#ive really had enough of wallowing in my own sadness i would like a break please

[courviknight]

nope that was not it chief

[purecamp]

Hi, I have a question about your mamma mia au! Is Pat dead on Here I Go Again? Because I was thinking that if she passed away before higa, Sharon and Willam would attend the funeral right? Wouldn't Sharon bring Trixie too? Wouldn't Willam go talk to her and get suspicious about Trixie? Is this me subtly asking you to write an oneshot about it just because I'm not ready to let go of this universe and also wanting you to write more Shillam? 😂

ahaha anon this tickled me tbh. first of all thanks for the love (!!!), so i’ll try to answer in parts

-unfortunately she has passed before higa because she would be 113, which is possible but... unlikely ahaha -ive been debating this since waaaay before u asked me bc its something i thought about a lot, like would sharon bring trixie or not? would she even go? lots 2 think about, decisions decisions -i would write oneshots for you in a second. plz feel free to request them at any time omg

anyway, i guess i’m gonna give it a go here! 

She was a good age, Sharon knew that. Spritely in nature right up until her last moments, Patricia Belli passed away in her retirement home at the age of ninety six.

Her letter had arrived in the post; a short and not-so-sweet note letting Sharon know that if she received this letter, then she had died, and the nursing home staff had actually honoured her request of them to send it to her. Somewhat of a doting grandma - owing to the fact that Sharon had no idea what Pat would be to Trixie if she even was related - she had attached some plastic-wrapped sweets and lollipops.

God, this was going to be difficult. On top of having to close the hotel, at least for a day whilst she attended the funeral, Sharon was going to have to explain the concept of dying to her three-year-old girl, who thought the world was nothing but sparkles and sunshine.

And that was without slotting in time for her own grief. In four years, Pat had transformed Sharon’s life, and she owed her everything.

Times like these were when Sharon wished she had a little bit of help. She needed to cry and sniff and weep into somebody, to wallow in the horrible feeling of finally being alone in the world with herself as the only adult to rely on. She needed to continue working in order to stay alive, and keep her home paid for and her daughter fed. She needed to sit down and explain to Trixie than Nana Pat was gone, and she wouldn’t be coming back. She needed someone else to bundle her up for once and tell her it was all going to be okay.

“You alright?” Maria broke her out of her thoughts, tapping her as she went past behind the bar to fetch a few more bottles of ale.

Sharon grabbed a rag and continued drying up the glasses - Maria had offered to extend the hotel into her bar, meaning Sharon now managed a hotel and taverna in one. “Yeah, just... Can’t believe she’s gone, you know? I always felt like Pat was gonna live forever.”

Maria nodded. “It will be strange, we miss her around here. She was regular for many years at this taverna. Party held here after the service, in her honour.”

“She’d like that. Everyone getting drunk for her.” She sighed, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t want to have to tell Trix. She’s only young, after all.”

Shrugging, Maria offered a kindly smile. “Brave and strong, like her mother. Even if teeny tiny.”

Despite her heavy heart, Sharon laughed.

---

“Mama! You’re here!”

The same cheerful greeting that Sharon was met with every afternoon came at her once again, lifting her low mood a little. A flurry of pink shot towards her, Sharon noting a smudge of blue paint on her face and some scuffs on her shoes from a day of playing before she was tackled in a huge hug.

“I’m here, little pumpkin. Did you have a good day?”

“The best!” Trixie trilled. “We did painting, and running, and I played dolls with Kimmy and Pearl showed me how to draw hearts!”

Ever-suffering, her preschool teacher was stood by the door to the classroom, her gaze tired but still warm as her last student clung to her mom. It wasn’t too often that Sharon was last to pick up her little girl, but it happened enough that she knew to just sit Trixie down with some colouring and leave her to it. Today, the grief had slowed Sharon down, and she was behind on most of her maintenance.

“Sounds fun! Now, are we walking out of here or is mama carrying you all the way home?”

Trixie took a moment to think about it, before smushing her face into Sharon’s neck. “Mama carries me home.”

Sharon sighed, figuring that she needed to keep Trixie happy if she was going to deliver such bad news. “Okay, just this once. Say bye bye, now!”

“Bye bye, Miss Coulée!”

