Only In My Head

..........and I can think of a thousand reasons why
I don't believe in you, I don't believe in you and I................

Given that Christmas just ended, it may seem like those lines could refer to not believing in Santa Claus. Not the case here. I can also say that those lines are NOT from the song that has been playing over and over on my radio, in the restaurants I visit, in the stores I shop, and basically just following me around enough for my own feelings of guilt to set in. Those lyrics above are from track 12 of the Angus & Julia Stone CD that still sits in my car. I can't remember the song's title. Bad, I know. I haven't played it in about two months. I threw it on in the car on the long drive home today and hit random. Funny it chooses that song when I think it says so much about thoughts I was just having last night.

However, the song that HAS been following me is one by Nelly: "Only Just a Dream". It does something to me. It did something to me the first time I heard it and it's become this song that just makes me stop whatever I'm doing and pay attention. I don't care if Nelly went from some unknown "rapper" with a Band-Aid on his cheek to a top-40 artist. A song is a song. And now I hate this guy for singing lyrics that conjure up so many memories or thoughts.

I'm all over the place right now. It's been like this on and off for a month. Sitting with your thoughts or trying to make a personal change for personal and spiritual growth is fucking hard. As hard as not having sex. The feelings of being all over the place are also going to happen here in this blog where I have a thousand things to say and won't make much sense to whomever will read this.

I was lying on the massage table today and waiting for my massage to begin. I was freezing and trying to relax. It was insane how many fleeting thoughts were coming in and out of my mind. Of course, sex being the first. Or sex I'm not having, sex that I can have and sex that could very possibly happen with someone it shouldn't. But I shouldn't even get into that right now. I'm not even going to get into that right now. (Insert long sigh here.)

Then I thought about the myriad of people I have seen recently and have talked with more in the past month than maybe I have all year. It's been a month of playing catch up and reconnection. It's nice when that happens. And this week especially is a busy one for "dates". Aside from catching up with myself and finally resting and sleeping and I hope, working out, (kid-free week), I have something going on every day with a different friend. That alone is a feat in itself.

Thirdly, was the thinking, perhaps slight over analysing, of something a close friend said, or should I say, didn't say. (And this is when those song lyrics up above come into my head again.) I'm starting to hate texting as a form of communication. Convenience is not worth it anymore when things get lost in a short texting "conversation". It's just not as real and authentic to write something of sentiment on a cell phone. So, my mistake for doing so and expecting a good response back and then not getting one. But, me being me, I had to say something more about it because this lack of sentiment from my friend just really got to me. But I guess there will be things I never understand. Maybe I have higher expectations or maybe I am saddened by the fact that this person finds it more difficult than me to communicate or show more emotion when I assume it's easy, even necessary. Or should I say, when it's necessary to me...? I guess that would be me projecting what I think should be said and I can't expect that. I mean, if I say I miss someone, and that person replies the next day that they didn't know how to respond....well, I guess that really is communicating something. Wakey wakey, Lisa! But onward I go. I can't harp on that. I can't fool myself either. When I don't know what he's thinking or what he means I just have to not go there anymore. Much more freeing.

The thoughts were so many lying on this massage table, that I was actually talking to myself in my head. Every once in a while, the lovely woman working on my torn up muscles and fucked up vertebrae would ask me something, or initiate a small conversation or see how my torn up muscles and fucked up vertebrae were feeling. She laughed and said I was somewhere else today. I laughed too, knowing that somewhere else was all over the map that lies in my head. (And really, I must usually talk so much to so many people that when I am silent everyone notices or assumes something is very wrong with me. Shut up, Lisa!, will be my new reminder or resolution for 2011...haha...)

One of things I have started to be conscious of much more in my life is how I deserve to be treated, or what I'm seeking in relationships, with not only friends, but the next mate I decide is good enough to be in my world. It is crazy how much I've been tested lately. I just won't indulge something, or someone I know isn't good for me right now. I've been tempted, no doubt. But it's just not worth it unless I'm ready without regret. But I see things more clearly when I actually am with someone from the opposite sex. I thankfully have more male friends than ever before. Some of which are closer and know pretty much everything going on in my life, and others who I love being around for the small amounts of time, usually shared, that I'm with them. But I learn from them or watch them more than they know. It's like I'm studying parts of people to create the best person that I eventually want in my personal life again. And in addition, the next guy better want to hold my hand. A lot. That may sound like a small, almost insignificant thing, but to me, it's not and it's going to become the deal breaker next time.

