Well, Hello

I just got back from your house. You called me this morning right after church and I was very very surprised. And happy. We’d texted a few texts the day before, but still.
I asked ” Can I see you today..tonight? ”
You were quick to say, ” Yeah, call me when you get home.”

So I did.
And then I was driving over to your house.

We didn’t stop being shoulder to shoulder,hip to hip.
I hardly wear much make up there anymore because I know it’s just going to fall off anyways. I’m always emotional.

I left in tears. I can’t explain it. I’m supposed to be happy. And I am- that we spent that time together. That you wanted it too. I soaked in so much of it. As if I could physically hold you so close that you’d pop right into being my boyfriend again.

I don’t know if I can keep seeing you like this if you haven’t forgiven me or if we are not going to date. I asked you today if you had forgiven me. And you were quiet and said my name. The response was as if you had, but you didn’t say it.

It’s supposed to take time, I know. And I struggle with accepting the fact I just have to hurt until whatever the conclusion is.
I’m running after my heart and I have to be that vulnerability, that ache of unknown, it is paying for my choices-  to really feel and know the consequences for my actions.
It’s a way to get better.

 

 

This is what You think.

You think I’m out with people.

Late at night I dance with beer sloshing out of my bottle
and straws flicking out of my thin, bending cup.

I’m busy on my phone
collecting up all the people I dropped in the past year.
I’m meeting people left right and center, going to the movies and having dinner by the lake.
You think I’m doing that
and not laying on the basement carpet staring at the water stains on the ceiling.
You think I’m blasting through this like it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done
but I’m here
I’m flipping right here
in the square middle of my bed under my covers with new tears running over the dried tears
with no desire to see or talk to any soul but you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fack.

I hate that you think I’m not doing what I am.

 

Experienced Sadness

I have a lot of reasons to be sad.
We perhaps, all do.
I have more reasons to be sad now, then I think I have had in my whole lifetime.

But thinking back to my sad times when I was 14, or 21, or even 25.
They don’t ever seem as big as the big sad things now.
With experience comes some deeper sadness within and with age comes responsible stages which-when they get messed up, seem even more like life is forever done and over with.

Which leads me to my next point.
If these big bad things in my life are the biggest they are because they are the current and most recent and in 10 years from now they will seem like they are little symbols of my still-ever growing up youth, then what’s the point of dragging them out and being stuck in them.
If they are going to be grains of sand on a beach in the end, why stay sad when being sad is the only thing keeping you from being a happy human.

A Better Conclusion. For Life.

Sure, his family may think I had a guy over and had sex with him. Sure, his family may think I invited that guy to their sons’ hockey game.
Sure they may think I am a cheater, a lier, and a downright terrible person.

The idea of that family, whom I grew so close with and loved being around, disliking me and thinking things about me that are not true, is a really crappy feeling.
It turned me sick quite often last month.

But here is my healthy conclusion: 

They are seven people. And yes, they have friends/boyfriends/girlfriends/wives that will assume they know the story which adds more people to the list. Let’s say 14 altogether.

They are 14 individuals.

Out of the however many billion on this planet.

I can move forward and represent myself better and the best.
I can meet one hundred new, loving, friendly people who will get to see the best version of me I have.
I will forever be sad when I think about that family hating me, but one has to move on.I am not used to being disliked but my choices from the far past have made the assumptions alive.

So I must live with that. And be a better person who makes better choices to prevent the next 14 people, from thinking I’ve done nothing better, than cheat on their son. 

That’s my brilliant conclusion this week and it feathers my spirit to flight.

Day four of no drink. 😉

 

 

The Day My Mother Left

March 11 2016

I walked up the basement stairs about 830am and could feel the chill in the air already.  I opened the basement door and came face to face with a touque wearing, flurescent vested, glove wearing man.

” Can I use the washroom? Where abouts is it?”

In 4 seconds or less I see everything. The doors are open and there are 3 other men moving around and I see the big white truck out the kitchen window with a ramp up to it and items, and lamps and mattress and desk and I think inside ‘ she’s not actually.. is this what this actually is??’ and then Aunt Dawn comes down the stairs with her arms full of bags and I ask ” Is she moving out?”

