Even the strongest swimmers can only flail for so long.
I haven’t posted in this catagory in a long time because I have been afraid.
If I wrote something about you, it would alter the good track it has been on.
I think I was doing well to have you in a peaceful part of my mind, a stability that was working.
It still is.
I handed you over a thousand words of mine that I have written over the past four months.
Last night when I saw you, I had confidence brimming my heart and I knew I was doing the right thing.
I am very vulnerable with all these words you have in your hand, but it will make the second part of my gift, make sense.
And I have to give you the second part of this gift.
Because it is all I have to give to you.
There’s still an air of change that the strands of my hair can feel. This is one of those braver, launch out to the world posts- where as two nights ago I was on my bedroom floor, my eyes leaking a fresh batch.
It is not a rolling lawn, hilly field scene. It is cliffs, jutted out rocks, grass and sand.
I walk the grasses of eager and strength and without even having time to lose my footing, I’m falling down a hole that has sandpaper walls.
I’m getting tired of these frantic and draining surprises.
It’s not like I’m getting better at them.
I’ll have to make the necessary adjustments, realign my path and try something different. I cannot continue doing the same things and expect a different outcome.
Hence, the change my hair strands can feel.
In the midst of feeling defeated, ready to give in, give up and not give a shyza about either,
there’s this person named Will.
The Will to fookin’ live.
I have to think about the correlation between my Abroad flashes and my current life.
I have started to get them and sometimes they are very intense.
It is not exactly miss for the country, but there are moments in those memories that fling me to the kitchen floor in ache.
Perhaps it is that life I lived, dripping out of me. Like an open Pepsi bottle and its fizz, carbonation floating up and out. Leaving the pop, flat.
And I feel slightly like I am being emptied.
That my senses for that place, the language and the smells, the sights and the people, they are slowly leaving my brain box.
I am not scared for that.
But it is a bit scary.
How many times will it take?
How many chances will I get?
Why can’t I get a grip on living a good life.
I have failed so much and it hurts my heart to death. I keep messing up.
And I don’t even fucking know why. I barely know how.
I think I can move forward while holding on to stuff from the past?
That is one of the lousiest thought orders a human being can have.
Realizations come in giant waves that have me speechless. I can’t explain myself. I’m just a knotted rope full of threads and unravelling dishevellement. I don’t understand me much anymore and it’s getting me further into a darkness I will not be able to breathe in.
On the other hand, I just made red play-dough with my child and that was rather amusing and made my heart feel beats of light life.
Where do we go from here.
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.
I have known for awhile, in the back of my head, that it would crash.
That at one point, life would just fold in on itself.
And I would deal with it then.
That’s what I told myself.
Hurt has now got the strength and has shaped and it’s formed and.. it’s in me. It’s what I have begun to feel. I don’t get hurt often. I really don’t.
But I feel that this is the beginning of the toughest thing I go through.
This will be one of the biggest changes in my life. Coming to terms with things will take awhile.
It’s not like anyone has died,
but a part of me has to. I have to kill parts of me, in order for me to live. And to love.
To love completely.
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 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.
So that was a rough patch. I’m onto smoother grounds now and I’m not even sure how I got here. Maybe it’s the shoes I’m wearing. Or the fact that I stopped conversing with a guy friend from back home. I was Skyping with him an hour everyday. Goodbyes are tough and sometimes they trail into the other life you’re living across the world. But we cut our communication off and I suppose ever since then, I am more present.
We still do not have the life we did before. We still are not as affectionate or as playful, as loving or as cute. Even though I have seven new bras and matching panties he ordered from the UK last month, the usage has been sparce.
We both have our things to work on but I just feel that I am the one tugging us down. What runs through my head is the saying ‘ what you loved about your partner, what made you fall for them, becomes the things that bother you the most’ . It is true for me.
I admired his wealth of knowledge, how much he talked for minutes at a time without my response.I was shy and was glad he could talk.But now I find myself shutting off. One of my friends told me, ” It is hard being in a relationship with a smart person. ” Because he is. Way smarter than me. So I have been feeling like a little ant under his giant brain and it doesn’t feel very good.
Sometimes I feel unmotivated to say anything because I know he will come back with something greater, better, something that relates to something else that prooves his point and so all our conversations end up being not about me and my feelings, end up not being simple and organised, but chaotic and sad.
In these days I am weak.
And I am being better, I am trying harder. To get to somewhere good. Because I am coming into focus with the fact that I don’t really want to leave him. That just because it gets tough for me, doesn’t mean I run.
But I’m still stuck. Because I am not who he thinks I am.
I am living a lie and I’m stuck in it.
So am I really getting better? Or am I just getting better at my lies?