Just Sharon’s luck, the walk was roughly long enough for them to discuss the subject. She was careful not to let her own emotions influence Trixie’s too much, knowing that a sobbing little girl would be much harder to console when she herself wanted nothing more than to break down in someone’s arms. Curious and a little confused, she asked a few questions which Sharon tried her best to answer, all while avoiding the term “Heaven”. It felt like she’d done an okay job, all things considered, but the fact that she had to do it alone meant she was more than nervous. This wasn’t going to traumatise her into therapy as an adult... she hoped.

“Will she miss me?”

Fuck, this kid was tugging at every single one of Sharon’s heartstrings. It didn’t seem possible that she had been the one to give life to something so goddamn cute.

“Nana Pat? I’m sure she will miss you, baby. And we’ll miss her, too.” Sharon took a deep breath. “But she’s still with us, isn’t she? Because we remember her, and we always have our memories.”

Trixie nodded thoughtfully. She had begged and begged to sit on Sharon’s shoulders, so now she idly played with loose strands of her hair, the messy bun practically ruined from the day’s work anyway.

“But she won’t come back because she’s too old.”

The child-like ability to make the most innocent and heartbreaking of things funny was one that Sharon hoped Trixie held onto forever. Even with her own heavy sadness, she giggled slightly.

“That’s right, bubba.”

A pause. “Are you sad, mama?”

Sharon nodded infinitesimally, trying not to trigger her tears. “Lots of people will be sad. When we go to the funeral on Saturday, there will be lots of sad people wearing black who all love Nana Pat very much. Will you promise me to be a really good girl and just sit quietly with me? We don’t want to disturb anyone.”

Trixie leaned forwards, pressing her lips to the top of Sharon’s head in an awkward, well-meaning kiss. “I’ll be good.”

---

She was golden. Sharon had done all her crying in the morning, before Trixie scrambled into her bed, and she was relieved at how easily her toddler had gone along with everything. Getting herself dressed had been a breeze; she even tried brushing her own hair, which was unsuccessful but nevertheless touching. Trixie then scampered off to play whilst Sharon got ready, giving her a few more moments alone.

Smoothing down her skirt, she examined herself in the mirror. An uncomfortable possibility had dawned on her that night, as she tried to sleep, and it made her unbelievably nervous. After all, he was her great-nephew...

She didn’t look that different than the day they met, surely? But yet, staring at herself, Sharon started realizing how little she resembled that girl already. Only four years had passed, near enough, and at twenty one and a mom, there was almost nothing to anchor this version of herself to the similarly-burdened yet unrealistically carefree seventeen-year-old that Willam had known.

Her hips were wider now, one of the few permanent modifications that Trixie had given her, and for all her low income meant a reduced diet, there was still the remains of a post-baby pouch that stubbornly remained. Black dresses were slimming, Sharon reminded herself, not that the rest of her needed it, but she hoped it was enough that if Willam did see her, he wouldn’t notice anything different.

That being said, he was a man. The little things didn’t matter. The living, squirming three-year-old, however...

Sharon sighed and relaxed, not bothering to try and suck in her stomach like she had before. Willam definitely wouldn’t notice it, he’d be too busy staring at Trixie. The human that he might’ve helped her create. That she had opted not to tell him about. Even though she had an easy way to do so via his now deceased great-aunt.

Fuck.

They made their way up to the little old chapel on the island in good time. Pat knew and loved her home more than anything, so relatives had been flocking from around the world to a tiny chapel on a tiny island out in Greece. It was a difficult walk, and with every step Sharon had to face that she really was in this alone now.

Not wanting to intrude in spite of her invite, Sharon slipped into a pew at the back and bowed her head, clutching Trixie in her lap as more of a comfort than anything else. Thankfully, as more and more people filed in, Trixie seemed to sense that her mama was upset, and quietly played with her flamingo teddy.

He was one of the last to walk in, of course - he would have to make an entrance. Swaggering in, his expression mostly calm, and his sheer confidence was highly inappropriate for a funeral and god if Sharon didn’t sound like her fucking mother. He was young and hot and the swagger seemed to be a Belli thing, because no one paid him any attention. Somewhere, whether in heaven or in her coffin, Sharon knew Pat was cackling with laughter.

And, of course, he just had to speak too. Sharon lifted her head a tiny bit to watch him, trying to ensure his gaze didn’t flicker onto her.

“So many kind things have been said about my dear great aunt today, and whilst it has warmed my heart I’m here to undo it all.” Willam started, filling the room with soft laughter. “Rest in peace, Granny Pat. You were old as fuck, but we’ll miss your rottenness. She had an ego bigger than mine and a liver bigger than Dad’s, and she was the life of the party. We love you, Pat.”

