There are times when I can almost feel myself in a parallel reality.
It happened the other day when I was walking down the side walk, a man with a bicycle was going in the opposite direction. He had a large chain hanging from his bike, not a bike chain, but a regular chain, it clinked and clanked but with such a defined sound that it cut through all the other street sounds without blending with them.
For one moment I wondered if that was a Real sound and everything else I could hear, see, smell, touch was all part of some world I had made up. My body would be in a different world and I wouldn’t know where I was, what I was doing or what I was saying to whom, because I would think I was here in this world, talking to the person in front of me and interacting with objects and people in this world.
Another example is right now, I’m sitting at my desk typing on my laptop. Or that’s where my senses tell me I am. But what if I’m actually sitting, as if I’m at a desk, arms extended out in front of me, fingers making typing motions but there is no desk and no laptop. What if I’m sitting there and looking insane because no one can see what I think I’m seeing.
There isn’t much I can do with these thoughts. There is no way I can guess what I should be doing if I was in that Real world, so I have to continue as if I live in this one. There is no way for me to get to that body in the Real world either. So should I ignore those thoughts that makes me stop and think, and wonder, is this real? Is any of this life real? Or should I worry myself with thoughts that I’m actually insane and try to figure out a way back.
Those thoughts don’t happen often, and they aren’t on my mind all the time. But when one of those thoughts occurs to me, I put it in the string of thoughts of the Real world and what I’m really seeing or doing.
Times that feel the most real are when I’m with people I care about. Like last night, I was laying with my head on Justin’s chest listening to his heart beat and knew, without a doubt that he was real, that we were real and that we were where we thought we were. Or at the very least, he was a real person who loved me in both worlds and at that moment I was listening to his heart beat in both worlds.
Obviously these real vs non real world thoughts are disconcerting thoughts to have and usually only happen when I’m alone and it’s too quiet or I’m out in a crowd where I don’t know anyone, which is almost the same thing as being alone for me. I promise I’m not crazy, but my mind is always active and sometimes it takes me away with it.
I wonder, briefly during these thoughts if I’m catching a glimpse that's reminding me that this is not the only life I have and that this isn’t the true reality.
post script:
embarrassing times to have this thought process occur are when I’m; in the bathroom, changing clothes, making love, singing when I’m home alone, eating like a slob, etc.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Hair
The biggest news since I last wrote is I cut my fracking hair. I’m so mad about it. It was past my shoulders in the front and just about 4 inches shorter in the back (left over from the bob I had a year ago). It was starting to bother me, having no style or layers, and I was going to wait to get it cut and layered in September when I was home in the states. But they have a pretty good salon at the Dragon hill lodge (the huge fancy hotel on base where I got my hair done for the Ball) so I went there to get some layers.
The lady spoke good english and seemed to understand that I wanted to keep it long and was growing it out. She gave me a stack of magazines and started cutting. I was reading and when I looked up I realized how short she was cutting my hair, it was too late. There was nothing to be done but let her finish. I was so mad and the stylist could tell just how mad I was and kept trying to convince me that my hair was just as long as it had been. I wanted to cuss them out so much. I am Never that angry.
The front layers are chin length and in truth the back, longest layer is probably only an inch shorter than the back of my hair was before, but this is not the hair cut I wanted and it just pisses me off that I have to wait, probably another year before it’s long enough again. And because my hair is so thick it’s all bouncing and fluffy with the light layers, and when it’s short like this I just feel like it makes my face fat. I have to buy a straightener. It’s the only thing that made me feel semi okay about my short hair last year.
I think I scared Justin a little by how Much I cried about my hair. I cried for at least an hour when I got home. That was maybe two days ago, and really, the cut will probably look fine once it’s longer, but that is going to take a few months. Maybe even the rest of the time I’m in Korea.
I’m never cutting my hair again. I always say that, but I mean it more every time. At least this time I didn’t cut 10-12 inches off at once (like I did last year), only about 5. Maybe I’ll learn and just get trims from now on. At least I remember I still hate bangs, no matter how cute they look on other people.
Note to self:
Dear Lucy,
-you hate bangs. they didn’t work when you were 7 and again when you were 15. some people can rock them, but you hate them and they make your cheeks look big, and get in your eyes and are generally annoying.
