The Switch, In Defense

detached

Over the course of the time I’ve been blessed to have this man back in my life, I’ve mentioned to him more than once that there’s this thing that I don’t like about myself. It’s not something I was born with. It took YEARS to develop and my prayer is that it doesn’t take anywhere near that amount time to vanish. Just the knowledge of its presence presses on my spirit so greatly at times, that I actually want to cry but then something will happen that makes me incredibly happy that it’s there.

What I’m talking about is my ability to turn off my feelings for anything and unfortunately, anyone. I have not, however, been able to turn away from him. That is a good thing. It took a very long time for me to reach this point but I will tell you, over the years, it has shielded me from hurt and any more pain. It allowed me to make my way through things that would have destroyed the regular woman. I cannot stress that enough. I am (was) the definition of teflon. Not much phases me. There was a time when I would cry at the drop of a dime. There was a time when I wore my feelings on my sleeve. Years ago, I realized that the tears had stopped and in their place was that empty stare. People have seen it. People wonder about it. I do, too. It doesn’t mean that I don’t care. It doesn’t mean that I’m not sympathetic. It doesn’t mean that I won’t go above and beyond what I need to do to help anyone else. It’s just that I am no longer able to tolerate people who are stalled by difficulty. I don’t like that because I know that not people heal, deal and handle things differently.

Few people know my full story – the details – THE DETAILS. Not the stuff I’ve posted about on Facebook. There are still things that no one knows about except me and the man I was married to, and right now, it is my intention to carry those things to the grave. Those things, in combination with some things that happened in my childhood are the things that allowed me to build a wall that until last summer was impenetrable. That man has chipped away at that thing but he still hasn’t knocked it down completely. Don’t get it twisted – I’m not some little silly country girl who is all lovestruck. That chick died way back in 1993. It’s just that there is level of peace and comfort in what we have that I didn’t know existed. He is aware of the presence of the incidents but not the details. Our history is not one that’s shared between just the two of us per se; there have been several unions between the men in his family and the women in my family as far back as the 1930s. Our thing is stronger than the regular relationship. It always will be. Why mention this? Because, like I told him, before he came along, I wasn’t able to feel anything for many other people outside of my son and my immediate family. Does this mean I don’t care about my friends and extended family? Nope, it was nothing like that. It’s just that I can’t always fully connect with anyone else’s pain. Maybe I’m expressing that incorrectly. I can connect to the pain, it’s just that I’m no longer able to wrap my mind around the fact that some people become paralyzed in any state of pain. I was never in a state of pain, confusion or chaos too long before some new, absurd “thing” happened. I learned to roll with the punches.

I had endured such a ridiculous amount of mental/emotional pain, I was able to switch off my feelings and *COMPLETELY* detach from ANYTHING. That includes death. It sickens me just to think about it. I want my whole heart back. I need it back. I don’t want to continue the way I am. I can’t continue the way I am.

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