I never wanted to conquer the world.
I can barely rule myself.
Constantly flying apart. Shattering.
I know the pieces fit because I watched them fall away. Tool Schism
Implosions where I turn to cocoon goo, other ones where I feel like a decanter of liquid dropped in front of a slow motion camera. Those are the worst, knowing it’s coming and having to watch it all fall.
Sarah, smash.
Either way, what’s left is me picking up the pieces, gluing them back together sometimes in haste sometimes meticulously, but I am not sure they are always my pieces.
I might be an amalgam of splinters of the things that broke me.
I have conquered falling apart, and rebuilding.
To the point I almost crave it now.
Things go too good for too long and I start itching for change.
That is usually when change walks into the bar.
Attica seems to think I will be heading back to Newfoundland after this last (contained) explosion.
I hope she is wrong.
I do tend to go back to the sites of detonation looking for pieces I missed.
As much as I love change, I crave consistency too.
I struggle with feeling disposable and impermanent.
It fucking hurts. But like the aching in my hips, I only really notice when it’s gone.
The excitement and palpable relief that occurred at midnight on New Year’s Eve was, well, palpable. I felt the earth breathe a deep sigh. It was enough to lighten the collective just a bit.
But then the next day or 3 we all had to get back to the business of living and nothing significant changed.
It happens every year.
I think the magic of new years and Christmas is reserved for children.
Tomorrow is Epiphany, and I prefer those and that.
But I already had mine.
2021 is just going to be 2012 over again. Without the added conundrum of Mars retrograde, or the tricksiness of a leap year.
And that is alright.
5 X 5 like Faith says.
The year of the Worst Christmas on record. I almost died.
The last time I went near ex hubby was that Valentine’s. By St. Paddy’s I was half tucked into a lackadaisical relationship. Lost my dog, got her back. Had a great job. Lost it. And in retrospect it was not great so that was okay. Pregnant in Parry Sound, fired and homeless by May.
Didn’t really have anywhere to live until November and man, it was overpriced, it leaked, and it sucked.
I worked a crappy job under the table for less than minimum wage and had to go on welfare to make rent. My jeep died and I ended up having to sell it for scrap.
But that was also the year my kid moved back in with me. I was making jewelry in my spare time just for fun. I launched a lawsuit against my old job and eventually won it. And everything lined up for me to move to Milton with my little fam.
2013 didn’t start out super awesome fantastico either, more of the same, but by July we had the Milton house. I was stripping and pretty happy. Money was coming. I got asked to do a guest spot bartending at one of my old bars, Alice had puppies. And in my son’s 18th year we finally did Florida ‘our’ way, with the help of Dave.
The ice storm was that Christmas and I handled it well, potato boyfriend did not.
I kicked him out in January and sometime in April I believe, I started living again. Authentically this time.
And here I is, in all my messy glory.
Glory, hallelujah.
I have spent the last week conquering fears. I did DMT a week ago today and yesterday my body was put into a sling and launched across a chasm on a cable. Walking up the steps to the platform was hard, I hate grates and open manmade structures where you can see down. On a grade 8 class trip we took the gondola across the Niagara gorge and I had my very first panic attack. I do not like being suspended, I especially do not like being dangled over water. Cable freak me out probably from too many movies and bad dreams. My phobias are very specific as I am also the girl who loves rollercoasters.
I am trying to change.
I spent this past year and a few before it trying to do different things.
I stumbled on something. Years repeat in varying ways and patterns. It’s what we learn from them that changes things. Just like rebuilding after a collapse.
2012 was a 5 numerologically speaking, as is this one, so I kinda know what to expect.
And so far, lost my love, job is maybe gone forever, car won’t start and I will be homeless again.
Check
Check
Check
Check.
But I have it handled in a way that I couldn’t mentally grasp 8 years ago.
Instead of “why is this happening to me?” I am wondering what it is trying to teach me and really looking to see what direction I should be headed in when the 18 months after this tumultuous 18 months is over.
I can create my reality and control at least the direction I am aiming myself in.
Those old shake ups had to happen. That job was toxic, and that dude was a potato.
Pray to god but row for shore.
Every 12 years it’s the return of your Chinese astrology sign. I was happy at 12 years old. 24 was awesome, 36 was a lil sketchy if memory serves but it was also smack dab in my Saturn return so that’s okay.
I have now noticed the unadulterated fuckery that accompanies leap years.
The bliss of the Lion’s Gate Portal and the hazards of eclipses.
From January 14th to January 30th, for the first time in 11 months nothing is in retrograde.
Time to breathe and assess.
Kate Bush once said, and Matt Good reiterated “I just know that something good is gonna happen, I don’t know when, but just saying it could even make it happen.” The song is called Cloudbusting and I love it.
It doesn’t matter if any of this is scientifically factual or not, it is my truth and it isn’t hurting anyone. it has given me some much needed strength, resolve and optimism when I really needed it.
I could be doomy gloomy Eeyore, and I am sure I will have my moments where I am. But there will be silver linings too and whatever happens now, whatever crumbles and launches me this way or that is just clearing the way and pushing me into a good year.
There is something really empowering about realizing this is probably gonna suck and I am definitely going to get through it.
There are no absolutes in life. good, bad, better, worse.
Just surviving or thriving.
As long as the good is just a bit more than the bad, or the bad is at least teaching us something then everything is worth it.