Weather Woman

Thoughts are clogging up my brain chamber. And this is different then feelings pecking away at my heart strings. I am thinking critically and independently and finding solitude to soften and sooth as soon as it hits the back of my throat. My tin of tea has never been so empty.
It is coming together and because I know this, the mass of mind clouds in my noggin’ are okay to be there. The forecast ahead is the future I am wanting to be in and under. And beside myself I will be happy to be, because I have located a serenity within.

I begin building with my Weatherwoman tools.

I Arrive Here

You do not complete me. 
I am a whole strong individual without you. If you die before me, I will still be here.

I am capable of making myself happy. I can make myself laugh, smile and cry.
I don’t need your love to feel full,
I have my own love
for me. 

And I love to dance with me.

You are not my life. I am my own.
I am beautiful standing alone. 

I do not need you in my life.

I want you.
I choose to want you.

I choose to put my time,energy and love towards you.
I am choosing to let your life be a part of mine.
I am choosing to spend my life with yours.  

I choose to love you
because now,
I am able. 

I am finally whole on my own.

Another Alone Post!

I guess it’s just the most alone I’ve ever felt in my entire life.
I’ve wrote about this before. I know.
But it’s still here. So I’ll write about it.

Even when I was on the other side of the world with a handlful of friends that I rarely saw and a husband and a child,  I was less lonely. Why?
Not because of the relationship I had, but because I knew I had good friendships elsewhere. That’s what kept me on my feet.

Now I’m here and I have six feet more to my length, of lonliness.

I’m depriving myself, soaking myself in the lack of desire and trying to convince myself that I’m okay with it. That I should be. That I deserve this lack of contact. That I deserve to feel alone. 26 years is a long time to not feel alone. So it’s about time.
Since it’s my first time, you can bet I’m sucking at handling it. Rejection really flippin is a terrible terrible thing. I’ve been spoiled!

And even though I know what to do with myself, I almost kind of don’t. I just feel lost.
I can contact men from the past and let that be an easy fix. Let the attention wrap around me. But I’m trying to change, remember? I refuse to do it the easy way.

So I suppose until I’m out of this space, I’ll complain, vent, roam in lonely and let it do whatever it’s supposed to do to me. I’m not over it. I’m under it and it’s weighing me down.
When I have the muscle power to break free of it, I’ll let you know.

 

 

 

To Push Encourgement is to also sometimes Waver in the Unknown.

it flew.

we flew

our narrow tinted wings, gaining height,while deeply giving depth
unknowenly.
and we second guessed it
but it came back,
it always comes back
we always come back
together.

don’t curse anything, not even the heavy distance
for it all is an impenatrating combination to ourselves
forever.
the whispered blows from winded past, and the quaking irony of our embelished in love souls,
not raging. Encouraging everyday like it is our own , our last and ours to hold
We’re a deadly thriller purpose
all the ingrediants of a natural born cause.
a regionment of self reflect, surrounding ourselves like always

even with the clouds flickering about, our shadows on top and over,
someday we

me and you
will unite in flight officially
as rainbows pin themselves to the brightening sky

and eagles soar through couragous weather, burning brightly at our sides,
we will lift our embeded beating hearts and continue
along with the non existing seconds and the drops of drying tears,
filled with joy and engagement, we’ll sing
raise our wings
and


we’ll fly. 

Flying in my Heart

I flew around the world with a human-my son,who had only spent 4 montharoos in the worldy. Me and my 24 year old self.
I don’t know, maybe that should have sunk in and it should be considered a small feat and what some Moms do all the time.
But it was me and everytime I think about that time, I feel I was very young.

It was, and is, a giant feat for me that I feel proud about.

And now?

My son flies around my heart in his own special capsule in his own special space every single day. He’s got his own flight path and neither of us are the pilots-it’s just called love.
We fly alone together everywhere.

To the grocery store. Through dreams. Through tears.

Even when apart.

He takes the flight in my heart that is a flight that lasts forever.
And no matter how young or how old I feel,
it will always be the case-
plane and simple.

Mom, You Don’t Like My Choices

There is tension and pressure in the household. Mom can’t handle us being here. Probably because of my decisions. I’ve always had guy friends-a lot more than I have had girls. But I think it’s weird for her to know I’m hanging out with them now, or when I have them over. Specially ones she has not met before. We’ve been avoiding one another for three days.
She told me she can see that my brother and I have lives and that she should get one too. Guess what. She’s been saying that for four years.

On another side of things. I have to go about my friendships differently. To trod carefully. I don’t usually. I don’t think I am managing them well. They are managng me. Because I’m floundering.
Two ‘friends’ have already dropped off because I didn’t want to be with them. There is fear in that. If I tell everyone I don’t want to be with them, do they all drop off?
I am terrified of being alone even though I know I should feel it.

But my best friends marriage two and a half years after her divorce, has never made more sense.

Desire for the Special Attention

I have been really surprised at my desire for attention.
I suppose it’s not really that shocking and that if I had of thought about all the things I would feel upon arrival back in my country, it very possibly could have popped up.

I think perhaps, the intensity of the want is what has taken me by my surprise.
Since I was 16, I have always had attention, at least one guy or the other who ‘loved me’ and I enjoyed that.

There are still ones out there that do. But the fact that I don’t love them back, has never felt more like a gap than it does now.
That is where the Special Attention comes into play.
The attention you get from someone that you have a crush on. That you like a bit more than a friend. That you woud cuddle with and not feel weird about it.
I cuddled with one of my best guy friends who I know likes me-always has- but unlike in previous cuddle times with him, it felt awkward and odd and very obvious to me that I did not want to be doing it.

Special Attention now becomes very select.

