Control your Fire

You know when you flick your lighter at a rag soaked in gasoline?
And it bursts into a heat you automatically want to drop?

Sometimes we get those moments. And it is not passion that’s ignited.
It is anger.

Our immediate thought is,  ‘Must stop whatever made me feel this.’
And many many many of us launch with all that initial flame, into an uncontrolled reaction.
We only think with that burst and we don’t let the fire tone down to it’s more brilliant element; calamity.

Feel that fire, acknowledge it and then wait. Slowly go forth when you feel the heat has subsided- in you still but not enough for you to boil over.

We burst into flames all to quickly. Let’s try and wait it out. We’ll only get better by trying.

Approach the problem when you are calm.

You are more respected if you have yourself under control.

Make your fire healthy , not hazardous.

 
Make it heart warming, not heart burnt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Day My Mother Left

March 11 2016

I walked up the basement stairs about 830am and could feel the chill in the air already.  I opened the basement door and came face to face with a touque wearing, flurescent vested, glove wearing man.

” Can I use the washroom? Where abouts is it?”

In 4 seconds or less I see everything. The doors are open and there are 3 other men moving around and I see the big white truck out the kitchen window with a ramp up to it and items, and lamps and mattress and desk and I think inside ‘ she’s not actually.. is this what this actually is??’ and then Aunt Dawn comes down the stairs with her arms full of bags and I ask ” Is she moving out?”

With grim expression and a slight smirk, she nods her head- out the door she goes.
There are 4, 5, 6, movers, all moving fast and the world is blurry for an instant. I stand there cemented to the spot. I don’t know what to do and I see police car, one, two and I know I do not want to see Mom but she’s there before I can move and next thing i know i  am doing what i dont want to do and moving towards her and i hug her and say the least thing i want to say to her. ” yay, you’re finally doing it!’
then i walk downstairs then i walk back up and i go up more stairs and i am crying and i open my brothers door and i sit on his bed and i say ‘ josh ‘ and he turns over slowly and sees my face and is alert and there is panic in his eyes and i say ‘ moms moving out ‘ and we sit in stunned silence and then we talk and then we look out the window and then we sit some more and then we go back down together and zeek all this time is watching stuff on my computer and doesn’t know anything that’s going on .
and josh calls our sister and she didn’t know . josh calls our brother later on and he didn’t know
and dad is in chatham and he
does
not
know.
i feel wrong being here.
then there are more cars and aunt ruth and uncle john are there and he asks me ‘ hows it goin’ and i say drly’ perfect’ he says oh right, dumb question’. and they hug me and i am stiff and my eyes wet and they just keep being wet and i am standing there beside them and i dont want to be and they say they have nothing against my dad and that john, ‘ i’d like to go golfing with him this summer’ and i’m saying inside my head, ‘ya the fuck right’. i am mad mad mad mad mad and feel out of place.
Then I am downstairs and the movers are there now too and ask ‘ are we just taking the tv?’
My blank stare is enough answer.
I know this is the best thing to do. For Mom to leave.
But I am still angry.
I am mad that she chose to do it this way. To have it planned for at least a month. To get her own place. To know she was spending her last days here. And us not have a clue.
I am angry that all those trips into town were ones for lawyers. she never ever told us she was leaving even those times.
I am mad she didn’t say goodbye, but i know that was easier for her to do.
I hate that she said ‘ you can visit, theres a suite you can stay in for 3,4 days for free’.
‘im sorry mom, ‘ i think to myself ‘ i have not fricken processed this in the slighest.
The place she will have gotten will be very nice. It won’t be dumpy. And Josh and I sit dumbfounded, and he asks me about the affair because in Moms email to him, she mentions it assuming he already knew. He didn’t. But I say nothing about it and say , ‘ask dad,he’ll tell’.