Another thing going on right now, much like the Nelly song following me, are my dreams. I know I dream vividly, I know my dreams can exhaust me, but lately the nightmares are back and I am trying to figure out why. I had one so haunting and scary, involving me and my children in my house, that it won't leave my memory. I don't like feeling afraid or reliving something, even a dream, that makes me worry about death like that. I am trying to figure it what it all means aside from the fact that I still have yet to draw up my will.

Anyway, I have no stunning conclusion to all of the thoughts, random thoughts like the random button on my CD changer. I wish this blog was what it was in my mind driving today. Clear and creative and all that. It may be the last one of 2010 and if it is, well, this was all it was meant to be.

Unfortunate Anger

Think I'm losing my mind
Don't know why you have to be right
There was once a you I loved
Now I know someone I don't like

Telling me you didn't like the person I was
That's why we're at this point now
Don't think I didn't know what was up
(Baby, that's what ruined us)

And I have to sit with this put up with this
Pretend it's all okay as is
You throw words out that hit
Hurt harder than they originally did

Causing pain and blame whenever you try

I don't see how you can live this life
Your unfortunate anger burning bright
When you're done exploding then you're fine

Then everything's okay
Mumble your apologies again and again
What just happened yesterday
When the beast came out to play?

My Miscellaneous

What I've learned in the past twelve hours:

I didn't go to bed early enough last night.

I can clean up my child's puke and poo several times in a row without flinching.

I can wash sheets several times in a row without complaining.

I'm sad or hungover for a second day but essentially calmer. Did I mention exhausted?

That even when I thought for a split second that a hot 24-year-old asking for my number was a good idea, it's not-for many reasons. (And I'm sorry, but if every other word out of one's mouth is shit, fuck, or "that's sick"...not interested.)

That white old school high-top Reebok's with yellow laces go with my wardrobe.

The real male friends I have in my life have my back and probably understand me more than I know. And they text back right away. And I just hope they know I appreciate them.

Men don't care about hair colour like I do.

For the first time in a long time, I regretted sharing my writing.

That Gravol, ginger ale, Premium Plus crackers and the remote control can save my life for today.

That bad stuff happens to good people and everyone makes mistakes. So you listen to an ex-boyfriend on the phone for an hour because he needs someone to really listen.

That I talk with more humour than what comes out on a page.

That "that's what she said" will never leave my vocabulary and still cracks me up.

I'm very excited for this Friday night out with friends.

That at this stage of the game, I'm a parent first and that's okay, in fact it's great.

TDH

"...I'm twisted cuz one side of me is telling me that I need to move on but the other side wants to break down and cry..."

Oh Usher. You saved me momentarily last night when you poured out those lyrics for Let it Burn. (And thank you for not singing Moving Mountains, I don't need to cry like that.) You made me feel better right after that stranger told me (not asked) that I had the face of someone with a broken heart. God, am I that transparent? Well, who's kidding who? I do have a broken heart. There! I admitted it. He is gone. And by him, I mean Tyler. And unfortunately, with Tyler's move came my broken heart. (Is it fitting I finally write his name in this blog today, the technical "anniversary" of ours?)

I was sick today. There's another thing I will admit. It's not because of the bottle of white wine from last night. It's not because of the latest shooting and murder of yet another teenager in my neighborhood (this time at 2pm in the afternoon yesterday.) I have the chills, I have knots in my stomach and I can barely eat. Fuck. The break-up diet without a breakup.

I have that feeling of loss, like what comes with a break-up. My very good "boy friend" moved across Canada to Whistler. Not the furthest location, I realize, but far enough where it's doubtful I will see him for months. (And no, no plan was ever arranged for me to visit...hmm...and I said very good "boy friend"?) He decided a change of scenery in his life was needed and he simply moved. Okay, there is a part of me that is envious of that. And hurt. His life is his alone, but in the selfish way of thinking that comes with something that feels like a break-up, I'm thinking of how his move effects me. I know...I know.....

My cousin, all the way in Germany, has granted me a lot of clarity with kind and wise words of her own via e-mail. (Funny how good writing runs in my family.) Some things I already know. It hurts to lose a very good friend in the midst of having gotten so much closer to the point a real partnership had formed. My sister commended me for investing in something with someone else and trusting someone again. By someone she means a man, and yes, yes I did.

