Musings

12 04 2013

Sitting in my bed on a Friday night eating a box of Thornton’s and smoking cigarettes doesn’t seem very rock n roll, unless you’re one of those people who abhor smoking in bed (don’t care, I sleep alone), the dog is curled up at my feet …and instead of reading heat magazine cover to cover I thought I would attach the keyboard to the iPad and write something, anything.

I’ve had a pretty lousy week, an incident with my car (not my fault), the norovirus (winter vomiting, is that as ironic as daffodils in the snow? I think not!) and my ongoing battle with paying the bills (not possible for me) so tonight I planned on sitting around and feeling sorry for myself.

An ex of mine, who is still a friend, popped around earlier with a ‘care package’ which included wine, chocolates, magazines and flowers – which I thought was a really sweet thing to do and in my weakened state nearly made me want to reach out to him and invite him back into my life. But I’m made of stronger stuff it seems, and I didn’t. Don’t get me wrong that girl I was is still inside of me and a big part of me firmly believes that sharing my bed, and my body would have been a massive stress relief for me right now but my celibacy remains a truth for the time being.

It got me to thinking about relationships and how as my age creeps up I look for so much more.

I’ve always been a bit of a romantic underneath it all, beneath the walls that I built around myself in my brazen years, I hid a lost and lonely girl. The only way to ensure that I didn’t feel vulnerable was to become the cold one, I ran from beds before I was pushed, as if being the first to exit made me the one in control. I balked at deep conversations in the dead of the night, preferring to silence the words with the warmth of a body. That warmth used to keep my own coldness away for a short time, the blackness of my eyes burnt like coal with physical lust but emotionally I stayed distant.

Or maybe I was just emotionally retarded…maybe I still am.

I find it very difficult now, experience has softened my edges, I find now that I want to talk in the dead of the night, but i’ve never met anyone who I feel would listen without judgement and try to understand. The truth is I don’t want a counsellor, I don’t want platitudes or someone to list all that I should be grateful for. I just want to tell someone my story, how I got to be the way I am without them running for the hills with the craziness of it all.

There must be a deep satisfaction to know that someone else in the world knows the complete truth about you, but accepts you anyway, and more than acceptance is willing to listen to your words of despair while the rest of the world sleeps.

I’m rusty I know, my words do not make much sense to me let alone to a passerby.

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My Time in the Wilderness

31 05 2009

Its my season to be alone. My time in the wilderness, and why happiness is far out of reach, I must learn to be content.

Andrew tried to hurt me, physically. Feet kicking doors, fingers around throat, I was scared of him. So much has happened that I cannot put into words for you right now, so much in the intensity of those months. So much trying, so much pain, then the last night, that look in his eyes that I had not seen before. The gentleness that he had always shown to me, the feelings I had been so sure were still there, vanished. He wanted to hurt me more than emotionally.

I fled, as I know how to do, within 2 hours my whole life was in my car and I was driving. I left at midnight and drove overnight, for those hours, those solitary hours, just me and my the assorted debris of my life in the car I felt free.

Funny isn’t it? how we put so much so value on the possession of gadgets, or the company of others, on love, on friendship, but it is only when I am running, when I am alone that I feel truly free.

I am staying with my sister now, once again bedding in a spare room, claustrophobic with having to be around people all the time, no space for myself, no privacy to gather my thoughts. I feel lost. I don’t want to be here, I cannot go back there. Canada which is still within reach if I should want it, does not hold that same excitement.

What to do now? where to go? I need a job for a few months to get some money together to make some decisions but I can’t find the fight to get out of there.

I have told people little, just of the last night how he turned violent and they condemn him for being like that I agree with them, say how I cannot believe it.

But the truth is inside, I just feel sad, not angry or bitter. Sad with regret, with wanting, sad that something that had so much possibility could not learn to fly.





Crowd Scene

21 03 2009

In the last years I have become good at standing back from the crowd. When I was younger and still not quite questioning the destructive of my temper or the hurt that my actions could cause both to myself and to others I would crash headlong into new friendships and adventures. Being solitary was my quiet time, my own time, but I partied hard and I pushed the boundaries at every given opportunity.

The last years however, maybe it is as I head towards 30, I have looked at myself more, where in earlier years I could pick myself up, brush myself down and just keep moving to the next crowed scene without taking blame on my own shoulders, its not so easy now.

I am much more aware of my own shortcomings, I am much more aware of the catastrophes I have caused.

I, despite my ramblings here, am not an isolated being, rather a solitary figure who passes through the crowd. I stand apart from the crowd because I never feel I fit in, which has meant that I have hundreds of mates all around the world but never a true best friend, never a group of people who I can call on to ground me, though that doesn’t mean that there aren’t people who think they know me, because there is. Many of them. they just don’t realise that they each know only one of my aspect of me, and rarely do they know the truth of me.

 Andrew, I think, finds me confusing. The shades of colours I bring to a day, the never quite knowing which side of me he is going to wake up too. He hears me laugh and thinks I am the funniest girl he has ever met, he hears me talk about my aspirations and feels confusion as to how they change all the time. He listens to how I talk about my past in such a matter of fact way and doesn’t realise how hard I have battled. I guess he thinks my life has been easy, because that’s the image I project. Sometimes when he sees me weak, when I am worrying about money or something going on with a member of my family or a friend far away, he tries so hard to reach me, to help me. That small shred of weakness makes him think that his masculinity is being redeemed, he feels like he is looking after me. But when I pull away just as quickly, when I just continue on, when that independence that has been mine for so long starts to show its head he is left feeling bemused.

Its like he has takes two steps towards me and three steps back and I feel sorry for him, I am not the girl he thought he had met. He saw me in bars and cafes with my ready smile and quite chatter for those who keep their distance, I am the drinking buddy who can chat to you all night, talk funny, talk deep, talk culture but when the party is over, I retreat back and he is trying so hard to find a way to figure out how my mind works. I guess I should be grateful for his strength of character, but mostly I feel guilt for his confusion. If I can’t even work myself out how can he expect too.





Just Strange

2 03 2009

Things are strange for me right now, in one way I am the happiest I have been for a long time, in another way I feel like I am drowning in unknown waters. I have days when I wake up and look at my world and feel like the luckiest person there could be, I feel safe in this private world I seem to have created. But then other days, like today I feel trapped, I feel that by sharing my privacy, my complete life I am nailing my feet to the floor.

I want to write more, but my words are just not coming right now. my feelings are confused and muddled and I am uncertain as to what I really am thinking.

Life’s strange, and to someone like me, this whole trying to live a ‘normal’ life is strange.





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.





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.