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.





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.





I traded my world for a week and it feels so good.

27 01 2009

Sometimes in the middle of things going out of control something amazing happens and brings you more happiness then you ever knew existed.

I met somebody, not just anybody, but something so out of this world that in one week I have deferred my plans. I want to write everything, I want to tell you how for the first time in years I am not questioning. I want to write that I can do this, that I can be this person he makes me feel like I am.

I want to tell you that despite what the world thinks, sometimes you just know.

I want to say all and of that and more, but I don’t have the time right now, because I am too busy off living, and loving every single second of the moment I am in.





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.





The Promise

30 10 2008

I was 16, started my first job and feeling scared and very unsure. I had just come through what I call now my ‘forgotten year’ – I’ll tell you about that one day when I have the courage to write it without worrying that people will think me insane and incredibly strange – and I covered my lack of confidence and strength by being difficult. I was over opinionated, defensive and I lacked direction, but most of all I lacked a confidante, a friend, someone to turn too, in a world so full of loneliness and bitterness my only prayers were for someone who would understand.

Anthony was a couple of years older than me, not the most drop dead gorgeous person I have ever met in my life, but the most attractive person I have ever known, how’s that you think? Easy, everything about him was almost bewitching, he was funny, he was nice and he made me feel like I was a complete person again, something which at that time meant more to me than any amount of money could have ever done.

We worked together, he was a van driver, I worked in the office, we was joined together by our loathing of the hatred of the wages we were paid and the boredom of the job, we became friends, good friends.

He gave me confidence to put my life back together and I found the courage to contact an old friend and she and I began to go out drinking/clubbing/shopping etc and one night I went to a club with her (and a bloke who apparently liked me – it seems nasty I guess when I look back now, but he got lost in the equation and I remember little about him that night) and Anthony was there. The drunker I got, the more I realised that if I never told Anthony I liked him I would never know if he felt the same, so I did. Just like that, a drunken conversation and you know what? He did feel the same, we kissed right there in the middle of the club like you do after you both own up to liking each other in your teenage years and that’s where it all started.

We went out for ooohhh maybe a month or two *smile* I was a bitch just as I always have been. And well, he figured me out too easy. He saw through the façade and was honest enough to tell me to shut the fuck up when I went into a fit. But he couldn’t stop me hurting myself and everyone around me with my un-rational emotions and in the end my emotional un-stability was just too much for him to be around.

Sometimes it was like we were normal teenagers, sneaking around to spend time with one another when one of out parents were out, meeting his friends and walking miles to see each other. But other times, the strangeness of me, the separateness of my life was held there for all to see, the way I lacked basic social skills, I would sit in a room so quiet with all his friends, never joining in looking scared and unsure, and then afterwards the angry person would rear her head. I lacked basic understanding of how the world worked, the time to be quiet and the time to speak. I feel both pity and hatred for the young girl I was back then.

We never slept together back then, I was 16 and quite naïve at that – but there started the most unusual emotional tie of my life. After that my life took on a new turn, the phone started ringing, I started living, I still never calmed down, we all know that’s only just something I have been working on recently, sort off. But I got better… I got better at hiding it anyway and got on with things. But every couple of months, years whatever we would drift back together, I felt tied to him. I know he had girlfriends but I never asked about them and he never told me. And then when I was 18, after a drug-induced night, I slept with him. He was my first, I was happy and I knew in my heart I was going to love him forever – whether he wanted that love or not – so I never regretted it, quite the opposite as the years have passed and my promiscuity has intensified I look back now at that time as the most cleanest time of my being – it’s a sad type of life when there has been so many men but I can hand on heart say only two have been emotionally linked to me and felt the same emotion back.

So on the story went, I would see him every few month we would sleep together, talk a lot, I would get to be close to him – I never asked him for me than he gave. I guess in my heart I knew he wouldn’t give, couldn’t give it to me – I didn’t deserve more, not from someone like him.

He was my friend, he was the person who rescued me from a hundred crazy situations, the person who would come round and tell me to sort myself out when I looked on the verge of losing it. He stood my ground many times and told me what he thought honestly in the privacy of our own conversations, I loved him all over again every time I saw him. I wanted him for more than just a physical side, I wanted him emotionally, I wanted the person who saw me for what I really was to tell me that he accepted the real me and could love the person I was back. That never happened and each time the rejection came to me we would blow, arguments would come and we could spend months without speaking.

Then he stopped ringing, changed his number and I never knew the new one, I heard random things about him through the grapevine, mainly about a girl he was with. Then a couple of years later I met up with him in a bad situation, I got with a bloke who I fell for as hard, though in a different way as I did Anthony, he didn’t like it – they were friends – and we end up arguing, after that we never spoke for a long time and both got on with our own lives. I heard he had a kid with that girl.