Well, we all know feeling like this makes for a better writer. I'm writing. One of the only things I want to do right now. The memories are flooding me to the point of tears. Why does my memory decide to kick into overdrive now?

Maybe I will get back to writing my book and add a happier ending.

Prelude to a Good-bye

For the first time for us, there will quite possibly (most possibly) be a good-bye we are not used to saying or experiencing. It seems that we will have a good-bye where we both are happy (with each other, for each other) and one of us (okay, him) isn't saying adios without really saying it or giving no reason to why he's leaving, going away or just wanting space. This time we both know a good-bye is imminent. He is, probably will be, moving. He says for four months or so, but something tells me it may be longer. He is of the age where anything really goes. No attachments, nor dependents, and no huge job he will miss that much. I joked that I needed to save money for him to fly down when I need him back here. I don't have that amount of money. I was forewarned, at least, of this move, and wasn't told of it a week prior to him leaving. I'm a bit better with the impending time apart than I thought I would be. I will miss him. Yep, I said it. I already know I will, and in some ways, already do.

I will miss the closeness, the very (very) great sex, the many nights, (and orgasms) shared, the breakfasts/lunches/dinners...the time together in general. And I will really miss the laughter that comes only after you know someone well enough to laugh with them and even at them. It is remarkable when you get to know someone and they get to know you. When you find yourself doing things for them because you want to and they do the same. It doesn't make things dull. It makes things fun.

I was in his apartment when he booked the flight, the trip, the many details. I was silent, laid on his bed and gave him the time to do all the finalization. We listened to music and talked. He casually asked where I thought I would be if he hadn't been around or in my life. I hit a wall. It is rare that I get silent. It's rare when I get so quiet that I can't even talk or answer any questions. He immediately backed up, insisting that he hadn't meant I had wasted my time with him, or because of him. But here I was, onlooking at a very good boy friend making a move while seemingly implying (with other questions that had followed) that I may have made a wrong choice? There was one or two other questions I can hardly remember. But his intent was pure and not malicious or even weird. I knew this. But the comments hit a nerve. I remember having to look away. Biting back tears and a conversation, or stream of answers, that were shooting back at him only in my head. Sadly, I couldn't get my feelings out. And getting this silent meant one thing. I had to leave. So I tried to leave....tried to keep my back to him so I could just go. Unless you're my best girl friend, or my doctor, you don't see me cry. I won't let you. But on this night it happened. He thought I was angry. I wasn't. He wanted me to explain. I didn't know how. How do you explain to someone you are close with, intimate with, that you ask yourself similar questions about your own life all the time? How do you explain to anyone, that sometimes you are fine, almost completely fine with your life and the people in it, even though a nagging haunting voice constantly tells you you don't have it all, or even have and do enough? So was I also not enough because I was with him?

So he got up, approached, and did something people just don't do often enough. He hugged me. I actually let him. I didn't back away or end the hug too soon. I just let him do it. I guess it's what I needed when I was too much in my head and too silent for the words to come out. And then I was me again and could talk, and even laugh. So I stayed. We didn't have to say good-bye that night.

Waiting For That Day

When you all too often wait for the other shoe to drop, you'd think you'd be more prepared for when it does. But nothing prepares you for moments when your heart may tear even if you worried it was about to happen and held on tight for the roller coaster dip.

I am wondering if he has caused more stress than pleasure. More waiting time than face time. The waiting for him every now and then, to make up his mind. I have waited on the brink when you try and remind yourself that you too, indeed, have a voice in it all.....it can't just be up to him. You hold your breath and think this is it; this is finally the time he will risk feeling what he hasn't felt before. Push forward, make the leap, want to feel the commitment. When it doesn't happen well, you tried. Again. Best wait for next time to see if next time goes to plan.

So when do you give up? I don't like quitting, especially in love. I fail to understand how it's possible for the other not to see how good it is, that good connection that goes great, the way so much has evolved in the span of the relationship when both people even admit it was better than before.

Giving up is harder now. There is more to lose. You risk being alone again. The dating is daunting, you have given it up. And all for good reason. Not to mention you got used to his body, his touch, his laugh when he really thought you were funny. So much, in so much more time than you thought you had. But the waiting. The breaks. When do you give up?

