Contemplating the Silence

15 04 2013

There is a silence in my flat tonight that I am not used to anymore, and I have to admit that I am not enjoying my solitude. You see I have a permanent little fixture who is not with me tonight and I admit whole heartedly that I miss my little four legged friend.

She adopted me at Christmas time, I was looking for a specific type of breed of dog and she was advertised as such, but when I went to see this little pup who was the last of her litter it was more than obvious that she was of a Heinz 57 variety of mix, but I fell in love with the little bundle of jumping trouble the moment I walked in the room.

I’m sure this is when people say that they picked their dogs because they were shy and sweet, or that they crept up shyly from behind their mothers back, but my little puglette was anything but timid, she run up to us with a joy that only the young and unregulated feel and started climbing up my leg and trying to eat my shoe. I wanted her from that very second. There was no way in the world that I was leaving that house without her, and of course I didn’t, and even now I feel guilty if I have to leave her alone (work gets in the way of this idealism).

I, as those who have read my blog will know, was always much more of a no-commitment kind of person. In fact I was always of the Holly Golightly mindset that me and belonging to anyone or anything did not go hand to hand. Funny how a little dependent with a naughty streak wider than the English Channel has changed all of that. Now I can’t imagine being without her, and know I never will be for all the years that we both draw breathe in the same lifetime.

I completely failed at being the alpha of the pack, and as much as I tried I didn’t quite get the ‘dogs join your family, you don’t join theres’ mentality, maybe because I didn’t have a family, but just lived a solitary, selfish home- life. This has resulted in me and my little friend creating a little makeshift family of our own, one in which we seem to have equal shares in the sofas, bed etc. In fact I am pretty sure that she actually rules the roost and i’m just the follower.

But boy does my little leader know how to make me feel like i’m the most wonderful person in the world. There is something wondrous in being responsible for someone that is not you in day to day life, there is something joyful in being depended on, in knowing that the simplest of acts can bring a gratitude that no human has the capacity to feel. I understand for the first time in my life the saying about a mans best friend, for my little terror, with her cute eyes and demanding ways, with her sense of fun, of play, with her basic simple needs, in her quietness, in her noise has brought to my selfish heart the most amazing of human emotions. I went and feel in complete and utter love with a little furry fawn girl with a soul as old as time.

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Crazy

3 12 2011

I want to write.

It’s been so long, time has moved so fast that often I wonder if soon everything will be over and there will be no new times to look forward too. So much has happened, so many dreams came to life and I threw them away, so many times of happiness and sadness that I cannot get back and I didn’t write about them – didn’t bring them alive through my words.

I was loved. Truly loved. I made him go away.

A year of life summed up in that sentence. A year of my life that I cannot talk about in more words as I don’t have them to explain. He tried so hard to love the unlovable, he tried so hard to break down my barriers. I couldn’t do it, my craziness took on a new edge as I felt stifled, confused, trapped. My anger took sinister turns as I pushed and pushed and finally made him leave. The coldness of my soul was put before him in all its evil glory.

He used to call me the ‘Queen of words’ because he felt so many of mine were untrue. It always struck me as odd, as my life has always been one big lie and when I tried to tell him the truth that too was judged as a lie. And me, this Queen of words, never found it in herself to write even though I tried so many times.

After he left I sought help, I knew I had needed it for a long time but I made myself gain the courage to ask. I was diagnosed with Pure O – a form of OCD. Some of it fits but not all. The medication started, and it helped me to live normally, it took the edge of life, of my feelings and worries but it also took the edge off me, it killed the thinking that drove me to this late night blog. Pain, happiness and sensitivity were numbed. Everyone told me how good I seemed, how happy I seemed. I made new friends, I started to carve out the career that I had let flounder for so long. I was living, but I was not real.

It’s only now, 18 months on, after a week not taking those little white emotion killers, after an evening drinking red wine and thinking about the new person in my life that I opened up this blank white page and started to fill it with words.

I want to talk, I want to talk so much, but when I talk I want someone to listen, I want someone to try and understand what makes me the way I am – try and understand my past and the mistakes I have made. I want to come clean, I want to talk in the dead of the night and be heard but still loved in the daytime. Please God, I want someone to see and know the truth but accept me anyway. I’m crazy, a little more each day.





Reverse Decisions

6 02 2009

I’ve sat down and started to write a blog entry numerous times over the last couple of weeks but can never seem to find the motivation to put my thoughts on paper. My blog had become my place of letting out my frustration, and also my deepest fears and now all of a sudden I feel like I am facing them fears head on.

The strange thing in all of this is I finally realised what I think people have been trying to tell me all along, it was never about anything but my perception of myself, of my own fears and doubts about myself.

My background, my childhood, has left me with many issues with myself, the fight or flight mode, the constant niggling doubts about my own worth, the all encompassing hypersensitivity that allows my mind to tell myself that by being cold, being distant, never showing my true colours will allow me to escape without further harm in this mad crazy thing we call life. The deepset paranoia that manages to ruin everything I touch, simply because I let it. Funny how my fight mode only manages to fight against myself when it comes to stopping my own happiness, my own emotions, it never manages to fight against myself when it truly should.

It’s not going to be something that I am going to be able to ‘fix’ overnight, but it is something that the more aware of it I am, the more I can try and learn how to control. This fear of mine that stops people getting close to me because I am so scared that they will see this other side of me, this wildcat side, this crazy thought pattern of mine also stops me letting people see the true side of me this one that is craving acknowledgement, is desiring to be cared for.

Like a bird with a broken wing I find myself being made to learn to fly again, but not by stifling it and putting it in a large cage but by allowing it to fly free in the open air, but with it knowing that if it fails we will pick it up and help it on its way again.

