Outta the Black

This marks the first post of mine in October of this year.
In a few weeks my son turns three.
That fact waters the terrain of Emotional Motherland like no other. But that’s okay. That’s a rich feeling. That makes trees and grass and lakes. That makes for a beauty of a landscape.

I’m on more stable grounds. It feels good to rid yourself of every single thing of something you were apart of. I’d never done that so thourougly before.

I feel closer to pure than I have in awhile. I knew going through dark spaces was okay. Inside them thinking, I just want to feel the worst of it all right now. Because that feels the best.

And then you come out of that space and life looks a lot more clearer, feels a lot more cleaner and drives you to be a whole lot better.

And bettering to me,
is a way of life.

Different Types of Tough

There are lots of good wonderfuls about life. Negative wonderfuls that make us stronger,better people.
Sometimes those saddy wonderfuls just suck to go through. We just want to be on the other side of it where we are that stronger,better person.

There are all kinds of different tough wonderfuls.
There are the monotone lines of the stuff. That are a constant apparency in your life.

There are ones that you can shove away for a little while, distract yourself with events or other people.

The rollercoaster ones that have you up for a day and then sunk to the bottom of the ocean the next. Being on that ride for weeks? That otta make your guts feel like they’re gonna spill out of your eyes.
There are ones that have you home in bed, wanting nothing to do with life.

I’m not sure if there’s a benefit in figuring out which one you’re experiencing. I suppose I just point these out because I figured which category I was in. The rollercoaster one.
In knowing that I kind of brace myself for the stomach dropping falls. It makes the happy ride in the clouds slightly salty and disfigured but that’s part of the bracing.

It’s an emotional,mental and physically exhausting trip. I tell myself often that the journey, as sucky as it is, it’s going to be okay. I have to believe that or else staying under the ocean will seem like a very pleasant and peaceful place, the glad clouds a mere unobtainable dream.

A Country Break Up

I think I thought I would miss Thailand more than I do.
I do ride on waves and big wind gusts of the stuff sometimes. But it isn’t very frequent at all. And it’s easy to get off of them.

Since moving back to Canada in September of 2014, I have been conscious-and still am- when it comes to Asian stuffs. ┬áI refuse to have any contact in any form with Thai friends. I don’t let myself scroll through there Facebook pages or Instagram accounts. When I see Asians out in public I do find myself staring and feeling a deep connection. But that is really all I allow myself. Partly because I cannot control the sight of them, and partly because running in the opposite direction just doesn’t seem like a good thing to do.
I’ve found that it spills out an over abundance of connection to the country and memories and feelings that I consider to be ┬áinterference’s.

It’s kind of like a break-up. Emotional connections don’t just ‘zip’,’zilch’ out of your life. It takes time. You’ll still see things or hear music that reminds you of them, and that’s part of the whole process. The duration of it depends on the person.

Thailand will always be a part of my life. I had my son there and he’s a quarter Asian, for goodness sake. I am not against the country or it’s people but by cutting out as much contact with it, it has helped me lesson the emotional attachment I had pertaining to that part of my life. Coming to the understanding that I do not miss it because I have not made a place for that miss to build, is a reassuring, refreshing analysis in my life.
I am capable of doing that with other categories. I can avoid the dangerous, tempting spots. I just make a conscious effort and ‘voila’, time gets it.
Time will always get it.

Get Weak

I don’t remember feeling this emotional over a grey squirrel or from seeing water spray up from the concrete waterpark floor, onto my sons underpanted kid body.

I don’t remember when I felt like this last; listening to songs I just learned. I feel I’m an emotional ball of sheeps wool. I feel weak with life.

I feel fricking weak with life.

Maybe we get so stuck on being strong. On holding our ground, landmarking our opinions and building them onto even higher grounds. But you know, I think it’s pretty darn special to get weak.

To let life kind of fill you up with oats of tears and to sit in that bowl and just, cry for how happy sad things can be.

Because feeling is a gem.

Feeling is a wonderful.