So now I may have had it. It was a sensitive day after a fucked up night. Where does eating exist in a day like today? What are the tears for if there wasn't even a break-up? Where the fuck do I stand or why can't I take a stand?

Maybe it's time to just end the waiting game. Begin over and not again.

Unfinished

I have several blogs unfinished. Seeing the works in progress don't propel me forward, but instead make me think I'm a shitty writer.

The post about Saint Maarten is left undone. My memories of that place lay in my mind, like the photos we didn't take, the memories stay there untouched and just for me. David is the biggest memory. There are no words when you meet someone you know you were meant to meet. When you are so different and come from two completely different worlds yet you are so similar it's scary. And you both say it. And it's not bullshit. I will have to finish that post if not just to do him justice.

But I remember the tears on the beaches. The cathartic way the sky and sand takes all the troubles away. Or for the moment, the solutions present themselves or the world at least stops for me and lets me breath when I never thought possible.

There was also Ludvic. A French man my age. He barely spoke English and I barely spoke French. He led me to a paradise when I was stranded miles away from my hotel, when I waiting for.....what was I waiting for? Hours had passed yet now I wish I had just spent more time there, on "the French side", where I didn't know anyone. But I worried about my friend worried about me (she wasn't). I worried about being hot and just, well, being stranded I guess. I felt like it was time to move on and he helped me do that. But he led me first into a spot where he lived where living didn't look possible. When I sorted through the grass, the weeds, and the hundreds of white moths, I came to a clearing. About 12 horses frolicked about. I was speechless. Where was I amidst the broken down palace that once was a hotel resort? The waves crashed where no one knew there was a beach. When he led me up the stairs, I wasn't scared. It was as though I was meant to follow. He had nothing. Nothing but water which he offered, a passport of his travels, and photos of his life, which were his son and his once girlfriend. We didn't need each other's languages. We knew what each other was saying. He explained the photos. I explained mine. He showed me his tattoos, I showed mine. When it was time for me to move on, he understood and was a gentleman. He told me only one friend knew of his place. I believed him. It was all too surreal for others to see.

Ludvic taught me as much as David. Ludvic for mere moments, David for ...well, maybe that's still unfinished.

Defeated

It doesn't matter the size of the problem or the scope of the problem. When trouble or stress take aim, and it happens to you, it's ultimately your problem and yours alone. Maybe the problem affects others, but there is always that centre, that core, the root of that problem that is yours. Others can sit and watch, hold their breath, pray for you, cheer you on, or even silently think, "I'm glad that's not me." It doesn't matter. In the end it's you and the item of plague at hand.

I have listened to a lot of problems. Problems from best friends, other friends, family close and not so close. I have listened to doctors tell me their woes when maybe they didn't realize they were. I draw complete strangers in without dread. Sometimes a stranger doesn't remain a stranger. You can get a glimpse into any one's world, really. Maybe my heart is open to that.

Lately, a few things have changed without warning. They are not directly my problems or personal struggles but still totally effect me. My sister and her boyfriend fall out for what appears to be for good. I don't entirely understand what got them to this point. There are still missing pieces of the puzzle that I am not privy too. But I understand that. It's what happens as you get older and matters become private between a couple in love. But I didn't truly see the break up coming, just as maybe my sister and her boyfriend didn't. I am sad for them.

My father is sick. I don't say sicker, just still not good. I can cry at the drop of a hat, whether in my own thoughts or whether someone kindly asks how he is doing. There are phrases that make it worse. Hearing that he has to eat now, say the doctors, because soon he won't be able to. He won't have choices soon. He will do the the intense treatment. Treatment that will make him sick so he will hopefully get better. I cried in minutes after seeing him the last time. Felt like a foolish daughter that should have been stronger for her dad. Instead he comforted me and told me he'd be fine.

The search for my own sense of love has changed because of circumstances like this. Finality or a glimpse of a possible end have me questioning everything. When I don't question, and forget to be mindful like a good Buddha would urge, I bury it all up, and plunge head first into a state of denial and at times, even ridiculous behaviour just to escape.

When I am alone and without my children, love is on and off in my world. I know I am blessed with a myriad of friends and family that adore me. It sadly isn't always enough. Lately I am confused by actions of others' that don't equal the things they say to me.

