Tag Archives: love

Psychotic Love vs Love You Tons vs Love You Very Much

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Since my divorce I have had a beautiful text from my eldest son that got me through a lot.  “Love you tons”.  I would send that back to him.  He was the only one I sent that to until recently.

Recently I realized his words.  He is the owner of this by far, and I now have upgraded it to him to love you tons x10.  That for having been there no matter what.  I don’t know how much he has judged me in my life, but he NEVER made me feel like a loser, a less than mom, a failure, through the times I have felt like that and have heard it from others.  I realized I only love 4 people in that category.  My eldest son for what I have explained, my daughter for being there through the first period of my divorce.  Only one that chose to live with me.  And my youngest son who visited me when I moved away to get away… during the summers, and we had amazing times at my auto repair shop.

Each one of my children had a very specific purpose in my life after my divorce.  I love them tons for that… but that is, as I said, the words my eldest owns to me.

He made sense to me about love and the degree.

I have to say the other person I love “tons” is my baby sister Donella.  I know we have gone through different forks on the road at times, but we always found our way back to each other.  I believe it was because from the start, no matter how much we fought, we loved each other “tons”.

These are the relationships that cannot go away no matter what.  The ones that made us who we are and were the biggest part of our lives growing up.  I mean that in all ages of our growing up.  Why my children are included.

Then there is the “I love you so much”.  That is to my parents.

Then there is “I love you very much”.  That would be to my other sister.  My second eldest.

Then there is “I wish I could love you but I don’t, but I remember when I did”… that to my eldest sister and my ex husband.

The last one was for two people I had psychotic love for.  So to this, I am saying.  Psychotic love is one that you can actually overcome.  When you realize that is what it was, it becomes easy to just let it go.  My eldest sister I, at one time, loved spychotically just for her approval.  And in hindsight, it was the same with my ex-husband.  They were formidable figures in life, the kind everyone loves!  And you look up to them… until one day they fall.  And they fall hard.

It wasn’t easy to recover from the psychotic love…. but once at that point.. it is easy to let go.

However, the ones you love on the tons, so and very, those are ones that are harder to deal with in any one day of life if every something is in conflict… those are the relationships that will keep you up at night trying to figure out how to make things right.

And the biggest ones that you want to make right with are the “tons”…. bigger yet the “tons x10″…  closest to God.  If Ross was still alive, and even not being alive… he is totally too a love tons x10. (My departed Nephew… still miss him tons x10).

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Glad I didn’t Know

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I remember the first time he fell deep in love with someone else.  It was weird.  I had a 2, 4 and 8 year old… Lots of songs went through my head.  I will share a few.  But this one I love so much.  Possibly because 15 years after my divorce, and after our 10th year when he fell in love with someone else at the same time Garth Brooks did same and I was no liking Garth for his infidelity with his now wife, but I get it now.  We are not always meant to be forever.  But this song?  It is true for my life… I wouldn’t have changed a thing… but glad I didn’t know.

Removing the Negative

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This is going to sound weird.  I have, for the first time in my life, a tomato plant.  It’s a topsy turvy one, but it was beautiful to watch grow from a small plant to a huge one.  I didn’t anticipate much, as I don’t have a green thumb like my mother.  But, I did manage to get two tomatoes.  Two is better than none.  They sat on the vine for 2 months green as what my thumb is not.  Obviously.

Then,  a week ago, another one started growing and it’s doing amazingly well, while my two green ones are still sitting on the vine, not turning red.  One alone growing quickly, babytomatotwo together not.

Three nights ago I touched the larger ones, and one fell off.  The other one refused.  The one green one that fell off was hard.  Lifesless really.  Like a rock.

Next day, the one left on her own started to turn red.  Amazing.  Unfortunately something was trying to attack her so I pulled her off and cut off the growth.  But she is now growing beautifully red in the window, while the counterpart remains hard and green.

I’m talking about tomatoes, I know.  But it makes me think.  When I left my ex – the one I was psychotically in love with, when I got rid of that rotten green tomato, I started to show my colours.  I did have to cut out a part of me to move forward to turn into what I needed to become.  Just a part though.  My love for my ex was real, but it was overwhelming and I knew it was not reciprocated in the same way.  He was the hard green tomato that would not change colours.  He grew in his business, but not in our relationship.

