Thursday, November 22, 2007
What made me laugh out loud today ......
Bestest Friend swearing he was getting me 'lots of sex with a very tall guy' for Christmas!
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
If you want Humour, I strongly suggest you MOVE ALONG SWIFTLY
I can’t explain it. I don’t know what causes it, so I can’t fix it. This terrible, terrible hurt that takes over me more and more regularly these days.
How do you fix a life? How do you fix a person? Can a person even be fixed, or do you pretend that the cracks and gaping holes make you ‘special’?
Lack of love, too much fear, too many assumption, lack of honesty, lack of respect, too much anger and aggression, I suppose I could go on and on about possible causes. Truth is, I do not know. Only thing I do know, is that on some level, I am dead. The will to go on, go out, go find something, someone, some love, no longer drives me. I am at a stand still. I am breathing, I am eating, I am working, I am sleeping, I am nurturing, but the part of me that had any kind of faith in the future of me, is dead.
I am mourning my passing, I cry at inappropriate times, for no conceivable reason. I become angry at light-heartedness, and I idly wonder when I got older than my parent, when I chide her for being silly. I watch my body act it’s biological age, and I get pissed off at it. It longs to fulfil the biological imperative, while the mind, heart and soul knows, this ain’t gonna happen. My body cries, bleeds, ovulates, lives, while the rest of me gets dragged behind, just passively wondering at body’s stupidity. It doesn’t know we’re dead. It thinks there’s still reason for survival, it wants to get up, fuel itself, live.
I feel disconnected, like a part of me is floating in that space we go, before shooting off into nothing, while the grounded, earthed part, is trying to drag me back down to earth. Dispassionately, I watch my own hands grabbing at me, and I wonder whether I should bother to pry them loose, or just wait until they give up on their own. Until body learns it’s over. And just lets go.
My opinion of why we’re here, is this – to love. Each other, other species, the Great Mother Earth, ourselves, life. So, if this is why I consider myself necessary, and there is no-thing that needs this from me, why am I still feeling coarse office carpet under my feet, why do my eyes open every morning, why do my ears hear birds, and cars, and the coffee percolating in the kitchen? Yes, I know. I am a mother, which means that I am needed by a child, but my son is ok, now. Even if I were to turn tail, and flee, he’d be ok, because he’s a beautiful being, he’d be good and fine. He’d hurt, for a while, until it faded, but my being or not being around, wouldn’t be the deciding factor in his life. He’s ok, he’d cope. I feel as if, that short, short space of time that a child needs a parent totally, has passed. He is fully formed, now. He is strong.
Now, the landscape around me is vast, and empty, and scary beyond reason. I am not brave enough to be here without loving someone. I am also not enough of a coward to throw myself away, and love someone just for the sake of existence. Being loved wholly, and loving wholly, is what makes me, and without it, I am nothing, have nothing, give nothing, take nothing. I need to love, as others need to belong to flocks. As long as I have my love, I’m ok, I am someone. Without it, I am a piece of space debris. Ugly, and ultimately destructive. I don’t want to be here anymore. Not like this, not at all. If I could think myself dead, I would have. If I could choose to close my eyes one night, and just … slip away, I would. But, every morning, I wake up, and I wait a moment, so my mind can believe that I’m still breathing, still seeing, still needing to get up. So it can realise I’m still alone, still lonely, still broken, still sad, sad, sad, still …. mostly dead, only, still bound.
Still here.
How do you fix a life? How do you fix a person? Can a person even be fixed, or do you pretend that the cracks and gaping holes make you ‘special’?
Lack of love, too much fear, too many assumption, lack of honesty, lack of respect, too much anger and aggression, I suppose I could go on and on about possible causes. Truth is, I do not know. Only thing I do know, is that on some level, I am dead. The will to go on, go out, go find something, someone, some love, no longer drives me. I am at a stand still. I am breathing, I am eating, I am working, I am sleeping, I am nurturing, but the part of me that had any kind of faith in the future of me, is dead.
I am mourning my passing, I cry at inappropriate times, for no conceivable reason. I become angry at light-heartedness, and I idly wonder when I got older than my parent, when I chide her for being silly. I watch my body act it’s biological age, and I get pissed off at it. It longs to fulfil the biological imperative, while the mind, heart and soul knows, this ain’t gonna happen. My body cries, bleeds, ovulates, lives, while the rest of me gets dragged behind, just passively wondering at body’s stupidity. It doesn’t know we’re dead. It thinks there’s still reason for survival, it wants to get up, fuel itself, live.
I feel disconnected, like a part of me is floating in that space we go, before shooting off into nothing, while the grounded, earthed part, is trying to drag me back down to earth. Dispassionately, I watch my own hands grabbing at me, and I wonder whether I should bother to pry them loose, or just wait until they give up on their own. Until body learns it’s over. And just lets go.
