone, never good, that’s when I get into trouble so I packed up everything and headed to the cafe at Barnes & Noble. One grande Latte and two and one half hours later and I was done, not a lot of time for introspection but I got all the questions answered and it almost killed me.  The subject of the reading: Confession.  Oh God!  Might as well shut down the meeting!  It’s going to take the whole two hours for me to confess. You see, we start the meeting with what we call check-in.  We get it our small groups, usually four to six guys and we start receiving confession from one another.  Honestly, the thing I dreaded the most, confession, brought the most freedom. Just nodding heads, no judgment, just forgiveness, understanding and love. Not usually something associated with a bunch of guys getting together. No need for a mask, no need to hide the secret life, no worry that they will see the real me. They know, they know and accept me anyway.  Me, the real me, not just the person I so often pretend to be or the person I so desparately want to be.

Leading up to my “episode” I had been contemplating a post on surrender, the topic of the prior weeks homework.  I remember thinking as we sat in a circle for the evenings  teaching. “How do you surrender?” and “How do you forgive yourself?”  It stuck in my head so long I wrote it down.  I mean really, how do you?  I struggled with those questions in my head for quite a while, it was distracting. Later I heard that wee small voice, “Nike!” “What?” I thought. “You know,” it said, “Just do It!” Seriously, is it that easy?  When I think of surrender I envision someone popping up from a foxhole waving a white flag on the end of the rifle  and promptly getting shot in the head! And forgiveness?  Why is it I can forgive others but when it comes to myself I haven’t got a clue. I mean, I have no idea where to even start. Seriously, I’m open to anything.

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The very next day I took a trip to the local Apple store.  My Iphone had been acting up, occasionally freezing up and not loading.  Well once I got to the Genius Bar I was informed that the memory was full and the best way to handle it was to wipe it and reload from the cloud. I didn’t listen to even half the music I had on it anyway, so ok. Twenty minutes later I walked out of the store with a fully functioning cell phone and no internet filter/accountability application installed. Danger Will Robinson! Not a good idea and as it turned out it was way too tempting.  Lesson learned, however it kills me that I was such an asshole for a whole week and M has absolutely no idea. 

Sex Addiction Sucks!

Barney