Broken Bella Donna











{August 12, 2014}  

I really want to blog tonight, I feel the need to type but words aren’t coming very easily.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About how things happen for a reason, people come in and out of your life for a reason. I’ve been thinking back on experiences, people, relationships… wondering why?

Maybe it’s true and sometimes the reason isn’t very clear.

I like to have faith in the whole universe thing… karma… fate… etc. I like to think that everything I need to learn and experience in my life (this life?) will come to me in some fashion or another, no matter what I do, no matter the decisions I make in life. And they’ll come to me in the order I need to learn them, at the time I need to learn them.

I suppose I’ve always felt this way but it has become much stronger in the last few years. It really should have kicked in when the brain damaged ex had his accident, tho I was only young. Perhaps it should’ve been more evident after that, when I was able to start distancing myself from it a little. But it became much more apparently when communications broke down with important people in recent years… and I ask myself, was this the result of maturity, age and experience? Or circumstantial?

I feel like my life has been extraordinarily rich in experience. But then I realise it has been so in comparison to other first world people I know. And that perhaps I have moved in very sheltered circles? I’ve never known the feeling of going to bed with an empty belly, or having to sleep outside, or being genuinely afraid for my life. The sort of things that come regularly to some born into much less fortunate lives than my own. On the flip side I have come to understand the resigned, ongoing tension of living in fear of your own parent, the unbridled joy of watching your partner respond to your voice after six weeks of coma and six months of being apart, the exhilaration of simply NOT having a spazz attack when you were so sure you’d have one.

But I often wonder… how has spazz attacks molded me as a person? What have I learned from them that I couldn’t have learned from a less personally offensive avenue? Why did someone close to me have to have such a life altering incident occur? What surely could they have learned from that, on their life path and why did I have to be involved, what could I possibly gain from that? Why must I be plonked in a family with so little respect for each other, only abuse? I have spent a lot of time wondering these very matters. And I’m yet to understand… perhaps spending my late teens/early twenties with him kept me away from other people who may have taken me down the wrong path. Maybe I met someone in amongst all that angst who will have a greater influence on my life down the track. Maybe being mistreated has taught me greater compassion and understanding. Maybe this is all bullshit and I just drew the short straw.

And then there’s the people. I have had many people walk in and out of my life – frankly nearly as many have walked out that walked in. I suppose that comes with having a prickly personality. Of all those people there are a small number of big game players… people I needed to meet. Some of them have left me under unfortunate circumstances, some I have driven off, some left me. I have a policy that the ones that stick in your mind are the ones that stick in your heart. I have had two such people. There’s been others – many I’ve known more intimately or personally than others, some for longer – but they don’t flit around the periphery of my brain like these two. Interfering in my thoughts, making me wonder for years afterwards where they are, what they do, if they ever think of me. Oddly, the second one usurped the first. He no longer pops up in my thoughts or dreams anymore. The first has been replaced. And yet, he hasn’t – he was never someone I felt I *knew*. In hindsight, I suppose he was the first guy I really felt something for, something serious. But at the same time I struggle to consider what I felt for him was ‘love’. But I think he was the first person to feel that way about me. I never felt we were connected, I never felt we were meant to be. Like his successor, we never even dated. But he was my best friend for a long time. The second guy… he is blog history. As well documented on here, I *did* feel we were connected, that we have known each other for a lot longer than just this life. I *do* know what life lesson I was meant to learn from him, and I have put it into place now and am learning more each day. He *has* positively affected my life. and I *do* know we are not done.

In fact, every time I think about it… I smile. And then I ask myself – how can you sit here and smile about the concept that your ‘soulmate’ (for lack of better words) belongs to another? That you’ll never fully have him in this life? And the best (and only) answer I can come up with is… I already have him. I have his heart and he has mine. I don’t need the rest? I don’t entirely want the rest. I just need to know he exists, and I do. He does. And he knows it too. And I still have faith we’ll be able to continue to be in each others lives, maybe not in the capacity I’d have hoped, but the fact is we are. And I’m holding out for the chance to be his best friend again.

I desperately want to sit back and do a little “eyes closed, fingers flying” blogging again soon. I have another one in me, I can feel it. Problem is it’s about PP again and argh. Every blog entry.

I need to end on some positivity (not that I feel like this blog entry has been negative, but I just do).

Pajamas
Business’ that have good customer service
Sunny winter days
Progress on My Big Project
Compliments
Being respected
Understanding when to walk away
Warm socks
Sleep.

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