Shame Erasers Part One

The ugly truth about writing is that it is not something you choose.

It chooses you.

I have been avoiding this blog like crazy.

Writing is the only way I know how not to lie.

One of my favorite writers said we have no choice to write or not, that inspiration is bullshit. She said you show up, every day, like all other writers, because it is your job, and that is what you do.Β Fine. But I don’t have to like it.

Shame Erasers Part One….

I wish I could write this in outline, or power point, to make it less blinding.
I need lists to make even grocery stores less frightening.

Its like I have been living with the sound of a dentist drill in my mind,
an irritating awful pierce demanding I sit down and write.
I just want to get under my covers and hide.

A man I have been dating wants to be my boyfriend.

Good God. That statement even looks as dumb as I imagined.

I don’t need to tell anyone I am a free spirit, a boastful pride in the fight I put out for that freedom. I love being and going, free to kiss, flirt, drink, touch, dance, and to be single is bliss. Utopia is Granny panties or lace thongs worn just for me, ice cream out of the box,
a delightful bed with no sweaty needy hairy man waiting on me to get there,
asking where I went, why my cell phone wasn’t charged, or if I knew how dangerous dancing, live music, oh, and the other hairy sweaty sex crazed filthy mind controlling men I hang around are.

These are the men in past I have referred to as boyfriends or husband, and believe me, it never ends well.

It begins with a promise they make after four beers while I am in red heels,
a short black dress revealing cleavage and legs, leaning in with my glass of red wine.
This is not my first rodeo people.
I laugh at the thought of life and cramps on the bathroom floor,
Lola being put in time out for talking about hairy pee pees, Kat irritated Lola stole her label maker.
And so, my response is usually, “Good Luck,” said with ease and flirtation, ending with me in my bed,
my girls safe and snug a room away. Bliss.

And so, today, for my mini series, you understand the pitch I gave, the same one a million times over it feels, but now there is one man who refuses to sign.

He will not budge. The immovable mountain I can not climb, cross, surround, depart from. He has the most annoying response ever to all these questions I spit, like nails, all the time, every hour.

“I want you.”

Seriously? That is not the correct answer.
That is actually kind of stupid.

And he smiles patiently, a man I named THE COLLECTOR, his house full of little groups of old cameras, beautiful treasures in all types of forms, put together like a kid building legos, but with art.
I can’t decide if I am experiencing love, horrific fear, warning signs from God, or intimacy.
He is like a nightmare wrapped up in a teddy bear, the very thing that looks so soft, I am suspicious of how it is stuffed.

Is this what people call love? THIS is the feeling women crave?
I feel like I ate too much beef jerky and got on a six flags ride I can’t get off.
Is this vibe what we are going for on romantic comedy movies,
which are all hired actors by the way, who are divorced three times over,
a side fact for the romantics to chew on.

I must lose him or commit to him, which I think has brought up every issue I have.
He kind of just required it.

How dare he? How dare a hairy sweaty man be so good, so kind, so sweet?
I don’t know how to control this ridiculous man, and I am mad with love and hate over this lack of control, especially in bed, as if every secret I have invites him inside with little thought to what this could become.
There should be prisons for people like him, torture chambers.

I don’t know what is bigger.
To lose something so big it will destroy me and all that I have worked to become.
Or to live in this, this fear, so ridiculous and mind altering, I just can’t do it. I have to get rid of him and fast.
Clyde says that is extreme.
Clyde says the things everyone says, and asks this question, which makes me laugh, for reasons I am so happy he doesn’t understand.


I know this question.
It is designed to see that a simple truth holds the key in hoping that there is nothing to fear but fear itself.
I wonder if Clyde as a grown man had been told by his father point blank,
a man he had known and loved his whole life that he was an investment,
a bad one that never paid off. Then stand in the ruins of a life built on lies while the masses poke and smile,
asking for news on the latest man, a humiliation that rubs like a skin burn, a deep pulsing heartache no
words can describe.