With grim expression and a slight smirk, she nods her head- out the door she goes.
There are 4, 5, 6, movers, all moving fast and the world is blurry for an instant. I stand there cemented to the spot. I don’t know what to do and I see police car, one, two and I know I do not want to see Mom but she’s there before I can move and next thing i know i  am doing what i dont want to do and moving towards her and i hug her and say the least thing i want to say to her. ” yay, you’re finally doing it!’
then i walk downstairs then i walk back up and i go up more stairs and i am crying and i open my brothers door and i sit on his bed and i say ‘ josh ‘ and he turns over slowly and sees my face and is alert and there is panic in his eyes and i say ‘ moms moving out ‘ and we sit in stunned silence and then we talk and then we look out the window and then we sit some more and then we go back down together and zeek all this time is watching stuff on my computer and doesn’t know anything that’s going on .
and josh calls our sister and she didn’t know . josh calls our brother later on and he didn’t know
and dad is in chatham and he
does
not
know.
i feel wrong being here.
then there are more cars and aunt ruth and uncle john are there and he asks me ‘ hows it goin’ and i say drly’ perfect’ he says oh right, dumb question’. and they hug me and i am stiff and my eyes wet and they just keep being wet and i am standing there beside them and i dont want to be and they say they have nothing against my dad and that john, ‘ i’d like to go golfing with him this summer’ and i’m saying inside my head, ‘ya the fuck right’. i am mad mad mad mad mad and feel out of place.
Then I am downstairs and the movers are there now too and ask ‘ are we just taking the tv?’
My blank stare is enough answer.
I know this is the best thing to do. For Mom to leave.
But I am still angry.
I am mad that she chose to do it this way. To have it planned for at least a month. To get her own place. To know she was spending her last days here. And us not have a clue.
I am angry that all those trips into town were ones for lawyers. she never ever told us she was leaving even those times.
I am mad she didn’t say goodbye, but i know that was easier for her to do.
I hate that she said ‘ you can visit, theres a suite you can stay in for 3,4 days for free’.
‘im sorry mom, ‘ i think to myself ‘ i have not fricken processed this in the slighest.
The place she will have gotten will be very nice. It won’t be dumpy. And Josh and I sit dumbfounded, and he asks me about the affair because in Moms email to him, she mentions it assuming he already knew. He didn’t. But I say nothing about it and say , ‘ask dad,he’ll tell’.

Then, all of a sudden, a crashing silence falls on our heads and we stand up and we say, ” Are they gone already??”

and upstairs we go and there is no trace that they were even here, save for the spaces of things that were there and are now gone.
we move to her room and it is empty empty empty and we stand in it for a few minutes and we lean against the windows and i watch the birds at the feeder.
we wait for dad to come home and he comes home and he stops in the driveway in his white jeep and he backs up and we watch him do this and then he pulls forward and we know he has seen the marks on the grass and josh and i put our coats on and shoes and walk out to the garage and he shuts the jeep door and he follows us in and josh says’ we have some bad news…..pause… ‘ mom left’
“oh really. that doesn’t surprise me too much’ he says and his eyes are full of question and josh begins retelling the hour and a half.
and i recall people taking pictures and writing down items in the garage and in the kitchen and dad said ‘when he saw us walking out he figured somethign was up’ and when george and him left early for chatham  earlier that day they had to turn around because they forgot something and mom alreayd had her car trunk open and her bedding inside because she thought they would be gone but they came back and he saw that and thought’ either shes gettign it dry cleaned or moving out?” and she had this all planned. calculated down to the last plate she was going to take. she knew everythin she was entitled to and she had it all configured in her brain about how much stuff she needed for her new place. three stools? yes, they’ll fit quite nicely. a couch? tv? oh i need a coffee machine, yes i’ll take that one. and this good chinaware too!
dont ask me how ballistic my uncle george ( who is living with us too ) will get now without his 5 hour daily tv watch. to be honest i think that was kinda a mean one taking that . it’s not like she can’t afford another one? but we’ll get another one and a nicer one and we will change the whole basement around too. this is more my house now. I’m the woman in it.
we shall change the locks on the house.
and dad is not to know where mother now resides.
—————————–
I do feel lighter.
I do feel the air is thinner, there is less tension and Zeek finally feels more like mine again.
She will be happier, and we will be happier too. Everyone will. In time.
We will fill in the blank spaces of the house, we will take out all the knick knacks she had and it will be like she was never here. Starting over.
She is still my Mother and I suspect there will be good change in our relationship because of the distance but for now I will stay angry and sad and feel pity for my Father.
For after 36 years of marriage,
his wife has left him.

And you blew it

You know, at what point do you stop and say,
I had everything And I Blew it.

At the point when your life basically falls apart, is when.
That’s when .
There’s no other when .

It has to get to the worst it’s ever been,
the worst you’ve ever believed it to be at the time,
for you to understand that you had everything
and you blew it.

Waiting it Out

Trying so hard to make something broken work.
Trying to get it back together. Trying trying trying.
And part of trying is waiting. Timing. Letting time pass. It’s a little agonizing.
It’s not that fun.
Not that fun at all.

Oh I cling to hope like I have never before and try and press my thoughts to the sides of better walls. Don’t go in circles, don’t go in circles, you’ll only get dizzy and fall. 

