Goodbye to You, The Death of Me

Why don’t I want to say goodbye? Send you a text and tell you sayonara.

Afraid I suppose, of your reaction, from 7,000 miles away.

Although honestly, I’m afraid of seeing you in person too.

I don’t want to see you.

I want to have a week free of you. Of your texts, of your phone calls, of your presence near me. Of wondering who you’re sleeping with tonight, of who’s touching you tomorrow.

While I hate to point fingers and label blame, the reality is that something about you, affects me more than nearly anyone else ever has. In such a repulsive way too.

I don’t just lie a little, about eating lunch here or liking that color shirt or .. whatever, perhaps even little lies are big lies, but.. the big lies, the really big lies, are all around me when you are here. And you don’t seem to care or notice.

How can you not care?

How can you be so disconnected from us all? That you don’t care if you lie with us, near us, to us, about us..

And why is it so hard to say goodbye to you in spite of this?! Am I really so frightened of what happens without? Without you? Without your support… without your hook into my life.

I guess that’s it, isn’t it. Am I ready to let go of all this space, all these things, to be free. If that is, indeed, what it takes. And will I be free, or will I just find your replacement, another you to teach lessons to another me.

I say I am ready; because living this way leaves me so pale, so… faded. Yet I can’t send you the text I want to, the email I think I should. Or find you where you are, and tell you the truth, my truth, a truth.

That I finally understand you will never, ever change, in this lifetime. That once burned shame on you, 25 times burned… holy shit, what am I doing with you?!

I am scared, of what your response will be more than anything. If I will have to watch my back, look over my shoulder, check my mail, watch every truck that goes by, just to see if it’s you lingering there.

Though perhaps our past should show me more of you and your behavior than anything else.

I thought I’d feel angrier at you right now, but maybe that’s having some space. Or maybe that’s me trying to protect myself. To shield myself from the truth of your lies.

That you would lie so much, that you would tell such things about me to others, to other women you sleep with, that you would treat me this way. A way that if you did it to my mother or my aunt, or my best friend, I would consider how to end you. But to me? To me.. I fail to defend myself.

Someday I will say goodbye, and the death of me now, will be the birth of me, then.

 

If I should never come back…

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I’m going somewhere soon, moving on, and away.

To a land with high reaching mountains, with caps of snow, even here in the middle of these hot, sunny days.

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Without a ticket in hand, or a destination in mind, I will be on my way.

To a beach, with deep blue seas, as far as the eyes can imagine they see.

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I’m going somewhere soon, far, far away.

I will stare at the departure board, and wait for a flicker, for a sign. A light in the darkness.

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Then I will be off, on my own, with just this bag on my back and these words in my head.

To a meadow, vast and infinite, in it’s green beauty. Where purple flowers dance with blackberries.

 

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Where the softest sigh comes floating in, just a breeze to show the way.

Taking me down, down a hidden path, to the waters edge.

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And away, away I will go.

Over the land I call home, up, up and beyond the borders laid down by men, and women, to keep people out, to keep some of us in.

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I will wait in line to board that plane, not knowing if the way I am going is forward, or back.

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Off, on my own, I will go on – up, up and away.

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Soon, goodbye shall be on my lips.

 

I’m going somewhere, where there will be no looking back, no wondering at the choices I’ve made, no doubting if I should ever come back.

 

 

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The Ghosts we Leave Behind

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Today as I was walking home from the grocery store, I saw down the sidewalk a woman standing next to a car with a dog on a leash. The dog was holding himself as far away from the car as possible, pulling at the leash – for what reasons I do not know.

I crossed the street and passed the car, looking over briefly, wondering if they were still standing there, and who had won the apparent battle.

They had disappeared, whether they made it in to the car (I couldn’t see) or headed in to the house, perhaps they went around the corner, walking faster than I fathomed they would, I don’t know where they went to.

But their departure from my own world; swift and sudden, I heard no noise of doors opening or shoes walking over leaves, left me feeling as though they’d been nothing but ghosts left behind, my vision of them just a false memory. There was a sense of a mirage.

I realized that so often that’s all we are, that’s all we offer.

That for some brief moment we make an impression, somehow, someway, and then we move on – and we leave behind the ghost of who we were at that moment. For no matter how hard we try, or how long we yearn for it at times, we can and will never go back to that moment EXACTLY as we were at that moment.

We are changed just by taking a single step, by breathing in and out another breath, by the thought we have one moment to the next.

And I wonder at all the Ghosts I’ve left behind. The smiles I gave, the tears I shared, the snarky comments I made, the documents I wrote up, the dogs I walked, the stories I told.

Of all the moments I’ve wished I could go back to. Places I called home, that I dreamed of returning to one day. People I knew, memories we created, shared. Times I’ve wished I could relive, if ever so briefly, touch on that ghost of a moment again.