Then, all of a sudden, a crashing silence falls on our heads and we stand up and we say, ” Are they gone already??”

and upstairs we go and there is no trace that they were even here, save for the spaces of things that were there and are now gone.
we move to her room and it is empty empty empty and we stand in it for a few minutes and we lean against the windows and i watch the birds at the feeder.
we wait for dad to come home and he comes home and he stops in the driveway in his white jeep and he backs up and we watch him do this and then he pulls forward and we know he has seen the marks on the grass and josh and i put our coats on and shoes and walk out to the garage and he shuts the jeep door and he follows us in and josh says’ we have some bad news…..pause… ‘ mom left’
“oh really. that doesn’t surprise me too much’ he says and his eyes are full of question and josh begins retelling the hour and a half.
and i recall people taking pictures and writing down items in the garage and in the kitchen and dad said ‘when he saw us walking out he figured somethign was up’ and when george and him left early for chatham  earlier that day they had to turn around because they forgot something and mom alreayd had her car trunk open and her bedding inside because she thought they would be gone but they came back and he saw that and thought’ either shes gettign it dry cleaned or moving out?” and she had this all planned. calculated down to the last plate she was going to take. she knew everythin she was entitled to and she had it all configured in her brain about how much stuff she needed for her new place. three stools? yes, they’ll fit quite nicely. a couch? tv? oh i need a coffee machine, yes i’ll take that one. and this good chinaware too!
dont ask me how ballistic my uncle george ( who is living with us too ) will get now without his 5 hour daily tv watch. to be honest i think that was kinda a mean one taking that . it’s not like she can’t afford another one? but we’ll get another one and a nicer one and we will change the whole basement around too. this is more my house now. I’m the woman in it.
we shall change the locks on the house.
and dad is not to know where mother now resides.
—————————–
I do feel lighter.
I do feel the air is thinner, there is less tension and Zeek finally feels more like mine again.
She will be happier, and we will be happier too. Everyone will. In time.
We will fill in the blank spaces of the house, we will take out all the knick knacks she had and it will be like she was never here. Starting over.
She is still my Mother and I suspect there will be good change in our relationship because of the distance but for now I will stay angry and sad and feel pity for my Father.
For after 36 years of marriage,
his wife has left him.

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.

 

Breakdown

I had a breakdown yesterday. I sat outside on the wooden chairs, facing away from the house with my guitar in hand and sobbed till there was a puddle at my feet. I was involuntarily moving and for the first time in years, I felt fear for my behaviour. I felt panic rise, my stomach going in and out while my hands clenched and unclenched the wooden table.

With ‘Love More and Worry Less’ in my ears, I looked up at the tree and I desired to be right under it. So I stood and laid down on the wooden patio, straight out like a board and I watched the leaves twinkle in and out and I watched the sky flicker between them and I closed my eyes and I wanted sleep.

And then my husband and son were standing over me and I was getting up and I was putting a bottle in the stroller and then son in the stroller and telling husband I was going to walk to Family Mart.

I got a bottle of rum and Coke Zero and I sat down outside while Zeek drank his bottle and I poured my rum into the Coke Zero and we sat watching traffic drinking from bottles.

And later that evening after son goes to bed I will desperately feel a need to call anyone from Canada and I will sit on the bed frantically punching in numbers on my Thai cellphone and will slowly realise that I do not have enough credit. Husband will come upstairs and hand me his phone and I will call my mother and while she sits in a bank parking lot across the world I will sob to her for twenty three minutes and I will tell her it is the unhappiest I have been.

And it is not until I hang up, that the significance of the statement confronts me. I have been telling myself and others that I’m happy but could be happier, not that I’m unhappy or sad .

I pick up Toast, my teddy bear that is larger than me, grab a sheet from the spare bedroom closet and I open the door to the balcony off our bedroom. I lay down with Toast while cars pass below and I fall asleep.

I awake to husband standing over me and I get up and I fall sleep in the bed but it takes me awhile and I do not have a good sleep.

I am unhappy and I have finally said it out loud.
I’ve finally admitted I am.