Week 9
Monday
My sister texted me to ask what I'm doing for my birthday; my father asked her because he was going to be in the country and offered to come to my birthday. He visited me here once in twelve years, so for him it's a big thing.
I texted back as honest as I could. Sort of came down to this: been away too often too much last year, so won't be going to my sister's. Doing nothing for my birthday. Have an issue to solve by the end of the week and can't use any added stress (--> my father visiting).
Put us together and we both fall silent until I make an insecure remark just to say something and he responds with biting contempt.
She kind of knew I would say this so she tried to explain it to our father. Probably just the bit about having been away too much and my need to be alone.
I tried to express my feelings in the next text. Couldn't stop myself.
I don't talk to anyone here so when someone texts me, sometimes a flood of words comes out. In texts, much easier than talking.
'I wish it wasn't like this - for him as well - and it hurts, but it is what it is, and if something or someone only causes you pain and grief...
Hope he gets it. It's not a rejection of him, but of how he makes me feel.'
Then I asked her to give him a hug from me.
And then I cried, hard.
I do wish it wasn't like this because there's a good chance he'll die before we can have a normal conversation. Him saying he wants to visit me on my birthday, here, where I live, hurts only more.
He means well. That kills me.
The loss is like a hole in my gut.
I felt an inexplicable sadness all afternoon, while my sister's unread text was waiting for me at home. I sat on a bench near a bridge, listening to the radio, face in the sun, and I kept feeling this nameless loss for no reason. This longing. My God. I'm so alone.
I like it when things, people, situations, improve, get better, evolve, heal. Progress. Before & Afters. And I do love him.
It's hard to know where to draw the line. I need to protect myself - no-one else will - from getting hurt by him, in the same way he has hurt me over and over again despite good intentions. It cuts so deep, the cynical remarks about my year-round vacation (on welfare) and the atmosphere of animosity and rejection.
I am not a confident person, partly because of this, so I'm not able to enjoy his company and dismiss his remarks as 'his problem'. I take his personal attacks personal. Oh irony. If I'd been raised by loving parents I'd have been confident and secure enough with myself to let any spite bounce right off me.
He doesn't know any better.
He means well.
That's what hurts the most: his good intentions. I feel so bad for him, I'm such a sap. Understanding, sensitive, grovelly.
Can't stop crying.
I wish we could just sit together in comfortable silence or something. Something, before he dies.
Thursday
It's a lonely business, this. Most of the time I don't feel lonely though. I enjoy the company of the radio, the birds outside, Cat purring in my lap, plants, TV-series, the creators of TV-series. In my mind I am with them all. Usually I don't miss people because they're in my heart, so with me. This week though... man.
After my sister stopped responding to my texts I crashed into a well of pain in the middle of my being. Don't mean to be dramatic, but the birds-nest of ego, made up of stories, memories and opinions, can feel extremely real. In a moment like that, reasoning your way out of a pain-pit is not a possibility. You just let it take you where you apparently need to go. (Further.)
It was horrible. A person without foundations, all wobbly on the inside, any pinprick (text/comment) can destroy them. It has been a while since I felt like that. It lasted several days. It feels dangerous, better to stay inside.
Then last night, the sound of an incoming text. I was afraid to read it, so waited until the documentary I was watching had ended. But it was my Greek ex, asking me for my address because he wanted to send me something.
Corny maybe, but it was like a light in the darkness. I felt so alone and lonely, and isolated. What a nice surprise; someone in Greece was thinking of me.
Still feel pretty bad, but I can see the small birds again, fighting for control over a ball of seeds - I put it on a branch just visible from my rocking chair. The robin is back as well! Tiny little bad-ass.
Inside me, a train crash. Outside, drops in the wet grass shining like pearls in the occasional ray of light. That's life, I guess.
"Grace" by Jeff Buckley, on the radio right now.
Yes. Thank you. That's life.
.....................................................................................................
Dear M.
Happy birthday to you.
There are some things you need to know, because the time for you to know them has come.