I think of how my family and friends talk of my hometown, of other towns, in such wistful voices – “oh, but that was back then, it used to be so wonderful”. How they remember a Ghost Town. A place that is ever-changing and will never be exactly as it was then, on that day when they were 17 and the sun was out and the world seemed so perfect (although I wonder at our memories sometimes, selective to put it mildly).

Though I miss so many things in the past, places I’ve lived, people & animals I’ve loved, paths I’ve walked, snow that falls, and rain that sings me to sleep. They are all just ghosts, memories I have of moments that touched me, that changed me. And though I may long to go back, somehow, magically to just that point in time, what I would go back to would be as it is now – not as I remember it.

Ghosts are not just spirits left behind once the body dies, Ghosts are bits of our souls, bits of the energy of the Divine universe, that hang forever in a sort of limbo. Like a spider web hanging in the corner of our lives, catching moments forever, trapping them as they are then, not as they will be.

I believe it’s so important to appreciate the moment as it is, because while we may look back at the Ghosts in our past, they will forever be just that, in our past. And we, as we are now, are moving from this moment on. Living with those Ghosts can seem appealing, we can forget that we are capable of creating an even better moment, now.

I’ve had people tell me they miss the person I was, and there are others, that they love who I’ve become even more than who I was.

Yet, whatever, whomever, they recall is really just a Ghost, I’ve left behind.

Saying what we Need to Say

Sometimes what we want to say, isn’t what we need to say. And often what we Need to say, we don’t.

Having been told/shown/taught most of my life, whether directly or indirectly, that speaking up is not something we should do; learning to speak up, to say what I need to say, or even want to say – has been a tremendous, continuous, lesson.

I’m sure my increasing difficulties with my thyroid and swallowing are related to 30-some years repressing the words.

And recently between friends, family, online or no, therapists, spouses and the synchronicity of the universe I have found that saying what we, what I, need to say is very important.

However! I have learned that there is a monumental, HUGE, difference between what I want to say and what I need to say – and that often times I let myself get caught up in between the two.

I want to tell you that you can be an insufferable ass. I need to tell you that I want to be treated better, or to be left alone.

I want to tell you that if you hit your kid again, or kick your dog one more time, so help me God I will come after you myself. I need to tell you that I understand your pain, but that you’re only causing it in another, amplifying it – that you are capable and worthy of so much more.

I want to tell you that all of those years of verbal arguments and abuse have left me feeling dead inside when I see you, or speak to you. I need to tell you that I love myself more than you now, and I’m moving on.

I want to tell you that your political leanings are misguided, short-sighted and narrow-minded. I need to tell you why I believe the way I do, that my view is different and that’s.. Ok.

I want to say that life is beautiful, full of hope, sunshine, daisies, warm puppy kisses and gentle laughter. I need to say that life is all of that, and sorrow, tears, anger, pain, depression, loneliness, and most of all Love.

But often what I need to say will lead to things I have suffered my whole life to avoid. It will leave others feeling the need to cry, yell, run away, hide..

I want to say something that will uplift, and bring hope. But what I need to say may be the dark night before the sunrise, and not the sunrise itself.

Sometimes what we need to say, what is festering beneath the surface of our lips, hiding behind the shadows of our souls, is not pretty, or friendly, it doesn’t feel loving or gracious. It is the truth of who we are, of what we do, the lives we lived, the dreams we’ve had, the memories we’ve never shared, the hopes that linger.

So how do we speak up? How do we communicate to others what we are, literally, dying to say?   Because I believe that what we hold in, what we hold on to and repress, kills us. Oh it may not end in death tonight, or tomorrow, or in a decade, but it may very slowly show up to stay. From the cancer that eats us from within to the sense of a life never lived, there is a death that occurs as we hide the words within.

Perhaps for some it will come as a Blog post. Or a graveside confession of years past. Maybe it will come in a therapy appointment, or a courtroom confession. You can try a letter, that you write but never send (or maybe you’re brave enough to send it!), and burn over a candle, or a bonfire.

Maybe you will find it in you to share it with others, living or otherwise, human or otherwise…

I hope that whatever I need to say, I say as I want to say – clear, honest, but loving and true. It is far too easy to say what I want to say, and not only address the wounds but tear them open or cause new ones.

I need to say how deeply I was hurt by your choices Mother, but that you are perfect, and that I’m grateful to be your daughter, without you I wouldn’t be here. I need to say I love you, but I’m not in love with you. I need to say I miss you, every day, and though I may not think of you every moment that passes, you are forever a part of me. I need to say that though you hate yourself, I’m thankful for you, for what you see as pain caused to me, to others, what you see as reasons to hate yourself, are what led me to find my own way out, to grow in to someone stronger, yet softer, than you. I need to tell you your driving skills are horrible, but I understand you hate driving.

I need to say how firmly I believe in God, the Divine, the all-encompassing light of the universe and all that is – I also believe in Buddha, Krishna, Allah, Diana, Jesus Christ, Hashem, Mother Theresa, Fairies, Ghosts and things that go bump in the night. All as expressions of the One, Spirit.