My opinion of why we’re here, is this – to love. Each other, other species, the Great Mother Earth, ourselves, life. So, if this is why I consider myself necessary, and there is no-thing that needs this from me, why am I still feeling coarse office carpet under my feet, why do my eyes open every morning, why do my ears hear birds, and cars, and the coffee percolating in the kitchen? Yes, I know. I am a mother, which means that I am needed by a child, but my son is ok, now. Even if I were to turn tail, and flee, he’d be ok, because he’s a beautiful being, he’d be good and fine. He’d hurt, for a while, until it faded, but my being or not being around, wouldn’t be the deciding factor in his life. He’s ok, he’d cope. I feel as if, that short, short space of time that a child needs a parent totally, has passed. He is fully formed, now. He is strong.
Now, the landscape around me is vast, and empty, and scary beyond reason. I am not brave enough to be here without loving someone. I am also not enough of a coward to throw myself away, and love someone just for the sake of existence. Being loved wholly, and loving wholly, is what makes me, and without it, I am nothing, have nothing, give nothing, take nothing. I need to love, as others need to belong to flocks. As long as I have my love, I’m ok, I am someone. Without it, I am a piece of space debris. Ugly, and ultimately destructive. I don’t want to be here anymore. Not like this, not at all. If I could think myself dead, I would have. If I could choose to close my eyes one night, and just … slip away, I would. But, every morning, I wake up, and I wait a moment, so my mind can believe that I’m still breathing, still seeing, still needing to get up. So it can realise I’m still alone, still lonely, still broken, still sad, sad, sad, still …. mostly dead, only, still bound.
Still here.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Going Overboard
G'day Boys and Girls.
Where to start.... where to start.....
I'm still not sure what I even want to type today, I know I need to vomit something out, cos it's all getting too much again, I just don't know what, and I'm scared if I just pick a random thread to pick at, it'll turn into a confusing mess.
I'm hurting, is probably a good start. There is not a part of my life at the moment that does not hurt in one way or the other. Exhausted and filled with actual, physical pain. My heart is heavy and sore, and it takes nothing at all to make me burst into tears. My mind is tired, I don't want to think anymore, my head hurts all the time. I look at myself in the mirror, and feel nothing. No pride, no love, no sympathy...... not a fucking thing. All I see is a sad, sad woman, regretting. I miss my son, miss him, miss him, miss him. But I know, even when he's back, he can't be big enough to fill the hole.
I look into tomorrow and all I see is an endless open space, with me the little dot trying to melt into the ether, to fly away, to drift into nothing. I want to become less solid, and then, disappear, like ice turned mist.
Don't wanna be here, don't wanna be here ever again. Wanna be gone, wanna be a memory. Cos a memory actually means something to someone, unlike my life now, to myself. I am meaningless, I am a waste of resources, I am the Universe being sentimental, and keeping something that's no longer needed.
Where to start.... where to start.....
I'm still not sure what I even want to type today, I know I need to vomit something out, cos it's all getting too much again, I just don't know what, and I'm scared if I just pick a random thread to pick at, it'll turn into a confusing mess.
I'm hurting, is probably a good start. There is not a part of my life at the moment that does not hurt in one way or the other. Exhausted and filled with actual, physical pain. My heart is heavy and sore, and it takes nothing at all to make me burst into tears. My mind is tired, I don't want to think anymore, my head hurts all the time. I look at myself in the mirror, and feel nothing. No pride, no love, no sympathy...... not a fucking thing. All I see is a sad, sad woman, regretting. I miss my son, miss him, miss him, miss him. But I know, even when he's back, he can't be big enough to fill the hole.
I look into tomorrow and all I see is an endless open space, with me the little dot trying to melt into the ether, to fly away, to drift into nothing. I want to become less solid, and then, disappear, like ice turned mist.
Don't wanna be here, don't wanna be here ever again. Wanna be gone, wanna be a memory. Cos a memory actually means something to someone, unlike my life now, to myself. I am meaningless, I am a waste of resources, I am the Universe being sentimental, and keeping something that's no longer needed.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Monday, November 05, 2007
The stuff of Legend
There’s the kind of dark, joyless, fearful, choice-less love you find in the sharing of blood and DNA with someone you wouldn’t know otherwise. The kind that rears up when you see the person in question and says: ‘Oh, I love him!’ And then subsides again. The kind that borders on distaste, disrespect and in earlier times, hate.
There’s the kind that consists mostly of fierce loyalty, like for treasured pets. That make you look at other people who ‘trade-in’ beloved Butch for a new, more Jonesy-model, and think: “What a clueless ass you are”, since they just don’t get the unconditionality of it all.
There’s the kind that you feel for a friend who, for a while, might have meant more, but never actually was more, that’s forever tainted with a resigned sadness.
The kind you feel for people who walk around with eyes like twin open wounds, that makes you want to run to them, and just take them away, cos you remember the taste of that fear.
The kind a child feels for a parent, total, selfish and one-dimensional. That sees you as a being made to love and raise them up, and chooses to not see the person inside.
There’s the kind you treasure for old friends, that makes you sigh when they talk about how they’re back with their ex (AGAIN), and listen anyway, and get ready to soothe the inevitable hurt, even though you know it’ll just happen again.
The kind of love you feel for your brave body, that nurtured and birthed, and gets up every day, and acts as a comforter for so many. And your brave mind and soul, that stood in the middle of years of abuse, sorrow and fear, and still came out mostly whole.
