Self-Making

You make me feel so broken,
so damaged, defeated and hurt.

You make me feel that I am noone that matters
that me living makes no sense
that I am nothing but empty.

 

 

I don’t need that. 

 

You make me feel so amazing,
so loved, beautiful, and incredible.

You make me feel that I matter on this earth
that I am valued,
worth everything.
That I am needed.

 

 

 

 

But I don’t need that.

 

 

 

I don’t need it because

 
I am my own power,
my own truth.
I believe in me to do better than I have ever done.
I can be appreciated, loved and trusted
without being chastised for my past.

I can be those things
and not just feel those things.

I can be the factory that I am
and I can make all of those things

 

 

myself. 

 

 

Dayla 17/April 17

40 minutes. The first 20 to do with jogging and linear movement that contained the length I did not have a lot of yesterday.
My headstand wasn’t as impressive today but I did crunch down and hold more than my 90 degree angle. I dangled from the tree again, did a few situps with my feets hooking me onto the limbs and then I did some dancing ab focus.
Then I went up in the garage attic and got the hula hoops down. I am no pro. But I am a funner. I tried my neck, my arm, and my knee caps and my stomach was hurting just from laughing at myself.

Then I got on the four wheeler and blew my fantastic stink off.

What Happened with my Leap

So my leap last night, shall be explained as such:

A skittling speeded up motion of a caterpiller on a log. Crimpling around into a cocoon he makes. Brittle edges-but fast remember. It’s all fast, jittery, unanticipated motion.
Then skip to the next part. Where the butterfly begins cracking open the home. Fast, jittery, everywhere motion. A wing,an antenna. A leg. Crackling, big.
And then the whole creature is out, putting legs together and then and then, a slow now, a slow motion burst of angelic, unstable lift. Off the log. A flap of the wings, one, two, up now.

And then:
HAAACHA GRUAH CHOMP.

There’s a lizard. And it crushes the first few breaths of that butterfly. Dissolves any notion of living. Any more ideas of flapping and flying and eating and being pretty.
Done.
Dead.

 

That was my attempt at a leap.
It sucked, it did.

But you know,
that lizard gets a sense of movement beyond him. And he drops himself into a change of colour. Blending and stopping all killing. Instinct to staying alive in the midst of danger.

The butterfly is weak, one leg torn off. A wing crumpled, an antenna bent.

It remembers.
It has wings still. It can fly. It can fly, it can fly.

So push off from almost her death bed, she rises, with a new burst of self.
I will live, I will live, I will leap again she says.

 

I will leap again.

Proud of your Happy

If we could just stop and. Not Think.
Turn our heads right off.
Turn our brain and hearts and life and,

well,
we can’t because
that’s what Life makes.

Life is such that you can’t turn off anything without nothing.
You have drugs and other methods,
to shut off certain parts, temporary or not.

But life makes you strong,
I think we don’t give enough credit to people

for being happy.

Now that’s sad isn’t it.

Mental Quicksand

Convincing yourself of general happiness.

I’ve had waves of attacking life as it is, recently. By vigoursly being happy with it all. With choices and attitude; and accepting that it is like that and that it is fine like that.

The battle to change big parts of self, seems like exhaust of failed effort.
That I am not winning it.

Taking a different approach seems like a valuable idea.

Actions that are more doable are not necessarily the best of ones,I know.
But I will continue making excuses about my weak and wavering temple of mind.

Not feeling ready to change or not wanting to or because the difficulty level is at a maximum.

Is is because of my current position in life?
Am I trying to run against a current that I haven’t even been able to walk in?
Perhaps letting the current slow, or walking to a place where the white caps are more like ripples and the rocks more like mud, is the better alternative.
And going with the flow instead of against, even a better one.

Getting to a place or creating a space in mind that tells me I’m not battling, but simply living- and loving it.

Oh, how far down can one get when the struggle is only weakening the player.
Before the weakness becomes the injured. The defeated.

A lot of strength comes from pushing through. From riding those waves of uncertainty with direction and purpose. Not changing their momentum or curve, but changing the perception of position.
For if that is where ones mind is strong- in the ability to warp perception and believe in it, then boldness and unwobbled legs will manifest.

And the deepest pool is mind juice.
Where swimming in that stuff long enough does more than just wrinkle skin.

Like quicksand, the harder you flail, the more you move, the faster you sink.

Getting Better or Getting Better in my Lies

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?

