May 2018

Oh for a moment
What a moment this is
Oh for a moment of forgetting
Is a moment of bliss
Peter Gabriel

I woke up at 9 yesterday morning, without a hangover. Sun shining, up early and aware for the first time in a while and I realized why my tiny orchid is struggling, poor baby was getting direct sunlight. They don’t like that.

I had to buy an orchid. The amaryllis has gone back into hibernation and I need living things in my room, something to look after, keep me tethered here.

I planted it when I got back from Newfoundland the first time and it came up beautifully. I named it Hope and it was well looked after and loved.  I cut it back before I left for Mexico and figured that was that. It could live in storage with everything else and bloom again next year. But as I was getting ready to come back here a month later, there was a tiny sprout, so I brought it with me. Still calling it Hope. Still watering it daily and speaking nicely to it.

I took it as a good omen.

It sent up 5, 3 foot leaves and never did blossom the second time around. Went through weird cycles of perking up, then drooping like it was over then perking right back up again. I finally gave up Friday and cut it back. Put it somewhere cold and dark till next time.

This is both absolute truth and a fucking metaphor.

I am not sure why I decided to keep a record of every fucking feeling I have ever had, but I do.
Just opened an old, seemingly harmless, innocuous blog post and ended up bawling over a line or two. Three really.

“You spoil me” he said, right after, as he was holding onto me like the grail.

I know he meant it as a compliment but it tore through me like a knife. Echoes of ___________.

I dug my fingers into him, trying to keep my grip on this reality and just stay in it for a minute.

That seems like a different life. But it was the end of January. I was speaking of Big Spoon for the record.

The more things change the more they stay the same.

It is still so weird quoting myself.

And while digging through my old mess looking for things to post I realized I forgot to delete “Friday Night Fights (Nfld. Part 4).”

I have deleted everything from that chapter of my life.

It’s now gone but not forgotten. I couldn’t read any of them anyways. I know exactly what happened and I know what I wrote.

I meant every word.

It is my blessing to remember everything, even if I don’t write it down and I do, at great length whilst leaving trap doors for myself to fall through.

For the record, I have not forgotten why I am here. How could I?

Maybe that is why I have been drinking so much. If I am blacked out I don’t remember. If I am sober I have to use the other stairwell, the cold one by the door.

Nah, nothing is anyone’s fault but my own. I know this. I am painfully shy sober, I have stage fright, time moves quicker when I am drinking and I honestly enjoy a good buzz. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy. The problems arise when I drink too much and get sleepy and stabby.

I picked a really odd job all things considered.

First night after my third round of deciding to sober up, again.

Made 100
Drank but didn’t get drunk.
I have 5 packs of Marlboros
Thank you to Josh for the smokes and for questioning my request for a whiskey.
His inquiry made me check myself, and he was the only one who even tried to stop me.

I am trying hella hard to be better to my body. My heart, not so much.

Letting go is a messy process sometimes and I am terrible at it.

My friend Lorri gets it…

You’ll “let it go” a hundred times…trust me…but it’s always there, down deep, in the shadows between need and want. We can say “bullet dodged”, but we don’t believe it. Not really…

No it isn’t. It’s an amaryllis bulb in a cupboard that failed to bloom a second time.

I keep waiting for the moment of clarity, and it hasn’t come. I am watching another one slip away and I am detached, like watching something on a movie screen. The “he’s gone” message of Friday morning is making more sense now, and I did not see that coming. Nope.

My buddy messaged me this morning in a slight panic.

“The strippers got me really drunk and I accidentally let slip some feelings for the unicorn.”

This whiskey tastes like I am about to tell you how I really feel.

“She messaged back with 4 hearts, so that’s good right?”

He has found himself a unicorn girl. Nigh impossible upon this island of harpies and sirens.

Yes. It okay.

Everything will be okay in the end.
If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

See also, nothing is the end of the world except the actual end of the world, and then it really doesn’t matter now does it.

There are no accidents really.

