Sunday, 16 August 2015

This Photograph Is Proof

I flipped the page. So many photos I didn't remember seeing of my childhood. Memories lost. There was a series of 4. One of each of us with the man that biologically was our father. It seemed bizarre that we each had a photo at this amusement park when previous visits had all the kids together with no parental pictures. I was seven. My mother saw it. I felt her ache. I asked. She said that was taken during the first time he left. He had the kids for a visit that day and took us to that amusement park. A time I used to think I imagine. Until he left for good. Then I realized that this wasn't the first time. I threw my photo out. I don't need more photographic proof that even at seven I wasn't worth staying for. There are two decades of painful photos. I just couldn't do it. 

Some photographs are stolen moments from memories we don't remember. Some are reminders of the best times. And some capture moments our brain has so carefully tried to help us forget. The older I grow the more I realize my brain has protected me from so much. From remembering the bad times. From keeping my losses at the forefront. From allowing the scars to form where I would never be able to forget. 

This photograph didn't need to be proof for me to refind another day. Some moments are meant to be forgotten. 

Monday, 10 August 2015

The Tears You Didn't Know About That Were Waiting To Fall

It felt like the clarity came from the murkiest water. It was more than a sounding board. It was an objective set of ears. And it felt safe enough. I knew things were weird. Not right. I wasn't myself and the more I tried to explain that the more tears found crevices to escape from. It hurt. It felt like I was finally letting go. And it felt like no one could understand if I didn't know what was going on myself.

And then the questions began in a fashion that was leading me to answers. I feel so much internal and external pressure along with stability. I am finally realizing I do not thrive in an unchanging and stable environment. I feel contained. I need chaos and drama and spontaneity. I can't say that I didn't enjoy those months with different boyfriends constantly and no plans and being able to do whatever I wanted outside the few scheduled hours of learning. I loved being able to move my life. To walk away. To live knowing that nothing was permanent. It felt like home. And living.

So here I am. Apparently struggling to settle into normal routine. Into the life I wanted and created. I think that's how I found myself in a boxing gym. Something inside me knew I needed random. So it found it. 

I suppose knowing this is part of the problem helps but it also makes me crave that change. There is only so much I can do with hair and other masking changes. But I can't just move. We can't move. I can't just get up and travel or watch tv for days.

I have felt less out of control since the tears poured. Maybe all I needed was to know that there was a reason for my irrational mental disasters. To have someone piece together the fact that my last birthday increased the baby pressure and that I wasn't ready to give up my life. To hear that all of these tears had a reason. That my sensitivity is from my past. From my experiences. 

So on I will go. Wiping the tears that falls searching for change and excitment and trying to take away the structure I so carefully built that is now suffocating me. 

Sunday, 9 August 2015

Paws of the Southern Nature

It didn't begin then. The beginning may be unknown. It just began. But I couldn't find all of the words to say it. Sometimes I just feel too much. But if I am not feeling too much I am feeling numb. Like me emotions are in an ice castle void of the world. It feels like I live in the extremes. And if I have to choose I ultimately choose the mind altering ache of feeling everything. When I feel nothing I sit and remind myself of my emotional scars, the times I sat crying uncontrollably, so I can remember what it feels like to hurt. To feel. 

As we sat in the theatre watching a movie I thought would just be about the difference in a right foot forward stance, my preference, I found the tears streaming. I can't handle the agony of watching lives fall apart or famies being separated. I felt every moment. Too many subtle moments were reminders of my life. Watching so many children being ripped away. Waiting at the door for siblings to come home from visits they didn't want to attend. My chest aches and my throat was tight and the tears kept falling. I just wanted to see how he fought. I didn't want to cry.

I think this is my reality though. I can either close the door and refuse to feel or I will feel every single ache. My regulator seems broken. And part of me thinks that I need to feel the pain to feel alive. That if I try and tone it down or allow myself to love for longer periods in my bomb shelter from emotions that I will become and empty shell. I need the pain to be able to go on. To be me. I need the tears to recognize myself. 

It feels so dark and twisted. But I think the concoction that creates me required enough a self loathing, reliving emotional scarring and crying to create someone that seems so put together. And the more I think about it, there is a part of me that loves this angry broken cycle. It's like the aching comes with an aftertaste of feeling alive. 

Tuesday, 4 August 2015

The Exes That Make You Why

The subconscious seems to be a friend of the devil. Or perhaps it is just sadistic. Or maybe that's just mine. But I think it is true. My subconscious loves nothing more than dredging up the past. Reminding me of all the reasons I have to be insecure. To question the world. To wonder why I ever let go. Sometimes it's in the form of dreams that feel more relentless and tormenting than dreamy. Other times it's reminders from words or lyrics or moments. It just seems like my subconscious wants to hold my past with its last breath, no matter how hard I try and suffocate it. 

I don't hate my past. I don't feel shame. I just don't want to remember all the times my heart was broken or the choices that could have been better or the whys that were never answered. I don't want to relive the times I was not good enough or the times I couldn't hold on to. I just want to appreciate the now. The life I am trying to create. The people I have. I don't want to be dragged down by my moodiness or reminders of the hold that depression has had. I don't want to look in the mirror and see mistakes or wish for wishes that are not mine. 

I just wish that sometimes I could sit down with my subconscious and remind it of the pain, the hurt, the loss that it holds and that I don't want to be that girl any more. I don't want to be the one that wishes that exes gave answers. That lost people came back. That could take back words and glances that ruined friendships. I want to be better now instead of constantly being reminded I wasn't better then.

So here it is.

I wish you didn't say you would come to Australia when you knew you never would. You dragged my heart through the mud for years. And you knew it. 

I wish you would have admitted your feelings at any point. Ever. Instead of acting like nothing and then pretending to be so all knowing about everything. I want to punch you in the face every time I see you throw your relationship advice in everyone's face when you spent years refusing to deal with us. Take your own advice. You break hearts.

I wish we could have stayed friends even though we were the most dramatic couple. I loved our arguing even though it was the most unhealthy relationship I could imagine. You ruined music for me for years because I didn't know how to seperate it from you. I wish I could have seen your band, but I heard you had angry songs about your ex and that broke my heart. 

I wish you and you and you knew that I loved you with my whole heart but I just didn't think your lover was good enough for you and it made me feel so frustrated as I thought you were settling. Sorry I ruined friendships with my lack of honest support.

And you. You were manipulative in every way. And I entirely believe you still are. With your reconnecting message reminding me that you never cared about anyone except for yourself. 

We all break hearts some times. And sometimes I want to break faces. But I don't. So subconscious, leave me alone. Let me move on. Let me take on my own heart for once. 

The Fight Was Fixed From The Start

The chills work their way through my body. Almost with an aching sensation. Is it the fact that I am waiting to see the dentist or just that I have slowed down enough to actually notice myself. It's been another long day. Draining. And worrisome. Sometimes I wonder if I care too much. But if I didn't give my heart to some of these clients then I wouldn't be giving them what they need. 

If only I was diligent with my own needs. My road to hell is so continually paved with good intentions. Plans so well thought and placed and entirely not executed. And I finally am at a place where I realize there are no excuses. I just need to do better. To put the work in needed to achieve my goals.

So I have one month. One month to get on track. Then the training begins. I think I am actually mentally decided that I want to go in the ring this year. I am terrified and the insecurities are raging but I think I need this. I need to be able to win a fight and prove to myself I can do this. To feel that strength on an outward level. So one month until training resumes for the new season. One month to prove to myself that I can get in the ring this season.