Easy Effort

“Can you wind message me?”
he asked, with pre-drip eyes.
I was leaving, he knew
at the next sunrise.

I smiled so softly
even teddy bears would be proud,
as I blundered on a “yes “,
a “for sure “; to him this I vowed.

And so I would kiss the air
every evening and day,
wipe my miss tears on feathers
“I love you “ I‘d say.

What consolation,
to have the leaves wiggle back,
a grin on my cheekbones,
two feet on one track.

It wasn’t long after,
when the journey was done,
he smiled a thank you
“for the whispers “ dear Mom.

Mother Talk

And your Mother shows up in all new fashion and her eyes still the same and her smile still the same and the rings you wear she makes the smirk on her face because she knows her daughter and that rings and bracelets have been something of my individual self, the expression a part of what makes me me. I am okay. And she is too. As we embrace. We smell the same. We lived together for so long and I pulled her hair when I was a toddler and didn’t mean to and didn’t know what intended pain really was. She is the super hero for this life of mine, even when sometimes I don’t remember or think it or feel it.  Until she is not here, she will always be there for me. And then she will be there for me some more.

One Man

He was a hard worker.
He drew the blueprints and built his own 5 bedroom house when he was 23.
He married a very pretty woman.
They had children.
She was the lenient. And he was the strict.

He worried about money a lot
and she spent it
or rather,
she spent it
and he worried about not having enough.
He moved up the ladder in his career.
He was the leader at work.
But he wasn’t at home.
They fought about the children and about money.
He put all his time and effort into doing better where it felt it did less damage
where negative affects weren’t seen.
He became a workaholic.

He spent less time at home
the relationships with his children suffered.

But
when asked to take on a job away from the house he had built
he said no
because his children were young and he still wanted to influence
as best he could.
For years until it was all his life,
he was boss over hundreds of people
but barely had leverage on his own family.

They fought all the time.

He gained more respect at work
but had none under the roof he lived
the one he had made with his bare hands.

Until the children were all grown up
and he went overseas to work
once, twice
and the picture became a little clearer to the grown-ups.

A few years before he retired
when the effect of his wife was wearing off
his children slowly found the seeds and admiration grew.

After 36 years of working and being the unfavourable parent at home,
he retired
with the relationships between his children intact.

Six months after he retired,
his wife left him.

She demanded more than half
of what he had worked for his whole life.

Instead of retiring with the hundreds of thousands he has accumulated over the years,
that money now goes to lawyers
Instead of that money going towards his childrens inheritance,
half of all that he has worked for and sacrificed for his entire life
now goes to her.

 

 

That one man is my father.
And all he has worked for in his life,
is now being taken away from him
by my mother.

 

 

 

 

 

Calling all Mommys

How many Moms’ out there don’t think you deserve your child?

I rarely brag about my son. I barely even talk about him with others.
When his teacher says stuff to you about him that you haven’t heard her say to any other mother, and you KNOW she means it,
it all clicks into place.
He’s beautiful. He’s loving. He’s emotional.
” He loves you.”
” You feel that connection with him, don’t you.”  And you know that. You know he loves you.

And to think,
I was going to end my life because ‘it sucked’.

 

 

He deserves a Mom that loves life like he loves her.
And that’s ME.

 

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.

My Mother Reveals

My mom texted me before I left for her party on Saturday. ‘Jen. Can you come up here.  ‘
I went up to find her in bed in pjs with her makeup and hair all done up. Laying down against the mauve of her pillow and she looked so pretty.

“If you need something to wear I have dresses in the other closet you could wear. I haven’t worn them yet”.
” Ok thanks.
And I start to leave the room.

” oh and
I’m really nervous.”
She’s wringing her hands together.

She continues on:
” Should I have a glass of wine?
Will you come up with me if I have to say a thank you speech?
Can Zeek sit with me to blow out the candles?
Do you have any wine? Will you bring it up?’

There’s frantic and panic in her voice and she looked so beautiful in fear. I felt a glimmer of sorry for her. In what she must be feeling.
And that, she can look so together, and reveal and be so vulnerable. Like she was a little girl all over again.
She let her guard down so I could walk in and see her that way.

She revealed her ability to reveal.

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.

Leaving Loved Ones

I have been in Canada the past two months. The country I grew up in . The people and culture that is now engrained in me. Within 24 hours, I will be at an airport with my son and Mother and I will be flying 18 flight hours back to Thailand where house is and husband will be and I will pick up on my life there, where I left off.
For the past four years I have been living on both sides of the world and I don’t know how to do it any other way. I am scared for the future. I am excited. I am aching with the goodbyes and my stomach is sick with dread. With what I know is to come.
My eyes are bloodshot and dry, tired and drained.
I don’t know how to do it any other way because this is what I have known. This is the heart ache I go through every single time I come for a visit. This is the pull and the push that happens. That leaves me weak in the knees. I am exhausted and feel numb and empty and full of every emotion all at once.
I am in shock.
In unbelievability.
Because it doesn’t make sense in my head how the time happened. How in two days I will be back to an entirely different lifestyle.
I am freaked out because I don’t know how I will be. I shake and spin and hope that I can do this. That I can get through one of the hardest times leaving.
I do it this way, involve and invest, attatch and connect to people here because if i don’t have this, then I don’t have much.I need this closness in order to feel valuable in this world.
I need to feel loved by more than just one person.
Leaving loved ones is one of the worst feelings.
But because I can feel that way about them, it is also one of the best.

It is better to feel,
then not to at all.

Mother and a Last Name

A lot of life changes when you have a baby. But I think I’m still in the process of feeling like a mother. It’s like a new last name. Doesn’t feel quite like yours until you write it down enough and use it.

You see. There’s a secret in my life that only my parents and best friend know.

I’m married.

We signed on May 2nd here in Thailand. We didn’t even have a ceremony for it so it was far from romantic. But there was a beauty to it that you can’t just get anywhere.
We were planning on getting married the year after, and planned to have kids then- but baby Zeek wanted to come in the year of the dragon! My year!

The reason not many know this is because I want to be able to go through all that engagement stuff and plan a wedding. I fear it will take away from the experience if everyone knows I have already signed my life away!

Now Zeek has a Canadian passport and is awaiting the approval of his citizenship. He also holds a Thai passport and eventually will have a British one. I will to.

I don’t feel married to Morgan, specially without the ring, but on the occasion that we must expose our secret, part of me warms up.
And I suppose that’s probably what it’s like for any woman after they get married. Words like ‘ my hubby’ are used often and there is an excited accent to all conversation that drives towards the marriage. Understandably so.It’s a big commitment. I’ve steered away from those words for I truly want our ‘wedding day’ to be when we become husband and wife.
When that day actually arrives, in which we celebrate getting married, I’m certain all those new feelings will arise. It will feel more official even though signing papers is the most official thing you can do on a wedding day!

In both cases, the big day has happened. I don’t feel like a mother, nor do I feel married but if enough time goes by, those roles will root themselves deep.
For now, I’ll live in the channel of the unfelt title and stretch about, because of course, never ever, will I ever not be either a mother or a wife.