There are some things you just can’t ever un-hear.

That’s not a word.

Surely we’ve all said and done things we didn’t REALLY mean.  Or we said because we were angry or sad or drunk or happy or just–altered, somehow.  It’s then that I wish my natural filter would thicken, or if not that then I wish my mind would forget things I’d rather not have heard or seen or experienced.  I am not opposed to hypnotherapy.

I’d like to just block it out, or forget, sometimes.  The bad stuff, of course.  I mean–wouldn’t it be great if we could all just hear and remember the good stuff? Somehow though, I don’t think just blocking it in my head will actually work because it won’t make it go away.  It’s like throwing a blanket over the pile of shit.  Shit is still there, isn’t it?  Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t still there.

I’m unable to understand what I am trying to say.  I’m distraught, I’m sad, I’m even a bit flattered and my eyes are hazed over by pieces of romanticism.  Haze.  That’s a mighty fine way to describe this, or these, feeling(s) and perception.

I had envisioned what my life would be or become so many times, and changed it so many times, and changed the guy I was with, the place I lived, my weight, my hair color, my relationship with my friends and their kids–and my kids.  It changed so much I stopped dead in my tracks–finally–and just tried to be present.  Just be in the moment.  All the acting teachers, and movement classes, and songs, and poems, and movies, and cards, and sleepless nights, and salty-pillow days all point to just being in the moment and it would appear, and until now–I haven’t done it once.  I’m always thinking about the next response, the next loving word or sarcastic remark.  I think about how i should say something, how it will be received.  I think about my surroundings, is it day? is it night? Have I been drinking? Am I hungry? Will any of those things alter all of the thoughts racing on the rocky terrain circling the clutter of my life that I’ve compiled into the middle and thrown a blanket over??

Will I ever just–be.  It seems I’m always working towards something.  Whether it’s for me or someone else.  Whether that someone else is related to me, dating me, meeting me, leaving me, talking to me –anything.  I’ll listen but I will also be preparing for something else.  And that’s just no way to live.  Life= the ever prepping place.  Life= the staging area for the big show and I don’t even know my lines or the direction I’m supposed to take and any direction I’ve been given has left my mind, or I didn’t write it down, or I didn’t like the direction and decided just to not do it.  And who the hell am I to make such decision? I’m just–me.  The unable to *be*–me.

Wow, that’s a bit of a discovery.  Unable to be.  Me.  Do you see the different ways that can be said?  And it all comes from experiences I’ve already had, experiences I thought I would’ve had by now, or experiences I wanted to have had by now.  I had prepared for something and it didn’t happen, or it didn’t happen my way or this or that or wah wah wah.  Such a princess.  Such a brat.

But even THEN–nothing could’ve prepared me for the words I heard last night.  Nothing.  No amount of sarcasm, or jokes, or romantic-ness, or hatred, or lust or anything could’ve prepared me to hear the words that came out of the man who said them.

“You are dead to me.”

I just can’t fathom.  I can’t wrap my pretty-little-head around such words.  What EXACTLY did I say and how exActly did I say it to receive THAT from a mouth that not two hours earlier was smoochin’ me and smiling with me.  And what will I ever do now, that I can’t un-hear it.

It’s on repeat.

There was more, of course.  I mean–there’s always more.  And there was my part.  My strong-willed, thick-headedness that some people love and admire and others despise and want to kick me as an attempt to knock some sense into me.  There’s everything I said in my defense, that I still stand by.  And there is nothing I said that is quite like that, I think.

And it really should’ve hurt.  Right? It really should have.  And it hurt but only so-much.  It should be something I hold on to that could possibly disrupt all the “me-work” I’ve been doing this past year.  I should hold on to it like a grudge, because that’s what I do.  I should hold on to it like ammunition–because that’s what I always do.  That’s what I’m good at.  Throwing the words and mistakes others have made regarding me, back in their face when they are down.  I can be heartless.  But…why?  Does it actually DO ANY good???  Does anyone REALLY win when it becomes a vicious circle of he said-she said? Who the hell am I to hold others accountable for their words when I rarely hold myself accountable?  I just say what I think.  I don’t care if you like it. Except–I do.  I care what people think.  The masses.  I don’t care what the one thinks, I care what the masses think–I guess? Well–HELL how do I prepare for the masses when I can’t pull it together for myself or one other person.  And not just ANY other person, a man-person.  Someone I care about.  Who says he cares about me.

What is it about me?

What’s the big deal??

What is just…SO…FUCKING BAD…that I am now DEAD to someone who claimed he cared for me.  And not even that–was “falling in love” with me.  And not just that, but would the next day have his hands at my waist with his soft gentle eyes that have seen enough emotional and physical and mental abuse, and apologize for speaking so harshly out of anger.  And that it’s not who he really is.  Then he’ll walk out and I’ll stand at the doorway unable to move or speak or cry or laugh.  Unable to do or be or feel…anything.  And he’ll appear in front of me again and say “I love You.  And that’s why it hurts so much.” And I should hear that.  I should hear it, but it’s muffled because I can’t un-hear something else.

[And that whole “should” and “shouldn’t” stuff is also a distortion, keeping me from be-ing, and just experiencing what I’m going through then move on from it.  ]

And so they circle one another.  I’ll sit here and let the words circle one another as if fighting over who would get to claim the rest of me.  And what words win remains To Be Determined.