The Inbetween is Real

All kinds of struggle.
I’ve kind of labelled mine in a broad but specific sense. Because THAT makes sense.
And it will. After you finish reading.

I’m inbetween wanting to walk in front of a speeding train, and wanting things to get better.

But not.

You see?

I want things to get better but I don’t want to make the effort.
It’s like wanting to lose weight but not wanting to pass on the skor bars or double cheeseburgers. Not wanting to run uphill for 2 minutes everyday or go for a walk.

In between not wanting to try for that,
I’m inbetween wanting to try for an exit.
A solution that is quite frankly, absurd.

You don’t exit because things get tough.
But you think about it everyday.

You don’t want to explain yourself to your family,
but you can’t leave without them knowing.

You don’t want life to be like this
but it is right now. Except

you can change little particles of it.
You can,
but you don’t want to.

Because being sad is easier.
Because laying in bed with a breadknife under your sons books, is a better feeling.

Because the idea of leaving, makes things better.
It dilutes trying.
It makes trying seem more difficult and thus, makes doing nothing, more justifiable. 

 

You see?

It all makes sense.

Hurted Again

We woke up beside each other again.
I’m pretty sure I went over last night after you had told me not to.

And I shouldn’t have.

You were drunk and angry and I couldn’t say anything to make it right.
For the first time in our time together, you pushed me twice.

I was in slight shock.

I’ve seen you upset and mad before,
but not like this. Not this much.

I have never taken so much hurtful words before. I have never just sat there and got verbally beaten. I have never stood for it. I have never sat for it.
You are the only one I’ve let do so.
Partially because I feel I deserve it, and partially because I’m hoping it helps. And that if you’re venting to me, maybe it won’t be to someone else.
The momementum  was such, that it even rolled into the next morning.

Your eyes blazed anger. I wasn’t scared. I just felt helpless.

I should not have went over.
I will not next time.
See? I’m learning.

 

Finally, Now I know

I was looking back on old typings of mine on my external hardrive. We’re going back to 2007?  My mouth dropped at a certain one.

I was telling myself that I didn’t know what it was like to love. That I just wanted to feel a heartbreak, to truly know that I was loving.
I continued on expressing how I had always been the one that broke up with whoever I was with at the time. And that by being loved so much by these individuals, I abused it. It meant less to me because I didn’t understand it. And I always had it.
I begged to feel heartbroken.

And now?

After 27 years of living,
I know what it’s like to have my heart busted.

 

 

Air Breathing

If air was a breathing
technique,
we’d all be dead.

We’d be too focused on
everyday nothings
on divorce,breakups,
hurts,aches and all
and we’d all be dead
because air would be our
second nature.

We’d have no technique
no good for the air
We’d be smoke in suffocation,
worrying about the big things
that are SMALL

If air was a breathing
techinque,
we’d all be dead.

Trying to stop the Coast

I don’t recall experiencing such highs and such lows, one after the other, in all my life.

Soaring for days, for weeks even, and then plummeting in an instant. Finding self in the dark caves of insecurity with self abosrbed and self hating rocks in all the tunnels.

How the hell did I get here?

I’m stretching out my arms, with my fingertips trembling for any sort of sense.

But the thing is, it all does. It makes sense why I’m here, how I’m here and why I feel the way I do. Well, that part gets me a bit confused. I’m not really sure why I reach very low points. Other then the reason I’m going through  a divorce and I’m terrified about what happens to my child in the future. Sort of a lack of control. Future does have you behind the controls to some extent and even though I still do-I can afterall, control my behaviour, my actions and try and steer my feelings accordenly-  it feels that all of a sudden life has dropped the drive to go forward and I’m coasting towards a giant brick wall.

My desire to see friends wanes. I know they’ll make me happy but when I reach low, it’s hard to even want to be happy. Self Pity. Oh what a deadly thing.

 

 

 

 

So Tell It

We’ll all talk splatter talk and figure our art is aligned with the ninety four stars we count on Sunday nights.

We’ll all understand that hurt and trial and ache is a shit part of breathing and that it doesn’t align with anything except happiness.

 

We’ll all know that happiness is what makes life worth living and without happy coinsiding with levels of pain, happy wouldn’t exist and thus, sadness is a completion of a circle and without it, life would fucking suck.

At least we’ll tell ourselves that in the bad times.
And we’ll believe it even in the good.

Because that’s what life particles are about.
Making your mind believe anything.
Because it can and it will.

Anything you tell it.

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.

 

 

Dark Space

It’s scary. I’m scared. I know life is going to be like that sometimes. There are lots of uncontrollables. But it doesn’tt take away from the thought of opting out of living it. It’s easier like that. Those thoughts are easy and comforting and selfish and make you feel better. Having control of that one thought and action, eases the fact of all the other uncontrolled.  Even if right along with the thought of giving up, is the thought that I couldn’t. But only because I’m a Mom.

One of those First Day Posts

I didn’t think I wasn’t capable, just that I wasn’t the type to feel that way. I even thought about it and felt that brushing it off and getting on with my day, was how I would deal with it. So when leaving my son on his first day of daycare with a welling rise in my throat and gloss already forming on my sight, well, it kinda threw me off.
But it didn’t either.

It didn’t feel THAT weird. It just felt weird that I didn’t expect that reaction of mine.
It felt good and it felt weird that it felt good.

I had visions of him without me, interacting with unfamiliar people and being so…alone. Those images packed into my brain without warning throughout the day. I called two hours after I left him, to make sure he was doing fine. Of course he was.

I arrived 10 minutes prior to leaving time and circled the block about three times and felt like a funny mom, laughing at myself for how ridiculous and how proper all of that, all of me, was.

He survived his first day and so did I.

And the real special part was when I walked into the room and he saw me from across it and jumped off his horse and ran and ran and ran right to me with his little arms outstretched to hug my bones, my self, my life, my love and I immediatly felt cry come up my insides and curve to the ceiling and I knew I didn’t want to talk to anyone because I wouldn’t be able to form edible words and so I signed out quick and got him to the truck and talked to him all the way home about his day and loved and loved and loved. And when we got home I sat with him, close to him, with him touching my face and telling me he had missed me and holding my ears and sayin he had cried a little bit because he was ‘squared’ and ‘wanted Mommy there’.

I would never had understood any of those feelings from another parent if I had not experienced this day for myself. This day, those feelings, that love, that humanity.
Thank you heartbeat of mine, for sad and scared and wondering days like these. Where the trickling of all those sensations makes up a very, very life of a feeling. A heart swelling blooming living feeling, that you can’t forget once you know it.

Medical Life

Pulled muscles of life are the strains and tightening circles of events.

Broken bones are that of old friendships,

and sprains are arguments and unsmooth disagreements.

Fevers are that of embarrassment and insult,
the times your ears go hot and your throat goes dry.

Coughs are the unglue of the system. “Just get the bad out of me.”

and dizziness is that of hangovers
-which start at noon.