Alive

I jumped off a bridge today.

With a harness and bungee rope secured to my chest and waist, I stood on a tiny platform that jutted out off a long huge bridge, 160 ft over the breathtaking Callaghan Valley in Whistler. I hadn't felt this kind of fear in a very long time yet I knew I would jump. I knew I would jump even though I was the first jumper of the day ahead of everyone. And on the second countdown with an audience watching, with both arms finally raised by my sides, I leaped off that bridge.

And I'm alive again.

Reunions

It has not even been 24 hours in Whistler for me, yet already I don't really wish to return to the concrete jungle that is my home in Toronto. One look out of Tyler's apartment window and it takes my breath away. Trees. Trees. Mountains. Trees. And snow. Where it should be.

I am surrounded by quiet at the moment, except for the faint tapping of the keys on this laptop. He will be home soon, but I haven't minded a few hours of quiet in his place, in this town, right now, by myself. I have not heard one siren in all these hours.

My long journey to get here was not as quiet, thanks to Air Canada. ( As my 'shister' put it, way to go Air Canada for basically a 10 hour trip to get me within our country. ) But it was worth it. It was worth the trip by a delayed plane and then bus, to reach the final destination. To then see my friend come toward and pick me right up in his arms in front of the loud bars and drunken college kids and turn me around and around and kiss me.

So here I am. Exhausted from an almost all-nighter and happily exhausted from my first trip on the slopes at Whistler-Blackcomb. They all call it riding here. Oh yes, I went riding! After years of not skiing, there I was, with a patient partner even when I was not so patient from frustration of falling too many times during the final hour of slope time, er, riding. To see the views from so way up high, to be in the clouds and feel the fog, to never reaching the bottom of the hill, quite literally, until you decide you are done for the day. Everyone is happy, even the birds join you for company. It is quite spectacular all in all.

I am happy to see Tyler. It's bittersweet. It's been just over 2 months of him being gone. I have 10 days here and we will be apart again. I am away from my children for these 10 days. I miss them now and when I am back, I will once again miss Tyler.

It is also strange being back in BC. It's been years since Victoria, with the 2 week trips here and there with a long ago friend. I loved it so much I tried to give it a go and live there. My memories of my English soccer players I roomed with still make me laugh. Sad to think we never kept in touch years later. Being here in Whistler, surrounded by this natural beauty we lack in Toronto, makes me think of my time in Victoria; my peaceful and tranquil thoughts near the water, on the beaches. Water always calms me and fills me up inside with a peaceful purpose. (Perhaps that's the real reason for my son's name, River.)

So I am happy. I am in a peaceful and calm surroundings, I am writing, I have wine beside me and my daughter's latest drawing beside me. I will be home soon enough. But for now, I will live here in Whistler and wait for Tyler to walk through the door.

Us, A New Year

It doesn't feel like a new year.

My resolutions are wishy washy or feeling too untainable. There has been no new feeling of excitement that it is a brand new year, full of surprises and goals. There doesn't feel to be any sort of renewal of self. The dreams that started in December every night merely meshed into January and are are more intense, more detailed, and just plain dizzying. They almost always are full of people and friends that I know. Actually, this week, the dreams include the men that I know, come to think of it. Go figure.

I have been awake by 5:30 am every day this week. My friend laughed last night when I said that the last shitty night of sleep was the best shitty sleep of the entire week of shitty sleeps.

It's hard being tired. Coffee, dear friend of mine, won't even work anymore. In fact, dare I say it's making me sleepier??? The horror..... But I'm functioning. We're functioning. Or at least I hope we are.

The other evening my son took two tantrums in public so fierce that it made me give him two time outs in a corner of a rec centre while a few other parents watched in amazement, disgust or boredom. Or they just related. Only one parent looked disgusted. She had two kids of her own and after the storm know as River had quieted, actually asked me if I was the nanny. Hmm...how does one take that in this situation?

So what? I gave a time out or two. Forcefully. I find with boys in particular, it's a control issue. They try to exert it and can or will exert it hard. Perhaps I am so worried of my only son growing up with the entitlement gene his father has that I over parent or over discipline. He certainly tests me when he isn't being his normal happy self.

He is almost four years old. And is much smarter and more aware. After a week spent with their father (or his family, I should say), I have been bombarded with questions that pop up after a week away from me. I have been asked: "Can Daddy sleep here some nights?", "If we move where will we move to while our house is being built like Daddy's was?" , "Can we all move into one house together?" , and my favourite, "Are you going to get married again?"

So we sit at the kitchen table for most of these discussions. I talk about what it all means to have parents not living together. Or at least, what I know it means from these last few years.

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.