Que cera cera whatever will be will be, the futures not ours to see…

I also told him that everything is as it should be, so don’t stress too much about drunk texts.

They are the bane of my existence too. Trust.

I am not working next Tuesday either.

Not one of my finer moments.

I try to live a life without regret, however, there are times when I should not be allowed to have my phone which happen to be the moments where I hold it most ferociously.

I once said “whiskey wants to know when you are coming home.”

That particular drunk text was well received and that whole situation went fine until it didn’t. And that is the secret dear friends, it’s all gonna be fine until it isn’t. Then we mourn, deal and move forward.

Apparently some scientists got together and decided that our true authentic selves come out when we are inebriated. Fuckity fuck fuck. I am saucy when sauced. Sometimes a puddle and sometimes very brave. Always babbling like a brook.

But we knew this. Drunk words = sober thoughts.

I also know how good it feels to find a unicorn after a long drought of nothingness. You start to believe you will never have the good sex, good conversations, good vibes ever again, and it sucks. So the fear of losing them exists, whether its rational or not.

I know more about how he feels about his unicorn than she does.
Fucking Libras and the chasing of the ladies. This drunken slip of the tongue came on the heels of a “victory” wherein he got her to message him first. This is not a game, it’s not war. I believe in telling people how you feel.

It is okay to be vulnerable sometimes. Stay too guarded and the truth won’t come out. That is the only real thing to ever regret. The chances you didn’t take, the words you didn’t say.

I am here aren’t I?

Alternately, tell the truth and run.

Speaking of, I think I am having some preemptive empathy for said drunk friend.

“My current situation? One of us is gonna show the other our throat soon. And it’s probably gonna be me. Shark week cometh and the whiskey floweth… ya, it’s definitely gonna be me.”

The baring of the throat is vulnerability.

Out of the 500+ articles I have written on here I would say about 90% involve feelings of some sort. As in ‘I tripped and fell in some feelings’.

I do this, it is my natural state of being. And honestly, for all the times I have failed, which have been all for the record, I still wouldn’t trade it. I like being like this.

Sometimes brave, sometimes vulnerable, always all in.

There is a word on this island for what I am sometimes. Sooky.

I used to call it sucky. As in I am sucky as fuck right now.

Well not right now, but I can feel it coming. I can feel a lot of things coming. It’s about time.

Anyone who knows me, knows I ebb and flow. It’s just what I do. And somedays I am a glorious goddess that can take on the world others I need my blanket and a hug.

Sometimes my blanket is a person.

Me: refer to the conversation a few days ago wherein I told you “you look at me like you want to tear me apart”. I know what you think of me.

Nope: You think you do

Me: this is true, I am not a mind reader. Body language, yes. Minds, no.

My Biker Body Pillow used to say that I could predict future behavior by remembering every fucking thing that has ever happened to me in the history of ever and seeing patterns. I can read situations like Rain Man counts cards.

And the Nope is right, I only think I know things. Maybe I am wrong about everything.

Que cera cera.

Melvin ordered you three doubles back to back to back

You were smiling and giggling one second

And telling me to “stop” “just stop”

Then you put your head down

I thought I had put my head down in the change room for a minute or 10 at the end of my shift last night. Tina just told me I was asleep for 3 hours on the floor in front of my locker with my blanket on my head.

The night before I got ruined but took a 5 hour energy so my body didn’t shut down after I blacked out. I don’t know which is worse.

I also refused to leave last night without her, even though she was gone already.
I have got to stop doing this.

I woke up at 9 this morning still in my stockings, no idea where my shirt went.

I have lost sight of the wagon I was supposed to be back on.

I chugged 20 ounces of water and went the fuck back to sleep.

Then the voice yelled at me and I sat straight up. It hurt. Everything hurts right now.

Once in a blue moon, a few seconds before I wake up, I hear a voice telling me something important.

I call it my field of dreams voice.

If you build it he will come.
Go the distance.
Ease his pain.

First clear memory of it was maybe 5 years ago now, “her name is Kayla and she has cotton candy hair.”

