Poetic License

The book project is progressing, though not at the speed I would like. July is a difficult month, health-wise, because of the brutal heat and humidity, which affects my breathing. I find myself cooped up in the house with such low energy that I will often have a nap after work, and then I’ll go to bed early anyway. I don’t know about my fellow writers, but I tend to need more energy in order to produce the words. I also have to turn off the television and the music, though you might think the music would help. I need stillness and cool air and energy. But despite the lack of those things, I have still produced a number of pages in the second section of the book.

The book is in three sections: Stephanie, The Women, and Cancer.

Previously, when working in Scrivener, I was able to do quite a bit of writing about the horrendous relationship I had right after Stephanie died, so I’m reusing part of that in my Word document. It didn’t quite have the right feel, however. It was not in the same tone as the rest of my book, so I’m rewriting as I go. I’ve also changed the names, relations, and details about the women in my life from 2009 to 2024. The last thing I want to have happen is a lawsuit. Other than the minor anonymizing, the rest is all true.

Looking back, I’d had such hope for my life when I left Paul in 2009. I had needed to have that hope in order to survive, because at that time, I wasn’t certain I could handle the financial woes, the grief, or the responsibility of being on my own. So I leapt into one relationship and then another. The relationship with the woman in the NC mountains, along with the fresh grief, just about killed me, and honestly, I prayed to die many times. I guess the universe knew things I didn’t, so it let me live instead. But unlike my later partner, Daisy* pretended to be someone she was not. She pretended to be a good person who loved me. That didn’t last long, and I’ve come to realize that she wanted me more for what I could do for her rather than what we could do for each other. I paid for everything, financially and emotionally. When the physical abuse started, I left.

My other long-term partner told me exactly who she was. When we were dating, she said, frequently, that she was a jerk and an asshole. I ignored a commonly expressed truth of the world: when someone tells you who they are, believe them! Though she sometimes had a sweet side and would jump in to help with bigger things (i.e., things other people would see and praise her for), we had an awful relationship overall, especially once we moved in together. I could not count on her. Other people could count on her, but as her primary person, I might as well have been a stray dog.

I take that back. A stray dog would have gotten more attention.

I couldn’t even count on her to be with me during our honeymoon. She complained that because we were in an inside stateroom, which she had told me would be fine when I booked the cruise, it made her feel claustrophobic. But it was more than that. When we first got on the ship, she told me to go take a nap so she could go touring the ship. I refused. I toured the ship, too. At the beach, she went swimming away from me to go take pictures of fish, knowing I was a poor swimmer and could not follow her. It was not a good honeymoon, and it set the tone for the rest of our relationship. Our marriage was NOTHING like my marriage to Paul. He had been someone I could always count on, but she was never that.

After I broke up with her and finally got my house back, I dated a little, but I have found that most women I’ve met want to be with me because of what I can provide for them — security. They don’t really want me. They want what I can give them, what I can do for them. They want me at home so they can go off and do their thing. Some just don’t want sex at all; they want companionship only. I don’t understand it. I wish I could find a woman who can stand on her own two feet, but she would have to be a woman with a kind heart, a gentle soul, and a giving spirit. Anything less is just a waste of my time and my heart.

Obviously, this is all on my mind today. It needs to all come together in the narrative of section two in the book, but it’s coming slowly. It is all part of my story and part of what happened to me after my sweet daughter died, so it needs to be told. Maybe in the telling of it, I can figure out what I want for the rest of my life.

What I have right now is sweet. I have a quiet life with my cats and my dog. I have a great job. I have my writing. And I have my peace. You can’t get any better than that.

Namaste,

Jude

* Name changed