JP and Sadwillow

Yes, the dog has no judgement or expectations.  ANd the exwife has moved on and therefore has no expectations of him  She is not an option, so she can be thought of, but no action plan required.

This morning I find yself galled by the the reality of the contact.  That it is as though he is doing me a favor with contact.  I feel like a begger for attention sometimes.  Shouldn't he rather be appreciative that I make any time for him, that I give thought to him at all.  It used to be that way - he couldn't believe that the wonderful me was attracted to the the underserving him.  Now I feel like anything he gives me is his favor to me - just maddening.

Here is more writing for my book that I did late last night.  Perhaps this book becomes the story of fallout:



I suppose he’ll believe that this book is about him, because that is how the depressed mind thinks; that everything reverberates from them.  The truth is that the story is my story, and he is but that player who “frets and struts his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more”.  His story is “ a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing”.  The choices are all mine, the foolishness, mine to own in the end.  So no, this story does not belong to him.  At 52, this is the story I have written in a time of my life when I should have known better. At a time, when heartbreak, it seems, should not feel again like it did at 24.  Shouldn’t there be something in maturation that protects us from aching vulnerability?  Shouldn’t I have protected myself from it?  
One might think that the loss of two beloved parents in the span of three years would be enough.  Add to that four children, a husband you have lost connection with, and a chronically ill teenage son who has turned to marijuana as his elixir, and the storm was clearly brewing long before this transformative man even made an appearance in my life.  I existed on a slippery slope I was unware of because life in my forties had become a game of survival.  Getting through each day and holding it together seemed difficult enough, to add a new force, an unexpected friend to the mix was dangerous but extraordinarily compelling.  I came to recognize him as the catalyst for necessary change, but in the end, it appears he was not placed in my path for me..  Upon relfection it seems I was placed in his path perhaps to save him, at least for a time.  In the end, you can only be a savior to one who wants saving.  Seems he wanted respite from his own racing mind - he wanted joy where there had been none for a while.  How could I have know that?

Last Edited By: Ellen O Mar 1 15 1:03 PM. Edited 1 times.