This is not an accident. Your unemployment is not and has never been, an accident. It was a careful orchestration by forces beyond your comprehension, to ensure your focus. You needed to be focused on this, your work, and for that reason alone you have been seemingly unemployed for this long.
I know it must feel like a long time, it must be difficult to feel useless and cast aside, like you're not a part of the world.
Darling, be sure that you are a significant part of this world.
Life has been orchestrating your existence and the conditions necessary to become and grow into your part of being the writer of the book.
The book will be written. Rest assured of that. It has been a long time in the making, even before you were born. The book is your most important work and gift to the world, and in order to write the book you had to become the one who would be able to write it.
Becoming the writer is your job.
Make no mistake, this is your job and nothing else. Your process is the subject and the runway. It needs to be done in order for the book to be born. You cannot write the book before the process has reached its climax.
This process is your all-important job. Don't mind society, don't mind opinions and your own fears, your work is crucially important. This work has been orchestrated to be released into the world through you.
Please understand. This comes first, it is not something to be done on the side. There are no accidents, you will see. All will become clear, everything is as it was supposed to be.
Rejoice. The book will be written, do you not feel it in your heart of hearts? As you say, this is an authentic desire, and when a desire is authentic it has been placed in your heart by Existence, which means it will become a reality. In fact, it already is.
Happy birthday.
.....................................................................................................
Sunday
It was a good day. It was nice. I had a piece of cheesecake with a little candle in it, walked for two and a half hours, made a bolognese sauce for lasagne, watched some excellent TV-series and talked to my Greek ex on the phone for two hours.
I passionately dislike phone calls, but with him - and it surprised both of us - it was so nice it was hard to hang up the phone.
We talked about our sisters and their families, the horrible situation in Greece, his olive trees, politics, haring, moving (he still lives in the tiny apartment where we lived together).
It didn't drain me, as it normally would. I relaxed and let him talk about bankers and their hold on his country. I was able to listen. It didn't suck my energy! Near miraculous. It was wonderful, pleasant, comfortable, it felt like a real closeness. Good day.
My sister texted me to ask what I'm doing for my birthday; my father asked her because he was going to be in the country and offered to come to my birthday. He visited me here once in twelve years, so for him it's a big thing.
I texted back as honest as I could. Sort of came down to this: been away too often too much last year, so won't be going to my sister's. Doing nothing for my birthday. Have an issue to solve by the end of the week and can't use any added stress (--> my father visiting).
Put us together and we both fall silent until I make an insecure remark just to say something and he responds with biting contempt.
She kind of knew I would say this so she tried to explain it to our father. Probably just the bit about having been away too much and my need to be alone.
I tried to express my feelings in the next text. Couldn't stop myself.
I don't talk to anyone here so when someone texts me, sometimes a flood of words comes out. In texts, much easier than talking.
'I wish it wasn't like this - for him as well - and it hurts, but it is what it is, and if something or someone only causes you pain and grief...
Hope he gets it. It's not a rejection of him, but of how he makes me feel.'
Then I asked her to give him a hug from me.
And then I cried, hard.
I do wish it wasn't like this because there's a good chance he'll die before we can have a normal conversation. Him saying he wants to visit me on my birthday, here, where I live, hurts only more.
He means well. That kills me.
The loss is like a hole in my gut.
I felt an inexplicable sadness all afternoon, while my sister's unread text was waiting for me at home. I sat on a bench near a bridge, listening to the radio, face in the sun, and I kept feeling this nameless loss for no reason. This longing. My God. I'm so alone.
I like it when things, people, situations, improve, get better, evolve, heal. Progress. Before & Afters. And I do love him.
It's hard to know where to draw the line. I need to protect myself - no-one else will - from getting hurt by him, in the same way he has hurt me over and over again despite good intentions. It cuts so deep, the cynical remarks about my year-round vacation (on welfare) and the atmosphere of animosity and rejection.
I am not a confident person, partly because of this, so I'm not able to enjoy his company and dismiss his remarks as 'his problem'. I take his personal attacks personal. Oh irony. If I'd been raised by loving parents I'd have been confident and secure enough with myself to let any spite bounce right off me.