I need a shame eraser. I just don’t know where to find a parking lot of them, my shame for watching
this man in his stubborn insistence stay reminds me daily I was not free at all.
I was as sick and chained and controlled in my mind from fear now as I was with the sweaty hairy men.
This is a nail biting mind altering truth to me, MISS OBVIOUS, soaking in single loving bliss.
It is humiliating, scary, and makes me wonder if I might be seriously damaged, like beyond what I could even
exaggerate, so much that I could hurt him, a thought I can’t live with.
What if I were like my Dad?
What if my Dad left for reasons the Collector will find?
What if I trust someone who becomes a mad man, like my Dad, and the girls will have it done to them.
No, no, this is wrong, wrong, wrong. I know who did the crime.
I just can’t justify at the right time if it is him, or me, or both who believes the crime has to be paid.

And so here I am, with a freight train headed, in the complete dark, his mere existence mentioned and teased by well meaning friends makes me want to fall over the edge, my balance knocked, my leg shaking.
The girl with the mouth from the South is in trouble when she can’t talk, not to anyone, not about this.
I have found my personal truth lies within me but in this, in this, I have become the unknown.

Part of me hears Clyde say “Breathe,” and “Go Slow,” but I don’t feel that. I feel betrayal coming like a smoke monster hurling at my door, shadows cast from giant magnifying glasses, my fears coming from the ground whisper I am drowning and the life boat I need, well, he is running out of time.

The saddest part is I don’t know if I’ll drown before I can tell him I want him back.

19 thoughts on “Shame Erasers Part One

  1. There are truths that I am learning. One you are never too damaged for love. Two, do not lose hope in true love. Three, you can commit, you don’t have to be alone. Lastly, There are wonderful, kind, supportive people out there and those are the people you DESERVE to be with. You deserve happiness Obvious. No blame and No Shame not for you or anyone else. Listen to the voice inside. You know the answer, trust in the truth. It is scary, but it will guide you to happiness if you will just let it. πŸ™‚

  2. ‘The Collector’, I like that. So this is life, I hope to see what you’ll do with it, for although we can never say we ‘deserve’ hapiness, I do think it is ‘destined’ for us as we find ‘relationship’. And I do believe, despite all our ‘fulfillment, we remain incomplete until we find our counterpart and when we do our ‘freedom’ is more tha it was ever before.

  3. I think we have every right to say we DESERVE happiness. WE are beautiful worthy wonderful women who deserve the best of everything. Why wouldn’t we DESERVE to be happy? She is a great person and definitely deserves the best for herself and most defiantly for Lola!!

  4. Not to get too weird here, Obvious, but what Trisha said above reminds me of God’s love for us: You are never too damaged for him to stop loving you; Do not lose hope in His love (which, to me, is TRUE love); and with His love you won’t ever be alone. You DO know the answer. Your heart is telling you whether it’s a whisper or a shout. You know what you should do. Listen.

  5. well, any and all desires to date you are now satisfied and annihilated, dont have to worry about that anymore, like you were to begin with huh? lol, i love ya kathleen susan marsh, you got some serious issues, and from what i read they are all self centered. please, dont be mad at me, but, you will never be happy with anyone until you are no longer the center of you world, that simple. no one will ever live up to the standards you have set up for yourself, including yourself, and this cycle will never end until you stop going into a relationship expecting to receive and go into the relationship ready to give, and willing to give it ALL.

    other than that, i can see you doing everything you said, and also see the expressions on your face when you did them….. :o)

  6. Interesting… I didn’t know you had any desires to date me.
    Yes, I have serious issues and I have more balls than you to blog about them. When have you ever seen my actual face expressions? We have never met.

    I would be pissed off by your comment, but it actually kind of makes me smile and inspires me. Because, this is part one. The story is so long I had to put it into two parts. Part 2 may just change your mind…..

  7. i think it was more of an ideal than a desire. a thought, crossed my mind like what to eat or what socks im gonna wear tomorrow, fleeting and quick. i can tell my comment rubbed you wrong, like that time when you deleted me as a friend on face book, dont take yourself so serious miss obvious, nor me either. and as far as the balls thing goes, when have you ever seen my balls, i havent posted any pictures of them on facebook, but i have seen your facial expressions on there.

    i was taught if it hits a nail or stirs me up, there must be something to it that is true. who cares anyway, i mean really, we will probably never physically see each other anyway, i your right, i dont know you, i all know is what you wrote, and it all centered around your needs, your desires and his short comings… was pretty chauvinist….