-you hate short hair. yes it’s easier to wash, but that’s about the only thing you like about it. you hate short hair. stop getting short hair cuts.
-stop getting hair cuts when you are in an overly emotional mood, it only leads to bad things.
-stop cutting your hair for a while, you really want it to be past your shoulders (at least) so don’t get it cut shorter than that. like, ever.
-tell people when you are going to get a hair cut so they have time to talk you out of it and/or can come and supervise.
I think that’s everything except, remember, you’ve never had a hair cut you liked, so just stop.
Love, Lucy
The lady spoke good english and seemed to understand that I wanted to keep it long and was growing it out. She gave me a stack of magazines and started cutting. I was reading and when I looked up I realized how short she was cutting my hair, it was too late. There was nothing to be done but let her finish. I was so mad and the stylist could tell just how mad I was and kept trying to convince me that my hair was just as long as it had been. I wanted to cuss them out so much. I am Never that angry.
The front layers are chin length and in truth the back, longest layer is probably only an inch shorter than the back of my hair was before, but this is not the hair cut I wanted and it just pisses me off that I have to wait, probably another year before it’s long enough again. And because my hair is so thick it’s all bouncing and fluffy with the light layers, and when it’s short like this I just feel like it makes my face fat. I have to buy a straightener. It’s the only thing that made me feel semi okay about my short hair last year.
I think I scared Justin a little by how Much I cried about my hair. I cried for at least an hour when I got home. That was maybe two days ago, and really, the cut will probably look fine once it’s longer, but that is going to take a few months. Maybe even the rest of the time I’m in Korea.
I’m never cutting my hair again. I always say that, but I mean it more every time. At least this time I didn’t cut 10-12 inches off at once (like I did last year), only about 5. Maybe I’ll learn and just get trims from now on. At least I remember I still hate bangs, no matter how cute they look on other people.
Note to self:
Dear Lucy,
-you hate bangs. they didn’t work when you were 7 and again when you were 15. some people can rock them, but you hate them and they make your cheeks look big, and get in your eyes and are generally annoying.
-you hate short hair. yes it’s easier to wash, but that’s about the only thing you like about it. you hate short hair. stop getting short hair cuts.
-stop getting hair cuts when you are in an overly emotional mood, it only leads to bad things.
-stop cutting your hair for a while, you really want it to be past your shoulders (at least) so don’t get it cut shorter than that. like, ever.
-tell people when you are going to get a hair cut so they have time to talk you out of it and/or can come and supervise.
I think that’s everything except, remember, you’ve never had a hair cut you liked, so just stop.
Love, Lucy
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Daily Life (Spring)
I guess I've finally settled into a routine enough that I noticed I was in Korea and would be here for a while. I was feeling kind of blue, and I didn't know what was wrong, but Justin guessed I might be homesick and it rang a bell when he told me.
True, this is probably the longest time I've ever spent away from my family AND in a foreign country at that. I don't miss them like I did when I went to summer camp when I was 12, but I miss them all the same. And I miss being in America a lot.
Justin and I are trying a new furniture arraignment in the living room. I guess it's more than just a living room, it's the biggest room in our place. Now we have an office area, the dinning table and our couch/tv area. We're probably going to move things around every few months since that seems to be both our styles of living. Also the kitty fort we built from cardboard boxes is kind of big now, and takes up as much floor space as a lazy-boy. Which isn't a problem since we don't have much furniture here, but I'd rather have the lazy-boy.
It's warmer now than it has been all year, I've noticed not just lots of plants and flowers but bugs coming up too. Mostly outside, but there have been a few waterbeetles turning up inside. Luckily we have a little hunter (Gambit) who kills the bugs when he can get his paws on them. We've only had to help him out once. I love cats that are also pest control. Teddy is pretty good at it too.
With the warmer weather also comes the Yellow Dust, Justin is very allergic to it this year, and I'm okay most of the time, but it definitely give me the sniffles.
Yellow dust from the semi-arid and desert areas of China and Mongolia descends on the Korean Peninsula each spring. This yellow dust can reduce visibility and can be harmful to human health. The very young, the elderly, and those who are sick or who suffer from asthma or heart-related illnesses should reduce or eliminate outdoor activity on days when yellow dust levels are above 400 µg/m3 (parts per million per cubic meter of air). In addition, healthy people should avoid outdoor activity, especially if it involves heavy physical exertion, on days when dust levels are predicted to be above 800 µg/m3.
