Life, I Choose You

You know that quote that goes something like this,: ‘ Don’t take life seriously, no one ever gets out alive anyways’.
How many times do you hear something but you don’t really understand it or believe it?
Well now, I finally get that statement.

I guess my crumple was not the idea of whether to live or die, but figuring out that I wouldn’t end my life. That I couldn’t do it.
So when I came to that conclusion I thought, well if I’m gonna be here, I’d be a little worthless big shit if I’m gonna make it miserable. And then I thought, Well, is it that easy, to make it fun and happy and create a life like that of when I was younger. That felt full of.. life?

And I thought long and hard. I was conflicted. I mean, life was always easy to me. Even the times I went through break ups or sad times, I was back up on my feet running. I was resilient because I had attention and people that I distracted myself with.

But then it covered me in a paste. Simple,rugged facts.

No, life is not easy.
I looked down on my brothers for taking medication to make them feel better about living.  Life is easy and fun. See?  Look at me?

And then,
I’m the one falling. I’m trying to get ground and I’m only slipping and falling down again and screaming at myself to a wall and hating and regretting my decisions and sad all over again because I was the one that was screaming at the wall

because of ME.

And I thought after my lungs were scratched and crisp, that if i could produce that much agony over the past that couldn’t be tampered with now, I could be that beautifully vengeful for my future that had yet to exist. That if i had the power to be that upset over my life thus far, I could be that happy for a life to come.

I may not have the attention I used to have. I may not have the people, the events, the three day weekends of drinking Vex and playing video games with my closest.. but I have love and life. I have choice. I have the power to become who I want to be, every single day. Being sad isn’t going to get me anywhere I want to go. Being sorry for my sadness doesn’t get me anything except a life not lived. I’m not 19 and I can’t go back to that. I refuse to want to anymore. Life is now. With me.

You don’t figure life out, it figures you out.
You don’t try and find life, you create it.

You don’t let life fucking kill you- because it will if you let it- you let life be like, ‘ hey now, there’s a fucking liver of beautiful.’

 

 

 

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.

The Millionth Chance

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.

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.

A Thousand

Highs and Lows. We’ve all got them. A thousand of them.

These days, I find myself baffled to sickness-at how quick one can go from being grinny and positive, to the bottom of the bucket. Sad. Negative.

We are affected.

And sometimes, I just don’t want to be.

I don’t think I’ve ever had the yern for a stable life. I didn’t know that was a thing I didn’t have. Or else I did and didn’t admit it. But going from one extreme to the other so quickly, is not healthy. It isn’t. I feel myself lurching into the same darkness everytime the low blasts into feelsight. A ocean with a thousand waves, a thousand feet high. And I’m wanting only, to be a thousand feet under.
I do not embrace the low well, any longer. I just want them to stop.
I just want to stop them.

And sometimes,
mostly all the time,

the only way I want to do that is to stay

a thousand feet under.

Different Types of Tough

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.

How Bad Does It Have to Get?

I laid on the grass of the park late last night and I looked up through the branches of a wide tree and thought, ‘ This will be the last time I am in this country in August.’
I laid so still in that thought and it rambled into the stars I could not see.
The stars I knew I would, this time next year.
I know I will get through this.
It’s a low I suppose I had to get to, in order for me to really change.
There is a lot of fear but a question of wondering I have, is this really an adequate low?
Am I going to fight against it? Am I going to be too strong? Where the bottom is bottomless and my emotions must be strained more and upheaved more. Where my life has to completely flip upside down, parts where my entire vision gets distorted and not just foggy when I wake in the middle of the night because I cried myself to sleep the night before. It’s perception. If I thought this was flipped up already, then the process to change would have started. Has it already and I don’t know it? Wouldn’t I know it?
How messed up does it have to become, for me to believe it is what I need to change who I am?

Day of Low.

I walked the village slower than I ever have. My legs shaking and my insides ready to unfold.
I know I’m not okay. I just hope I can stay quiet enough until my feet are on Canada grounds.
I am angry and hurt .Stressed and frustrated. I can feel a chapter of my life coming to a close and I am scared. Flashes of my past wrap around me and I feel myself shrinking.
I suppose I knew it would come to something like this. But there’s no way to predict the feelings.
I didn’t know I would feel so angry.
And I am so angry.

Making Happy

We are built with both positive and negative feelings. Even though the negative ones are ones we tend to dislike, they are still good to have.
How else do you think we improve or progress?
In relationships,in parenting, or in the workfield?

We are built with the desire to be better.

Feelings can launch you into a spin of happy or of sad. Of self reflection, of doubt, or of denial.

We always want to be happy with our significant other but we may not always try.
Happy can only be tried for to a certain extent. Then the amount we are trying, cancels the amount of happy.
If we are conscious of our level of happiness, if we know how we can be happier, the tools in which to get there, become easier to get.
They become easier to get because we become able to produce them.

It doesn’t mean we can stock our shelves with the stuff, but it does mean we’re bound to be a more positive person that generates a way for people to find THEIR tools.

Positive people beget positive people.
And how great would a city, a state, a province, a WORLD be..
if everyone was more positive?

Back in Memories

This morning I’ve slipped fast into a sullen place.
I’ve got country music in my ears, cold air blasting and an empty coffee mug.
Country music brings me to the summer of 2011 back in Canada, when it’s all I listened too. My heart aches.
For those people. Those memories.
Memories are special because you don’t get them back.
How intricate are the sad ones mixed in with the bad ones.
How good the idea of leaving it all behind heightens every single thing that happens in my time there.
But it doesn’t matter how much better it makes it.
I would choose to stay there without the idea of leaving.
And maybe next time I go back, it is what I will believe.