It's a cause for celebration!!!
Recently I've been tying up some loose ends in the double agent life. I finally officially finished Teacher's College Faculty classes! Although I have some weeks of teaching ahead, the major part of this crazy year is done!
The last two weeks have been a blur - little sleep and more than fifteen assignments to finish. My poor children forgot who their mother was. They certainly disliked the rumpled, frazzled monster who took her place - wielding power and discipline in a polka-dot robe and mismatched socks. We've eased into March Break together - and are looking forward to re-connecting this week.
Today was monumental. For me. Today? I purchased a new car.
Last week, in the mid of the hustle of finishing up at the Faculty, my car took a serious turn for the worst. While turning into a parking lot my balljoint let go. Which meant? Drive shaft halved and the wheels fell off.
Fell. OFF!
Thankfully, no one was maimed. Well, all but my checkbook. I decided that I'd had enough of the death machine and spent all my free time (HA! FREE. TIME. !!) scouring dealerships. Today I handed over a very significant sum of theoretical money, and drove away in my 2009 Pontiac G6.
I? Is a happy agent.
Tomorrow is Wild Rumpus Day. In honour of reconnecting with the agents in training we are making crazy cupcakes (chocolate OF COURSE) and watching Where the Wild Things Are. It will be a good day.
For now, I gaze longingly at the nice car outside my balcony window. In white jammies with lime green polka dots I revel at this feeling inside my chest. Happiness.
Just when I thought I'd lost it.
DAG
Monday, March 15, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
All of the words just got in the way...
I've been lying low, dodging bullets, dressing wounds and packing the holes you left in my life. I've been sitting on my words and wrapping my feelings in wet tissue paper. They wriggle and twist and tear into tiny tomorrows.
The past month I have built. I have used those hurts, polished into tiny diamonds in the pit of my stomach, to build a panic room. There is something so useful, so intensely satisfying about a place designed to keep the demons out. I'm in it, with no windows to yesterday and no doors to tomorrow. Safe. Quiet. Calm. I've sat and let your storm rage through my tendons, stretch into sinews and escape through the hollows. Time has stopped and now has happened - and I've survived. Intact.
Around me lies the pieces of who I was. Who you were. Who we were. The burden has lifted, I no longer am responsible for keeping it together, carrying it on my shoulders or choking on its tail. It has left me to lie in shards, reflecting the mistakes we made. I see them. They are pieces of me.
I lie here now and my burden is no longer mine. Parts of me, long forgotten, are falling like feathers from sullen ceilings. I watch them dance in the stillness, fall fearlessly and land on my lashes, tickle my body, cover me in promises. They are still apart from me but the softness breathes upon my shriveled soul. I want to breathe in a new beginning. I want someone to wrap their arms around what's left of me...
The past month I have built. I have used those hurts, polished into tiny diamonds in the pit of my stomach, to build a panic room. There is something so useful, so intensely satisfying about a place designed to keep the demons out. I'm in it, with no windows to yesterday and no doors to tomorrow. Safe. Quiet. Calm. I've sat and let your storm rage through my tendons, stretch into sinews and escape through the hollows. Time has stopped and now has happened - and I've survived. Intact.
Around me lies the pieces of who I was. Who you were. Who we were. The burden has lifted, I no longer am responsible for keeping it together, carrying it on my shoulders or choking on its tail. It has left me to lie in shards, reflecting the mistakes we made. I see them. They are pieces of me.
I lie here now and my burden is no longer mine. Parts of me, long forgotten, are falling like feathers from sullen ceilings. I watch them dance in the stillness, fall fearlessly and land on my lashes, tickle my body, cover me in promises. They are still apart from me but the softness breathes upon my shriveled soul. I want to breathe in a new beginning. I want someone to wrap their arms around what's left of me...
Saturday, December 5, 2009
How Empty Words Can Be
It's been a fight this week. A true fight to stay where you can see me and not succumb to the darkness creeping in around the edges. To fight for equilibrium, to temper the anger and hurt and pain, the sharp and constant pain and accept the quiet. I'm barely hanging on sometimes, going minute to minute, reeling from emptiness to acquiescence just to lurch back again.
At some points, the minutes fly by while I stare blankly at the wall or the television, and I'm suddenly frightened by the passage of so much time. Time where I was gone somewhere, back into a minute, a place when things were easier. Other times the moments tick by excruciatingly slow - taking with them another small piece of a shattered me. Notching up the panic bit by bit until it's crushing me and I can't catch my breath between heaving sobs.
The days slide by in a haze while the nights drag on forever. I find myself just dozing off in time to awaken to the melodic tone of your presence. I answer, I doze, I read and answer again. I cannot permit myself to go to the depths of sleep in the chance you might need me. Sleep eludes me, it's too dark, it's too quiet, it's too lonely. The lights and the fan and the movie playing cycles on the laptop do not compensate for your breath as you sleep beside me, the weight of your arm on my waist, our fingers entwined beneath my pillow. Between the sheets I cannot find your radiating warmth, instead I feel only trapped coldness. My mornings are empty and humbling, I stumble around the room searching for the scent of your cologne in the bathroom after you've gone to work. No matter how hard I search I cannot find enough of you to sustain me.