The past three years have included all sorts of different scenarios and situations and yes, problems. I feel guilty for calling some things problems, when others have problems far worse than mine. A good friend tells me that though this may be true, my problem would be unique to me and incomparable. I may be an open book, wear my heart on my sleeve, regret letting so many people in so quickly, but yet I still haven't changed. I talk things out or still include others in the glimpse into my world too.

And I will remember that problems will pass, get sorted and heal, for all of us.

Open

There was stillness on the beach

Some moments just me and my iPod

I said my prayers to the widest sky I have seen in months

the large clear ocean

the high, high hilltops.



There was stillness in my heart

I didn't know where to be with my thoughts

At the prettiest point with the ever uncertain future I try to be positive

with my feet in the sand

sun on my face.

There was stillness between us

in the middle of the rush, the intensity

When I knew I didn't have to be anyone but me

eyes locked together

heart beating fast.

Breathe

It really is a difficult time, he writes me. I am glad he is honest. His ex-wife's family went through the same ordeal while they were in South Africa. I told him I didn't know what to do. I just stared back at the screen and read the words I had sent him. He told me to support my mom and allow myself to be sad.

I am sad this morning because the sun came up and nothing got better. It wasn't a dream, a weird dream like the ones I have almost every night. The news is real and it's scary. So now I cry. I am crying for the unknown and for my father and the cancer diagnosis that is his alone.

I know he knows we are here, but it's still hard to swallow that his life is now somewhat fragile. It's hard to know how to not be fragile myself.I saw him yesterday. Right before we all found out. It was the only time before knowing the news that it was possible that he really could be that sick. He just didn't look like himself.

I will see him tomorrow.

I don't know what to do today, other than try to get more sleep and do the things I would normally do on a Tuesday. I wonder what he's doing right now and what thoughts lie within.

I want to take my dad out for a drink, wish I had done that months ago before all this. His schedule is doctors and hospitals now. There's no going back after news like this. You push through and get through, together. We will get him better.

Tonight

The trip is booked.



And already there has been excitement

friendship rekindled



There have been good-byes

a pleasant confrontation

bad news, anxiety and anticipation

reunions

lies

arguments about the past, about money

over-the-top gifts

questions, plans and explanations

unexplainable dreams

sister support


The trip is booked. The first one since my newer life.

John Lee Hooker

I waited all night long

in the pouring rain

searching for my baby



I was drinking black coffee in a paper cup

and smoking foreign cigarettes



And when the sun in the sky

came up early in the morning

I said, Lord, Lord, Lord

Lord, Lord, Lord

Lord, bring my baby back

Bring my baby back



I cover the waterfront.

Breaks

It is time for a break. A break that may be harder to endure than anticipated. No, I won't entirely quit, I know I can't quit, don't need to quit. I stated this to a friend last night on the phone. At least she agreed. Baby steps. I mean, really, this is me here. I am not a quitter.

But I see how a break may be necessary, at whatever the hell time of my life I am in (though sometimes, I really am having the time of my life...I do see that amidst the chaos.)

It's become a habit of sorts, something that occurs most every day. Why stop now?, one would ask, when you're still having so much fun and in control? Well, isn't that how habits start? Good habits gone bad, that will wind up getting their own television show? From so much fun partaking to suddenly questioning your entire existence because of the euphoria the habit brings?! Okay, I am being dramatic. But it's like I feel I have been needing it too often, sometimes every day; have been getting it every day, even in small doses at predictable times. Is it making me truly happier? Is it making me a better person? Am I calmer, more relaxed from it? Hard to tell. I'm pretty good on my own as well, I think. Or at least I hope I am.

So maybe it's a crutch, or a crush. I am in love perhaps. I don't usually say no anymore. Maybe it's all just spring fever.

Just yesterday, mid day, in a public place, I said yes- gave in- for two hours. I mean, really! Two hours! And I was with my friend! Okay, granted, she had the intelligence to say no. But I didn't think twice. Was asked once, said yes, felt good when it all went down, so to speak. I smiled a lot afterwards. I still went home when my friend had to leave. The session, unplanned, seemed much shorter in duration actually. Hmmm.......it was a great two hours.

Well, tonight there is change. There will be none of it going on in this house tonight, or anywhere else for me tonight for that matter.

So......