We started talking one night in a club about 2004 time, just as friends, I remember thinking things would never be the same. He had split up with the mother of his child and was on his own again. We started seeing each other again, it lasted a month or so and dwindled out, nothing major happened, it was just all very confusing, he was recently separated from his ex and I had a feeling he would go back to her. Once again I felt like I didn’t deserve his time.

After that we drifted back together a few more times, the same things happened, we made love, me laughed, we argued, we have both battled highs and lows with alcohol and drugs, we both partied too hard and too much though mostly separately what brought us together was something different. When I left the UK we were on good enough terms and have kept in contact since, through facebook and text’s etc. He has always been in the back of mind, its not something that is even subconscious, when I fail or when I fair well I wonder what he would think, what he would say or do if he was with me, he is like a silent guide on my shoulder who I hold my darkness too to see if it brings him light. What I do know is that if he is constantly in my mind right now.

Last night I sent a text message and he rang me today. We spoke for about half an hour and all I kept thinking was tell me something, give me a small grain of hope that if I came running you would catch me. He spoke about how we always have our arguments, but in the end we always find our way back to one another – I am pretty sure he meant as friends, as we all know I have never offered much in the way of emotions to anyone.

But what if I am meant to go back, what if I meant to go and try? People have told me that if I stop listening to the noise all around me I will hear what is being said in the quietness of my own being. What if I am meant to go back to the very start? What if the 11 years that has passed between then and now have meant something all along.

What if its time for me to go and be honest about the way I feel, without pretence without fear, if he rejects me now then maybe I would know that it was to never be. But if he doesn’t reject me, maybe I can try and be the person I know is inside of my somewhere the person who cares and has something to share not just the cold empty shell that people think I am.

I am always going to be difficult, I would not stake any type of bet on him wanting me, of even understanding why I am trying. But what if he really is where I was heading all along.





Just Another Lost Soul

12 10 2008

I was sitting on the sofa in my apartment, legs crossed, glass of Cava in my hand, his sitting on my rug back leaning against the sofa.

We’re talking the idle crap that seems to come so easily, he is telling about a problem with a guy he works with … I’m listening and commenting but when it comes to me sharing my ill-fated Malaga adventure I breeze over the facts and tell him just a simple outline. He is looking at me, I can sense the confusion and I have learnt very quickly that he always asks when he wants to know something.

He is telling me that I confuse him, he can’t work out if I want to be with him or not, his telling me sometimes he thinks I do and then he thinks I don’t. I try to tell him in my haphazard way that this is just how I am. I want to tell him not to expect too much from me but I don’t. He continues thinking outloud:

‘how do I get to know someone who is cold?’

I don’t have an answer. He will never know me. I turn it into a joke and tell him the last place on earth he wants to be is in my head. I don’t want to be there all the time he states but just to know something every now and then would be good.

I carry on drinking, the bubbles have gone to my head and I am feeling light – we joke and laugh and talk about random situations in life. His telling me that he does not ever want to have children and I find myself feeling for the children he will never have, he has such a gentleness, it seems to my untrained eye that he would make a wonderful parent.

The more he talks to me, the more I am thinking that in my confusion right now about my life I have missed something about him. Being me, I go to the my room and pull out the black bag that holds my tarot cards – just for fun I tell him, are you going to share what they say he wants to know. No, no its just for me, I want to know.

He’s stuck.

It’s so simple why did I not see it without the cards. He has spent time just being, being this easy going calm man, loving and giving to all around him, befriending the earth and the people but really he is lost. His cards hold so much hope but all of them reversed – so much to give, so much good to be had, but his stuck. Unsure about what to be or where to go. We’re stuck in this moment together and for some reason that makes me want to reach out to him more. This is not forever, this is our moment to join and be.

After that we get back to being lighter, I feel safer in the knowledge that for all his confidence he is just another lost person.

We’re pulling at clothes on my sofa, the cheap champagne helping us along, his rougher this time but even the pain comes with a form of gentleness. It’s the morning, he is leaving to go to work I get up to see him out and then start my own day, trekking around looking for work. Nothing. Nada. Every road seems to take me to a dead end.

In the afternoon he is calling me ‘I just need to come to your house for a moment’ I open the door and he kisses me, he spent no more than three minutes here and it was just to kiss me.

If I was another girl I would be left with warm feelings. If he was another man who I knew would play the game I would be left with warm feelings. As it is, I was left feeling nothing but guilt.

I managed to avoid seeing him last night and then again tonight. Instead I have sat in my apartment and wiled the hours away on the net, I have no motivation, no money and as the depression sets in I withdraw from the world.