The well

T minus total fucking breakdown

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I still haven’t talked to my dad… I can’t recover the data on my old hard drive, meaning pictures, documents, two fucking manuscripts… The weight of things left to do is so heavy I can barely function at work, and the busiest time of the year is looming. I try to buy as much stuff as I can, try not to forget anything and it driving me to obsessive list making. Haven’t started packing here… Although I won’t take much with me except for my clothes and my books. I’m all calm and cool with the kids when inside I’m nearing insanity. Can’t sleep, can’t wake up in the morning. Food is bland, time eludes me, stop signs invisible. It’s a miracle I remember to shower in the morning.

Through all this, I fight sudden nostalgia attacks, surges of fear, loneliness, islolation within my house. I’m afraid I’ll miss him. Miss his cooking. Or when he plays guitar in the living room downstairs with our daughter. When I hear him play hockey in the street with our son. His laugh. His smell. But all temporary… Fleeting. Because so much I will not miss, unfortunately. He is the perfect provider, strong, reponsible, loving father. It was never about all this. And it’s not about all this that I am the one leaving.

What I will miss the most, what I have been missing for many years, and still do… Is his love.

And so… in the next two weeks I will play with the thin thread of reason I have left to make everything happen, to make everything work and  this will culminate in me leaving a man I still love, will always love.

Not much writing till then. Living though… If I could only remember to breath.

Idiom

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Deafening silence
A silence or lack of response that reveals something significant, such as disapproval or a lack of enthusiasm.

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Straight no chaser
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So which is it? Disapproval… Towards your path being bent out of shape. What? My setting foot on it? (Although I clearly remember being invited, repeatedly, with no lack of enthusiasm whatsoever)

This is not something I want to live. This is not something I’d make you go through. Not something I’d even ask you to understand. Whatever it is that clusters your mind is just bullshit if you ask me.

There’s this field you see… No path across it. There’s this place we’ve glimpsed.

Behind the great ideals, beyond the dreams of true love and Hallmark moments, way past the need for approval lies a very lonely soul. Buried. Cloistered. Or just too fucking selfish. Again, which is it?

Giving up is not my only option, regardless of how hard you push me towards it. There is more. There is tomorrow. But don’t make me fucking beg. Don’t hurt me.

Let’s cross that white clover field with our eyes open. Nothing like now.

Straight, no chaser.

Back in

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like a north wind

blew through a house without doors

froze a movement rising

overturned a table laid

like a tidal wave tidal wave against will and want

the sand is still the sand is not moving

in the place I know best

the well

where the winds and the tides don’t reach

Midstep

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Between two anxiety attacks I try to arrange, place, organize. I try to appear calm. I try to  focus, visualise. But somehow everything is slippery and crumbling under my fingers. I have the thinnest thread running between two lives. I’m afraid.

Not afraid. No, scared. My willingness to change, to move, to live was overbearing. Now that it’s happening, all the questions I should’ve asked myself before surface furiously. The evidence blinded me. And as I try to picture myself gone, all I can see is me here. What I will miss. The life I’m supposedly unhappy with. The moments when we were four. In the car, at the diner table, on the beach, in the mountain. But of course it’s over. Of course I’m leaving. Because we were not two anymore.

As I head towards everything new and shiny and exciting, I full grasp the meaning of my decision. Who am I kidding… I DID ask myself the questions. Fuck, if not once a thousand times then. I drove myself to insanity with them. Drove back here to find an empty, empty, desolate room. With only the faintest scent of happiness lingering.

But still I’m scared. It’s all so real. There is no other way for me to explain this. No fancy allegory, no poetic arrangement. I can’t escape it this time. I can’t let it leave a message on the machine. Can’t let it pile up on the counter. Can’t ask to stop the payment. This is one that will go through no matter what.

One last look behind

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I am so filled with life right now. No words could really do justice. It can get tiring to always look over hills and bumps. And also up from the well. I’ve looked down a few times, but right now, now as I type this, the horizon is so fucking clear and inviting, I’m still unsure if it’s a mirage or too much visualisation. So many things to do. A new life to organize, to invent, to live.