Everything about him was so familiar. Sharon tried not to think about it, but her mind was flooded with him. He didn’t look different at all, but she supposed LA had treated him well. Tanned and charming as ever, he seemed to woo his family as easily as he had seduced her into bed with him... or at least, that was how Sharon chose to remember it.

This was going to be a long day.

---

In all honesty, Sharon didn’t go out much anymore. It came with the territory of being a full-time parent and hotel owner-manager-chef-bartender-maid, but she was tired almost all the time. When Raja and Jinkx came over she made exceptions, but on a day-to-day basis, once Trixie was in bed, Sharon was exhausted from exerting herself to make sure she could even be finished and home in time for Trixie’s bedtime story. So, being out in the taverna in the late evening?

Unbearable.

As soon as everyone came in, Maria offered to take Trixie and keep her entertained behind the bar - which probably wasn’t the most responsible choice Sharon had made as a mom, but she knew Maria would take good care of her as she always did, and insisted she needed to mingle.

Mingling was the last thing on her mind, but she reluctantly grabbed a drink and tried to remain casual in a room full of strangers. After all, none of them knew who she was. None of them knew what Pat meant to her, and everything the daft old woman had done for her. None of them knew that without Pat, it was likely that her beloved daughter would’ve been given up for adoption and Sharon would’ve had to return home to her mother with her tail between her legs. Pat had made it possible for her to live, and as rough as it was, it was nice to be self-sufficient at twenty one.

“Hey! I thought it was you! Hi blondie!”

Sharon clutched her glass a little tighter and turned around slowly. “Forgot my name already?”

There he was, right next to her, having made his way across the room with bright eyes and a shiny grin. LA really had treated him well.

“You’re unforgettable, Sharon, don’t play me like that.” Willam teased. “Good to see you again. I knew goodbye wouldn’t last forever.”

Sharon scowled, but it didn’t last. “Hence why I said we wouldn’t have one.”

“Good point.” He gestured to her glass. “Vodka?”

She shook her head. “Just coke.”

“Pffft. Boring. Pat would want you to have some vodka. Or gin. Or both.”

Rolling her eyes, Sharon took a sip from her decidedly non-alcoholic drink. “I have responsibilities to take care of, I can’t just get drunk.”

As she spoke, her gaze went searching through the throng of people, praying Trixie wasn’t about to run over and squeeze her legs in a damning cuddle. To her relief, she was that she was balanced on Maria’s hip, happily giggling away with her out of Willam’s eyeline.

“We’re twenty one, Shar, and you haven’t seen me forever. Live a little!” Willam encouraged. “Seriously though, it’s good to see you. I didn’t know if you would still be here or if you still saw Pat around. It’s nice to see a face that I know she’d be happy to see, too. She hated most of the people here.”

God, the past tense. Sharon tried not to well up.

“You’re the only face here I know.” She admitted, her voice thick. “I feel a bit lost, honestly. If I didn’t have work, I’d be doing shots to loosen up.”

Willam laughed at that. “Right! I’m glad you know my face, at least. Familiar face, familiar arms, familiar chest, familiar d-”

“Stop!” Sharon shrieked, giggling in spite of herself. “Your great aunt has just died and you’re talking about our teenage sex? You’re disgusting.”

He shrugged. “I’m a Belli, it runs in the family. All this nonsense about her living to a ripe old age... please. She wasn’t ripe, she was rotten. It’s why we love her so.”

Sharon chuckled appreciatively. “I’m gonna miss her.”

“Me too. She’d be glad to see us brought back together, though.”

“Yeah. Although I’m not gonna sleep with you again.”

Willam’s laugh was a little too loud, attracting some disgruntled murmurs from surrounding family members. “Welp, there goes my weekend plans.”

It was surprisingly nice, talking to Willam. As much as Sharon had been terrified that the first topic of conversation would be them, and it would inevitably lead to a confession, they fell into a fleeting friendship as easily as they had four years ago. Determined to keep things light, Sharon steered away from her work or home life as they talked, but it was still nice to catch up.

That being said, she also kinda never wanted to see him again. Nothing personal, just... for Trixie’s sake, she had closed that chapter of her life and under no circumstances would she be reopening it. Not now, not in twenty years, not ever.

“I assume you’re breaking into stardom in Hollywood, right? I’ll be seeing you on movie posters?” 

He laughed. “A star is born, baby. Keep your eyes open. And you, are you taking to the stage now you’re away from your bitch of a mom?”

