Home Is Who

I woke up this afternoon and, for the first time in weeks, I felt content. For me, “content” is like “happy,” but with a side of “peace.” I think I’ve finally figured out why I haven’t been able to let Glenn go and that, by doing so, I may have tripped the mechanism that will allow letting go. Sorry if that’s a bit circuitous. It is for me as well.

I’m sure most of us have heard the aphorism that home is where they have to take you in. I don’t think that’s accurate, at least for me. The aphorism assumes a place and not a person or people. For me, the place most would consider my home was a very dangerous place for a long time thanks to my mother’s second husband. When I left to go to college, that felt more like home than my house did. Then, I transferred after my freshman year and that school really felt like home, but only if I again assumed “home” was a place.

At some point, totally without any conscious effort on my part, my “home” became a person, Glenn. I look back and want to kick myself for not figuring this out sooner, but I don’t think I had the tools then. If I had, I’m not sure he could have understood. Or, he would have understood and scampered away. Sorry, but the more I look at things over the years, the more I see him running and having to be in control. Anyway, he became my “home” because home really is where the heart is. My heart was with him. He was my very first adult love. Wherever he was, I wanted to be. I was so used to being mistreated that some of the things he did then that were definitely not cool may have pissed me off, but didn’t make me see the clues that something was up with both of us. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I was a victim because I wasn’t. But I was walking into a situation that I should have handled differently. I didn’t because I was usually too afraid he’d walk away. Then, I learned how to handle him. Give him space. Let’s just say that doesn’t work anymore.

In case you haven’t guessed, music is a huge part of my life. We are very much alike in that way . . . and many others. For about the last five months or so, maybe a bit longer, I’ve been really listening to a lot of modern country. There’s a song that’s older now by the Zac Brown Band called “Colder Weather” that I instantly liked. Why? It reminds me of a certain individual who does a whole lot of running from instead of running to.

“Colder Weather”

She’d trade Colorado if he’d take her with him
Closes the door before the winter lets the cold in,
And wonders if her love is strong enough to make him stay,
She’s answered by the tail lights
Shining through the window pane

[Chorus:]
He said I wanna see you again
But I’m stuck in colder weather
Maybe tomorrow will be better
Can I call you then
She said you’re a ramblin’ man
You ain’t ever gonna change
You gotta gypsy soul to blame
And you were born for leavin’

At a truck stop diner just outside of Lincoln,
The night is black as the coffee he was drinkin’,
And in the waitress’ eyes he sees the same ‘ol light shinin’,
He thinks of Colorado
And the girl he left behind

[Chorus:]
He said I wanna see you again
But I’m stuck in colder weather
Maybe tomorrow will be better
Can I call you then
She said you’re a ramblin’ man
You ain’t ever gonna change
Got a gypsy soul to blame
And you were born for leavin'(born for leavin’)

Well it’s a winding road
When your in the lost and found
You’re a lover I’m a runner
We go ’round ‘n ’round
And I love you but I leave you
I don’t want you but I need you
You know it’s you who calls me back here

Oh I wanna see you again
But I’m stuck in colder weather
Maybe tomorrow will be better
Can I call you then
Cause I’m a ramblin’ man
I ain’t ever gonna change
I gotta gypsy soul to blame
And I was born for leavin’ (born for leavin’)

And when I close my eyes I see you
No matter where I am
I can smell your perfume through these whispering pines
I’m with your ghost again
It’s a shame about the weather
I know soon we’ll be together
And I can’t wait till then
I can’t wait till then

The thing is, I’ve usually found that kind of personality in male musicians, specifically rockers. Glenn is a musician, so I guess that tracks. He is not, however, a rocker. It’s funny, but classical musicians tend to be very stable, sometimes a bit dramatic, but generally stable in a slightly crazy kind of way. Rockers and hip-hop musicians love to party. I prefer the former to the latter, though. I don’t personally know any country musicians, but I’m going to take a wild guess and say they like to drink a lot, perhaps with a little pot thrown in for good measure. Jazz musicians=DRUGS! and R&B/Soul usually means top shelf liquor, pot, maybe a bit of coke, (but that’s up to personal tastes), and they all want sex with someone or another. I do miss that world, but I’ll be back there soon enough, probably with little patience for the bullshit. The older I get, the less patience I have for people who are supposed to be adults but act like children.

What I’ve learned about myself in the last nearly 24 hours is that I can’t rest until I understand the “why” of something. I’ve known that, but I haven’t really known that. Aside from the home angle, the hardest, nearly impossible obstacle to overcome has been getting on without knowing why. Why did he become abusive? I hadn’t said anything at all that would have incited that kind of response. If anything, it was the exact opposite. Why did he think it was OK to pretend to still want and care for me only to turn around and laugh, taunt and humiliate me when I believed him? As I’ve said to him several times, he didn’t put that bottle of pills in my hands and put my hands to my mouth, but he is as responsible for it as I am. His hands are as dirty as mine, if not dirtier because I was only harming myself while he set out to harm me. He pulled the rug right out from under me and I fell into the deepest, darkest of pits. I never got an explanation. That led me to believe he had no conscience and I called him a sociopath. Really, I definitely need to stop putting people in pigeonholes. I don’t fit. Why should anyone else? But this, I must say even years later, just fit given what I knew then and what I know now since he has done nothing to even try to make amends. As I’ve said before, each moment of silence is like hearing him say I don’t matter; my life doesn’t matter; if I’d died, oh well, see ya on the other side. I wish I could say that was an exaggeration, but it’s not. I’ve seen him cop that attitude with others.

I think what hurts most is that I can’t go back in time to save the beauty I loved inside of him. I don’t even know what I’d save him from because I have no idea what happened. I can accept losing him to someone else, although I can’t respect the reasoning; I can hope like hell that he’s happy and that almost losing my life was worth it to him; I can wish him well and try like hell to just go on with my life, even knowing that he’s loving the chaos he’s causing. I can grant him grace, but that’s all I can do. The young man, the adult man and the getting-into-middle-aged man are the stages of his life in which I’ve loved him like I’ve never loved another. He is none of those people now. Mom said that I needed to be patient. I have been. I’ve been more patient than anyone has a right to ask of another. It’s done and I’m very sad. One day, I want to trade that sadness in for liberation. In fully realizing who and what he is now, I feel so much lonelier. I’ve lost my home and my heart is broken. I’ll see the “good” in all of this one day, but it won’t be today. He thinks he’s invincible because he’s got money, a growing business and a family. No one is invincible. Bad things happen to people every day who don’t deserve it. One day, fate will catch up with him. He is no innocent. Nature likes balance. There’s nothing more to say.

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4 responses to “Home Is Who

  1. One day amongst tears, I found myself pleading that I wished I felt ‘like home’ to ‘her’, and didn’t even give the ‘home is where the heart is’ aphorism a second thought until now. I share your pain.

    • Hi Writer,

      I am so sorry that I didn’t see that this needed moderation before. I am fighting with AT&T to get my e-mail and usernames from the account in my mother’s name. I just happened to open the right mailbox and see your post. I know that it’s nearly three months later, but I absolutely can relate.

      OnX

      • Hey! I’m glad to see you’re back on the blog block! And I’m glad to know you’re feeling a little better. Keep at it!

      • Well, Writer, hold on to your fingertips because this next post is a real doosey! I am going to have to redact some of it because it mentions places and things in the STFU territory. However, if I don’t post it, trouble is going to find me and quickly. NOW Glenn does have a reason to threaten my life and I tend to take those that have something of a reason seriously. As Samuel L. Jackson famously said in Juraissic Park, “Hold on to your butts.”