The last few weeks have been strange for me, my decisions have surprised myself more than I have admitted, this huge decision to stay here in Spain because of a man I had known just days, my decision to not only stay but rush without care into this has left me bemused when I think about it. But never unhappy, nor disappointed into myself. This is not just about him, this is me, this is me allowing myself to take a chance, to make a reverse decision from normal. Always my choice is to run, always I decide to flee before I get hurt, this time I have decided that come what may, tears, hurt, fun or the opposite I based a decision on giving my emotions a chance to run free.





Sexual Secrets

16 01 2009

The last few months my blog has lapsed, not simply because I did not have time, or I did not want to write, but more so because I did not want to share what I was doing.

I make a lot of mistakes, I have always been honest about the legendry fuck ups I make in my life. More so, I put myself out here for all to judge me and wear the clueless to real life award I gave myself on my sleeve like a protection from having to be sensible.

We all know how I felt when I could not find work, being in a strange country alone is hard enough without being in one where you can’t make your rent payments and because of your lack of money the social life that you have created falls by the wayside, so the loneliness that you can feel anyway from being far away from all that is familiar becomes tenfold when the make-shift family (your friends) are out of the loop of your life.

I have mentioned before on here that I had started doing phone sex as a way to make money. Its not something I ever thought about doing but the more I tried to find work and the more I found nothing the more I began to feel that I was going to have to return to the UK with my tail between my legs so I resisted. I spent days/weeks on the internet trying to find jobs or other ways to make money when I came across a site that told me about being a Phone Sex Operator, it seemed that it was money for nothing and through the site I managed to build some fantastic friendships with the women who were doing the same job.

Despite peoples stereotypes these women are not sexual deviants sitting at the end of a line playing with themselves, more often than not they are family based women who are trying to earn some extra money while their children are in bed. Nor are they finding the work a turn on, its more like lets turn Eastenders down in the background or surf youtube while we listen to say the right things at the same time, granted an imagination helps a lot, so does knowledge of fetishes (I know so much more than I ever thought I would and trust me, not even half of them are something I personally would find a sexual turn on.

But and here goes my shameful secret, through doing this I found out that I could earn more money by going one step further, and always the girl to take the next step without thinking I went ahead and did it. In the space of three weeks I had moved on from just ‘supplying’ phone sex to taking my clothes off on webcam.

And this is when it gets grainy, at first I didn’t feel anything, I was like a robot going through the motions, I could smile and pretend I was enjoying it while my mind was completely elsewhere, my only fear was that someone I knew might see me – that to me was the ultimate in humiliation – but as the months passed something changed, I knew I could not do it long term, simply because I did not have the personality for it. I have never hid the problems I face with promiscuously, how I switch from sleeping around to being an ice queen, how I battle with faithfulness, how I fail a lot when it comes to being intimate, for someone who is desperately crying out for someone to not only want to be intimate with me but respect me also and care about my mind I don’t put myself in enough situations to receive anything but casual sex.

Webcam for me is the same, at the beginning – I will not lie here – as much as I did not find it a turn on, listening to people tell me how amazing I looked, how sexy my body is, how pretty my face, how desirable the way I moved or my accent was, was enough to make me feel ten feet tall. I am not really an in-love with myself girl, I have a fake confidence sure but inside I am a quivering wreck. So many compliments made me feel special. How naïve can I be.

The thing is now, now I hate it, now I think of these men, think of myself and feel nothing but disgust. I have been away for three weeks, I went back to the UK, I felt happy and it was nice to have some familiarity and feel so much warmth after the bleakness of the last few months but now I am back home in Spain and with no hope of finding a job here yet (probably not until the tourist season starts in March) I am left with continuing to do this until then.

Unless, unless I make another decision.

A friend of mine is in Canada and she is urging me to go home to the UK apply for my year Visa (you have to be in the UK to do this) and go out there for a year. I would need to be in the UK while my application is going through and also because I would need to temp or get a short term job for a few months to get enough money together to cover my expenses.

I have a lot to think about, and I guess as the weeks pass you will go through my decision process with me, but I just wanted to catch you up with what is going on. And hope that you will not judge me.





Rainbow

14 01 2009

I am a rainbow.

Ever disappearing, every colourful, ever elusive. I have no beginning for you to find or an end where you can find that much-wanted pot of gold. Instead I glow only when the weather changes and for a moment I am bright then I fade until its time again for me to show the vibrancy of my colours.

We are all rainbows, our beginnings do not need to be found as we have no beginnings, while the start was a time it matters not when our present is where we are and our ends cannot be found as they are not yet there, we have no end, our end is simply not yet decided.

I am not completely forgotten, sometimes those I care about deeply forget me, lose me as they walk the twists and turns of the maze that represents their own lives but in which I am not walking with them. Sometimes I make myself become forgotten as I take turns in my own maze that they do not understand and cannot accept. Sometimes I forget myself when the world seems to be in nothing except darkness and my eyes are not yet trained to look through the pitch black of the night.

There are times when I forget through my own laziness or being too busy with other things to clean my windows and mirrors and then I wonder why my view or my reflection of myself becomes murky and unclear. When the view is not pristine I become too involved in my own doubt to step back and realise that all I need to do is simply take a cloth and clean what I have forgotten to so then my view is clear again.

I am not an ogre that lives under the bridge waiting to pounce on small children or hurt others intentionally, nor am I am Angel flying above with only the need to protect others with no need to look at my own self and see if she needs protecting. My world is not black and white, it has many shades of red and grey and pink and purple, shades that may not be shared in other peoples worlds but are a part of me.

I am not fixed, not cured, nor maybe do I need to be fixed or cured, maybe my own growth is simply slower or faster or in different directions to others.

My choices are both right and wrong. My mistakes are not always mistakes. My lessons are not always learned.

I am a rainbow.