I'm just amazed at the weather still. It's May and I walked like 4 miles (round trip) in jeans and a long sleeve cotton shirt and only got a little hot and sweaty. IT WOULD BE 100 DEGREES(F) AND HUMID LIKE THE JUNGLE SINCE FEBRUARY IN TEXAS, but it's supposedly going to get hot and humid here sometime in June. Summer that doesn't take over the seasons on either side of it is just refreshing.
There is the fact that it WILL be hot and humid (eventually) and the AC are wall units that plug into electrical outlets (it's the main kind of AC here) and electricity is rather expensive. So Justin and I have a lets-not-pay-an-arm-and-a-leg-for-AC-this-summer-plan... we only turn the bedroom AC on at night. The rest of the time, well, we get a nice cross breeze in the living room. Let's see how long we can stick to that plan.
That and I might have just planned our month long 'hell yeah! we're in America! tour for the month with the highest utility bills (September). Aren't we clever. Also my college roommate is getting married and I'm in the wedding, but things have a way of working out.
yes, I realize this entry is a little dry and maybe even boring. But that's how things feel at this moment. I paid our rent today, which is a little more complicated here than other places I've lived. I have to go to our bank on base withdraw X amount of Won, walk the large sum of money down the busiest street to deposit it in a Korean bank. The bank tellers don't speak English, so I have to just hand them the envelope full of money and a deposit book from my landlord and they give me a receipt. Nearly all Korean landlords insist on cash so they don't have to pay taxes.
I also purposely waited to run my errand until after the Civil Defense Drill. Eerily sirens, check. People leaving their cars in the road and going into the subways. Check. Me thinking that not the best place to be IF bombs we actually falling. check. If you happen to be caught out and about when those sirens go off, you have no choice but to follow the drill. It's like a city wide fire drill. Or so I've been told. I have no desire to be out and herded into the subways with a ton of Koreans.
The next thing on my mind is how to pick up a couch I'm in the process of buying second hand from On post and get it to our place here. There are a surprising lack of moving trucks that are allowed on post and aren't like $100 an hour. It wouldn't take long to get the couch, but that's more than I'm going to pay for the couch it's self. Part of the appeal is how little the couch cost. *sigh* I'll think of something..
True, this is probably the longest time I've ever spent away from my family AND in a foreign country at that. I don't miss them like I did when I went to summer camp when I was 12, but I miss them all the same. And I miss being in America a lot.
Justin and I are trying a new furniture arraignment in the living room. I guess it's more than just a living room, it's the biggest room in our place. Now we have an office area, the dinning table and our couch/tv area. We're probably going to move things around every few months since that seems to be both our styles of living. Also the kitty fort we built from cardboard boxes is kind of big now, and takes up as much floor space as a lazy-boy. Which isn't a problem since we don't have much furniture here, but I'd rather have the lazy-boy.
It's warmer now than it has been all year, I've noticed not just lots of plants and flowers but bugs coming up too. Mostly outside, but there have been a few waterbeetles turning up inside. Luckily we have a little hunter (Gambit) who kills the bugs when he can get his paws on them. We've only had to help him out once. I love cats that are also pest control. Teddy is pretty good at it too.
With the warmer weather also comes the Yellow Dust, Justin is very allergic to it this year, and I'm okay most of the time, but it definitely give me the sniffles.
Yellow dust from the semi-arid and desert areas of China and Mongolia descends on the Korean Peninsula each spring. This yellow dust can reduce visibility and can be harmful to human health. The very young, the elderly, and those who are sick or who suffer from asthma or heart-related illnesses should reduce or eliminate outdoor activity on days when yellow dust levels are above 400 µg/m3 (parts per million per cubic meter of air). In addition, healthy people should avoid outdoor activity, especially if it involves heavy physical exertion, on days when dust levels are predicted to be above 800 µg/m3.