Young ‘un the first had been drifting away from me and her name was actually Kaya and she did indeed have pink/blue/lilac hair. They dated for a year, it didn’t end well and I consoled him through the break up.

This morning was different, it’s usually a woman’s voice. Today it was a man with an accent, like country boy twang, not sure where from. And he simply stated “He’s gone.” With a tone that dictated that I should already know this. I already know this.

Cotton candy hair girl scenario made itself clear about a week later after a broken window incident with my truck. The truth finally came out…and that was that.

I don’t know who he is or where he has gone, I mean I have a pretty good idea, but I am sure it will become abundantly clear sooner than later.

And something will get broken.

Liza messaged me last night too.

Golden spiral, curve increasing by pi

She got into the moonshine at a biker funeral and doesn’t remember much except something about the rule of 3 and clovers.

Drunken conduits getting funny messages from the ether.

Called me up this morning because she says my energy is tangly. She’s getting static.

I am in recovery mode from a 3 day bender. And I am feeling staticky and tangly.

I can’t find my happy place. My period is late, I feel ugly as fuck and it won’t stop raining.

I feel numb and like warmed up shit. The numbness is what scares me the most.

This snarky voice telling me “he’s gone” and all I could think was so what.

They go, that is what they do.

And all the HE’s are gone.

The Last One made a brief appearance, two actually, since I have been here. It’s funny, every time he comes back, we pick back up like we never stopped dating. I gotta figure out how to quit that too. He’s been gone almost 3 weeks this time. He said he was coming for me, I said we’ll see. I knew this was coming. This is the pattern. Spiral out and back in again.

Giant, same same. Said he was coming for me. No word in weeks. I know he reads the blog on occasion and I haven’t been hiding anything.

The Boy ‘heard I moved on’, so I knew that was over already. It never began.

They aren’t here anyways so it doesn’t really matter. I wish them well. Gone but not forgotten.

And Nope is on the boat for 3 more sleeps. I am looking forward to him coming back a little more than I am comfortable with. Mind you it’s easier for me to not drink when he is around. Dangling carrots.

I will figure it out, I always do.

As for the quitting of the things. I met a woman years ago, she took a “break” from smoking, and last I heard it was an 11 year break. This is how we quit things. I will take a break before I break. It can’t rain all the time and I will bleed again eventually. I am in a new place with a dozen new uteruses to sync to. We shall see.

Took me napping at work the first time to slow things down in the drinking department. Then I backslid and fell on my ass, stayed sober 13 days.

Time to try again.

Third times a charm.

I might stop to let you catch me but I think that you would find me on my knees.
It’s gonna be another long one tonight, it’s just me and my well intentioned spite, as if someone did this to me but no one did there’s no injustices…
Shawn Colvin

Oh I totally did this to myself. My happiness is my responsibility and so is my pain. There is no injustice here. Just me and my well intentions. No spite. I did this. I am also on my knees. I did a trust fall and this is how I landed.

She also wrote “you’re smiling, that’s enough”.

Been chasing that idea of enough for a really long time. I think I need to let that go.

Fuck. Everything is making me weepy. Hurry up shark week, I have plans and I’m tired of the salt stinging my eyes.

And it is gonna be another long one tonight. My entire time here has been spent trying to get enough sleep and failing. Trying to stay sober, sometimes succeeding and then failing and flailing and just hanging on till Tuesdays.

At least that has changed, my Tuesday routine I mean. In a good way.

The rest of the time I am a broken record, playing sweet for a minute then skipping sideways in a bad way.

I hurt less today, so that is a good thing.

Catherine Martell: (holding Precious at the bottom off the oubliette) I think she broke her leg on the way down, she’s in a lot of pain mister.

Buffalo Bill: You don’t know what pain is.

Ya BB, I do.

It is mourning the construct of a future that only ever existed in your head.

I mean there are a million other kinds of pain. Holding someone you love as they die in your arms. All the things I never said to my grandmothers before they passed away. Being separated from my child. Betrayal, lies, and staying stuck somewhere I didn’t belong.