Since August 2005, I’ve been looking at myself, what I’ve done, what I’ve been. Things I’ve let go and others I’ve held on for too long. Ghosts are still hovering. I know chances are I will fuck up once in a while. I’ve been in distress, through depression, heartache, overpowering sadness and many, many times, hopelessness.

I’ve also learned to be a better person, less judgemental, less angry. Bitterness has evaporated. I’ve let love touch me, something I always denied myself. Love, in all its forms.

Suddenly, I can listen to Nick Drake and Edith Piaf and appreciate it. I don’t feel like dying anymore. I can now believe it’s possible to love a friend, a child, a man so much it can inspire a song. It can put colors in my cheeks. I can tell you I love you Love-Soeur and not feel ashamed for even feeling it. Tell my children many times a day, instead of once in a while.

It’s hard to even imagine living alone. I’ve been living with this man since I was 17. Alone. And yet I have no fear. I realize how big the loss is. How much things will change. The phone will not be ringing as much, the sounds will be different. At some point I thought my universe would just shrink to me and my very small family. But because I’ve changed, because I’ve met extraordinary souls, I know that my universe will only expand.

And you… The passerby, the occasional visitor, the dedicated reader, the loving friend, are very much a part of it. For reading, for commenting, for never ever having judged me. And for the wonderful words you lay upon your own part of the universe.

Transition is almost over. Colors are coming, just like spring, right around the corner, as I pull my tongue out and catch the last snowflakes of this very long winter.

A break

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On a morning like this, I wish for lonely nights. I wish I didn’t bring out the worst in people.

This is the kind of morning I could hit snooze all the way till noon. Just not to face the trail of gray and pink I’ve left behind. Sometimes the colors fade, or blend, or completely separate.

I’m dancing on a ribbon of grey, unwinding going up, I want it to turn pink, or whatever color that doesn’t remind me.

Whatever fucking color. So much rides on this day, so little could come out if it.

I’ll just let it flow, let it wrap itself around some untouched light.

Blur the frown I’ve brought. All I wanted was a smile.

Sunset

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Some changes will occur here in the next few days. I need change. I thought about a nice colorful template, then shit hit the fan and I need something else. 

I'm fine. Pissed off. But overall, still standing and yes, Love-Soeur, very much alive. That need to do something hateful and vengeful is not going to get the best of me. But I will use the energy for sure. First, a darker theme, to set the mood, to help me remember how angry I am and keep my focus. That theme will also include a soft side, because hope, life and love are just a little further than I thought. But still within my reach.

The dark colors will not represent depression. I'm dimming the lights to concentrate that's all.

This is not the deepest I've been in the well. But the most awake. At last I will be able to use what I've learned, make the best of the situation, draw strength within. I might even dive a little deeper. It's all good. The light at the end of the tunnel was a train, not the sun. It hit me full force. But I will be healing before long. 

So bear with me as you might see fonts, pictures, links and stuff go mad for a little while.

Very bad post

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I know I'm naive. I know. I'm also soft, weak, vulnerable. I want to believe people will always do their best. Always be honest. I want to stay fucking innocent. But not today. No. Today I got fucked. Today I was made to realize that people are vindictive and insensitive and mean and manipulative. And him… In the bag with the others. Fucked me so good, for a second there I thought I was out of options. Fuck you. Fuck. You. Fuck off. For lying to me, for letting me carry your fucking pain and hurt and then kicking me in the legs to make sure I did not run. Fuck you for telling me I'm abandoning you, when it is you that has abandoned me years ago. Years. What was that? Have you ever made love with someone who doesn't TOUCH you? Have you ever hugged someone who doesn't respond, that just stays there, as if it's ok to tolerate, but there's not way he'll participate? Have you ever shaved, waxed, smiled, lost weight, dressed up for someone who just didn't care to notice? And you're asking ME to understand? FUCK YOU. It's too fucking late. You've killed me. Killed me. And now that I want to live, now that I've understood I DON'T have to be dead, you want to strangle me back to death? I never, ever, thought I would be the victim of your meanness. Not after everything I've done for you. Everything I've let be, for the chance of seeing you smile at me with love. The chance of feeling your hands on me. Of getting more love than you're giving the fucking cat. Now that YOU see what I was missing, lacking, starving from, you want to punish ME?

