Thank goodness it’s nearly over.
I went almost as west as one can get before hitting land that heads east again
It was beautiful
I didn’t want to return.
If you haven’t been you should, but be warned, you won’t want to come back again…
I have remembered that I like writing and that I like putting my writing out there in case anyone ever decides to read it.
I dropped my boyfriend off at the train station. He lived 20 miles away and we saw each other every weekend. We were 16. It was true love. The sun was shining, it was a hazy September day, I walked slowly back down the hill towards town. As I walked, the man who had been sitting on a bench outside the train station caught up with me. He had a can of special brew in one hand and a carrier bag in the other.
-alright darling? He said
-I’m alright, how are you? I replied.
-I’m great. Wanna a drink? He offered me his open can
-nah, I’m good thanks. I said.
He got a fresh can out of his bag. –you sure? He said
-go on then. I said
We walked together, sipping and chatting. He liked fast cars and playing pool. I talked about exams and gigs and how I loved the sunshine.
-I’m going to the club. Wanna come? He said
-yeah sure, why not? I said
At the door of the working mens club he signed me in as ‘guest of…’ and I can’t even remember his name. We played a couple of rounds of pool. After a while I said
–I better go now
-sure, he said, -nice meeting you
-you too. I said. And I went on my way.
whirling, crazy mind-fuck days
lonely, lonely moments surrounded by people
and friends who keep me grounded.
I am blessed to have those friends in my life.
Breaking up with someone hurts so much.
It hurts even more when you don’t want to break up with the person you’re breaking up with and even more than that when you’re still desperately in love with them. But when there is a tiny voice saying this relationship is destructive and needs to change and then there is love which says fuck you tiny voice, love is bigger and stronger than you, it turns out the tiny voice is usually right.
Love will not save the day, it won’t fix the gaping holes that seem to just grow and grow, and it is not all you need. It doesn’t matter how much two people love each other, if there are chasms which cannot be bridged and problems which come up time and time again then the sane part of you has to let go.
Letting go really really hurts. I’m not ready to let go yet.
We assume that there is a natural order to existence. Birth, life, death.
But what happens when that order is disrupted? When life doesn’t follow birth? If the order is death, birth, the end.
What happens to the people who are left wondering how did the bit in between not happen and how do we deal with that? What next?
When giving birth doesn’t equal giving life it changes the perception of everything else. Whatever I thought I’d felt before I hadn’t felt it yet. Now I know what sad is, what grief is, what life and death really mean and I wish I didn’t. The idea that you can miss a person before you really knew them is an abstract concept, but it is real. The person we miss isn’t the person we didn’t know, it’s the person we wanted to know. The one who we dreamed about, whose features we imagined, whose name we wondered about, who never had the chance to be naughty so will remain perfect forever.
In this version of mourning there are so many levels. There is the initial broken dream of a perfect baby. Then there is the reality of physical death. Then there is the heartbreaking trauma of giving birth not giving life. Then there is the reality of the absence. And the future. And everything after that that I don’t know about yet.