And then, the one kind I am unable to report on, the kind I used to think was the ultimate kind. Romantic love. A foolish, ingrained dream, a landscape that exists only in hungry minds. I’ve wanted to be loved in a passionate, feverish, possessive kind of way. Wholly, with no reserve, to give myself to someone. Which is impossible, because those shivers that run up and down the spine, dies down. And later on, the kisses do not make up for the broken promises. And, the endless talking, without meaning, drowns out any affection that was left. In short, the truth shines through. And, this love, as fleeting as melting ice cream, drips down to the ground and evaporates. Forever becomes a year, six years, twenty-four years, finite and sad. And infinitely false.
Love is different for all of us. There are those who believe they have the true version, and those like me, who no longer believe in that version. Love is subjective and conditional, contracted, “you do this for me, I do that for you”. The kind that binds in the forever kind of way, is not, never was, and never will be. The only true form of it, is the form that comes with clearly defined limits, borders. “How much of yourself are you willing to lay on the altar? That much? Ok, then I can give you fidelity, maybe. You give me that part there, too, and I’ll give you affection for the next 5 years.” I was a believer, a romantic, whatever you‘d call it. Then, I lived a while, and was enlightened. You show me a good marriage, I’ll show you a well-thought out, clearly defined role play. There’s no such thing as safety, no such thing as eternal, no such thing as True Love. There just ain’t. Pull on those Big-Girl-panties, and deal.
There’s the kind that consists mostly of fierce loyalty, like for treasured pets. That make you look at other people who ‘trade-in’ beloved Butch for a new, more Jonesy-model, and think: “What a clueless ass you are”, since they just don’t get the unconditionality of it all.
There’s the kind that you feel for a friend who, for a while, might have meant more, but never actually was more, that’s forever tainted with a resigned sadness.
The kind you feel for people who walk around with eyes like twin open wounds, that makes you want to run to them, and just take them away, cos you remember the taste of that fear.
The kind a child feels for a parent, total, selfish and one-dimensional. That sees you as a being made to love and raise them up, and chooses to not see the person inside.
There’s the kind you treasure for old friends, that makes you sigh when they talk about how they’re back with their ex (AGAIN), and listen anyway, and get ready to soothe the inevitable hurt, even though you know it’ll just happen again.
The kind of love you feel for your brave body, that nurtured and birthed, and gets up every day, and acts as a comforter for so many. And your brave mind and soul, that stood in the middle of years of abuse, sorrow and fear, and still came out mostly whole.
And then, the one kind I am unable to report on, the kind I used to think was the ultimate kind. Romantic love. A foolish, ingrained dream, a landscape that exists only in hungry minds. I’ve wanted to be loved in a passionate, feverish, possessive kind of way. Wholly, with no reserve, to give myself to someone. Which is impossible, because those shivers that run up and down the spine, dies down. And later on, the kisses do not make up for the broken promises. And, the endless talking, without meaning, drowns out any affection that was left. In short, the truth shines through. And, this love, as fleeting as melting ice cream, drips down to the ground and evaporates. Forever becomes a year, six years, twenty-four years, finite and sad. And infinitely false.
Love is different for all of us. There are those who believe they have the true version, and those like me, who no longer believe in that version. Love is subjective and conditional, contracted, “you do this for me, I do that for you”. The kind that binds in the forever kind of way, is not, never was, and never will be. The only true form of it, is the form that comes with clearly defined limits, borders. “How much of yourself are you willing to lay on the altar? That much? Ok, then I can give you fidelity, maybe. You give me that part there, too, and I’ll give you affection for the next 5 years.” I was a believer, a romantic, whatever you‘d call it. Then, I lived a while, and was enlightened. You show me a good marriage, I’ll show you a well-thought out, clearly defined role play. There’s no such thing as safety, no such thing as eternal, no such thing as True Love. There just ain’t. Pull on those Big-Girl-panties, and deal.
Friday, November 02, 2007
What I have to say Today
Stay in the rapids, then the adrenalin keeps the exhaustion at bay. Stay angry, stay fighting, then the sadness won’t wash over you like the slow, endless, moving beauty of the deep river.
Laugh, smile, joke, be loud, cos when you stop the tears start pushing, pushing, pushing, on the insides of your cheeks, pushing up, up, up, to reach the outside. Keep moving till the exhaustion makes you drop, cos if you lie down on your own, the dark swirls around you, and bleeds the whispers from your insides. And you have to listen, acknowledge the voices mirroring what you swallow every day, that the tears, the regret, the loneliness, can be kept inside, but never at bay. And that it will, never, never , ever, go away.
Laugh, smile, joke, be loud, cos when you stop the tears start pushing, pushing, pushing, on the insides of your cheeks, pushing up, up, up, to reach the outside. Keep moving till the exhaustion makes you drop, cos if you lie down on your own, the dark swirls around you, and bleeds the whispers from your insides. And you have to listen, acknowledge the voices mirroring what you swallow every day, that the tears, the regret, the loneliness, can be kept inside, but never at bay. And that it will, never, never , ever, go away.
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