April 7, 2018

I just had a massive epiphany in the shower. Like huge.

Shaking from it.

I wrote the following article about an hour ago. But I realized something.

He is to me, what I am to the others.

The idea of caim, a protective circle. The embodiment of calm and soothing. Why they can sleep on me and have good dreams. The reality of sanctuary wherein anyone can knock on the door of a church and be allowed in, the be safe and sheltered without question.

He makes me feel like other people feel around me.

I know what I am now.

 

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I did a thing.

Made it 18 days without speaking to the Giant. Not a record, but all things considered, herculean effort.

Not entirely my fault. Watched Thor Ragnarok and when Chris Helmsworth gets his haircut and enters the arena, ya. That’s what Giant looks like.

The guitar player up the road from work has a penchant for playing John Mayer songs and last night one of the girls danced to Tennessee Whisky by Chris Stapleton. It’s his song for me.

The drawing of three.

I tried to severe things two and a half weeks ago because I thought I was supposed to.

Sent him a Panic at the Disco song.
This is Gospel.
Lyrics like “truth be told I never was yours…if you love me let me go.”
Music was always our first language when speaking to each other so it seemed appropriate.

More truth be told. I fucking missed him.

Told him so. Filled him on how things have been, which is not great.

I sent a screenshot of part of our conversation today to the group chat I have with my girls.

Panda said ew.

I found her reaction strange. I thought he was starting to grow on her by the end. Guess not.

Doesn’t matter. I love the fucker.

Talking to Giant and remembering I am still lovable even when I am a mess. That poor boy let me cry on his kitchen floor, put kittens in my lap, food in my belly and whiskey in my hand, wiped my tears and took me to bed more than once. Bless him.

He loves me consistently and unconditionally and has since the beginning.

The only one guy out of all the guys who have been terrified of me, the idea of me, the intensity of me to stick around and talk me through shit.
To explain to me why he couldn’t stay back then.

I get that I am a lot to handle. I also know I am worth every minute of it. Because he told me so in a way that I believe him.

And I have been a mess around him. My messiest really.

And he stayed.

And I left.

I am beginning to wonder why.

I have been more vulnerable in front of Giant than in front of anyone I have ever known.
It took me losing that luxury to see it.

I think that is what Panda doesn’t quite understand. The comfort and joy of walking through a door that is always open and having a man on the other side who can put you back together with a hug and a forehead kiss.

Talking for hours about stars, mythology and music sipping really good scotch until I forget what I was sad about.

He’s my Charon, always bringing me back from the dead.

His long distant advice was astute. Told me to get through this season. I am Persephone, anxious for spring and this is third winter version 7 point oh my god are you serious right now 4 inches of snow followed by buckets of rain a few hours later. Haven’t seen the sun in days.

“I’m going to follow your advice. Spring will be better. Summer might even be glorious.”

We talked about doors. He said I was a farther walk than before but his was still open.
Acknowledged that it wasn’t time yet.

I thanked him for loving me and he said I made it easy.

 

 

I stole this photo from Biker Body Pillow’s shop’s Instagram. I needed it.
If you are ever in Toronto go to Kensington market, Reactive Ink. Tell the boys I say hi.

I miss my people back home. I am not feeling very brave.

Tennessee Whisky came on last night and I almost messaged the Giant. I wasn’t drunk enough to figure out what to say, so I left it alone.

Sober nights make way for better mornings and less regrets.

Woke up a little earlier than I would have preferred but I almost got my 8 hours.

I see a nap in my future. But I am awake now, and writing. That’s something.

Surrender Dorothy.

My wise woman Monika posted this…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Surrender is better
Giving up denotes a lack of faith
Surrender says…ok. I see what is…so what’s next.

https://www.facebook.com/MonikaCarlessAuthor/

I hit rock bottom with my coccyx night before last. As best as I can piece together I poured 6 shots of whiskey on 2 english muffins before 9. We were upstairs talking and my eyes leaked. Haven’t heard much from him since. We will circle back around to that, just give it a minute.

The night went downhill from there, and I was already pretty fucking low.

I have my period too, which is not an excuse but…pelvic sorcery and a lot of pain, both physical and emotional. I was due for a breach.

Always calm or breaching.

I managed somehow to be much less drunk in the middle, then blacked out around 2:30am.
No idea how I got home.
It seems I tangled with a now broken kitchen chair and we both lost. I am now the not so proud owner of a very bruised tailbone. I woke up at 8 the next morning, still drunk, looking like a pinball on tilt trying to get to the bathroom, dry heaving from the booze and the pain in my ass.

I am a stripper with a broken butt. The irony is not lost.

The Weeknd was playing on a loop in my head “I might not make it, this time I might not make it.”

I realized I haven’t been that drunk since 2006, I almost died that night.

But I made it then and I made it now. Got right terrified at the beginning of last night. Then a couple strippers and co-workers rallied around me, kept me off stage and at work. Made a bit of money and surrendered to what is. Life is just gonna hurt for the next while. Bruises heal eventually, hearts too.

I’d just finished healing from the last stupid thing I did to myself. Now this.

I seem to be stuck in a loop of ‘if I can just get through this ____ everything will be okay.’ Then the next ____ happens and I am back at zero.

My Facebook statuses were enough to scare my mom. She checked in on me and I cried a bit as I told her the truth, but it meant a lot to me to be noticed, even if it was me falling apart that got the attention. Some things never change. Forced me to problem solve. This is what is happening and this is what I am going to do about it.

Guru chimed in too. Told me not to fight or run, just freeze and ferfucksakes stop drinking for 2 weeks.

On it.

But darling, if you could see the size of the blessing coming to you, you would understand the magnitude of the battle you are fighting.

I’ve fallen apart before, and once the shattering is complete I rebuild with the broken bits and make something better.

I was scraping my knees along rock bottom, climbed out a bit when the boy held my hand, and when he let go, I fell, hard.

It’s not his fault. I should know better than to put any amount of my happiness in the hands of others, they drop it every time. From what I can recall of our conversation, I think he thinks I want more than he can give. Same song, different mouth.

I want nothing. Just sex. Why is this hard?

He is hard every time he gets near me, I know this.

And so what if I cried a bit? I am beyond frustrated and I am human. I just did a big, huge, terrifying thing. I am allowed to break.

I am Dorothy. I am in Oz. A place where the snow flies sideways. Good witches, bad witches, flying monkeys and a man hiding behind a curtain.

And at some point I will realize I had the power all along.

There’s no place like home.

I’m home.