I'm just amazed at the weather still. It's May and I walked like 4 miles (round trip) in jeans and a long sleeve cotton shirt and only got a little hot and sweaty. IT WOULD BE 100 DEGREES(F) AND HUMID LIKE THE JUNGLE SINCE FEBRUARY IN TEXAS, but it's supposedly going to get hot and humid here sometime in June. Summer that doesn't take over the seasons on either side of it is just refreshing.
There is the fact that it WILL be hot and humid (eventually) and the AC are wall units that plug into electrical outlets (it's the main kind of AC here) and electricity is rather expensive. So Justin and I have a lets-not-pay-an-arm-and-a-leg-for-AC-this-summer-plan... we only turn the bedroom AC on at night. The rest of the time, well, we get a nice cross breeze in the living room. Let's see how long we can stick to that plan.
That and I might have just planned our month long 'hell yeah! we're in America! tour for the month with the highest utility bills (September). Aren't we clever. Also my college roommate is getting married and I'm in the wedding, but things have a way of working out.
yes, I realize this entry is a little dry and maybe even boring. But that's how things feel at this moment. I paid our rent today, which is a little more complicated here than other places I've lived. I have to go to our bank on base withdraw X amount of Won, walk the large sum of money down the busiest street to deposit it in a Korean bank. The bank tellers don't speak English, so I have to just hand them the envelope full of money and a deposit book from my landlord and they give me a receipt. Nearly all Korean landlords insist on cash so they don't have to pay taxes.
I also purposely waited to run my errand until after the Civil Defense Drill. Eerily sirens, check. People leaving their cars in the road and going into the subways. Check. Me thinking that not the best place to be IF bombs we actually falling. check. If you happen to be caught out and about when those sirens go off, you have no choice but to follow the drill. It's like a city wide fire drill. Or so I've been told. I have no desire to be out and herded into the subways with a ton of Koreans.
The next thing on my mind is how to pick up a couch I'm in the process of buying second hand from On post and get it to our place here. There are a surprising lack of moving trucks that are allowed on post and aren't like $100 an hour. It wouldn't take long to get the couch, but that's more than I'm going to pay for the couch it's self. Part of the appeal is how little the couch cost. *sigh* I'll think of something..
Monday, May 2, 2011
Osama Bin Laden
I found out from my “headlines” app on my google homepage. I didn’t believe it at first. Then Facebook was exploding with rejoicing. And then I talked to my husband that told me they had done DNA testing to confirm it was him, and then I believed. Just call me doubting Thomas I guess.
I’m glad I guess that someone who caused so much pain has been stopped. I would have been just as happy if he had been captured and put in prison or tried, but I’m not as ecstatically happy as some people seem to be about it. Maybe I was lucky enough to not have lost anyone on 9/11. But I guess I’m not as wildly happy because I know it doesn’t really mean anything.
My younger cousin is still in Jordan. My brother is trying to get deployed. My husband is considering re-enlisting. My other cousin and her husband continue living abroad and serving in the military.
His death isn’t going to make us leave Afghanistan. It’s not going to get us out of Iraq. It’s not going to stop things from escalating in Libya and Syria. It’s not going to make the middle east a peaceful place and American soldiers are still going to be in all those places for a long, long time.
That is why, ultimately, it doesn’t matter that one figure head of terrorism is dead. That’s not what the war(s) are about and you know it. I know it. Everyone knows it but just pretends that we’re some noble country going in to free people from tyrants and fear. We’re just protecting our investments. I guess it’s something that a country must do as well, but don’t pretend it’s anything more noble than that. Good job soldiers, job well done. Keep up the good work, but more than that I wish you all home safely.
There should never be lies involved when the price is paid with blood and lives.
I’m glad I guess that someone who caused so much pain has been stopped. I would have been just as happy if he had been captured and put in prison or tried, but I’m not as ecstatically happy as some people seem to be about it. Maybe I was lucky enough to not have lost anyone on 9/11. But I guess I’m not as wildly happy because I know it doesn’t really mean anything.
My younger cousin is still in Jordan. My brother is trying to get deployed. My husband is considering re-enlisting. My other cousin and her husband continue living abroad and serving in the military.
His death isn’t going to make us leave Afghanistan. It’s not going to get us out of Iraq. It’s not going to stop things from escalating in Libya and Syria. It’s not going to make the middle east a peaceful place and American soldiers are still going to be in all those places for a long, long time.