Today to me that is all okay.  I enjoy my life as a single person, moving forward and now taking courses to become a PRISM Life Design Coach, which includes my passion of handwriting analysis.  I get to do what I want, when I want with no judgements.

The lesson I learned when I realized my tomatoes were not changing colour, was that something was wrong and I needed to figure it out.  They were just side by side together too long and the one that wanted to change colour didn’t because she had the one that didn’t change sucking off of her.

When you try to be what someone else wants you to be, and try to remain the same colour, it is exhausting.  I needed to find my colour.  I needed to blossom.

And everyday I am working on this. The red tomato. 🙂

The other green one will just be a green fried tomato.  The red one will be in a fun summer salad…. summer is not over yet!!

How Can Someone Make You Feel Like Writing This?

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I love poems.  I have written many.  But this weekend going through some papers I wrote while I was married to the man I can’t hate, but feel there was a great deal of healing after I left, this was truly a reason.

I wrote this for him to read.  I was hoping he would see himself in this.  I could see a kind man in my husband, but one that was selfish in his own holding into himself, and onto himself, and one that needed to show the world he could make it.  He used to joke around about being the “Brain” in the “Pinky and the Brain” cartoon.  He called me “Pinky”.  I only later on in life found out Pinky was the one that gave Brain all the ideas. Too funny. So I feel very smart. Now.

Also… Today I thank God I never left this note.  Because it would have been a twisted one to try to make him see what he did to me, and yet… he didn’t.  Because I left before he could die.

At first I thought it was a letter I wrote about myself, but it made no sense at all.  Then I realized.  It was the other way around…. he always turned me away.  I could not reach him… but… still loved him. So I wrote this as if it was him writing to me.  It would have been a twisted ending though.. I think he would have understood the turn around to you concept if he found if I had left this world while with him… But I smile, because there is a reprieve knowing, that will never happen. 🙂


“You once asked me to listen, You told me that you care,

But I cruelly turned away, ’cause I had nothing to share.

You wanted to comfort me, when I needed to cry,

But I did not want to reach for you, I did not even try.

You turned to me for friendship, yet again I turned away

Allowing the void inside of me to grow larger everyday.

Now I am gone, and you’re haunted by my shame,

I have now since perished, but my friend, you’re not to blame.

It was I who failed at trying, rejected time you gave

And my self pity and destruction has me lying in my grave.

My selfishness is unwarranted, this I realize,

Now I see the pain I caused but cannot apologize.

I wish I had tried, at least tried to foresee….

The damage I have caused, by dying selfishly.”

 

 

First Borns Genocide

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Yikes.  I know it’s Christmas and I should have better thoughts.  But to me Christmas hasn’t been Christmas for many years.  And even more so less when I lost my eldest nephew who was so wonderful and still always so missed and was so the rock that kept us together.

I hate to say this, but when my son was born, also the eldest son of a family, I was freaked out based on my faith back then (religion I would say rather) that the first born eldest son was God’s child.

Then I also was freaked out about the fact that because Jesus was born there was genocide to all boys born that were two years old or younger.   I can’t imagine that pain.

I’m quoting the below because this is what I was brought up with and scared me to even have a first born that was male.

“1Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the reign of King Herod. About that time some wise mena from eastern lands arrived in Jerusalem, asking, 2“Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star as it rose,b and we have come to worship him.”

3King Herod was deeply disturbed when he heard this, as was everyone in Jerusalem. 4He called a meeting of the leading priests and teachers of religious law and asked, “Where is the Messiah supposed to be born?”

5“In Bethlehem in Judea,” they said, “for this is what the prophet wrote:

6‘And you, O Bethlehem in the land of Judah,

are not least among the ruling citiesc of Judah,

for a ruler will come from you

who will be the shepherd for my people Israel.’d”

7Then Herod called for a private meeting with the wise men, and he learned from them the time when the star first appeared. 8Then he told them, “Go to Bethlehem and search carefully for the child. And when you find him, come back and tell me so that I can go and worship him, too!”

9After this interview the wise men went their way. And the star they had seen in the east guided them to Bethlehem. It went ahead of them and stopped over the place where the child was. 10When they saw the star, they were filled with joy! 11They entered the house and saw the child with his mother, Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasure chests and gave him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

12When it was time to leave, they returned to their own country by another route, for God had warned them in a dream not to return to Herod.