 

Stay upright, stay a strength of stable. Hold onto your hope and time.
It will work out, it will work out, it will work out.

Learning Love

It swims in violet swirls as I am finally understanding fully, that I am learning about love. That I am learning what it really means to love. And it is difficult.Learning AND Loving. And the reason I never knew much about it before now is due to the fact that I always ran when it got tough. When I didn’t like something and told myself it was a big deal, it was easy for me to step out- for I had never fully given myself. I hadn’t become vulnerable enough. I was too stiff and scared to risk.
My standards are still high, but now I see better, the love I have in me.
I have felt loved before, I was always loved. But this love means the most to me. And why? Because this love comes from someone that has seen and dealt and cried and feared and hurt so badly for my mistakes; from who I was before all this. And. They Still love Me.

So now, along with the past seven months, I go through the active repercussions of my past choices. I see that at the same time there is the pain that love can bring someone, the incredible drive to continue is also present.

And THAT, is something that makes me love better.

Experience is the best teacher, even if it hurts the most. These days I’m prooving to myself that I love deeper than I ever have before.
And that’s an experience I wouldn’t trade for three A’s in grade 12.

 

 

Life, I Choose You

You know that quote that goes something like this,: ‘ Don’t take life seriously, no one ever gets out alive anyways’.
How many times do you hear something but you don’t really understand it or believe it?
Well now, I finally get that statement.

I guess my crumple was not the idea of whether to live or die, but figuring out that I wouldn’t end my life. That I couldn’t do it.
So when I came to that conclusion I thought, well if I’m gonna be here, I’d be a little worthless big shit if I’m gonna make it miserable. And then I thought, Well, is it that easy, to make it fun and happy and create a life like that of when I was younger. That felt full of.. life?

And I thought long and hard. I was conflicted. I mean, life was always easy to me. Even the times I went through break ups or sad times, I was back up on my feet running. I was resilient because I had attention and people that I distracted myself with.

But then it covered me in a paste. Simple,rugged facts.

No, life is not easy.
I looked down on my brothers for taking medication to make them feel better about living.  Life is easy and fun. See?  Look at me?

And then,
I’m the one falling. I’m trying to get ground and I’m only slipping and falling down again and screaming at myself to a wall and hating and regretting my decisions and sad all over again because I was the one that was screaming at the wall

because of ME.

And I thought after my lungs were scratched and crisp, that if i could produce that much agony over the past that couldn’t be tampered with now, I could be that beautifully vengeful for my future that had yet to exist. That if i had the power to be that upset over my life thus far, I could be that happy for a life to come.

I may not have the attention I used to have. I may not have the people, the events, the three day weekends of drinking Vex and playing video games with my closest.. but I have love and life. I have choice. I have the power to become who I want to be, every single day. Being sad isn’t going to get me anywhere I want to go. Being sorry for my sadness doesn’t get me anything except a life not lived. I’m not 19 and I can’t go back to that. I refuse to want to anymore. Life is now. With me.

You don’t figure life out, it figures you out.
You don’t try and find life, you create it.

You don’t let life fucking kill you- because it will if you let it- you let life be like, ‘ hey now, there’s a fucking liver of beautiful.’

 

 

 

What the Fook post

It’s really difficult to get a grip on life right now. It’s not stable. No matter how many moments I think it is. People affect your life in the extradionary amount that we most of the time, aren’t aware of. My heart turns three tomorrow. That’s my son. And I’ve been a terrible mother the past two months. This is such an airy vent-this post. These days,I’m kind of okay with losing everything, if it means I don’t have to feel about it. My own core person has its faults. We all do. I’m glad I can percieve mine in such a light, of workability. That i can put effort towards those strands of gunk and make them alright. I know the things I need to do. I know I’ve been post poning them. But now? Now I can’t do it much longer. After he’s three, well. I’m okay with letting it all out to where it needs to go. I know that’s whats been holding me back. I hate lying now. My guilt sucks me up into a basket of sick and my stomach doesn’t want anything to do with anything except alcohol.  I am hurt and hurting and sick and sickening. I want to get better. But I am weak and I will crack. I’m a strong pants wearing relatiopnship person. Is what I always thought. I did end all the ones I was in. But that may mean nothing. I’m saying that I’m in a spot where I’m not okay with not being smpathized with. I’m not okay with always being the one to walk after the otherI. I wont be. I will not be in a relationship where that is a case. Whether its my parents, my son, my friends. That is not what I do. It has taught me a lot. To be in this position. It’s taught me about the yucky part of love. When you’re running out the doorr and you don’t even want to but you know it will make things better even if you’re the one folding…It taught me to fold. And folding is love, to me. I’ve never folded so much. And it sucks blood out of me, and blows courage into me. I have never been this real with myself.