That is why, ultimately, it doesn’t matter that one figure head of terrorism is dead. That’s not what the war(s) are about and you know it. I know it. Everyone knows it but just pretends that we’re some noble country going in to free people from tyrants and fear. We’re just protecting our investments. I guess it’s something that a country must do as well, but don’t pretend it’s anything more noble than that. Good job soldiers, job well done. Keep up the good work, but more than that I wish you all home safely.
There should never be lies involved when the price is paid with blood and lives.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Cab Rides and Coco Chanel
I have had to take our cat, Gambit, to the vet a few times since we got him… initial check-up and vaccinations, his booster shots and getting him fixed. Since we don’t have a car I’ve had to take the cat in his carrier in cabs. For some reason this is when I’ve had the most interesting conversations with the cab drivers.
Cabby: Cat?
Me: yes
Cabby: what name?
Me: Gambit
Cabby: Gamble ?
Me: umm, yeah
Cabby: Mr.? or Mrs?
Me: Mr. Gambit
Cabby: Mr. Gamble. Mr. Gamble work at casheno?
Me: (in my head, oh Casino..) hah, yeah…
That conversation was mostly amusing because of the guys accent. The next one was one I had sort of been waiting for but still was incredulous when it happened.
So I had just picked Gambit up from being fixed and was a little preoccupied with him. I told the cab driver what we tell all cab drivers “I’m going to the Hamilton hotel” It’s
a) the easiest way to get where we want without confusing someone who doesn’t speak english well
b) it’s only a few blocks from us and it’s usually not worth it to direct the cab up a few switch backs to get to our front door and
c) even if I knew my street name or house number (which I don’t) the cab driver couldn’t find the place anyway because their street systems makes so little sense that they are actually in the process of switching it to one that is more clear.
We start driving and I roll down the window (like I usually do in a cab) and
he says “the lello lain, chinese, very bad”
Me: blank stare
Him: Lello lain!! very bad!! *pointing out my window*
Me: oh okay
Him: Shut window!!!
Me: (oooooh, yellow rain form China) I roll up my window. It’s not even raining yet. It’s over cast- yes. Raining- no. Also your cab smells like smoke which is why I opened the window asshole, I’m pretty sure that will kill you first. (obviously I sat in silence, but thats what I was thinking).
SO, I told him ‘Hamilton hotel’ thinking I would do what I’ve done before (when I had a cab full of groceries or the last time I took Gambit home form the vet) get close to the Hamilton then tell him one more block, turn left etc… usually there isn’t much of a problem but this time, This time we’re getting close and I say ‘Actually, go one more street and turn left’ and the cabby stops the cab at the intersection, tilts the rear view mirror so he can look at me (and all I see are angry eyes from him) and starts raising his voice at me telling me I should have told him sooner and blah blah blah. As if you would know where you were going if I did sir! I was pissed! But just said “okay” in as level a voice as I could and repeated ‘Next block, turn left’.
*** I came home and started putting away my clean clothes***
Does anyone else have batches of clothes? I don’t mean that as in “I have a ton of clothes” but like, you buy things in bulk and or multiple colors. I learned this habit from my mother who in turn learned it from my grandmother who probably got the idea from Coco Chanel who was once quoted saying “If it fits, buy it in every color” and we did.
I apply this mostly when I find a cut of clothing that works particularly well for me. I then look at all the colors or washes available and either buy all of them, or only most of them. I mean if something really, flawlessly works with my body making me feel like a million bucks. So I end up with a batch of shirts, or several dresses or a few pairs of jeans or a dozen or so of the same cut of panties.
That being said, when say, a batch of tank tops, gets too worn I suddenly have a huge gap in my wardrobe. My point was….umm, oh sometimes I can get away with buying new of the same cut from the same brand, but more often than not something is slightly changed and isn’t the same awesomeness I bought before. Or sometimes they discontinue something all together (*cough Express sweaters and VS panties cough*).
I then have to search for the next awesome cut and hope they have a lot of colors and or keep making it. Ultimately I didn’t have a point to this post, but I noticed some of my tank tops are getting a little worn out and I’m already dreading when my favorite (discontinued) pantie batch dies. So…what do normal people do?
Cabby: Cat?