Sharon shook her head. “Nah. I don’t... I don’t have time anymore. And with the girls gone, too...”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t need them. And we should sing together again sometime, too.”

At that, Sharon sighed. “There’s nothing keeping you here, Willam, not now she’s gone. We had fun, but... there’s no point holding onto that. I got over my exes, I have to keep living and so do you.”

Willam nodded. “A goodbye without a goodbye. I get it. It’s difficult, but we have to let go.”

Yeah, Sharon told herself. In more ways than one.

“It’s not a personal thing, you know I care about you as a friend-”

“I know.” Willam told her. “I care about you too. But I get it.”

He pulled her into a hug. “Needles, take care of yourself. You’re skinny, take advantage of the free food. Fall in love. Make music. Do things to make you happy. You deserve that.”

Speechless, Sharon could only nod as he held her. “I can tell you’re ready to leave, so I’ll say goodbye now. You’re a one of a kind, okay? Keep going, angel thighs.”

Pfft. The old parody nickname - trust Willam to remember that.

“Thank you, Willam.”

---

Trixie was fast asleep in Sharon’s arms. Her warm weight had settled comfortably into her as she walked home, and Sharon relished in the way her sweet daughter could fill her aching heart so perfectly. Her blonde curls were messy, just like her own were as a child, and she was completely tuckered out.

Her adorable girl had little outfits, a bedroom of her own and a roof over her head all thanks to the love and kindness of one foul-mouthed, gin-loving lady. As the sun started setting, Sharon realized she owed another Belli a lifetime of gratitude.

“Thank you, Pat.”

[dr-m-r-ma]

Jealousy / Lies

Part 17/20

Genre: drama, angst, romance Rating: PG-13 Group: Monsta X

In the previous chapter: A month later, Jooheon is still wallowing in despair while Yoonjin releases her first solo single on Valentine’s Day.

Disclaimer: This is 100% fictional and my own story. It is unrelated to the actual events and real persons of Monsta X and Starship. In regards to this particular fic, I’ve created new K-Pop groups (they don’t exist) so I don’t have to study up on other people and to avoid other complications. Parts will be written in Korean with English translations. I did not major/study in English/Korean, nor was I ever strong in English/Korean grammar, so there will be grammatical mistakes. This fanfic is written in third person and past-tense for ease of writing.

When the applause and the cheers softened, Yoonjin spoke softly into her mic, “우리 팬들 너무 고마워요. 제가… 몸 상태가 안 좋아서 활동 많이 못 하는데 이렇게 와줘서 너~~~~무 고마워요.” (Translation: “Thank you to my fans. My… body isn’t in the best condition so I can’t promote that much, but thank you so~~~ much to all those who came.”) She flashed a smile to the crowd, who in turn yelled out their “괜찮아” (Translation: “it’s okay”) and other forms of support.

She continued, “제 솔로 곡을 이만큼 사랑해주신준것만도 너무 행복해요… 너무너무 고맙고 행복한데, 또 너무 아쉽고 죄송스러워요. 활동 더 하고싶고 팬 여러분들도 계속 보고싶은데… 죄송해요, 제가 너무 약해서… 팬분들한테 더 많이 많은걸 못 주고 가네요…” (Translation: “I’m so happy with just the fact that my solo song is receiving this much love… I’m so so thankful and happy, but I’m also disappointed and sorry. I want to perform more and see my fans more…. I’m sorry, it’s because I’m too weak… I wasn’t able to give so much more to my fans this time...”)

While some of the audience lacked response, Yoonjin’s fans continued to yell it’s okay to her, seeing her tired expression and abnormally white complexion. Before stepping down from the stage, she waved to the audience and bowed fully. She said, “노래 듣고 응원해줘서 고마워요! 다음에 또 만나요!” (Translation: “Thank you for listening to and supporting my song! Let’s meet again next time!”)

As soon as she stepped off the stairs, she could feel her body suddenly feel cold and the energy drain. Stumbling over her own feet, Yoonjin held onto Manager Park and signalled him for help. With her hands gripping tightly on him, she could feel her mind go blank. Her eyes blurred as they hobbled over to her van. When the door closed and she was in her own space, she couldn’t hold on any longer -- everything went dark before her.