  8. i love ya miss obvious, and i want to see you happy and in love with the mate of your life, and he is out there, but we have to take risks to find our elusive love. i am anxious to read the next one just to see the other side of Miss Obvious, cause i know there is a loving and giving person there, who will hold nothing back when once she puts down the fear and picks up the true love…..

  9. I don’t like Thorn’s comments. Glad you would not consider dating THAT guy. WOW. he needs to read your Douchebag Determinator blog. πŸ™‚

    Women have EVERY right to expect and Deserve happiness. WE are beautiful souls and men need to learn how to respect those souls. Women like KSM and myself are rare and unique individuals and men like you evidently could never appreciate a woman like that because you sincerely do not understand sir.

    one day our princes will come…happiness is on it’s is I promise. I refuse to give up hope. Even in the depths of looking I shall refuse.

  10. i think trisha has you beat out, and i think there must be more truth in my comment that rubbed against her than you, you know me a little kathleen, you know i meant no harm, and the respect and love i have for beautiful souls. you are a beautiful soul, i just want to see more of it….

    trisha should read my “girl with the diamond in her chin’ blog, eh, whats the use though……

  11. I am willing to read it. Not sure it will give me much difference though since you are just slamming me, but I will read it. Thanks for the compliment. If I have her “beat out” then my soul must be really healing quite nicely lately πŸ™‚

  12. Honestly, Trisha, I feel you on this. It takes a lot to be raw, to open yourself up and put it out there over love, to not even be finished with the story yet and to have someone attack you. But honestly, I thought a lot about thorn’s comment, and I feel very strongly that he was hurt by a woman very similar to me, lets just say in my own family even, and I do not know her. I just feel like he can’t see anything but her when he reads my stuff, that it opens up wounds that aren’t healed. I am not her or even if I were, I don’t feel like I can began to be seen for who I really am, which sucks, because most people know me cannot identify with anything he is saying. That is what it is to be a writer I suppose. You can’t take credit for those who love you anymore than those who hate you because it is all one giant projection screen. I will say I think he is a good man and not a douchebag at all. I do thank you for defending women and myself for you know how hard I have worked to become who I am. It sucks I have so much work cause i really need to write part 2….

  13. And write part 2 you shall my dear…don’t let there be a “Thorn in your side” in your way πŸ™‚

  14. i never meant it as an attack kathleen, why does what i say mean so much now? im not anybody to be concerned with, so sensitive. and you are right, i have big gaping wounds, they hurt so bad that they cant be put into words, the groaning is to deep for words. and i probably do associate you with her, i mean, why wouldn’t I? when i read that, i took it literally and for what it says, i dont know you or where you are coming from. and you nor trisha know anything about me, all we know about one another is what is on this computer screen. i know this though, my heart is pure, i meant no harm. when i received your comment about the way i wrote, it was pretty insulting and raw, but i looked at it, and i changed. i respected what you had to say, that should count for something when it comes to what i think of you and your writing.

    you said “That is what it is to be a writer I suppose. You can’t take credit for those who love you anymore than those who hate you because it is all one giant projection screen.” i do not hate you, but you are correct. if we are going to write, we can not be sensitive, if we are it will steal our creativity and replace it with agenda. all i want to do is write, and have peace, i may remove all optional comments from my blogs from now on, geez. i will definitely think twice before i give constructive criticism to what i “hear” you saying in yours. i feel like screaming, JUST LET ME OUT OF HERE, LOL…..

  15. one question, can someone understand someone off of a 5 line comment? and be judged as a douchbag? and im the one on the attack?

  16. As my mother says…”moving on…”

    I think “constructive” is a relative term. Meaning what is relative to you may not be relative to me. I think our opinions differ sir.”

    That is all. πŸ™‚ Air kisses to you MUAH!

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