Me: yes
Cabby: what name?
Me: Gambit
Cabby: Gamble ?
Me: umm, yeah
Cabby: Mr.? or Mrs?
Me: Mr. Gambit
Cabby: Mr. Gamble. Mr. Gamble work at casheno?
Me: (in my head, oh Casino..) hah, yeah…
That conversation was mostly amusing because of the guys accent. The next one was one I had sort of been waiting for but still was incredulous when it happened.
So I had just picked Gambit up from being fixed and was a little preoccupied with him. I told the cab driver what we tell all cab drivers “I’m going to the Hamilton hotel” It’s
a) the easiest way to get where we want without confusing someone who doesn’t speak english well
b) it’s only a few blocks from us and it’s usually not worth it to direct the cab up a few switch backs to get to our front door and
c) even if I knew my street name or house number (which I don’t) the cab driver couldn’t find the place anyway because their street systems makes so little sense that they are actually in the process of switching it to one that is more clear.
We start driving and I roll down the window (like I usually do in a cab) and
he says “the lello lain, chinese, very bad”
Me: blank stare
Him: Lello lain!! very bad!! *pointing out my window*
Me: oh okay
Him: Shut window!!!
Me: (oooooh, yellow rain form China) I roll up my window. It’s not even raining yet. It’s over cast- yes. Raining- no. Also your cab smells like smoke which is why I opened the window asshole, I’m pretty sure that will kill you first. (obviously I sat in silence, but thats what I was thinking).
SO, I told him ‘Hamilton hotel’ thinking I would do what I’ve done before (when I had a cab full of groceries or the last time I took Gambit home form the vet) get close to the Hamilton then tell him one more block, turn left etc… usually there isn’t much of a problem but this time, This time we’re getting close and I say ‘Actually, go one more street and turn left’ and the cabby stops the cab at the intersection, tilts the rear view mirror so he can look at me (and all I see are angry eyes from him) and starts raising his voice at me telling me I should have told him sooner and blah blah blah. As if you would know where you were going if I did sir! I was pissed! But just said “okay” in as level a voice as I could and repeated ‘Next block, turn left’.
*** I came home and started putting away my clean clothes***
Does anyone else have batches of clothes? I don’t mean that as in “I have a ton of clothes” but like, you buy things in bulk and or multiple colors. I learned this habit from my mother who in turn learned it from my grandmother who probably got the idea from Coco Chanel who was once quoted saying “If it fits, buy it in every color” and we did.
I apply this mostly when I find a cut of clothing that works particularly well for me. I then look at all the colors or washes available and either buy all of them, or only most of them. I mean if something really, flawlessly works with my body making me feel like a million bucks. So I end up with a batch of shirts, or several dresses or a few pairs of jeans or a dozen or so of the same cut of panties.
That being said, when say, a batch of tank tops, gets too worn I suddenly have a huge gap in my wardrobe. My point was….umm, oh sometimes I can get away with buying new of the same cut from the same brand, but more often than not something is slightly changed and isn’t the same awesomeness I bought before. Or sometimes they discontinue something all together (*cough Express sweaters and VS panties cough*).
I then have to search for the next awesome cut and hope they have a lot of colors and or keep making it. Ultimately I didn’t have a point to this post, but I noticed some of my tank tops are getting a little worn out and I’m already dreading when my favorite (discontinued) pantie batch dies. So…what do normal people do?
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Not Sad
When I think of my divorce, I don’t think about the person I was in that relationship with. I think about the way it ended- so suddenly. I think about how I had poured more of myself than I had to give into a relationship that didn’t want to continue existing. I couldn’t see that it was over, maybe from the beginning, the thought never occurred to me. I tried so hard to keep that marriage afloat but the other person didn’t want to be on the boat at all.
What I think about most is; after I was told it was over. I had to be told. I didn’t give up, but I knew that as soon as it was said, there was no hope for the marriage to continue. So I just stopped. I stopped trying. I stopped loving that person (if what I thought was love, Was love, and I’m not so sure it was). But I also stopped living. I stopped sleeping. I stopped tasting my food. I stopped dreaming. I stopped closing my eyes.