Put down your muscles and let yourself get weak with life.

Gurd

You go to a five stages,three day camping festival event and you come back feeling like you were on a euphoric emotional high two of the three days and you understand that it’s been 5 years since you’ve been around that many English speaking people at once and that it is your first time you have ever even experienced bands and people and closeness the way that you did.

You see the tents come down and the piles of garbage bags and the dust from the cars driving out.

You arrive home and you play a song from the CD you bought of one of the bands you saw-one of the members of that band you went to public school with and whose mother taught you in grade 6.

And you cry.

It’s not a drop of the system. It’s not happy slid into a hole of sad. It’s an overwhelming mixture of memories and time and realization. That you just experienced all that. And the photos run your heart wild and before you fully understand,you’re craving to do more of things like this.
You can have lived on the other side of the world for years, visited multiple countries and drove through 90% of the states in America; but when your travel bug has gone mute, it is mere evidence that something will take it’s place.

Maybe you won’t figure what’s supposed to fill it up right away. But something will.

It might click when you’re dancing in a great furious next to a girl that you met 12 hours ago, or when you’re in a group of 7, having lost the three people you knew. It might click when you get home and your heart yearns to do it all over again.

To start an addiction of something new, because of a space that held something old.

Oh, that is a marvelous life particle to have obtained!

Inside A Brain

I’m trying to convince people I’m a bad person, when I’m not telling them directly why I think so.
I suppose it is getting my toenails in the door of truth. And that I’m doing it the slow cowardly way.
I feel once I tell one person, it will be easier to tell others. Even though everyone is different,reactions will totally determine whether or not I tell many.

The past week I feel I have went out everyday and saw at least one friend. I’ve drank three nights in a row like I’m 19 all over again.
It is liberating. Tiring, but emotionally boosting.
Like I’m getting somewhere with myself, getting it out of my system.

I’m five pounds heavier than I want to be and people are physically attracted to me.
I have a good Mommy body. And I know I do. But I don’t use being a Mommy as an excuse at all. Nor will I ever.
I will use my kid as a weight if I have to. I will run laps around the yard with him.

Bubble moving thoughts. They are wonderful these days.

Day of Low.

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.

A Powerful Hospital Visit in Thailand

It’s odd seeing people dressed in bar clothes in a hospital.
At least not in the asthma and allergy center.
As I’m writing this I realise I really could make a valid stand on why bar girls may be in this part of the hospital. Even more of a valid point if they’re with their 75 year old partner.
The real reason I write this post is because of what you’re about to read.

I hated every nurse in the room for the minute ( which seemed like 9 ) that they held Zeek down and took his blood. They wrapped him tight in a blanket and there were three of them standing over and while he began to wail, before I even felt anything,tears formed in my eyes.
I wasn’t expecting to feel what I did. This helplessness. This anger. I just wanted to rip him away from them and hold him. I looked around at everything and I felt hate for Lilo and Stitch. They were on the wall dancing away and they were far too happy.
My stomach turned and I felt thin and almost that I could faint.

And then he was handed into my arms and he stopped crying and put his head down on my shoulder while I wiped away the last of my own tears.
He was sleeping 3 minutes later. In my arms.
And I looked at his face,all blotchy and red and I said, ” I love you beyond what I can tell you, and that will never change.”

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.

My Sons First Birthday

It is today and because I wrote down everything that went on at what time a year ago, I have been going hour by hour on what has happened so far.
In 12 minutes a year ago, I will see my doctor for the first time that day. And she will check and say ‘ yeah, you could have the baby today, we can do it today’.
And all these things make my eyes go glossy because as hard as I try and believe it has been a whole 12 months, it does not run to completion in my head.
I sit here with a party hat on and the pretty pink gown I wore when I gave birth. I made the decision today that I will always wear this gown on this day.
Many mixed feelings as I watch my son roam. I am still getting over the fact we were across the world a few days ago and so I am numb and emotional all at the same time.
Many firsts in life, but there is never more than one first of anything.
And that is what makes it so gosh darn special.