Some of my destructive patterns

This is a long rumination. Honestly I’m just listing things I’ve been thinking of. It’s long. Potentially very boring. I really don’t expect anyone to read it. One day, when I’m old and bound to my bed like Frida Kahlo I want someone to read them all back to me. When they aren’t dragging my bed around the world. Lol

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It’s good to be introspective. It stings really badly though when you realize that you are the main cause of your own suffering sometimes.

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I have enjoyed the company of many men. I have no complaints. I’ve been treated very nicely, for the most part. But I can count on one hand how many men I’ve truly loved…… or was “in love” with, would be more accurate. Considering that in my entire life from 15 forward I have never been without a male love interest or sexual partner in my life. At least not for longer than a few months tops.

Even when I first got divorced and didn’t want to even look at another man I was still sleeping with my ex. For personal reasons we each had, on top of just the familiarity and it feeling good…. sometimes.

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My first real boyfriend was the cutest blond boy ever. He was such a bad boy. He would often have detention and I would wait for him after. His was one of the few minority white families that lived in the predominantly poor Hispanic neighborhood we lived in. I don’t remember his father being in the picture much. He lived on the culdesac leading into the park which was across the street from our elementary school.

In those days we had a lot of liberty. We were let out after school or in the mornings on non-school days and were all expected home at dark. His house was a bit of a grand central station and often he would have ramps out front for his friends and him to ride their bikes on. His name was Steve Young and no, not the football player. I remember how nervous I was the first time we kissed while rolling around on the grass at the park.

We would take turns riding each other around on the handle bar of our bicycles. He was so sweet to me, so kind and gentle. We would ride down to Thrifty’s for quarter ice cream scoops. I remember sharing the quarters I made selling stickers and candy at school so we could play video games at the liquor store and burger joint by our houses. One had Mrs. Pacman and one had Centipede.

I liked playing too but seeing the joy on his face when he played just made me so happy.

One day I remember sitting in his room with him and his sister. She was telling me to break up with him. She kept hounding me “just tell him it’s over” and finally just to shut her up I did. Of course I didn’t mean it, but the look on his face after I said it tore me to pieces. He took it serious. In retrospect this had more to do with his relationship with her than me and her taunts. I vaguely remember leaving crying.

We both at separate times tried to rectify it but it never happened. At one point I even became best friends with his new girlfriend just to be close to him. I didn’t try to break them up, I actually really liked her. But eventually it became too painful for me and I had to let him go. At least in the logistical sense. I was in 4th grade and he was in 3rd and those feelings were as real as any I have had since.

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I’m realizing I lied in my benzo rant post. I have blacked out once from alcohol. My girlfriend and I decided (as the true morons we were on our 20’s) to do the infamous 2nd Street Crawl. They should more appropriately call it the “2nd Street lucky if you don’t end up in jail or in the hospital crawl”.

2nd Street is a quaint 1/4 mile or so drag, lined with shops and restaurants in Belmont Shore (Long Beach, CA). The game is that you start on one end and drink your way to the other. We started at one dive bar (Bayshore) and ended up at another (AI). But by the time we got to AI I don’t recall much. The last thing I remember was kissing some random guy outside the bar that I had never seen before and don’t remember talking to.

He called the next day and we started going out. He was very smart but also very stoic. He used to love being around me. I could see how happy it made him just watching me. He would stare at me as if I was his reality TV show with this cute smirk on his face. He didn’t say much and in retrospect maybe the racist tattoos covering his body had something to do with that. We couldn’t find much common ground beyond enjoying sex, coffee and healthy eating.

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My oldest daughter has been paying attention to the abortion debate and asked me if I’ve ever had one. I didn’t feel like I should lie to her. So I told her all the sordid details of them. (Yes them.) There are many reasons women choose to have them. They are as personal and varied as the women themselves. While I have my regrets and guilt I still say that at the time I was making the best decision possible for myself, my health, the future and for the child, at least I believed so then.

This is never, ever, ever an easy decision, but given all the variables in this existence it isn’t something other people should have a right to decide for women and yet here we are. Puritanical, judgmental, incompassionate views and overbearing laws are making women’s lives unbearable yet again. Scarlet Letter days have never really left this country. Have they?

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The first man I fell head over heels for as an adult was Aaron. The moment that man smiled at me turned my world upside down. The only reason I continually broke up with him is because he made me painfully aware that he refused to get married and have kids. Both of which I knew I wanted more than anything. Luckily it wasn’t personal. He truly did love me, probably the most he was capable of, and he never has married or had more kids.

He keeps telling me he is going to come visit me, but where before he used to mostly be a pothead who dabbled in meth, now he is a full blown alcohol and Xanax pill popper that still dabbles in meth. He says pot makes him too paranoid now because they make it way too strong. Lol πŸ™„ He is an addict and it makes him not the funnest person to be around, when that seems to be almost all he can think about. But he is trying to maintain some balance. Trying. It’s hard when you have a highly addictive personality. I totally understand that.

I keep telling him if you’re going to be addicted to something at least make it something healthier; exercise, religion, a person, a hobby. Not that those things can’t be taken to extremes and unhealthy too but at least they won’t usually destroy your life and/or kill you. Usually.

——+–

I want to fall in love with a man that is all green lights. Brad is like driving down a old, beautiful, scenic dirt road that has a bunch of potholes and speed bumps and major work and detours. It can be so much fun and a great adventure but it can also be jarring and requires having to brace myself a lot. Remember my own strength, even as I let go and let him drive sometimes.

Part of me says “you’re sure this is what you want, since it is not easy?”. And it’s worse when he himself asks me why I am with him; because as he tells me way too often “He doesn’t deserve me. I deserve so much better.” But I don’t consider being with him settling. This man loves me more than any man has probably ever loved me.

He once came to knock on my window in the middle of the night because he knew I was upset and wanted to make sure I was alright. He gave me a hug, told me he loved me and left when he saw I was fine. I wasn’t picking up my phone and he was concerned, so he drove two hours to give me a hug and make sure I was ok. Who does that?

Not many people would, not many men, so I am grateful and appreciative of it. Thankful for all he gives me which truly is all he has to give. Except for the making love part and a bit more transparency, which I would enjoy tremendously. But you can’t ask people to give you more than they are capable of and he does his very best for me. And how is that not its own kind of beautiful?

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Everyone’s life is their own brand of pain and pleasure. We all just glimpse and feel our way around other people’s world’s while navigating our own. If this life was less stressful, if we were taught to lead with our hearts, if grace (courteous goodwill) and compassion were the commodities of value in this world it would be a completely different experience…..this thing called life.

But we aren’t there. We are capable but does anyone really care? We just keep on keeping on….barely able to hang on as it is. I get it. I find it hard myself sometimes. But I try to live it. I try to find those that are seeking this as well.

We are out here shining a light. Hoping the world sees it. Trying to radiate love into the world. Love that is so direly needed by each and every one of us.

Happy Friday!!

πŸ’–πŸ’‹πŸŒˆπŸ₯°πŸ’–πŸŒˆπŸŒΊπŸŒž

Author: porngirl3

I have always enjoyed reading and writing. Maybe because I have always been on the quiet and reclusive side; which most people may not guess at first glance or if seeing me in a social setting, especially around people I am comfortable with but it’s also not something I have an issue with. I need solitude to recharge. Writing gives me the peace and time to renew myself...here that is offered to you for your enjoyment and pleasure as well. I hope. Lol

4 thoughts on “Some of my destructive patterns”

    1. Not always, especially as children ot when others hold power over us and wield it mercilessly. But yes. I agree. As adults with our own free will we are indeed most often our very worst enemy.

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