Monica Bielanko
A chronicle since 2005 of my marriage & move to Brooklyn in my twenties; becoming a mother in my thirties; moving to Pennsylvania and learning to amicably coparent after divorce in my forties while living 3 doors down from my ex-husband in a small country town.
That's What She Said
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Tuesday
Nov082005

Truth About Memory

Memory is a wonderful thing. If you don't have to deal with the past. Perhaps that's why I always ended up drunk dialing ex-boyfriends.. You know, under the drunken/mistaken notion that they were The One.

Life happens, a little time goes by and the bad memories dissolve in your mind like the sugar in your morning coffee.. The goodtimes seem to float on top, like a dollop of whipped cream.. Even when the cream finally melts it's still visible, swirling throughout, flavoring the hot drink. Smooth, sweet suggestion. I forget about the gritty sugar. It's the cream I'm tasting when nostalgia overtakes me. The smooth suggestion of the best of times.

I remember the way we danced to Billy Bragg and Wilco's California Stars in your living room. Faces flushed, laughing, I saw our happy togetherness reflected, dark night transforming your apartment window into a mirror of our coupledom. I smile when the image of us dragging your mattress into the living room drifts into my mind. We parked our "life raft" in front of the television and got so stoned that entire weekend we abandoned ship only to pay the delivery boy for our chinese takeout. That's the cream I remember, am tasting.

Truth is, you were mean. You threw me to the sidewalk, scattering the contents of my bag, loose change fleeing from your wrath. I called the police because I was afraid, not because I was 'being dramatic'. Your dark chocolate colored eyes glittered menacingly. Your jaw clenched and unclenched, muscles bunching and relaxing. I saw you then. The violence within flashing like a 4th of July sparkler, a red light trying to warn me. Stop.
"You're the only girl that I've ever been like this with." you said. Like your ferocity was a compliment. Some fucked up way of presenting just how much you loved me.
"See how crazy you make me Monica?"

I wonder if you're like that with her. Or if it was like you say, all my fault.

Reader Comments (7)

Great post! I have nothing even remotely as eloquent to say about it, except that it was fabulous.

and on a completely unrelated note; I just ordered "If you didn't laugh, you'd cry". I needed some new music for my repertoire. I'm excited to hear it.
November 8, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterHeather B.
BASTARD!!! But what a lovely way of putting it...
I love your imagery.
November 8, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterJulia
Not your fault, his way of making you FEEL like it is your fault. Everyone at some point makes someone else feel crazy. The way you chose to deal with that crazy feeling defines the person.

It is one of the hardest things for me to do is admit that I was with a person that was bad for me. Like I am unable and incapbable of picking someone who is good for me. Does that mean that I think I deserve less. At the time yes I think it does.

Remembering the cream is what keeps me going, if it is called living in a fantasy then let it be. At times when things are bad, the cream is all you have that keeps you going.

Great post, I wish I could be so poetic with words.
November 8, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterTawny
you have so much strength for getting out of that relationship before something worse happened. beautiful analogy with the coffee and memories. it made me smile :)
November 9, 2005 | Unregistered Commenterjoey kim
This is the first post I read on your blog, and wow.

Not only did it suck me in with a line from my favourite movie, but the imagery is beautiful and so true.

Thank you.
November 10, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterJulia
Nice catch on the movie! Wondered if anyone would pick up on that :)
November 11, 2005 | Registered CommenterMonicaBielanko
Sounds eerily familiar to me, and I'm just glad for us girls who have been there...that we're no longer there.
November 11, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterPretty Pretty

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