When will you decide the enough? You have all the chances, all the ins to all the outs. This one living experience is so intrinsic and chaotic. I realize this more and more with time. And each action, each choice has a hibernating root. Each enough you choose- and when- is derivative of a connection along the way of this life. When will you decide your ‘enough?
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,
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
If we could just stop and. Not Think.
Turn our heads right off.
Turn our brain and hearts and life and,
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.
I don’t remember feeling this emotional over a grey squirrel or from seeing water spray up from the concrete waterpark floor, onto my sons underpanted kid body.
I don’t remember when I felt like this last; listening to songs I just learned. I feel I’m an emotional ball of sheeps wool. I feel weak with life.
I feel fricking weak with life.
Maybe we get so stuck on being strong. On holding our ground, landmarking our opinions and building them onto even higher grounds. But you know, I think it’s pretty darn special to get weak.
To let life kind of fill you up with oats of tears and to sit in that bowl and just, cry for how happy sad things can be.
Because feeling is a gem.
Feeling is a wonderful.
Put down your muscles and let yourself get weak with life.
to think that
the rest of my life,
i will not ever forget these months
you and i
spoke and wrote and typed and
oh i know i could
i am able.
when i listen to that song and those songs and these,
and when i feel, i felt and will feel,
oh i know i could.
and time moves
slower than we want it to
how we are
how we will be.
we could do
and what we
we could do
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.
In 2011 I went back to Canada for the summer.
The two months prior I ran one mile four days out of the week and allowed myself a cup of coffee every now and then for breakfast. I cut out all sugar ( save for the coffee ) and nibbled on nothing but veggies and fruit. I usually ended up eating a mango for dinner. And drank 5 litres of water a day.
Every other day I danced in my bedroom for 20 minutes and did 30 situps and 20 pushups. I lost 10 pounds in this amount of time and didn’t know it. I was nearly the smallest I’d been since highschool.
No, it is not the most healthiest way to go about it, but this way works for me. Because I’ve done it multiple times and each time, I am down at least 5 pounds and I feel fit and glorious.
I know I will gain this five pounds back when I am in Canada. But I want to show up smaller than what I am now.
Currently I am sitting at 122. Goal is 117 by August 14th. Two weeks.
Here we Go!
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.