So I've been very neglectful. I didn't realize it had been so long until I looked here on Sunday. This blog is really just a symptom of my life- chaotic but somewhat organized, busy and forgetful and filled with uncertain purpose that changes on a daily basis. And yes, lately alot of things in my world have been neglected.
I've had a houseguest, and there's another one coming tomorrow morning (which I am incredibly excited about holyshitluckyiscomingtomontreal!!), I've been stressing about Slam Team responsibilities and my job is sucking the life out of me. *(since the writing of this post I have gotten a new position at work- as a writer! I start on Monday and I'm very excited)
Plus, I kind of went off the deep end a little while ago.
I seem to be falling apart alot lately. Which is ok. I give myself permission (sometimes) to do this, and I think it's important. I need to acknowledge that I don't have everything together all of the time, and the expectation that I should is completely unrealistic. Noone has it all together. I hope I never do because hell, I'd probably get bored. And I do! I get bored when things are good and I create chaos because that's my natural habitat. Give me a good crisis and I'll thrive. Your partner leave you, your house burnt down and you lost your job? No problem, lets get fixin'. Got hit by a car and can't leave your house because you're bed bound in a full body cast? Easy! I'll make a schedule of everyone we know to take care of you 24/7. I really truly thought crisis management might be a good career for me at one point. But it would probably take 20 or 30 years off my life in the end. Living in that perpetual high and taking care of everyone is just too much of a drug for me. So I seem to create these things in my own life.
I texted a good friend who has known me a very long time a few days ago to ask her simply; "have I always been a trainwreck?" She didn't respond for awhile. Her answer? "You've had a rough go at life, give yourself a break."
The truth is that lately I can't seem to help but make messes everywhere I go. I am a bulldozer. Or you know, a small child who screams for what they want and then gets it but quickly loses interest.
Isn't it interesting that in a time of instant gratification and endless access to information that nothing seems to last? Everything is fleeting, we read something and then instantly forget it. Children are being diagnosed with ADD because we are blaming them for the constant distractions that we ourselves created. There are no constants, at least in my life. A good example is a home, the place you grew up. Some people can point to that place and say "this is where I am from, this is my home". But alot of us didn't grow up like that. I have no compass from which to say which direction is due north, morally or socially.
So I'm always learning to navigate my inner world as well as my outer world. There are alot of things I am not capable of and I'm learning those limitations. There are others that I hope to be someday capable of but I have alot of work to do to get there.
And there are just some things that make me sad, that hurt my heart. Actions that I've taken and regrets I have. I know they say "no regrets" and "what's done is done" but I'm human and I feel remorse. I also feel shame, guilt and so many other things. I give myself permission to feel these things and then choose to change. To do better, to learn and seek guidance. I'll never figure it all out, and I'm certain of that. But maybe I can live one day without this weight on my chest.
Here's a poem I wrote awhile ago about feeling disconnected from body, heart, and mind.
Her Father's Daughter
She knows he only says he misses her
Because it’s what you’re supposed to say
She know that it doesn’t mean a thing.
These days
She prays for the willingness to care
what’s going on in his world
But like the blue moon she missed
The last time it came around
This, too, eludes her.
There is nothing but tiny strands of DNA
And a potential blood donor status
Between them.
This is not a Father’s Day greeting card
There is no mug
No tool set.
There is only the clicking sound
Of another calendar year passing
And the freckles that remind her
What bitterness tastes like
These days
She prays
that she is not her father’s daughter
With shaking
hands
And a
computer screen
At two a.m
In the
basement
Trying to
stay quiet
When her body
has become a war crime
She committed
against herself
And all her
skin can see
Are the
strange body parts
Of unknown
men
Stained
across the sheets
Still, she
feels nothing.
Her mechanism
for love has failed.
Sex as sport and leisure
Is not sustainable
When you cease to feel connection
With the sweat on an anonymous eyebrow
Or the person who tells you they love you.
Because still, you feel
That it means nothing
When they say
I miss you.
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