After he told me it was over, I knew exactly How over it was. It was completely and solidly over. Aside from a few text messages or emails to get some details taken care of, I never saw him or heard his voice again. Maybe he thought it was kinder. Maybe he was scared of me and whatever wrath he assumed I’d have. (I was never angry) Maybe he was just selfish. He was always selfish.
Of all the things I thought during my months of nothingness, I never thought ‘I want to go back’ or ‘I miss him’. I only questioned myself and my flaws. What I had done wrong. My faults. All the things I must have done wrong to end a marriage. I also mourned for the life I thought I had and the family members I had lost (his family) and I missed our cats. I still miss the cats but I accept that I’ll never see them again.
I only think of him and what we failed to do (have a lasting marriage) because of the love I have now. Somehow, after all the months of false living, of not facing myself, of running away from my thoughts; one day, I started living again. It was small and slow at first, but it was completely my own life. It had been so long since I had lived for just me, that it took me a long time to relearn. But I did and just in time too, because almost the day I decided I was fine again and was happy with me just being me I found someone who was happy for me to be me too.
This man, Justin, learned me like he had a secret code book. He knew me from the first moment our souls touched. I didn’t have to explain who I was, he already knew, I didn’t have to tell him how I felt or what I wanted, he already knew, I didn’t have to tell him to be careful of my heart, he already was.
Impossibly, after I was still warm from my person fires of hell, I was met on the road of life by someone who was walking at my pace. I never dreamed that there was someone outside myself who could know me so well as Justin knows me. I never dreamed I could love someone so completely, I love Justin more than I’ve ever loved a person before. I never knew I had so much to give and still feel so full of love.
Sometimes I worry I have scars, I don’t know about, that will ruin what I hold dear to me now. I worry the past was not destructive enough and will somehow destroy me again. This time for good. I finally accepted that what ended was not because of me, was not my fault. If something happened to end the life I live with Justin now, how could I walk away faultless this time?
I try to tell those thoughts that they’re silly and a) nothing will end the love I share now with Justin and b) only the thoughts themselves are destructive and I carry nothing bad from the past forward. I only carry what I learned about myself.
I like to picture my life as stepping stones across a deep pond, each stone is needed to cross, every experience is necessary in order to reach the next step. I would not be who I am today without everything I learned (about myself and others) from my past. I would not have been ready to meet my Justin and I may not have been capable of loving him so deeply. Maybe I would have been too scared of loss and too self absorbed, but with hard lessons learned I was ready to meet him and walk forward next to him forever.
What I think about most is; after I was told it was over. I had to be told. I didn’t give up, but I knew that as soon as it was said, there was no hope for the marriage to continue. So I just stopped. I stopped trying. I stopped loving that person (if what I thought was love, Was love, and I’m not so sure it was). But I also stopped living. I stopped sleeping. I stopped tasting my food. I stopped dreaming. I stopped closing my eyes.
After he told me it was over, I knew exactly How over it was. It was completely and solidly over. Aside from a few text messages or emails to get some details taken care of, I never saw him or heard his voice again. Maybe he thought it was kinder. Maybe he was scared of me and whatever wrath he assumed I’d have. (I was never angry) Maybe he was just selfish. He was always selfish.
Of all the things I thought during my months of nothingness, I never thought ‘I want to go back’ or ‘I miss him’. I only questioned myself and my flaws. What I had done wrong. My faults. All the things I must have done wrong to end a marriage. I also mourned for the life I thought I had and the family members I had lost (his family) and I missed our cats. I still miss the cats but I accept that I’ll never see them again.
I only think of him and what we failed to do (have a lasting marriage) because of the love I have now. Somehow, after all the months of false living, of not facing myself, of running away from my thoughts; one day, I started living again. It was small and slow at first, but it was completely my own life. It had been so long since I had lived for just me, that it took me a long time to relearn. But I did and just in time too, because almost the day I decided I was fine again and was happy with me just being me I found someone who was happy for me to be me too.
This man, Justin, learned me like he had a secret code book. He knew me from the first moment our souls touched. I didn’t have to explain who I was, he already knew, I didn’t have to tell him how I felt or what I wanted, he already knew, I didn’t have to tell him to be careful of my heart, he already was.