--------------------------------------------★★★★★--------------------------------------------

Jooheon scrolled through Twitter, reading people’s thoughts on Yoonjin’s new song and reactions to the news article about her health concerns. Since he knew it was a sad song, he couldn’t bear to listen to it, for fear that her words would hurt him as well. It was already hard to live through the past month, and knowing that she suddenly had health concerns that prevented her from performing broke his heart even more. Knowing fully well that she loved singing and performing, Jooheon knew the impact on Yoonjin was too great.

When he refreshed the page, he found two new posts: one from Corel’s agency and one from Yoon. Clicking on the first one, from the agency, he read the breaking news title: “[BREAKING] Yoonjin to take a break indefinitely, Yoon to promote as Corel-P’s main vocalist.” His breath hitched and his fingers trembled as he scrolled down to read the full article.

The article reiterated, saying “due to Yoonjin’s health concerns, which have been confirmed by the agency and by Yoon’s Twitter post, Yoonjin will take a break indefinitely until she heals. Until then, Yoon will promote as Corel-P’s main vocalist. The agency has stated that this does not mean Corel is disbanding, it will just be on hiatus until Yoonjin is feeling better.” Jooheon hastily pressed the link attached to the words “Yoon’s Twitter post”. His heart dropped instantly, reading Yoon’s message to the fans.

Yoon explained in both Korean and English with the following:

“We tried to stop her from working so hard, from releasing this song, from singing because it was taking a toll on her body, but she said she wanted to sing this no matter what. She said it was mostly for herself but she also wanted to touch people’s hearts through her singing as well.

The reason why we chose to only let her perform on four stages was because (as many people may know) the song is extremely difficult to sing. Yoonjin hasn’t been well since the beginning of this year and while she made efforts to take care of her body to prepare for this song, it just wouldn’t work with her not digesting, throwing up anything she ate, not sleeping enough… It took her all to make this song and record it, as she poured her emotions into this song. She collapsed numerous times in the process, was rushed to the ER and was administered IV drips more than a couple of times.

She becomes a professional on stage, with her brave face on and sings as if the world isn’t falling apart inside her. But… if this goes on… she won’t be able to sing for a long time. Please understand that we are not letting her perform more to protect her voice and to protect Yoonjin. Please send her lots of love, because being away from singing and performing may depress her. Thank you for supporting <Into Pieces> and Yoonjin.”

Jooheon’s eyebrows furrowed and he clenched his fist tightly. It was literally excruciating to read about her horrible condition, and knowing what spurred it on… broke him. He was angry, he was upset, he was sorry, he was sad, and all these emotions pitted against each other inside of him. The whirlwind of emotions caused tears to form in his eyes while his nails dug into his palm, as he clenched harder.

Exhaling slowly, he gasped for air and tried to dry his tears by looking up at the ceiling. What he couldn’t handle was the mere thought of that strong happy girl who hummed to tunes so naturally was now weakened, in pain, unable to sing… because of him. The last memory of her standing so coldly in front of him hurt him, but he knew as much as it hurt for him, she was in much more pain.

As he wiped away the tears that managed to spill over, Jooheon quickly pulled out a pen and paper and began to write a letter to his fans, all the while listening to her song for the first time.

Before uploading the letter to the fansite, he messaged the group and their manager: “미안, 나 일 저지른다. 이렇게 해서 진짜 미안. 근데 이렇게 하는게 맞는것 같아.” (Translation: “Sorry, I’m going to cause some trouble. I’m really sorry for doing it like this. But I think it’s the right way.”)

He wrote:

Hello, this is Jooheon, JOOHONEY, Lee Jooheon.

I’m uploading this without permission and I know this might stir up some trouble, but I think this is the best and most right way to do things. I want to tell my fans first that I’ve done something that hurt someone else and me, and this is my way of asking for forgiveness and showing my genuine sincere feelings.

I was too childish and I hurt someone that I came to care about with my words and my actions. When that person found out, I realized my mistake… but it was too late. It hurt me to know how painful it was for that person. I’m writing to my fans to apologize, but also I’m selfishly asking you, my fans, to understand me and support me through this process. I know I’m being vague, but without even my fans, I think I might fall apart. So please, help me.

Thank you.

From Jooheon

*** TBC ***

A/n: short chapter... i misjudged the lengths of the later chapters (lol) should have spaced out the really long chapters a bit more (lmao) 

[foodhx]

I havent written in a very long time. Im grateful i wrote previously and have something to look back on. So much has changed. S and i broke up. Its been more than a year, depending on how you count it, maybe 1.5 yrs.