I will miss you, dear, loyal wine, feisty vodka, sophisticated champagne, laid back beer...miss you all indeed. But you have to understand I can't see you all the time. It's just not always healthy for me, not a good match some days. But don't worry, this green tea I am sipping won't ever replace you. The lemon flavoured water and juice can't give me what you can. I will be back, just not as often. A break. Some days off here and there. It will be okay. I can do this!

Next time

Next time I will be look before I leap
I will question before I trust
I will find the truth in my own knowledge and not the promises.

Next time there will be more hesitation
I will wait and so will he.

Next time I won't look past the obvious
I will listen without explaining, rationalizing or pretending.

Next time I will begin by healing my heart.

But when the next time comes
I will still laugh
I will still shine
I will still care

I will still be me

And next time, it will be better.

Family

I texted her in the middle of the afternoon.
I was sobbing.
I was shaking.
She didn't know that. Yet.

It was one simple line, few words.
"need to talk to you. now."

She replied in record speed.
"home?"

"yes"


She called within seconds and I couldn't get any words out. She let me cry, let me gasp and watited. She didn't rush with questions but she knew. Knew without asking that it was bad, that I had reached that rare moment when life makes absolutely no sense.

We are like that, we don't really have to explain. When I did explain, she made 'it' better, made me better, all by listening, all by her words and the comfort that I felt through the phone even with our miles and miles apart.

After our conversation, (easily twenty minutes while she was at work) I managed to get through my day. It's how we are. With the daily e-mails, texts and calls there is the grateful laughter beyond words. But sadly too, there are moments like this. Tough, gut wrenching moments that in them, come the helplessness and lack of hope that no one wants to share, not even me. But I do share because I have to. Because I only manage through the talks, through the communication and luckily, thankfully, she is there. Always. Lately, I haven't shared with or reached out to as many people. I am tired of myself, tired of the forks in the road and having no real explanation of things. When I feel that everyone is busier, everyone is more important in the 'real world', it leads to feeling like few people understand.

In moments like this there is my family. She is not related by blood though we already know we are the 'other' sister to one another.

I am glad she will see this thank you.

Gone

I do my best thinking in the shower. When I'm not in the shower, I do my best thinking driving in my car. I love my car so I really love driving when driving is necessary. But today I wasn't thinking when I decided to just drive to The Ex-Husband's new house, unannounced.

The Ex failed to return my son's winter coat yesterday, on "his" morning with our children. I mean, it's winter. He knew he still had it. He knew he said he'd return it and he didn't. And when my son refused to wear his sister's other coat, (can't blame him for that) and refused to wear his dinosaur raincoat, (also, can't blame him there) well, I just plopped him in his car seat, and away I drove to retrieve the needed jacket.

Something in my intuition (and I do have crazy intuition when it does strike), told me my Ex would not be alone in his house. He only has the kids two nights a week, which leaves plenty of room for him to have "company", namely, I assume, The Girlfriend. So the thoughts that did run through my mind on the six-minute drive included waking them from a slumber, catching them eating breakfast, or maybe even seeing them walking down the front porch steps. Although, really. Would The Ex even be up? It was only 8:51 a.m. And realizing the early hour, I thought, well, if I must, I will have to call his house or cell phone first. Oh wait, scratch that. I had left my cell phone charging in the kitchen. You see, it really was an unplanned visit.

I parked on the street behind a school bus but practically right in front of The Exes house. I left my son in the car and literally raced up the front steps. The TV was on. I saw it clearly through the front window of the house. My heart raced a little. I rang the doorbell and then immediately peered in the front window. I saw a girl, though, whom she was, I was not entirely sure. She was sitting a little too close to a guy on the couch for it to be The Girlfriend. They stared blankly but also in surprise. The Ex literally jumped off the opposite couch, the one not facing the window.

It was that person that jumped up so startled, that changed things for me in mere moments.

The Ex was still in his robe (the same robe my mom had bought for him many Christmases ago). He looked drunk or badly hungover. He looked disheveled. He looked guilty and sheepish. Before opening the glass panelled front door (one can see in the house and front hall completely), he grabbed my son's jacket from the hook. He knew why I was there.

"I'm really sorry, Lisa," he stammered out, looking sad and as though he thought he had disappointed me.
I mumbled, "It's okay, bye."