Friends reach out, and they share with me those phrases they think will comfort me most. We've all said them, "you're better off", "this too shall pass", "time heals all wounds." These are emptier than the spaces next to me. They do not allow me to shatter, to feel crushed, to miss and to fall apart. They have no allowance for the good times, the fun things, how sweet the music is with you. They do not comfort me, but leave me colder than the winter wind whistling past my quiet window. They cannot chase from me the dream - that somewhere you murmured that my kisses were the sweetest thing.
At some points, the minutes fly by while I stare blankly at the wall or the television, and I'm suddenly frightened by the passage of so much time. Time where I was gone somewhere, back into a minute, a place when things were easier. Other times the moments tick by excruciatingly slow - taking with them another small piece of a shattered me. Notching up the panic bit by bit until it's crushing me and I can't catch my breath between heaving sobs.
The days slide by in a haze while the nights drag on forever. I find myself just dozing off in time to awaken to the melodic tone of your presence. I answer, I doze, I read and answer again. I cannot permit myself to go to the depths of sleep in the chance you might need me. Sleep eludes me, it's too dark, it's too quiet, it's too lonely. The lights and the fan and the movie playing cycles on the laptop do not compensate for your breath as you sleep beside me, the weight of your arm on my waist, our fingers entwined beneath my pillow. Between the sheets I cannot find your radiating warmth, instead I feel only trapped coldness. My mornings are empty and humbling, I stumble around the room searching for the scent of your cologne in the bathroom after you've gone to work. No matter how hard I search I cannot find enough of you to sustain me.
Friends reach out, and they share with me those phrases they think will comfort me most. We've all said them, "you're better off", "this too shall pass", "time heals all wounds." These are emptier than the spaces next to me. They do not allow me to shatter, to feel crushed, to miss and to fall apart. They have no allowance for the good times, the fun things, how sweet the music is with you. They do not comfort me, but leave me colder than the winter wind whistling past my quiet window. They cannot chase from me the dream - that somewhere you murmured that my kisses were the sweetest thing.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Beaten.
We crossed the line
Who pushed who over?
It doesn't matter to you
It matters to me
We're cut adrift
We're still floating
I'm only hanging on
To watch you go down
My love.
What he doesn't know is there is no further down to go.
Who pushed who over?
It doesn't matter to you
It matters to me
We're cut adrift
We're still floating
I'm only hanging on
To watch you go down
My love.
What he doesn't know is there is no further down to go.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
You Can't Stop Me
HA! It's Friday night (or Saturday morning I'm not sure). It took me a few tries to sign in, but here I is. I've been hurting and fighting and drowning and tonight - drinking. I'm sure I'll regret this post in the morning but for now, here it is.
You can't stop me. Tonight I was filled with so much ugliness it boiled over my head. It scrambled my brain and whispered in my ears. It made me want to scream at the heavens and tear holes in the universe just to see my own damage. I wanted to jump from the balcony and stand in the parking lot and scream until my voice had deserted me. I wanted to rip out my fingernails just to feel tangible pain and escape the hell in my head.
But I didn't. Instead, I got quiet.
I quietly sat there while she demanded attention, hovered at the entrances and navel-gazed. I sat in the corner, shrouded in darkness and twiddled the fringe of my scarf to avoid scratching out my own eyes. I sat and I listened and I grew quiet and I grew calm. You couldn't stop me.
I drank and I felt and I fuzzed and grew warm at the center. I read and I wrote and I laughed and I cried and somehow, somewhere I died. But you couldn't stop me.
So I stumbled in the door and across the bedroom floor where I found your discarded t-shirt and I donned it. I sprayed it with your cologne and I marveled at the line I drew around myself, lost in the comfort I made and you couldn't stop me.
Tonight I am safe and I am held, even in the absence of your arms. The world is spinney and the bed is empty but I'm ok.
And you couldn't stop me.
You can't stop me. Tonight I was filled with so much ugliness it boiled over my head. It scrambled my brain and whispered in my ears. It made me want to scream at the heavens and tear holes in the universe just to see my own damage. I wanted to jump from the balcony and stand in the parking lot and scream until my voice had deserted me. I wanted to rip out my fingernails just to feel tangible pain and escape the hell in my head.
But I didn't. Instead, I got quiet.
I quietly sat there while she demanded attention, hovered at the entrances and navel-gazed. I sat in the corner, shrouded in darkness and twiddled the fringe of my scarf to avoid scratching out my own eyes. I sat and I listened and I grew quiet and I grew calm. You couldn't stop me.
I drank and I felt and I fuzzed and grew warm at the center. I read and I wrote and I laughed and I cried and somehow, somewhere I died. But you couldn't stop me.
So I stumbled in the door and across the bedroom floor where I found your discarded t-shirt and I donned it. I sprayed it with your cologne and I marveled at the line I drew around myself, lost in the comfort I made and you couldn't stop me.
Tonight I am safe and I am held, even in the absence of your arms. The world is spinney and the bed is empty but I'm ok.
And you couldn't stop me.
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