Im not sure where im going with this, or in life. There were things i believed in before, had hope and ideals. I havent any hope now, i dont know what to hope in (apart from God). Its been like this for a while. What does it look like to hope in God now?

Ive ended up in a specialty i didnt plan on going into. What’s done is done. But the learning point is, it would have been better to take more time to rotate around before deciding, because it was an emotional, impulsive decision (felt way too rushed, i knew this even at the time of applying). It wasnt a peaceful decision, the way such “life-defining” decisions should be made. It was an emotional time - literally six days after S sent that message to break up with me, my boss texted to ask if i was still interested in applying. Im deeply grateful for the opportunity he gave me which i didn’t and don’t deserve. I should have a word with him at some point. On a side note, im deeply grateful that this dept and the people i work with now are mostly of incredible Godly character, a very unique and irreplaceable quality in a workplace.

So much has fallen apart. My career, and the relationship with the person who became my best friend over the course of 7-9 years. It felt unreal, standing there watching everything explode. I couldnt believe what was happening. I never expected things to explode this way. I never expected myself to leave, and i never expected him to leave. He didn’t mean to be cruel, but i experienced it as such, through the whole months of me begging. Especially at the point where he physically walked out on me and closed the door when i was crying hysterically - not to be overdramatic, but it felt like pure coldness to do that to my uncontrollably hemorrhaging heart (like watching that aorta spurting on cardiothoracics). He still thinks choosing not to carry on is right and directed by God, which i doubt. He declined reconciliation despite months of my sincere apologies, pleading with him and my attempts to remediate where i screwed up (he hasn’t made an effort to reconcile with me in 1.5 yrs, cos he’s lost faith in our relationship and, it seems, me, entirely. Unfair as it might feel, that’s the way he feels). All in all, the break up was devastating. I’m still disoriented and trying to find my feet.

Ive significantly lost respect for him, because of his choice not to carry on and to, well, give up on us. I feel that this was more an emotional decision than a decision based on a true seeking of God, true dying to self and true obedience, especially to certain biblical instructions (love your neighbour as yourself, in humility value others above yourself, the relationship as an expression of love for Christ “what you did to the least of these you did to me” rather than a competition for love for Him, 1cor13).

I feel his decision to give up, abandon and betray is not biblically based, even if it can be justifiable by a twist of verses (he justifies not carrying on as him “putting God first”). I feel his decision was driven more by his hurt that i broke up with him, over text, last feb, and my cheating on him in july, than a real, honest, self-challenging attempt to “put God first”. I feel the decision not to carry on came more from his hurt over what i did to him than a true excavation of what it means to obey God and seek Him first. Its not necessary to leave someone whom youve built up a relationship with in order to put God first. Its arguable that being there for one’s friends IS putting God first, rather than leaving them because you can’t deal with it emotionally (greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends).

E says that its never so simple as “i heard it from God”, its all a mix of (sometimes sinful) human emotions as well as right-minded intention to follow God. How much of this move is driven by God vs his own human uncontrollable emotions? I doubt he’s admitted the whole truth to himself or me.

But i think his hurt is valid. It definitely is. He says he still doesnt feel whole coming out of 2019 and how i broke things off with him over text in feb and how i cheated in july. I’m not sure what he feels because i cant identify, but he says he doesnt want to deal with the pain with me because it was caused by me, and he’s not ready to talk to me (“can’t deal with it”). He tried to forgive me at the time, attending counselling with me, but gave up after 2 sessions. So i guess i can believe there may be a part of him that could want to work towards a friendship at some point (tho this is thrown into doubt at times, because of our apparent fundamental and irreconciliable differences). On my end, I feel that ive given him the benefit of the doubt many times, and hes always disappointed me in this process, since the break up. He’s never showed up or been the bigger person.

I could give him time, or i could end things. I could give him time to process what he needs to, and give him the chance to potentially engage with me the right way at some time in the future.

Should i, though?

Well, yes and no. Part of me knows he will only ever disappoint me cos thats all hes ever done consistently. The other part of me wants to give him the benefit of the doubt and just let him process things in his own time because its destructive to operate with such cynicism. One is overly cynical, the other is overly hopeful, and both responses arent centred.

Overall i just dont want to think about this anymore. I just want this whole thing out of my mind.