The Escape to Egypt

13After the wise men were gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up! Flee to Egypt with the child and his mother,” the angel said. “Stay there until I tell you to return, because Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.”

14That night Joseph left for Egypt with the child and Mary, his mother, 15and they stayed there until Herod’s death. This fulfilled what the Lord had spoken through the prophet: “I called my Son out of Egypt.”e

16Herod was furious when he realized that the wise men had outwitted him. He sent soldiers to kill all the boys in and around Bethlehem who were two years old and under, based on the wise men’s report of the star’s first appearance. 17Herod’s brutal action fulfilled what God had spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:

18“A cry was heard in Ramah—

weeping and great mourning.

Rachel weeps for her children,

refusing to be comforted,

for they are dead.”f

The Return to Nazareth”

This is beyond disturbing that so many mothers lost their first born son due to this whole control and political and just messed up life that in certain ways continue in so many different lights in this world.

I can’t celebrate Christmas.  I can only celebrate life and happiness and that doesn’t come just one day a year.  It’s every day.  I celebrate that my children are still alive and I pray for them every day, and that my parents’ are well and that I have serious family members, and friends, that stand by me with my crazy thoughts and changed paths of what is needed to be done on this occasion.

This year I changed my path based on MY beliefs, not others.  And there were thoughts that made me sad.  Like my son saying he wished I was with them at my parents’ place… but this year I needed peace.  And I had it.  Next year?  I don’t know.  Time will tell, but it will be MY choice.

 

 

When do the dreams end?

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I’ve been divorced for 13 years now to my first love.  13 years and I still have dreams about him.  I have dated a couple of times, and one was very special to me.  He’s still my best friend.  Another passed away.  But I don’t dream about them at all.  I only dream about my ex.  The dreams are all so varied.  Some he hates me, some he wants me back, some he is with his now common law spouse, and some he is alone.  Our children are often in these dreams, and they are usually much younger.

I told this to my daughter recently.  She is staying with me for a short time, and we have interesting discussions.  She simply said “you must have loved him a lot”. I did.  I was devastated when it ended.  However, I have never been happier, so I don’t understand why he keeps creeping into my dreams!  It’s not like I would ever want to be back with him.  I suppose I would like to be “friends” as best we can due to our three children, but that would be it.  But maybe that would not be a good idea.  Maybe, deep in my subconscious mind, I still love him no matter what happened.  I don’t know.  I can’t feel anything on a conscious level other then the fact I am loving writing, and drawing, and taking courses, and graduating from my PRISM Life Design Course, and standing up for myself because I feel empowered now.  None of this likely would have come to be if I had stayed with him and continued to be made to be a minion. (I think minions are cute, but seriously… who wants to live like that… unless you are as rich as them… ha ha… creator was brilliant!)

I’m sure, through my courses, that I can deactivate these dreams… in the interim I will need to figure out how… 🙂  But here is to being happy, in spite of the dreams.

Love and Wonders of Psychotic Love with Food

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I write here about spychotic love and the different levels of psychotic love.  One can be food too.  My mom was a great cook.  She also wanted to make sure we were respectful enough to finish everything on our plate when we were young.  She’s not like that anymore… much.  But an interesting thought.  I became bulimic.  I was for 30 years.  I was apparently, what I thought, spychotically in love with food.  But it turns out I really wasn’t.  I was in love with a person that left an emptiness.  They say that “part” that exists, such as my bulimia, is a part that is there to help you survive the other part. The part of emptiness. I suppose.  I’m not 100% sure.  I know one of my psychiatrists told me that it saved my life.  That it was a slow suicide, but not something that was quick that I could not overcome.  He then said I was like China doll.  Cold on the outside, but fragile.  That to me, made sense.  I guess he was right in saying I hid behind my bulimia.  And “it” was my friend.  “Have your cake and eat it too” kind of philosophy which I wrote a book about but back then, I think I was too close to it to write about it.  Today I don’t even know.. or I can say, I can’t understand why.  Why I became bulimic, other then my blogs.  They are the only remembory of my reasons for being one.

