Mythical UB

Here is something I have never written about: my brother Bob.  He will be lovingly referred to from here on out as UB.  Does anyone else remember the movie "Uncle Buck"?  That's pretty much my brother.  Well, minus the car.  And front teeth.  But the lovable, irresponsible dude with a big heart?  That's him.

I have yet to figure out what it is about him that children and animals find irresistible.  He smells bad.  And he's not like a Wall Street banker or a superhero or something.  He's just a dude.  A stinky, funny, clothes-too-big, pants-up-shirt-down guy who hides his dirty dishes. 

I wanted SO badly to write this lighthearted, "my brother boarders on retarded" article about him.  Now that I am here, however, it most likely won't work out that way.

Recently I asked UB to live with the Bulldogge and me.  I have always said that there was no way on God's green earth that I would let him live with me.  I do not trust him as a rule.  I mean, we have an extensive unhealthy history together.  Our lives have been enmeshed from the minute we met. 

Now though I want to help him get healthy.  I have always lead the way, or was supposed to.  I want him here to see me becoming happy and put together so I can show him how he can do that too.  I want him to find for himself just a shred of peace and hope.

I cannot decide if I am being unrealistic or not.  I don't even know if he wants more out of his life.  Maybe he's happy.  But that is not what I see.  I see the weight of his regret bringing him down.  I can feel his unspoken pain, rage, and unhappiness.  For heaven's sake, we are practically twins.  How does the man think he can hide anything from me?

UB is my closest friend.  He witnessed the trauma I keep hidden even from myself.  I understand what has made him the lost soul he is today.  I will catch him every time he falls.  Every.  Single.  Time.  I do not stand in judgement of UB, I know he is navigating the world without even the stars to guide him.  It might be up to me to show him the way out.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I will always think he's a disgusting, piggy, loudmouth, lush that smells like ass crack.  But he is also the only person who knows why "PeeWee's Big Adventure" is my favorite movie.

Playlist

As I listen to the smooth notes played on slide guitar it feels like the blankets from your bed wrapped around me.  Certain passages of lyrics remind me of the scenery that I pass on the way to be with you.  I am moved on a very primal level when I hear what I term "your" music.

Music reminds the body of where it's been.  It hardwires sensory information to the reptile brain.  And you my dear, moved me in ways I didn't know existed.  I have alternately loved and loathed you for it.  Nothing comes close...no drug or drink or distraction can erase the things you bring out in me. I cannot escape the scope or depth of my reaction to you.

Saying that I love you is far too simple.  I have loved in my life and this is more than that.  Obsession may be a more apt term.  With you I can surrender who the world sees me as...you get the best of me and bring out the best in me.  I can find safety knowing you protect me even from myself....

How did I land here?  Reclined in a bathtub listening to melodies that are almost torture to my pleasure sensors?  Why are we not tangled up in each other, laughing, kissing, cuddling, teasing and ultimately getting the best sleep we will have all week?  Oh!  That's right...I have convinced myself that I am conventional and cookie cutter and together we are distinctly NOT.

So, I know everyone is curious to know the songs that evoke such emotion within me.  Here goes:

"Someone Like You" by Kings of Leon
"Heartbreak Warfare" by John Mayer
"In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel
"Sex on Fire" by KOL
"Bring Me to Life" by Evanescence
"Porn Star Dancing" by My Darkest Days
"Somewhere With You" by Kenny Chesney
"Powerful Stuff" by Sean Hayes
"Drunk on You" by Luke Bryan
"Edge of Desire" by John Mayer
"Alone With You" by Jake Owen
"Come Over" by Kenny Chesney
"Right Here" by Staind
"Dirt Road Anthem" by Jason Aldean

There it is.  I hope you listen to "Somewhere With You" and "Edge of Desire" most of all.  I'm pretty sure that you don't love me anymore, but I can't say the same most of the time.  Quit ignoring me.

Cutting

Hi.  My name is Karin and I am a recovering cutter.  I am bringing this up because tonight I would like little more than to take a scissors and run it across the soft white skin on the inside of my left forearm.

The sweet warm relaxing feeling of the mental anguish draining from my body would be a welcome relief right about now.  It has been my drug of choice, my secret vice for quite sometime now.  I am so ashamed of it but at times I have needed it so badly.

I admitted to the Bulldogge tonight that cutting was something that I had done in the past.  When I explained to him what it was and why I chose to do it, he left the room and has yet to return.  I am not quite sure how to interpret this.  I am about 95% certain that he is disgusted with it and with me as well.      

My warning has always been that I am a scratch and dent person, not pristine by any means, but well
worth the effort to overlook my flaws.  And I AM in fact working on my issues including the cutting. I am not sure how I feel about this latest rejection.  If nothing else it has gotten my mind over obsessing over letting the pain out.

For the record, the last time I cut was just over a year ago.  Just about the time my divorce started.  In this moment it would feel excellent to drag the blade over my skin; just enough to break it open, but not enough to have a pool of blood form.  The emotional release of it is almost as euphoric as an orgasm...with its instantaneous release of pressure and waves of satisfying relief mixed with sheer pleasure that wash over you.

Tonight so far has been a victory.  I have not cut or harmed myself.  I want to desperately however.  But I am taking each moment, each emotion, each thought as it comes and doing my best to handle them as they move through me and past me.

Wish me luck, dear readers, for I will need it.  And thank you for standing by me and listening to my ramblings.