I laid on the grass of the park late last night and I looked up through the branches of a wide tree and thought, ‘ This will be the last time I am in this country in August.’
I laid so still in that thought and it rambled into the stars I could not see.
The stars I knew I would, this time next year.
I know I will get through this.
It’s a low I suppose I had to get to, in order for me to really change.
There is a lot of fear but a question of wondering I have, is this really an adequate low?
Am I going to fight against it? Am I going to be too strong? Where the bottom is bottomless and my emotions must be strained more and upheaved more. Where my life has to completely flip upside down, parts where my entire vision gets distorted and not just foggy when I wake in the middle of the night because I cried myself to sleep the night before. It’s perception. If I thought this was flipped up already, then the process to change would have started. Has it already and I don’t know it? Wouldn’t I know it?
How messed up does it have to become, for me to believe it is what I need to change who I am?
I walked the village slower than I ever have. My legs shaking and my insides ready to unfold.
I know I’m not okay. I just hope I can stay quiet enough until my feet are on Canada grounds.
I am angry and hurt .Stressed and frustrated. I can feel a chapter of my life coming to a close and I am scared. Flashes of my past wrap around me and I feel myself shrinking.
I suppose I knew it would come to something like this. But there’s no way to predict the feelings.
I didn’t know I would feel so angry.
And I am so angry.
I have known for awhile, in the back of my head, that it would crash.
That at one point, life would just fold in on itself.
And I would deal with it then.
That’s what I told myself.
Hurt has now got the strength and has shaped and it’s formed and.. it’s in me. It’s what I have begun to feel. I don’t get hurt often. I really don’t.
But I feel that this is the beginning of the toughest thing I go through.
This will be one of the biggest changes in my life. Coming to terms with things will take awhile.
It’s not like anyone has died,
but a part of me has to. I have to kill parts of me, in order for me to live. And to love.
To love completely.
How do we keep appreciation for the people in our lives, existable?
We all know we take things for granted.
So I want to know, how do I maintain the appreciation that you start out with.
Liking all these little quirks and details about someone, the reasons why you began to like them in the first place. They get covered over as time goes on, and next thing you know it, you’re ignoring those parts or simply not seeing them.
I realize we change and so our attractions may also, but there still must be a way to keep what caught our attention, on top.
Kind of like going to a new country and everything along the streets stands out. You catch all the details of the signs and colours and shapes of buildings. And six months later you find everything blends in.
How do you make life stand out?
How do you make everyday shapes turn up in your eyes?
Perhaps my expectations on this, are extreme.
Perhaps it is a way of living that cannot be done.
That it is more of day to day recognition.
Picking out shapes for a day, or colours.. Picking out the positives in your partner..
What you end up blending in with who you know them to be, is what other people grab on to.
It is dangerous because if your friend or partner does not feel you appreciate them, they will go find it elsewhere.
How do I make that ‘elsewhere’ be a place that exists, but is not needed?
I wonder if I don’t trust love, because of the way I have loved in the past.
I wonder now, when people tell me they love me, if I have a harder time believing it.
I don’t know if I’ve ever believed in love I’ve had for my boyfriends.
Once the relationship was over, I always questioned if what I felt was really love,because of what I was doing. I wonder if I have ever loved outside of my family or best friends.
Everyone has their own idea of love.
But what if it is just as messed up as what mine has turned out to be.
I didn’t ever think I was a good lover because I knew I was not. But I still sailed on the idea that I was capable, just like everyone else.
But recently I have been asking myself, am I able to?
Will I ever love a man as much as he loves me?
Is it because I haven’t found that person, or is it because I have not found the truth inside of me that enables me to.
Will I ever become confident in motherhood?
I know it is always me.
So far, the comments people make and the way people react, I make it like it is a minor attack. That I get into defense mode in my mind. Never outright but I question how I do things. All. The.Time.
It is another one of the reasons I am afraid to go back to the city I left.
My sister went to school for being a nanny. She works in a daycare with the age my child is at. Her nephew.
For the first time I am afraid of the city I left.
The black concoction I swirled and mixed and added things to for years,
the drink I was never around long enough to take a sip of,
is now the very drink I must drink.
I am forcing myself to.
Because I am not going to find happines anywhere in life, if I am not happy with self.
The time period, the age I thrived in,left years ago.
And I am only now, figuring that out.
I’ve lifted my head up and realized that the only way I found ‘happy’ was by attention and distraction.
You can’t get that stuff when you’re holding a drink of black.