I tend to find some solace in knowing Jane Fonda, amongst many other actresses, “suffered” from this for many years.  But was it suffering?  Or was it a lack of someone out there just saying… You don’t need to do this to yourself.  You are just perfect with all your imperfections and I love you.  Learn that internally and you will be fine.  That’s what happened to me.  It even left that bulimia “part” of me sitting next to me while I went to bottom of the pit and was coming back again.  She was still there, but not in action.  In watching me as I healed from what she tried to save me from.  She’s still there, but not.  She’s a friend now, not a foe.  I have to thank my sister for that.  She hit a word.  And that word I can’t really remember, only know, next day, bulimia was there, next to me, but didn’t want to hurt me anymore, she wasn’t active.  I didn’t need to eat my anger, or pain and throw them up anymore.  I just became…. me. And realized emotions need to be dealt with.   And it isn’t so bad…  One psychotic love gone… turned into mindfulness.  Bulimia = food.  Now a new world.  And they get along. 🙂

Another Home Within A Home

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So people tell me I’m too nice.  That’s all okay.  I would rather be that then too mean? Too self involved? Too untrusting? Too unloving?

Seriously? What is wrong with being too nice.  There are adjustments to make if you choose to remain so in a life that is not so nice, but really, what is wrong with being outside of the norm?  Last post I wast writing about home.  About coming home to blood, and the difference between healthy psychotic love and not so healthy.

I spoke to my daughter today who is one of my healthy psychotic loves, and she was describing atoms and quarks and fascinated by the fact that the further the something something is the closer they are, like an elastic.  She brought up the cellphones, but I said, they lose connection… so I was not in total understanding of the elasticity between atoms, and quarks, and such.  I could understand one thing though.  The elasticity of two people who love each other and when they are apart, the feeling becomes stronger.  A bit of psychotic love… depending on whether its a desire, or a want, or a need, or love period.  Is the distance when in love perceived as inticing? or is it pleasant because of the distance? or is there a true longing to be back together, like the elastic that my daughter was talking about? … I don’t think I had the elastic band feeling ever… with my ex husband.  Did a bit with my ex-boyfriend, but that was different psychotic love that will get to later after I’m over my ex husband story.

I liked him being away.  I liked him gone.  I felt free.  His long trips made me happy.  I did love him psychotically, but his presence made me feel diminished.  Small.  Ugly.  Nothing.  He never could really fulfill my need for just love. I didn’t want expectations.  I wanted a friend.  I never had that with him. YET, when he was away, he wrote me the most beautiful letters.  Back when we wrote letters.  And I missed his written word, that I never got the same emotional level in person.  I think I fell in love with the writer, but the person behind the writer was not the same.  We started our relationship in letters, ended it in words.  Maybe we should have written letters to each other more… 😉  All good though.  Glad to be with me today.

I don’t hate him.  Sad he kind of stole my beautiful youth in a way, but funny thing is I still feel young enough to enjoy what is left of my life.  This because I have built a beautiful world of family and friends around me that allow me to stay feeling young and happy and secure.  I also love myself more then ever.  Definitely not psychotically… LOL… but really in a good way.

I found home!

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So being away for so long in some people’s minds, they asked me to come home.  I didn’t know quite where that was, but I figured my children were asking me to come back closer. So I did. It was a tough journey because I had found a place I called my home.  They were family even if not blood related. But truth be known, I didn’t have any money left nor wherewithal  to keep myself in check.

I left a beautiful group of people to move back to my blood family.  I will go more into this later… but suffice it to say, four years forward, I’m glad I did.  I’m glad my children and my one sister wanted me back and I’m so thankful they helped me find me again.

I still suffer from psychotic love in a way… mostly only now with my parents, children, and my two sisters and my animals, but to me it’s a healthier psychotic love. I can say however, I love my parents in true love, and healthy love. And my friend from when I was 11.  I can’t even tell you how beautiful and non psychotic love that is!

But love in any sense of spychotic that is healthy is healthy.  What I mean by that is the ones you feel you love too much but are good to you that his healthy.  The ones you love too much but reciprocate in mean words, or patronizing, or jealous, or derogatory, and yet keep loving them? that is negative psychotic love.

I will end this tonight with saying, after all this thinking…. there are two sides to psychotic love… the positive kind… the one that needs to be there for the ones you know need you, then the ones that suck it dry because they know they can do that to you. …  this is such a BIG topic.. more to come to describe the different levels of PL.