I could hardly look at him but for reasons not like the ones I have had in the past. I was not angry, I was not irritated or annoyed. I was not jealous of him, his friends, The Girlfriend, (whether she was there or not), or his lifestyle or life in that house. For the first time I felt a mixture of sadness and pity for him. I didn't recognize this man. He wasn't the man I fell in love with years and years ago. This was someone I didn't really know anymore, didn't want to know anymore, and a man that was not part of my real life.

I walked immediately down the stairs without looking back.

I didn't know I had been waiting so long for my heart to release me from the grip of my pain. I didn't know a casual good-bye on his front porch, a good-bye so unlike the ending of Us almost exactly three years ago, could finally make things right for me. Not right for Us, but just for me.

So approaching my car, just steps away from my son in his car seat, I had my ah-ha moment, my light bulb flash, the turning shift in my soul. For the first time, I truly let him go. I didn't curse his existence or think ill of him and all the the hurt and anguish he has brought me and all the unbelievable anger and rage he still hurls at me. I didn't feel loneliness or emptiness. I felt like me, the really good, great me that still finds happiness, still has an amazing sense of humour, still is a good mother, daughter, sister, friend and yes, even lover. For the first time, I realized this can be the me all the time, even when dealing with, or seeing The Ex-Husband. I realized I didn't want to allow him to take any part of the really great me any longer. I no longer felt attached, just free.. just already gone.

Untitled

How do certain songs come on when you least expect it?

I'm driving home. It's that long, annoying drive. Long enough that you can enjoy a long stretch of highway in front of you for killing the pavement, but still, if you're a Torontonian, it's way too far out of the downtown core. I have to pay attention to signs. I have to be aware. Today, after the long meeting, I don't want to think. Yet it's also the drive that lends itself for listening to a lot of music. Many songs. Music that randomly fills your ears and makes you whisper, "awesome!" or "fuck."

Okay, so it's an eighties tune. Music that my sister lives for. Music that I'm very particular about. So why does Howard Jones' "No One Is To Blame" make me almost jerk the car forward to a crazy fast dead rolling stop on the Gardiner Expressway and yell my favourite four-letter obscenity?

"...doctor says you're cured but you still feel the pain..."

It's every damn line. Why is it making sense about so many things? Am I just tired from the 3am bedtime of last night? Am I drained from driving 25 minutes to sign my life over for a house and a mortgage I've acquired solely in my name?

"...you can build a mansion but you just can't live in it....."

I feel panicked. I am on the verge of tears, but for what? This is crazy. I am going crazy. It's another check-off on the longest to-do list made in history, but I'm not happy. Have I won? At what cost? It's now my house and mine alone. The attractive banker has asked me twice if I work. Doesn't he remember my "situation"? The real estate lawyer asks if I owe any money to the Ex-Husband. What am I giving him for our house? (Um.....my life?)

"...you can feel the punishment but you can't commit the sin...."

I think of the positive and the steps forward. I forgive myself for things I think I have majorly screwed up. I procrastinate, this I know, but I have fullfilled more things than I thought possible in two years of turmoil. I have gained friends, I have lost friends. I have stopped making the story my world, or at least tried to. I have put myself out there and I have won love and I have lost love. Sometimes I am happy with the amount of love I have in my life.

"...the insecurity is the thing that won't get lost..."

I am trying to be that person books are written to. The little girl lost who has found her way. The girl turned woman who has recaptured life. She will not come undone!

"...it's the last piece of the puzzle but you just can't make it fit..."

And finally I get home. I sit. I read. I write. I revise my tired looking to-do list.

"....no one ever is to blame..."

Surprises

With hesitation, but for my own reasons, I share this January blog that remained un-posted until now, March 20th.

I'm seeing him a lot more.

A simple statement, a thought, (one of many), that can race through my head among other thoughts when all is silent and I am actually resting both body and mind. It may not seem that my mind is still, but it is, this I know, because I can take the time to think things out, stay with the feelings and just be.

I realize this alone in his bed. I've never been left alone in his apartment. It's nice but strange being here by myself. The noises from the street are unlike the noises of my neighborhood. I can hear the guys in the plumbing shop downstairs. Their phone rings. There is some type of drilling noise. But I lie still, trying to fall asleep. It's why I am here. Too tired to leave when he left for work. He just simply went to the spot where the spare key is kept and left it beside the bed. And kissed me. Then headed downstairs saying "bye, pussycat".

