Poppies

There are so many ugly things I’m beginning to remember about having been married to a junkie. The divorce was final in May of this year and I was so relieved, I threw a divorce party! Those are a thing if you didn’t already know. I’m moving out of the apartment I’ve been in for a year now and I’m surprised that it’s actually bitter sweet. I moved around a lot the previous three years and not by choice. My piece of shit husband kept getting us into more and more trouble. So after lots of couch hopping, motel living, homelessness, living on my parents living room floor with my 3 year old Son and then finally the spare room, I moved into my first apartment. Away from him. Away from the trouble he is soaking in.  One year later, I’m moving out of this apartment to live with my boyfriend and I realize now how far I’ve come since 2012. What a painful evolution. I was anxious, lacking motivation, confidence and hope and still in Hell.

I realize there are two reasons I am reflecting now. One reason is that I’m about to move out of this apartment where I spent my time shedding and healing. This place sucks; It’s like living in a run down Motel 6  for a year but there are some things I am going to miss. The closet. That was my hiding spot, the place I wrote my newest songs, my miniature sanctuary. The bath tub. Where I meditate, relax, and soak like a mermaid because I just can’t get enough of the water. Watching the sun coming through the trees in the morning, catching the scent of the local flowers and brush from the mountains near by as I sit and have my coffee, hoping I can get enough hot sips in before I hear my toddler yell from the bathroom, ” Mama can you wipe my buuuuuuuutt!?”The other reason is that my boyfriend is so completely different from what I had for a husband the past few years that I am still trying to adjust. He is healthy, he tells the truth, he has a job, he is highly intelligent, and he has no desire to possess me. That’s quite a big step from the unhealthy, homeless, almost always unemployed, possessive criminal heroin addict I had for a husband. He wasn’t always as bad as he is now, but his descent further into Hell was a swift one and I was a victim of circumstance.

I didn’t realize so many little triggers had worked their way under my skin like tiny little splinters of fiber glass that you just can’t seem to pluck. Spoons disappearing from the silverware drawer. Little orange caps behind the toilet, in the bottom of drawers, on the floor, in the car, on the side walk, in the trash. Little black/ dark brown beads of cotton on the counter, in the bathroom drawer or on the floor. walking into the bathroom and catching the scent of a lighter that has been lit for more than a few seconds. Money missing from my wallet and wondering why I was so scattered that I couldn’t remember spending the money that was missing. Being in denial that it was stolen because entertaining that idea in the past had blown up in my face. Finding pawn slips of things of mine that had gone missing. (my guitars and bass, amplifiers, jewelry, game consoles, ipods, cameras and my Dads guns.) Seeing track marks on his arms. Threatening text messages from people he owed money to. Hiding the bruises he gave me. These are all things I had come to know well. These are all things I will never have to experience again.  To no surprise, he has been in and out of jail several times the past year. in fact, he will spend Halloween and Thanksgiving there. It won’t teach him anything. To him, it’s a mere slap on the wrist to give up a few months at a time. If he continues down the road he has been, I’m positive he will either wind up in prison or dead.  My Son doesn’t even remember who he is anymore, which I feel is better for him. I don’t truly hate him, nor do I really wish him dead (though it does make me feel better to entertain the idea), I only wish that he pays in some way for what he has done, that he at least learns the lesson he came here for and that karma will decide.

 

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I didn’t sign up for this

I’ve noticed a pattern in my life when I want something too much and I begin to dream and think too much into the future;

It always winds up being a hard, painful lesson that I’m not too sure was necessary to begin with.

“Be careful what you wish for.” That phrase always confused me a little as a kid. I’d think to myself, ‘Why would anybody wish something that wasn’t a good thing to them? That’s just it. Quite often, it’s the things you want the most that you are not supposed to have yet. The things I want are basic. very simple, yet still too complicated for my life. It’s definitely been a roller coaster and I fucking HATE roller coasters. Okay, I don’t HATE them, I was just trying to add a little emphasis.

It feels like I’m a character in a video game and somebody is putting the things that would make my life stable, just out of my reach while allowing me to believe that any day now, it’s going to get better. Then I get another curve ball. Of course I’m not waiting around for things to get better on their own, but I am struggling so much harder than I need to. I’m in Hell. Hell is very personal. Before I dwell too much on my disappointment, I’m going to pick a few sayings from Buddha to digest.

“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment”

” You only lose what you cling to”

Those are my lessons.

Oh yeah! I have an account here!

You know what’s a little funny, but also stings a little? The realization, upon attempting to create an account, that I indeed have an account here that was created TWO years ago AND (here’s the kicker) I wrote two entries that I don’t even remember writing. Where do I go when I do these things? Sometimes, I feel like I do this to myself to fuck with me. Have you ever put something somewhere you normally never would and then lost it when you couldn’t remember what your hazy self did with it? It’s like there’s somebody else living in this body with me sometimes. Like I go away for a while and this other person covers for me. I’m not really sure how to feel about that. Life is weird. Scary, beautiful, tragic, crazy, present and weird.

Socially awkward

Sometimes I wish I knew what it was like to do well in social situations and not make things completely weird. I’m the kind of person that can make a telemarketer or customer service representative feel so uncomfortable that it’s obvious they want to end the call. I think this is why I hate the phone. I never know what to say and what I probably shouldn’t say and while juggling between the two, I always seem to blurt out the random, things I never really intended to say. Then I feel the need to ask if I’m making things awkward and apologize for doing so, further making the situation uncomfortable. Meeting new people is just as awkward if not worse. Where do I look? What am I supposed to say? What do I do with my hands?  How long should I make eye contact before it becomes awkward? People are difficult to communicate with. Animals are so much easier. They don’t lie. They don’t pretend to be your friend and don’t judge you for being you because they have no use for that kind of behavior. Straight to the point. If they don’t like you, they will let you know.

Now that I sit here and write this, maybe it’s wrong to wish I could be “normal”. Not everybody knows how to interact with complicated, confusing humans and that’s okay.

I didn’t really get to a point here and now I’m not really even sure what point I was trying to make to begin with. Brain vomit.

I don’t know how to end this…

well, this is awkward so…

I’ve said awkward 6 times.

…awkward..

7.

o.0

Don’t judge me.

What is the earliest dream you can remember?

I have always remembered dreams as well as memories from reality. Dreams and reality for me have always kind of been mashed together. Maybe that’s why I remember such vivid details. Who knows?

 

Anyway, the  earliest dream I can remember was wen I was about 5 or 6. It was a setting in the middle of a dark, relatively calm ocean on an early afternoon. I wasn’t there, but I was watching everything happen from just a few feet above. A small group of people were on a fishing boat and it was known that a large shark was lurking. A woman with long hair was swimming back to the boat after fixing a buoy or something. The people in the boat saw the shark approaching and pulled out a pistol. The trigger was pulled, but instead of the bullet hitting the shark, it hit the woman straight between the eyes. The second that happened, everything was dead and silent. The water was completely still, the woman was frozen in place and as blood flowed from the woman’s wound, the entire sea darkened to a murky, frozen plain. Then I woke up.

 

This wasn’t a nightmare. It didn’t scare me at all, but it did make me think. Was it symbolism or a random collection of events possibly triggered by events that occurred that day? From conversations, a book, maybe a movie? Who knows. I don’t know what the dream meant, but it has been burned into my memory forever. Lots of dreams have. Some of them wonderful, others terrifying, but all of them vivid as a memory from reality. I wish I could live there sometimes. Maybe I do…