Visit is Ending Soon-Preparation

Two weeks before I go.
Once Thailand hits my feet, there will be plenty of change.
Putting house on market. Possibly getting rerouted to work out of Nakon. A town in the middle of no where-which is where we started out before pregnancy entered our lives.
It is emotional these days as I feel the weight of the clock hand ticking. People I see now-it may be the last time I do.
Because it has happened before.

Our plan to move back to Canada is happening faster than we thought. And as I sit at the counter in the house I grew up in, it seems difficult for me to grasp it. Like I’m not ready to handle the move. To start the process.
But it is because I am here. In the country I am in. Two weeks left.
When I think of what living in Canada will do to us, how it will change our relationship dynamic completely… I hesitate.
Let me get through this big change first. Of leaving the ones I love behind. Of leaving the places and smells and food I love. Of leaving my attatchments and ability to speak properly. Conversations and pictures I gleam for.
Let me get through the airports and tears and weakness. Through the 18 hour hour flights and the sleepless 24.
I must build for that now. To mentally prepare so that I can do it without falling apart in the isle on the Boeing 777.
I am strong and my focus must be slowly directed there. For that is how I can do it, each and every time that I have.

I Can Jump.

So many things in the mind!
This won’t be a pretty post I say.

Just a vent experience. Rolling down hills and splashing around in muddy puddles.
In days where I just feel quite a bit alone and not really connected to much. Eating snacks and not quite so much meals and doing plenty of laundry and realizing I’m not even thinking about anything at all.

I try to email people without the expectation that they’ll write back. But it’s pretty darn difficult. Specially when it’s my own family.
And I don’t know how single moms do it without cracking like a giant earthquake.

Tough stuff inevitably happens. I guess it’s how we deal with it that really makes a difference.
And I know there are days where I feel better about being down. They aren’t often. I allow myself them because I think it’s a healthy thing. I just make sure I get out of it. Each and every time.
Maybe I’ll let myself eat a whole bag of Jelly Bellies and feel GOOD about it. Maybe i’ll clean every inch of the floor and then climb a tree and sit on the funniest looking limb. Maybe I’ll look at the clouds and imagine myself riding one.
And I’ll get there. I always do. Because I know I am apart of what makes my life good. What makes me happy is me and my strength and my ability to get over the hurdles that come my way. Hurdles I let in. Hurdles that come unexpectedly.
No matter how they come, I’m wearing my shoes of confidence and my brave face and I’ll do what it takes to get over them!
Some will be higher than others but I accept that and there will be more than one hurdle sometimes and I accept that too.

I must be strong for myself and for the others around me.
People around me, no matter if I know them or not, are affected by what I bring to the table.
And if I bring my soaked shoes and dirty face, if I bring my ripped shirt and scraped knees but am wearing a smile and smelling of happiness, I will be able to with pride say, that I have jumped over the hurdles I faced. Even if it meant falling two or three times, I picked myself up and I kept trying.

I can jump.

and I just may land at your table.

Sleep Training- The First Night

I’m on my knees on a padded cushion, my hands over and into the crib, rubbing my babies’ back and trying to hum. I’m trying and not just doing, because I am sobbing. My body is shaking and my head is against the bars and I’m letting my tears run and I’m letting my heart race.

In those moments, all you want to do is pick your baby up. You know he will stop crying, you know what will make him stop and there’s a hundred of the same questions flinging through your head, ‘ am i doing this right?’ ‘ should he be crying this much?’
And you can’t pick him up after 20 minutes, because you have read all the books that say ‘to give in, is to erase all the work you’ve done thus far’. It is better to not even start if you are incapable of finishing.
So I hold off and I can feel my heart lurch and my stomach feels sick and I feel sick and I’m not going to eat dinner tonight. My head gets dizzy and I keep patting his bum while he keeps wailing and I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know what else to do.

My heart hurts
but when his cries turn into whimpers, and the whimpers eventually into still shudders,
there is a relief that floods through my entire self and I know, I know I’ve done the right thing. I feel strong and powerful and I feel that I could do it again, I could do it again.
If I had to.

But it’s never as hard as this night.
The first night is the worst. And I make myself believe that they get easier because I’m strong. That my strength is what will break habits before they even begin.

I hate when you cry,
but I love that I hate it.
It means I will react, that I will do, that I will try,
that I will try and be,
the best Mother I can be for you.