He doesn't know any better.
He means well.
That's what hurts the most: his good intentions. I feel so bad for him, I'm such a sap. Understanding, sensitive, grovelly.
Can't stop crying.
I wish we could just sit together in comfortable silence or something. Something, before he dies.
Thursday
It's a lonely business, this. Most of the time I don't feel lonely though. I enjoy the company of the radio, the birds outside, Cat purring in my lap, plants, TV-series, the creators of TV-series. In my mind I am with them all. Usually I don't miss people because they're in my heart, so with me. This week though... man.
After my sister stopped responding to my texts I crashed into a well of pain in the middle of my being. Don't mean to be dramatic, but the birds-nest of ego, made up of stories, memories and opinions, can feel extremely real. In a moment like that, reasoning your way out of a pain-pit is not a possibility. You just let it take you where you apparently need to go. (Further.)
It was horrible. A person without foundations, all wobbly on the inside, any pinprick (text/comment) can destroy them. It has been a while since I felt like that. It lasted several days. It feels dangerous, better to stay inside.
Then last night, the sound of an incoming text. I was afraid to read it, so waited until the documentary I was watching had ended. But it was my Greek ex, asking me for my address because he wanted to send me something.
Corny maybe, but it was like a light in the darkness. I felt so alone and lonely, and isolated. What a nice surprise; someone in Greece was thinking of me.
Still feel pretty bad, but I can see the small birds again, fighting for control over a ball of seeds - I put it on a branch just visible from my rocking chair. The robin is back as well! Tiny little bad-ass.
Inside me, a train crash. Outside, drops in the wet grass shining like pearls in the occasional ray of light. That's life, I guess.
"Grace" by Jeff Buckley, on the radio right now.
Yes. Thank you. That's life.
.....................................................................................................
Dear M.
Happy birthday to you.
There are some things you need to know, because the time for you to know them has come.
This is not an accident. Your unemployment is not and has never been, an accident. It was a careful orchestration by forces beyond your comprehension, to ensure your focus. You needed to be focused on this, your work, and for that reason alone you have been seemingly unemployed for this long.
I know it must feel like a long time, it must be difficult to feel useless and cast aside, like you're not a part of the world.
Darling, be sure that you are a significant part of this world.
Life has been orchestrating your existence and the conditions necessary to become and grow into your part of being the writer of the book.
The book will be written. Rest assured of that. It has been a long time in the making, even before you were born. The book is your most important work and gift to the world, and in order to write the book you had to become the one who would be able to write it.
Becoming the writer is your job.
Make no mistake, this is your job and nothing else. Your process is the subject and the runway. It needs to be done in order for the book to be born. You cannot write the book before the process has reached its climax.
This process is your all-important job. Don't mind society, don't mind opinions and your own fears, your work is crucially important. This work has been orchestrated to be released into the world through you.
Please understand. This comes first, it is not something to be done on the side. There are no accidents, you will see. All will become clear, everything is as it was supposed to be.
Rejoice. The book will be written, do you not feel it in your heart of hearts? As you say, this is an authentic desire, and when a desire is authentic it has been placed in your heart by Existence, which means it will become a reality. In fact, it already is.
Happy birthday.
.....................................................................................................
Sunday
It was a good day. It was nice. I had a piece of cheesecake with a little candle in it, walked for two and a half hours, made a bolognese sauce for lasagne, watched some excellent TV-series and talked to my Greek ex on the phone for two hours.
I passionately dislike phone calls, but with him - and it surprised both of us - it was so nice it was hard to hang up the phone.
We talked about our sisters and their families, the horrible situation in Greece, his olive trees, politics, haring, moving (he still lives in the tiny apartment where we lived together).
It didn't drain me, as it normally would. I relaxed and let him talk about bankers and their hold on his country. I was able to listen. It didn't suck my energy! Near miraculous. It was wonderful, pleasant, comfortable, it felt like a real closeness. Good day.
posted by M. at 5:45 PM
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