Although I am tired and love his bed, I can't sleep. My cell phone beeps to tell me the battery is low. I don't care. Too many people have called or texted today. They can wait. Secretly I like that while the world works today, while the cars race by outside, while friends try to figure out where I am or what I am doing, I am alone in his bed. It's 1:30 pm.

The night before was a bit of a haze. Too much to drink at a random party where my friend works. I would check my watch often. I would be seeing him later that night. The boys at this party were random too. Trying to impress me but I'm tired and weary of men I meet. I used to be the one entertaining the pursuit, aware of the attention and being a player in the game. The game has changed so much in the last decade that I know. Now I observe in other ways, hanging back to see what people are really about and if their words match their actions or what little personality they wish to show me. Males of a certain age play differently. The forty-somethings hang back but stare and approach with the same lines and seem to love to talk about new or old money. The guys in their late twenties and early thirties have too much to prove and sometimes the smell of testosterone is too much to bear. They talk career and where they think they are in their world. So I smile when I look at my watch and head out earlier than most. Lots of questions and the quest for the phone number. I insist on leaving.

"How is it one-in-the-morning?" is uttered in disbelief by either of us is our night starts late or if the night just seemingly flies by. Sometimes it's later. This sleep deprivation is different from the kind I am used to. And sometimes there are the early starts, afternoon starts, where the day and night blend. I like early starts (for many reasons).

His tools that were at my house for the list of fix-it jobs aren't here anymore because the fix-it jobs, are..., well..., fixed. The meetings or hook-ups are now regular hang out times. We meet up, we pick each other up, we share cabs, we share keys. We cook, we go to restaurants (a lot of eating.) Certain occasions have been marked. Days ago, he carried my new used desk on his back and walked across busy Queen Street down the alley and to my house. For many more reasons and now many more times, I am simply impressed and smile a lot.

So, his presence in my life has slightly changed; I realize this too but am unsure of it all. Maybe it's not unsureness as it is hesitation. We are the unlikely pair in ways more than the obvious age difference. He is the unlikely candidate that endured the race. Or is that me?

And still, the exclusion of title makes it easy, but on whom I do not know. I have let go of explaining it/us, though more questions pop up if his name is heard more often by friends. I can laugh at myself and I can laugh at the remarks. Everyone has an opinion, I have learned this from every relationship. And with most relationships, I have worn my heart on my sleeve.

But for now I will take comfort in the 'now'. My usual state of analyzing can take a vacation and I will enjoy his bed until my other life resumes.

Conversations

There are days when it's tough. We all say it, we all know it. It doesn't have to be raining, it doesn't have to be Monday. You are lucky if it doesn't involve bad, bad news. It can be a day like today.

I was lying with Elise for what should have been her naptime. It is interesting, these restful moments with a four-year-old. Chats about kindergarten, friends, favourite foods or princesses. But sometimes it's those conversations you didn't think you would ever have to have.

"Mommy, why doesn't Daddy live here?"
"Mommy, if Daddy just lived here again everybody would be fine."

It hits me. Hits me hard. Crushes my chest and breaks my heart just a little bit more. There are more questions, I give hard answers. Answers that ease the heart of my child. There are hugs. And today there were tears. I am trying to be a water-resistant Band-aid.

Lying in her bed takes me back to the beginning. The first days, weeks and then months of Separation. The Year He Left was 2007. It stretched out. It encompassed more, much more than the huge event of the birth of our second child that same year. The tears were ever flowing. In the car, at the gym, at the doctor, and of course, in the shower. But those tears of grief and loss and worry could be alone, with just me. It didn't matter if I got stares from passer-bys if I was in public. I was still in my world and mine alone. It didn't matter if a stranger had to ask "Are you okay?" But crying in front of my children hurts. Hurts me, hurts them.

Mama can't always be perfect.

When she progressed from crib to "big girl bed" it was January 2008. I would lay with her nightly to get her to sleep. And for many nights, with her drifting to sleep, I silently cried as she twirled my hair. I constantly read her wall where letters formed the word DREAM. I would close my eyes and try.

When the tears fell today in her bed beside her, it brought back pangs of hurt and memories good and bad like it was 2007 all over. But this time she was awake. This time I didn't have time to turn away from her stare. This time she is older. And this time she put her hand on my hair, and without twirling it, said, "Don't be sad Mama, it's okay."

I say thank you, we hug again and I now I know it will be.