But is that enough for me to cut him out completely and forever? When i ask him, he replies that he wants to be friends but doesn’t know how or when that could happen. He isn’t at all invested in this “friendship”, even if he says its what he wants. He thinks God needs to encourage it or something before he will put in the effort... its all so screwed up cos of his ridiculous view or way of hearing from God that’s so mystical and non-bible based. I honestly feel really disgusted by him. He has been asking me not to contact him for a long time, more than a year. I’ve agreed to honour that. Mainly out of an understanding that he’ll never change, and ive outgrown him and his cuckoo ideas about how to hear from God. I know even if we become friends in the future, he’s gonna be the exact same dud - and why would i want to go back to that? Even as a friend. My basic requirements for friendship are that i respect the person and they respect me back. He absolutely does not respect me, and i absolutely dont respect him. Even tho we pay lip service to each other in emails for the sake of appearing holy and peace loving, we each are 100% convinced we know better. I don’t see a friendship here. I see disgust. I see contempt. Its beyond repair. And theres no instruction from God to repair it. So it will lie unrepaired for life.

Thinking about him makes me get into unpleasant thoughts and feelings. I dont have the exact words to describe how i feel. Not quite just anger (im over the peak of that), not really sadness (i do feel its sad that i still care about him and think about him so much when he wants nothing to do with me and wants me to not contact him - i mean, i dont have a practice of asking people not to contact me indefinitely, i think its rude, unfair and cruel), not just superiority cos i do admit i dont know everything and God works in mysterious ways and He still establishes a relationship with S even tho there is likely disobedience and misguidedness in S that he may never ever come to realize in this life). Its not purely a sense of betrayal as i walked out first - i knew he wasnt what i wanted, cos he wasnt loving me, or kind, or Christlike in his countenance towards not just me but everyone around us. I shouldnt just have walked out i should have pointed us to God, but there you have it. I dont regret ending things cos i know if i had continued we would be in a worse place than we are in now, where im stuck in an unhappy relationship out of obligation and fear of being alone. Its better to not be in a relationship than to be in one where you arent respected or loved.

I would say this whole event has had an impact on my relationship with... effort and commitment? Knowing you can try your best and have everything still fail. I used to believe in the “power of my dreams”. That i could get anything i wanted if i wanted it enough. But ive learnt that where the outcome is dependent on things outside my control (eg other people, genetics, politics), just trying my best and bringing my best intentions isnt enough. Its something but it doesnt guarantee an outcome - nothing can. You can say God can guarantee an outcome, but i would be cautious to believe only what He’s given in the bible and some revelations that are consistent with that and have been confirmed by wiser believers than myself, and those who know me well.

I have to hope again. And i have to stop wallowing and being selfpitiful. No. I have to hold myself to a higher standard.

The between places.

To focus on the next right thing - passing anatomy and being punctual. Seeking God, esp in my work...

[aubreylynnengland]

Puppet.

“I’m ready, Doc. Do it.” I was sitting in the edge of my bunk in my barracks room with my eyes closed and my head taking on what felt like a steady beating of sledgehammers.

The Corpsman stuck me with an epi-pen of imitrex in my thigh and I felt a slight relief in the pace of the beating. This was one of the first few memories I have of being treated for chronic migraines after Daddy passed. I’ve never really felt quite the same since then. My heart for sure hasn’t….. and my head has put me through pure hell. I’ve also felt pretty weird in my own skin because of the smorgasbord of medicines I’ve processed through my body trying to find a preventative for the migraines and knock them out once they got fired up. I’ve been on pills- pills- pills, shots, narcotics, and all the triptans the pharmaceutical companies manufacture. Nothing has worked in 10 years. Over the counter meds help some, if I’m lucky and I catch it in time. (And of course ice, complete darkness, silence, and rest.) There was a period of time that I was taking topomax and it had me in such a haze I’m not sure what happened while I was on it. I was numb. My body functioned, I was awake, but I was a Zombie other than that. Zoned out, quiet, felt like I moved in slow motion, and I was hungry. Haha. But really, I did feel like I wasn’t the one operating myself. I quit taking those after a month or so and have been on a quest to find the magic beans ever since.

Why am yapping about my hangups with migraines & the pill-poppin’ adventure? Well, I thought about it long and hard today, and I have decided that all of those things changed me & I haven’t been the “same ol’ Aubrey Lynn” that I was growing up from that point on.