There are so many moments in life when what we need to say, when we need to speak up, never a sound, nor a word, is uttered.

Say what you need to say. And know you are never alone, in any of it, happy or sad, seemingly good or bad, dark or light – you are never alone – and what you need to Say, someone needs to hear you say it.

Distractions.. Or how I find myself vacuuming at 8:30am

The last few days, especially, I’ve found myself once again doing just about anything other than sitting down and writing. Even writing my dreams down, although this is partly their vague nature the last few mornings, has felt a bit forced.

Talking with others I’ve discovered there are perhaps some planetary reasons why, and that I’m not alone in this sudden backpedaling sensation of creativity.

Which is good..

However last night as I looked around our small house I realized that I haven’t just been neglecting the writing, but the opportunities for word creation as well. You see, I often sort through my thoughts and sift through the avalanche of words in my brain while cleaning.

I think this is why I often put off cleaning. And I find myself catching up on reading, eating, tv shows, movies, cooking, taking the cats in to the yard, walking.. well, ok, not so much the walking.

But since I’m buried in books, I can’t pick up any more at the library (actually I have reached my check out limit apparently, who knew you could do this?!), I’ve eaten, movies in the morning are not my forte, the cats don’t want to go out just yet (it’s too cold), and I’ve caught up on Grimm, Dracula and most of Haven… (and going for a walk is less likely than writing because while I walk I think of writing..)

So, this morning I decided that if I was going to allow any distractions to get in the way of my actual writing, it would be cleaning.

Which is how I discovered my cats not feeling too spiffy and the vacuum needs a new belt.

Now I don’t think I have ever, EVER, intended, much less achieved, pulling the vacuum out before say… Noon. Not to mention actually plugging it in, turning it on. Not even when I went on a cleaning binge in 2004 after the docs put me on Prednisone and I was so energetic for a day I couldn’t sit still (this energy didn’t last and I think that drug is … destructive, to put it mildly), my home has never, never… been so clean.

I was feeling quite happy to be prepared to actually vacuum, for starters. So imagine my surprise, and frustration, when I realized my vacuum is doing all of nothing. Well, ok, so it was sort of sucking up dust. But upon opening it up I found the belt had snapped and that was it for my morning vacuum plans.

So off I went to sweep and clean the dishes, or at least some of them. I desperately miss having a dishwasher! It feels somehow much more satisfying to say you’ve “done the dishes” when you can just load them up, add in some soap and turn the machine on, and then? Walk away!!

But I digress.

The reality is that my delay in writing isn’t because I have nothing to say (as you can see I can find something to say on just about anything!!), or that I don’t know how to say it – I’ve nearly stopped worrying about the how, I believe the delay is the undercurrent of depression and fear.

Writing means I have to face it, eventually. Because no matter how I ramble on about vacuums, or tv shows, or my cats upset stomach, I will find myself done with that, and I will have uncovered what all of that is hiding.

Writing uncovers the river of emotion I’m floating on recently. For better or worse, in joy and sorrow. Writing means that eventually I come to find myself – and all these distractions aren’t about keeping me from writing, but about keeping me from knowing who I am and understanding all that I am capable of, and all of the stories I have to tell.

&*$k.

Firing my Demons

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When I was a young girl I found myself in the company of many demons, their teeth were sharp, their words daggers to my heart. They filled my head with fears over what ifs, what if this happens, what if they hear what I’m thinking, what if they know what I can do, what if they don’t like me as I am, what if.. an endless supply of fear.

They did such a fantastic job, at some point, I hired them to be my gatekeepers. Not only would they continue to keep the me from the world, they could now keep the world from me – I let them rage at others, I let them build a wall, a gate, even a moat to keep us all apart.

Eventually though, as must happen to all phases, to all parts of life, the walls began to crumble, the water dried up, and the gate is rusting.. my dreams and my cats became my sunlight, my view of green trees and verdant fields of lush green grass and clean, flowing rivers. And I realized I didn’t much like my employees, these demons of mine.

So I’ve begun to let them go.

Unfortunately over the years I brought on many demons, and so they’ve collected up a bit, they cover many shifts and some come and go as the seasons change, so, I know I’ve got a bit of a process going forth. I tried communicating the changes to the first demons, hoping they would spread the news, but seeing as this is a demon communication network, the word hasn’t gotten around and when it has, it has gotten jumbled a bit.

So I will continue to be honest, and clear, and firm. And I will let them go, one by one.

The gate, the walls, the moat, will all dissapear on their own with no one to guard them – though perhaps I will decide to tear it all down, there is a natural course of things that will take care of them as well.

We’ve had some crazy adventures, and some interesting stories to tell, these demons & I, but I’m ready to find some new stories, and experience some new adventures – to hear some new voices in this world of mine.

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