I try not to care about the ones I do like, that are slow to text back or are busy with other life things.
I feel more needy but I contain myself and refrain from acting like it. Which has never needed to be the case. I never cared whether I took 40 minutes to text back or 6.

What in the heck!

Writings of My Dark Room

Last week I went to a very dark place.

For four days I stayed inside those walls.
I was aware of all the things I should do, that I needed to do in order to be better. But I didn’t care and I became numb to things and I went out for hours at a time drinking and wandering and not even feeling alone..but.. helpless.It’s an odd idea. To have such a detailed awareness of what I need to do, and then to actually feel unable. To feel the in ability and to know that I’m making it up. That it’s all me.That I’m the one making the problem, enlarging the issue. Im the one being ridiculous and child-like and yet… I feel too weak to change it.
I began to blame every little difficult thing-like the way Zeeks bag wouldn’t zip up on the first try, or tripping over wires, if Zeek cried for more than two minutes- I blamed that on the fact that it was because I was here in Thailand. I began to get angry and I didn’t even realise it was happening.

I had felt that I would be able to get on track and get involved and do more things with Zeek outside of the home. I really believed I would.
And then. It kept on not happening. I kept telling myself I was happy working on my videos and pictures and that if I could just get those done I would feel better.
But I just got in deeper. So deep that before I knew it, I was shutting down and walking with this cement structure around myself, ignoring Morgan and doing the minimal with Zeek.
Light could not enter my space. And I don’t think I even wanted it too. For the first time in my entire life, I actually felt incapable of fixing anything. Incapable of breaking the cube, of being happy. I felt life slide from my finger tips and my lack of care became what I breathed everywhere I went. I stopped eating and using drink, I both mentally and emotionally exhausted myself.
I knew I needed to be better and I knew Morgan and Zeek didn’t deserve to be treated the way I was treating them. I knew I was failing and I just got more angry at myself. I was miserable. I didn’t even feel alone. There was a layer of numbness to everything else I felt. I was unable to be the person I wanted. I hated that I had created this room and the person I was being inside of it.
I hated it, yet I felt I could not escape it..

In the meantime I of course stopped all contact with my family and my mother worried and wanted to talk but I felt like doing nothing of the sort and I stopped emailing the few people I was because silly this, the wait time for responses had me going wild.

I removed myself from any light because I felt all it did was make the issue less raw and I needed it to be raw in order for me to come to this point.

You would think after five years of living abroad I would have accepted being away from Canada but it isn’t the case. I guess that’s partly where all the phases and stages come in.

I have reaccepted my stay here and I have reevaluated my time and I’m kind of ready to not sulk here anymore. I’m okay.

Because it got me to a desperate make believe,four walled room where enough dizzying circles would have resulted in me being put on a plane without my son and flown to my home country where counselling sessions would have been forced into my brain space.

Sometimes I guess, we need refreshing. Sometimes we need to defrag our computers, delete various people on Facebook we don’t even know anymore and dye our hair. Sometimes we need to make big changes in order for us to continue- or even to be – happy.

Incapable of Fixing

I am more ready than I ever have been, to leave this country and live in my own.
Because of this, I am already half out of it. Half living here, half into everything I do here, half gone.
I am very aware of all things negative. Aware of the things I need to be doing to be better. I am aware of my faults and my lack of effort. I am aware of my awful behaviour towards my partner and sometimes even Zeek.
I know all of these things but I feel incapable of fixing it. Of changing it. I feel like I feel nothing sometimes. I feel a lot sometimes. Weights. I feel that I’m watching the days go by because they are what’s bringing me to the days where I am supposedly more happier and that I’m waiting for that happiness instead of creating it.
I am aware the danger in mistaking Canada as my only source of happiness. As the one thing that is going to cure this. I am aware that once I get there, I may be disspointed. That once life starts back up, that there will be things that surprise me or alter what I think makes me happy.

I have breakdowns every now and then, and after 5 weeks of zero contact with my mother, I called her crying. Everything seems so much sometimes.
And it wasn’t until the phone call that I said aloud that it was the unhappiest I’ve been in a long time. Previous to this call I said I was happy, I just could be happier. But the truth is
that.
That I am unhappy and I feel trapped. I feel stuck because I know of all the things to do and ways to be in order to be happy, but I am unable.
I don’t ever recall feeling this way. Inadequate. Incapable. Being upset with me.
I am not depressed but I feel that this is how depressed people feel. Unable to change the slump they are in. Either a mixture of not wanting to, laziness, hopelessness…
I have a lot. I have someone who loves me, I have money to buy things and places to go for massages and manicures and someone who cleans my house and takes care of Zeek when I want to go out.. i have a pool and an oven, a hammock and a chocolate advent calender.I have so much, yet I am sad.
I am guilty of living this lifestyle and not being happy. I am not content, or satisfied or okay with life here. And because I have already convinced myself of that, living a good thing here, becomes difficult.
It is not fair to Morgan or Zeek, to be in such a state. To be in this dramatic low.

I would like to be better.
I would like to feel that I could try. That there is a space to do so in.
I am tired tired tired all the time.

Being a parent is an on going preparation. There are always things to think for. I must think three hours in advance every single day.
And suddenly, taking a trip to the beach or going out for dinner, becomes a chore. And I recognize that it is so easy for people to plan it. For people to get ready and go.
I had friends here this weekend. And I saw it.
That they had no thought of any of the 18 thoughts that I had.
And I realise that I need to be better at this. Better at going with the flow and not caring so much. But at the same time, planning and being prepared, makes it easier.
Planning is slowly making its way into just how we have to do things now. Because that is part of what being a parent is. That won’t change.
But I guess that I continually feel the stress of thinking myself. Of all the things I need to bring and that if I forget something, it is my fault.

I apoligize for the somewhat repetitive nature of my recent posts.
I’m just stuck.