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#223 - eels & sharks & love, oh my!
11/5/01 @ 2:50 pm

Amazing. I actually have more to say in one day!

As I lay in bed last night, my head was filled with all sorts of strange thoughts.

I thought alot about R. for some reason. I thought about neptunebaby2, and how she was sad yesterday, still missing someone she thinks she should be over. I thought I might email her, so that know one but her would know that sometimes, I still miss R. Weird, but love just doesn't go away. Not for me anyway. There will never be a time when I could ever get together with R. But it doesn't change the fact that sometimes I miss him. And the reason why is because he is a good person, he was (generally) kind and sweet to me, and he gave me good cause to have feelings for him. And I just find it impossible to let stuff like that go. I mean, I still have feelings for RH & P. People gone from my life for years. Mind you, I don't want to jump their bones anymore, but my heart still tugs a little at certain memories. That's just the way life is.

So there I was, laying in bed next to my husband, wishing there was some way I could just destroy that part of me that had any feelings at all for R. anymore. Afterall, I don't have feelings for Bootcamp Fucker, right? That would be so much worse, though, to hate. Hate is not a fun emotion. It leaves so much more bitterness than a broken heart.

Then I fell asleep, and dreamed strange dreams about aquarium visits and running into P. And wanting to jump his bones. Why do I always dream that I want to fuck him when I dream about him? Not that I dream about him that often. But when I do, I always want to get with him. Even though, in real life, the last time I saw him I wasn't even that attracted to him anymore. And I certainly had no desire to have sex with him!

I woke up in the middle of the night because our fucking cat is a fucker. Then I couldn't go back to sleep. So I got up and poked around eBay. Because I'm an idiot, as previously established. When I went to bed about an hour or so later, for some reason I was thinking of water and oceans and Hawaii.

Have I talked much of my fear of the ocean? I was petrified to get into the water in Jamaica. We only swam in the ocean for maybe 15 minutes on one afternoon, spending the rest of our time in the pools. Because when I was about 11, I came face to face with an eel, and it scared the shit out of me. So I was thinking of that. And thinking about how when we went to Hawaii, I actually swam in the ocean, and loved it, and wasn't afraid at one point. Because I believed the tales that the rocky barrier at my childhood beach kept the sharks out. Even though it didn't keep turtles & manta rays out. And I thought about the lagoon at the hotel that we swam in for hours in 1999. And how there wasn't any barrier at all. And I got really freaked out.

And then I thought of the time when I was 14 or 15. Visiting Hawaii to see my friends the summer after we moved to Washington permanently. The water off of the pier was so inviting. Even though we had been told that sharks liked the waters near boat harbors. And the 3 of us jumped in. And kinda sat-swam on the rope-line tying the floating-luau boat to the pier. And all the while I was terrified that a shark would come up under us and swallow me whole. So finally I couldn't take it anymore and I convinced them to get out of the water. They got out first, and when it came my turn, I was not physically strong enough to climb up the tire mounted to the side of the pier to get out of the water. So I had to swim to the shore. Terrified. We finally found an un-manned little raft that I climbed into and got onto the pier that way. Because I was kind of hysterical at that point.

And I was shaking in my bed, thinking of those sharks and eels, coming to get me. Because the room was so dark, when I opened my eyes, it was the perfect canvas to still see those visions. So I told myself to calm down and focus on something else.

So I focused on my husband. And how silly I've been in my life. To have doubted the one good thing about my adult life. Hell, probably my entire life. I remembered how the first time I tried to leave him in early 1999, we were crying at the garage door, and he asked me, "Who will ever love you as much as I do?"

I remembered in late 1999, how I left my therapist's office, and just one sentence uttered by her made me realize that I was attracted to my husband, and how easy it would be to have sex with him once again. And I went straight to Victoria's Secret, bought a sexy front-clasp bra and my first thong, and came home and had sex with my husband.

How every time I go wiggy, he's there. How every time someone from my family calls, he gives me that sympathetic look that tells me I don't have to answer the phone if I don't want to. He never judges me, ever. He doesn't think I'm crazy, even when I do.

So it comes down to this: I was confused somehow. I thought that fate was more obvious and magical somehow. I thought that if someone else came along and mentioned fate, maybe he was the one. And I got really confused.

But all the while, fate had already dealt my hand. And as luck would have it, I had married the man I was meant to be with. It took me awhile to wake up and realize that I was already married to the man I was falling in love with.

And I really must thank God somehow. Or thank somebody. Because he really was meant for me. He's everything I need. And he's amazing. And I want him. And I need him.

And I got to thinking about the heart. And maybe why the heart is associated with love, is because when you love someone this much, they become a part of you. And if someone cuts out your heart, you can't survive. And if someone cuts your mate from you, you can't survive.

He is my mate. I need him. I love him. I want him. Thanks be to whoever did this. I owe you one. A big one.

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