Impossibly, after I was still warm from my person fires of hell, I was met on the road of life by someone who was walking at my pace. I never dreamed that there was someone outside myself who could know me so well as Justin knows me. I never dreamed I could love someone so completely, I love Justin more than I’ve ever loved a person before. I never knew I had so much to give and still feel so full of love.
Sometimes I worry I have scars, I don’t know about, that will ruin what I hold dear to me now. I worry the past was not destructive enough and will somehow destroy me again. This time for good. I finally accepted that what ended was not because of me, was not my fault. If something happened to end the life I live with Justin now, how could I walk away faultless this time?
I try to tell those thoughts that they’re silly and a) nothing will end the love I share now with Justin and b) only the thoughts themselves are destructive and I carry nothing bad from the past forward. I only carry what I learned about myself.
I like to picture my life as stepping stones across a deep pond, each stone is needed to cross, every experience is necessary in order to reach the next step. I would not be who I am today without everything I learned (about myself and others) from my past. I would not have been ready to meet my Justin and I may not have been capable of loving him so deeply. Maybe I would have been too scared of loss and too self absorbed, but with hard lessons learned I was ready to meet him and walk forward next to him forever.
Monday, April 11, 2011
oh, it's you again clouds
I feel like I’m resisting something, very strongly. I can’t tell exactly what I’m pulling against, but I can feel the strain on my body and in my mind.
It’s a weight, it drags on me from day to day, sometimes it is lightened- mostly by good company. Mostly by my Justin. But even with his help, it still exists. It’s not his job to make me give in or win against the something I’m resisting. If I don’t even know what it is, how could anyone else?
It feels familiar too. That’s almost the worst part. Maybe I would be frightened by this sensation inside myself if I didn’t know it from before. But I’m not scared, just weary. Like clouds that have rained, cleared away for the sun to shine through and then come back with more rain; ‘oh, it’s you again clouds, I thought you’d gone for good this time’.
It’s like I’m tied to a giant box and I have to drag it behind me, uphill. I can’t see what’s inside but it’s heavy today. I was going to say it’s like being chained to something out of sight in the darkness that I’m pulling, but it’s not that ominous. It’s just heavy.
There are almost no other emotions attached to this pulling, this struggle, this resistance. Just the weary tread of someone who has pulled this box before and knows just how long the road is.
I am craving something. Deep in the very extreme center of myself I lack some vital something. If I only knew what that something was, maybe I could get it. Work towards it. I’m not afraid to work, hard or easy, long or fast. If I know what I’m heading towards I would work. But I don’t even have a direction. No compass to guide, no stars to read, no map with a hint of where to go, no breath of air with the smell of the sea, still miles away, for me to follow.
How do you find a direction to go; to find that something which you don’t know anything about- only that you need this something. Need it like sunlight and like food. Water and air can keep you alive. But you need a fire to Live.
It’s a weight, it drags on me from day to day, sometimes it is lightened- mostly by good company. Mostly by my Justin. But even with his help, it still exists. It’s not his job to make me give in or win against the something I’m resisting. If I don’t even know what it is, how could anyone else?
It feels familiar too. That’s almost the worst part. Maybe I would be frightened by this sensation inside myself if I didn’t know it from before. But I’m not scared, just weary. Like clouds that have rained, cleared away for the sun to shine through and then come back with more rain; ‘oh, it’s you again clouds, I thought you’d gone for good this time’.
It’s like I’m tied to a giant box and I have to drag it behind me, uphill. I can’t see what’s inside but it’s heavy today. I was going to say it’s like being chained to something out of sight in the darkness that I’m pulling, but it’s not that ominous. It’s just heavy.
There are almost no other emotions attached to this pulling, this struggle, this resistance. Just the weary tread of someone who has pulled this box before and knows just how long the road is.
I am craving something. Deep in the very extreme center of myself I lack some vital something. If I only knew what that something was, maybe I could get it. Work towards it. I’m not afraid to work, hard or easy, long or fast. If I know what I’m heading towards I would work. But I don’t even have a direction. No compass to guide, no stars to read, no map with a hint of where to go, no breath of air with the smell of the sea, still miles away, for me to follow.
How do you find a direction to go; to find that something which you don’t know anything about- only that you need this something. Need it like sunlight and like food. Water and air can keep you alive. But you need a fire to Live.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)