and then suddenly in a rush of thought, you get it, the closure finally happens.
A man I barely know, an acquaintance of very little importance, presumed to know something about me, or else is an utter narciscist, probably the latter, whom I knew in a social setting when I was living with, dying with the pirate and that whole psychological nightmare of pre-teens, and teens surviving world war 2, on the wrong side, but still losing significant family to the death camps, and being transported on trains,etc etc, we never do hear the German side, or the German in Czech side, the Russians raping and killing girls, and then the murdering son, and the son who couldn’t cut the apron strings, the dynamic of a woman who could have children and her domineering sister who couldn’t. And me trying to make a life with a man who was in many ways perfect for me, and in other ways like being out of a frying pan and into a fire. And the time I met this acquaintance. It was not a great time. And me disillusioned in general with human beings, especially ones who have a very different moral code than me. And the long held feeling of not fitting in, even though I fit in just fine with other people. Discovering it, acknowledging it and moving on, why waste time on feeling left out and misunderstood?
So that’s the back story,
who leaves someone and never speaks to them again?
hits me this morning like a cannon.
a man whose grandfather had two families, one a secret long held and never visited, one a cousins husband openly flagrantly, and a first cousin, the same. And a sister, mentally ill, homeless, schizoid personality disorder who left a husband in the same manner. That’s who.
this wasn’t about me.
I have my faults, I am the first to admit it. But this was about a man who was weak emotionally, lazy, dishonest, young, so very young, and terribly irresponsible with money.
And the woman who was scrambling to survive, even if it meant codependency.
funny how I never check Tom’s computer, how we have separate finances, how he knows how I take my coffee, how I never have to ask or tell him to do work around the house, how I am never jealous.
And my artwork has become realistic, and practical, with the soul squeezing through in the tree branches and the shifting patterns of light.
I suddenly understand.