You could probably guess that life is NEVER the same when you endure the pain of losing a parent. If you know me, you know this is never far from the forefront of my mind. Ive been asked at times if I needed to talk to a doctor about how this affects my life. I don’t feel like I need counseling, I just talk about it all of the time to anyone that will listen. Its therapeutic to me, and I feel like its progressive. I don’t express the many emotions I have about missing Daddy because I’m having trouble grieving after 10 years, I express them simply because I AM grieving. Still. And I feel like I will for the rest of my life. I feel like the stress of losing him created the chronic migraine condition and I think the combination of those terrible things started to make me not feel like me very much. Is that depression? Probably. Aren’t most people depressed in some way or another these days? Who knows. I just feel like I had a chemical shift that made me start feeling like a strange version of myself. A talking face (sometimes) and a body that is somehow moving and doing things with that hurting head in tow.

Do I feel? Of course I do!… more than ever. But, I have moments where I’m thinking to myself- I’m only in my mind- in that head that hurts-watching my body function, but I don’t feel like I’m making any of those things happen. As if I’m a puppet on strings and someone is dragging & dangling me around through the motions of my life.

I’m glad I was in the Corps on active duty when I started to feel like this. The disciplined structure and lifestyle probably kept me from falling off the wagon and straight into a slimy, smouldering mess of myself. They gave me an incredibly generous amount of time to grieve and to get “well” with my migraine issues. Once I stabalized, all I had to do was wake up & show up. Someone in charge of me gave me orders. I followed them. Simple, easy, black and white. I had Marines to take care of, too, so I focused on them and made a pretty damn good Sgt of Marines out of myself. I was also fortunate enough to work for some of the greatest Men and Marines on the planet that I will forever hold in the highest regard. They took care of me like a daughter they never had. They took care of me like my Daddy would’ve and I am grateful for that. Its been 9 years since I left the Corps and California. (The migraines are still active. Even more so when I was pregnant, 3 times over.) I worked some after my firstborn was a year old, but they decided for me that I couldn’t work a regular full time job. Music has been my job ever since … and being a Mama :) … At least working for myself allowed me to adjust my own schedule as needed for recovery time when I have migraines. I’ve been in and out of doctor’s offices being seen about them for relief, but I still haven’t found the fancy fix it all that I long to find. So, I suffered the only way I knew how… by hanging in there. On my strings. I found myself like this one day, and I didn’t like me. The migraines were just a gateway to the marionette I’d become. I quit taking care of myself and let a lot of people do it for me. Not because I couldn’t … just because I got complacent. I would get so debilitated sometimes that getting up so try and find something to ease the pain was so much “harder” than not moving… so, I just laid there and hurt….and thought… and wallowed in my pitiful misery. After being cared for so many times like that, I just got used to it. This billowed over into many things in my life. I was still that floating head, doing stuff when I wasn’t having an explosion in my brain, but I wasn’t really operating myself in a lot of ways. The only thing I had complete control of was my writing and my voice. At least I had one safe little room inside my mind to go to where I could be Aubrey. Then I could whisper into a crowded room and talk about the pain I was going through, even if nobody was listening. I was so full of crap to even notice that new hands held my head up there. Why would I not get off my ass and do something about it ? Had I gotten that lazy? That was part of the problem, for sure. I was tired. I was weak. “Strung out” and hung out. I wasn’t me at all. I let that sad sack of bullshit weigh on me for far too long, and I am not proud of myself for it. However, I am proud of my babies, growth in my music, and the courage I found to get the hell up and dig the scissors out of the junk drawer. Thank goodness I learned how to sew somewhere along the way… because I have a lot of patch work to do with my strings… So, where am I with migraines, grief, and life unstrung now? I’m still in here… stitching. (I woke up with another today.) That little bastard beat me half to death for about an hour before I got up and fought back. If Ive learned one thing from it all, its that I don’t have to just lay there and hurt. I got up, held on to the wall with my eyes closed tight, found my way to the meds and a hot shower. Sat in the floor of it letting the water hit me in the face till it got cold. I kept saying, it’s gonna go away. It’s gonna pass. It did for a while. Came back tonight. (Barometric pressure for the win on this cluster.) I guess I’ll always live like this… I can’t change the weather, ya know. What I can change is how long I lay there in pain. How long I let it make me miserable. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the positive mental attitude I freaking know. That girl right there, folks, is a hell- bent - hard headed fighter that I go wayyyyyy back with. That chick with her soul on fire and ready to find a way or make one, my friends, is ME. I might have slipped and fell into a black hole hard enough to “break-a-leg”, but I made a choice to get off my sorry ass and crawl back up. Thats how I know I’m not hanging myself on those strings anymore…. and Aubrey Lynn is still alive & kickin’.