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All posts for the month April, 2014

nahko

Published April 27, 2014 by 51percentawesome

8am. Head under the pillow, wishing to be asleep after a restless night, thinking

This is a nightmare.

In shavasana on Wednesday, I realised I needed to call Dan to confirm what my belly knew to be true. I gasped for air, let it sink it. Shell-shocked, and then abruptly reunited with myself. Accepting where I’m at, I asked my mother if she will be okay with it, if she will forgive me, if I don’t have children.

At the Art Factory with duct-taped boobs, I danced and sung and twirled frenetically until drenched with sweat, solemnly affirming my desire to honour my spirit.

Gentle nahko snoring.

Crouching in the shower,
kissing his forehead ‘maholo’

him smelling me/ in the band room, him smelling me, before anything
losing my words, losing my senses, being speechless
thinking to myself ‘whatever you want. i will give you whatever you want.’
half asleep this morning,
what a nightmare.

Knowing we do not belong to each other, we are borrowed. And yet. Yearning, to be touched, to share, to be invited in. To be known by you, in the other senses of the word.

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ennui

Published April 24, 2014 by 51percentawesome

What did your parents train you? Do you even know? Think back, untangle.

My father, To not speak up, to allow untruths to pass, My mother, to be honest and die by the sword if I failed.

Contradictory.

‘Keep running in the direction of God as fast as you can, and if someone manages to keep up, introduce yourself’.

Sounds about right. Easier said than done.

Dear Friend. I am so disappointed in you. You’re too old to give him children. I thought you were my friend. He said you were being manipulative. I didn’t believe him. He was right. Where was your unconditional love then? You might be getting better at boundaries, but what about honesty and transperency? I felt like my stomach was filled with knives stabbing me. And i didn’t walk away- curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. He said that I think I’m so fucking perfect. An yeah, I kinda am, in the ways that matter. Honest, considered, upfront. Not sure what I want, but I do my best to figure it out and speak up about it. And I definitely don’ try to manipulate or pressure into people to surrender themselves and their truth over to me. That’s the sound of heartbreak, and I welcome this opportunity to define myself, in the face of that which I am not, and do not want. Thanks for that.

panacea

Published April 21, 2014 by 51percentawesome

Tonight I climbed up onto the bathroom sink, crossed my legs facing the mirror, looked at myself, and waited. Watched, listened, waited.

I’ve been alone for two full days. That hasn’t happened in a while. I wondered what I’d do, given time and space. For three days, I napped. For two days, I cooked and ate. And tonight, I sat and looked at myself in the mirror, until I started crying.

It surprised me how quickly my eyes got red.

Pervasive dissatisfaction. Nagging heaviness. It’s getting harder and harder to find joy.

I want a best friend. Someone to share my adventures with. My girl best friends are busy with jobs, boys, babies. They live in different towns to me, they have different lives. I want a boy best friend, to have sex, and I want babies.

I cry. I promise myself that I will do whatever it takes to make that happen. A baby, with a daddy. Cos I don’t want my children to grow up like I did. I could do it alone, but I want more for my children. I promise myself to clear the decks. To stop wasting time with boys, let alone boys who are drunk and stoned. To get serious about actually looking for that someone.

It’s gotta be asked though- why haven’t I? Why have I been so passive, when in all other areas I chase down what I want, wade through the fears, and grab it? 7 billion men, why have I been wasting my time?

Because if I had a baby, I’m not sure I wouldn’t break it. Like my mother did me.

I tried to get Daniel to see that he needed to learn to master himself, needed to learn to love me, so that we could make babies, and not break them.

And beyond that. Today I sat and flicked through pictures of Joshua wrapped around Tabatha. Of Jeffrey and Sophie and their new baby girl. Of Mel at her wedding underneath a fig tree. And I thought to myself, that’s okay for them. But that wouldn’t work for me.

I know boys like me. I know I’m pretty and funny and sexy and challenging. I know boys can fall in love with me. But… I don’t think there is someone out there who could love me. Day in, day out. I have friendships that are withstanding the test of time. And while that surprises me, those people don’t see me often. Some days, I find myself hard to handle. Other people find me confusing—I find myself confusing. I keep odd hours. I worry about things. I have a meltdown once a month. A lot of the time I don’t like or trust myself. And I don’t think more time alone is doing anything to change that.

The reality of a relationship terrifies me. The vulnerabilities. Other peoples demons. The lies they tell themselves, the lies they tell me. Is he going to leave me? No? Oh god, I can’t breathe.

I can’t imagine a relationship where I didn’t feel either suffocated or neglected. And I can’t imagine a human (let’s be specific, a male) who I would get to know, and the more I knew them, the more I would love and respect them, and the more I would want to be around them. Someone I would want to keep for sane reasons, not out of some codependant neediness, or habit, or because I didn’t want to go through the pain of giving up on them.

I can’t imagine someone (again, a male) who is enough for me. Someone who can be realistic and brave and committed and honest, and not fucking boring. Who meets me half way, and pulls me to be happier and stronger and more satisfied.  Who doesn’t waste my time, dishearten and exhaust me, but encourages and inspires and supports. Someone up to the task, and willing, and at the right time, when I am too.

Today was the first day I cried since Dan gave me an ultimatum and left. I have no regrets, a man with an uncontrollable temper, and a mouth like that, will not father my children. At this rate though, noone will.