Illusions out the window. I tried. To be an adult. To be fair, opened. You decided to go back on your word. To manipulate me. Hold me hostage. Put more weight on my shoulders. For the kids' sake I thought I was making the right moves. For our sake. All you see is your fucking life escaping you. Your show, your call. And you expect me to fold. Because that's what I always do.

And even though I'm down, on the floor, with barely a breath to spare, you know what?  I won't. Not this time. Fuck you. Have I said it enough times? Fuck you. Because for once I will think of me. Not of what YOU will think of me. I will not stop at what the consequences will be for YOU. 

I'm tired. Depressed. Discouraged. Sad. Hurt. Very much alone. But I'm alive. Watch your dead angles. I'm coming at you.

A bump in the road

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I haven't had a crying fit in a while. In weeks. I cried so much, every night, every day, in October and November. I was pretty much all cried out. And I've been doing pretty good lately, despite my situation. The unknowns, fears, insecurities. And it's building up, it's there like a growing cloud. And I smile, and I smile and I fucking smile. Yes, everything is fine, thanks, I'm great, I feel better than I have in ages…

And this morning, it's right there. On the brim. On the verge. One word and I will crash. I know. I don't want to be angry. I don't want to feel this anymore. But it looks like I'm not done dealing with this shit. It's huge, the real thing. And the pressure, and the responsabilities I'm taking on, and and and. Fuck I need to cry. It's just a door I don't dare open at this moment. I have no idea where this one will lead me.

I'm a little lost right now.

So so so alive

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I don't even remember how I discovered blogs. Really, I have no recollection whatsoever. Only that I started mine very tentatively, a few entries here and there. And well, I guess the fire caught and it became an almost daily thing for me. It was never an obligation to write. I don't sit here wondering what to write, or thinking I should write something. It is true that I write in the negation of the reader. Not denial, never. But when acknowledged, you my readers inspire nothing but love. I must say however that here is not a place created for you, a place where I try to please or entertain you. I come first. That you have decided this place was worth your time, that what you read you can relate to, is for me like and extra blanket on a very cold night.

I didn't even think through the title and the URl. But with time I realize I couldn't have found a more accurate address or blog name. Aspinelesslaugh, taken from Exit music (for a film) by Radiohead is a song that I listened to nonstop in January 2000 when my best friend killed herself. Driving to the funeral I popped OK Computer in the tape player, and from that day, it has haunted me. 

Socrates' citation I had come across while reading about self-knowledge and the illusions we perceive as reality when reflecting upon our responsibilities as individuals. I've always been conscious that there was more to me, to my life, than what I was working so hard to achieve as a person. Being able to deconstruct my own perception of who I am, and deal with whatever I discovered, even if it was to be negative. And yet again, the word negative only applies in the perception of others…

I'm not a whatif kind of person. No whatifs about my past, no whatifs about my future. The past is gone. Not quite buried yet, but dealt with more and more every day. The future… well, the future is made of everything I want to put in it. There is no can't in it either. I've always lived in a way that assured me that there would only be one person to blame for anything I had regrets about. I just can't blame others. I can't. I believe everyone has it in them to make their life better. It may take time, there might be pain, and loss, and hurt. And lessons learned. But at the end of the day, if you have to close your eyes and go to sleep blaming someone else for your woes, then you need to take a closer look at yourself.

And that might hurt more than anything else.

I wrote about crossroads a little over a year ago. I already knew, could express it. But only today can I actually live it. I had all the tools, just needed a little time to figure things out. And so many other posts from my first months, that really were showing me the way. But I was still blind. I just had to go through everything. Had to live this last year here, this way. For weeks now I've been telling the same stories, through different words, sentences, arrangements. And I really feel that this blog would've died with me had I not finally moved on. It's that simple. Life or death. And it wasn't the gun to my head that scared me the most. It was the realization that I was all thought out. That there was nowhere left for me to go but forward. Or die.

I am alive. Alive. I fucking chose to live, and nothing now will change that. Especially not fear. Fuck her. I can even say, right now, this instant, I am happy. Happy. And being scared of saying it, writing it will not stop me. And the dark days ahead I will embrace as warmly as the bright ones. For they will only remind me that I chose life.