That last one though.

Fits nicely with the first one. Not nice, but you know what I mean.

I stayed married because I had an idea in my head about how my life was supposed to be. It was a bad idea.

Life is pain highness and anyone who tells you differently is trying to sell you something. Princess Bride

I respectfully disagree. It doesn’t have to be this way.

We can call everything that didn’t work out the way we wanted a bullet dodged.
There are silver linings everywhere if you stop seeing red and just look.

On a long enough timeline almost everything makes some kind of sense.
Some loss isn’t a loss at all, just a lesson.

I am well educated on what I do not want. And what I do want is malleable, shifting and easily amused.

It doesn’t matter why I came here. That fictional reality that prompted me to put my life in storage and move here has shifted. And yes. I wore all black, cried and mourned the loss of that imaginary thing.

Then I let it go.

”I heard you moved on” he said.

I did, and it fucking sucked. I have yet to see this as a bullet dodged.

But, then a silver lining appeared and I adjusted.

He makes me squirt and texts me good morning.

I am smiling and it is enough.

In this moment I am happy
Incubus

Live through this and you won’t look back. The Stars, Your Ex-Lover is Dead

Yesterday was full of small victories and accomplishments. I fell asleep way too early and woke up by 10. Not the best plan but I couldn’t keep my eyes open, then I couldn’t keep them shut. The only thing good about being up this early is…well not a whole lot but, I got to read my horoscope that usually comes yesterday but I was too busy to read.

GEMINI
I bet that a healing influence will arrive from an unexpected direction and begin to work its subtle but intense magic before anyone realizes what’s happening. I predict that the bridge you’re building will lead to a place that’s less flashy but more useful than you imagined. And I’m guessing that although you may initially feel jumbled by unforeseen outcomes, those outcomes will ultimately be redemptive…
*Grace emerges in the ebb and flow, not just the flow. The waning reveals a different blessing than the waxing.

http://www.freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/20180503.html

Redemption sounds absolutely wonderful.

All signs have been pointing to not getting what I want, but finding what I need.

I need more sleep.
Might have to try a Gravol induced nap this afternoon, never done it, don’t know if it will work. Top that off with a 5 hour Energy around 9pm.

Tired of relying chemicals to be honest. I have taken more ibuprophen than any woman should just to keep moving. Been drinking more whiskey than Keith Richards should just to keep going.  Resetting my circadian rhythm has proven vexing and I still need black out curtains. Not more black out drunks. Please no more. I am missing moments, good ones.

I am coping, learning, evolving and sometimes falling on my ass.

This is not what I expected. But it might be what I need.

There have been several doomsday scenario movies wherein some main character ends up on a rock or a space ship in outer space and inevitably says “I think we knew this was a one way trip.” Independence Day and Armageddon come to mind.

I am on a rock in what feels like outer space, an alien planet where I almost speak the language but everything is fucky, and I think I knew this was a one way trip.

I just live here now.

Time has been measured out in bitter chapters since I last saw you. (Cold Mountain)

Less bitter actually. More sweet lately. I know I am Nope’s flavor of the month and that is fine. Shit changes fast around here. Plus if he’s 3 weeks on and one week off, what constitutes a month? I am so bad at math I ain’t even gonna try to figure that out.

Time moves funny in this place. I was on my 7th week for 3, and I have had to dye my hair 3 times. There’s something in the water.

2 weeks ago on my day off the Nope pulled me out of my funk and my room in the cathouse and took me to the ocean at night. A week ago he took the day off to spend with me. It was my turn to make some effort. So I did.

I went to visit Nope on a boat yesterday.

I actually like saying Nope on a boat.

I would rather he wasn’t on the boat however, snuggles are scarce just now. Counting down sleeps. 6 more for the record.

And honestly, today would have been a better day for it, I was up early, well rested and I now know the boat LEAVES at 12:45, so pulling into the parking lot at 12:44 is …nope. Also it’s nice out. Spring has finally sprung in this place and it is lovely.

I was waiting for this.