Messy Weekend

Maybe it was my quivering stomach that awoke me. My head heavy and my heart along with it. I stand up to get water, and I wonder if my legs will hold me. My eyes have dry tears stuck to them.
More then half of my Saturday was spent in drunk phone calls. Reaching out for help, while losing the idea of what I really need help with.
It’s that low point in drinking for 30 days straight. That depressant within it that finally kicked in. Was it building up to this point all along?

My body has sore throughout. Some places more then others. I am weak and my brain fuzzy and confused and I’m conflicted and uncertain and I don’t feel stable. I have to move slow, and slow is even too fast. I have to make a decision, and that is one decision too many.

I will figure this out. And I will need to be confident on what I figure out or else I will not be able to act on it. I feel like my heart just doesn’t want to let go but that is confusing my head up because my head I think, thinks it should.

What a flippin dilemma.

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.

A Point in Marriage

There is a point in marriage I think.
Well, there are a lot of points. But this one I’m talking about, it involves the decision of commitment. You take the vow on the day, for certain.
But it comes back numerous times throughout the marriage and you must make that conscious decision of ‘yes, i’m sticking with this’.
Maybe it doesn’t happen with everyone. Maybe some don’t really acknowledge the choice; that there isn’t one because of that first vow. But to me, a sign of love is making the choice continously. Because love is work. Love takes so much effort and it has more substance when it is something you choose to be in, rather than in because of a vow you made 6 years ago.

It can be a good thing to be aware that you can get out. And that you won’t, because of love.
Of course, in instances of abuse and the like- I would argue changes need to be made.
And if not, the commitment should end.

When we realise the power we have, the decisions we make are more valuable.
When we realise we are staying together, whether it is a question or not- we can be proud of that decision.
Let us feel bits of happiness for making a promise to be with someone for the rest of our life-and
keeping it.
The divorce rates are scary high and we know that marriage is work. It will almost be the hardest thing we do.
So let’s give ourselves some credit and acknowledge the fact that love has brought us here and it is love that will carry us through.

Marriage and Here

I think about how living here affects my marriage.
We don’t ever go out on double dates or go out just us two. We have only met and bonded with one couple over coffee when Zeek was first born. And that was because she was pregnant and wanted some info regarding our labour and delivery.

When we get into arguments, I don’t phone up a friend. I don’t go walking down the streets. Because I can’t. I have no friends and it’s a bigger deal then just to get up and go with a 6 month old.
So our arguments rarely happen. When they do, we may be quiet for a little while but we are forced to revert back to one another. We live under the same roof and he doesn’t have friends either. We just haven’t bothered to make any.
I’m a pretty social person so you wonder how I can do it.
I guess this country does a lot for me in the way that I reflect and do personal things that I otherwise wouldn’t be finding the time for.
I’ve made scrapbooks and albums and videos over the past few years.

I think a lot on when we move to Canada. Because within two years, we will.
I think about how I will change. How certain aspects of me will be highlighted. Stuff that maybe he hasn’t seen before. Like, ordering my own food. And being talkative and interacting and being dependent.
I wonder what it will do to our marriage.
I wonder about good things and bad things.

I think when we argue there, we will be able to put more space between us and that may resort to the issue taking longer to resolve. It will be a challenge.
It will be like a new relationship all over again. I am excited for it.

So I live it up here. I focus on the good this place does for us and how close we are because of it. I think we have been here for a reason and I think we have been building on that without realizing it.
I can stand tall and be proud of us because we are doing well for being so far away from all that we know…from any help I would be getting, from time away from Baby, from time with friends..

What a Marriage I am in !
I love it!

A New Beautiful

I never knew how many things I could do with my toes. It’s only been three weeks and I’ve opened cabinet doors, picked up everything from  scissors to power cords, even lowered the volume on the tv. It’s not because I’ve broken both my arms or because Im doing a  science project… but because I have a child to hold.
He is so much of mine .
I crack grins over everything I do and watch the contents dribble . I watch his face for hours as he makes faces I’ve never seen before. Later on I’ll catch myself with the feeling that my face is doing  something like I’ve seen on his.
I love that I can help him burp. I love that I can get him clean and  stop him from crying . That he depends on me for all these things.

It’s beautiful.