all that time,
(but was it really?}
all those dreams,
(but is that really true?)
and it doesn’t even matter,
which is the saddest part of all really,
up and down and cyclical circles,
pawns and kings and one step forward and two steps sideways,
and never a winner to be found,
losers, winners, and you can almost hear that one song from way back when,
when you won even when you lost,
it’s all a just a crapshoot anyway,
you make your move before you read the rules,
and your reward for believing
is everything you ever wanted,
just a breath away,
and out of your reach
“Sometimes the slightest things change the directions of our lives, the merest breath of a circumstance, a random moment that connects like a meteorite striking the earth. Lives have swiveled and changed direction on the strength of a chance remark.”
― Bryce Courtenay
I haven’t been here for awhile.
I mean, I haven’t been here for awhile; as in present, aware, involved. As in my engine stopped running and I can’t get me started. Not even a good old fashioned strong push and pop it into 1st gear works, never mind jumper cables.
And I’ve tried, believe me, I have been trying on a daily basis to get myself out of this deep well of despair but nothing seems to work. I don’t think shock therapy could even get me going.
I have moments. Moments of clarity and moments of laughter. Moments of listlessness and moments of lethargy. Moments where I feel I can conquer this monster shadowing my every move followed by suffocating moments, where I feel breathless, anxious, debilitated, drained of every ounce of my self.
I don’t know where I am.
The me I’ve known all my life has disappeared, gone missing, held hostage somewhere I can’t seem to access, it feels as if all my files have been scrubbed. Deleted. Along with my confidence.
I’ve become unreliable.
The absolute worst thing I can imagine happening to me is the thought of being unreliable.
I don’t want to be unreliable.
Yet this is where I seem to find myself.
It’s taken me a few days to write these few words and that is unacceptable to me.
I began this on my happy feet and have allowed myself to land on my unhappy ass by tripping over my own self.
A few days ago I met http://maryannemistretta.wordpress.com/ for lunch and it was wonderful.
Nearly four hours of nonstop talking and I drove away happy, inspired, encouraged, stronger, braver. It was one of the best days of my life and definitely the best time I’ve had in longer than I can remember.
It was also raining really hard and I forgot. Forgot that my stupid health has a mind of it’s own, one I have no control over. Here it is days later and I’m still sick, in bed, with a fever.
I have let not only myself down, but I have let Maryanne down. I was going to see her today at one of her appearances but no, I’m in bed with a 101 degree fever and a spinning head.
I have let down http://thereclininggentleman.wordpress.com/ , who I practically begged to do a Fiction Rally with, only to find myself way past my deadline.
TRG is, of course, wonderful and understanding and patient but I’m furious with myself. It’s all there in my head, I just have to type it out of my head and onto the page.
I guess posting this little bit of words is a step in the right direction. Today has been a trying day to say the least, but there have been moments. Moments of near-tears and sniffles. Moments of laughter and smiles. Sighs of worry followed by sighs of relief.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I am my own worst enemy.
It’s long past time to start fighting back. For myself.
I am reblogging this, written the evening of September 11th, 2001
there is nothing else I can say on this day, except love each other.
Originally posted on joannebest:
lay me down, lay me down,
lay me down for I am weary
lay me down
will you lead me to the water
will you take me down below
will you offer me some comfort
tell me, where am I to go
will you give to me some shelter
just a place to lay my head
let me sleep the sleep of children
let me sleep till I forget
lay me down, lay me down,
lay me down for I am weary
lay me down
will you fill my soul with goodness
will you show me there is light
let me count the stars in Heaven
spirits shining in the night
will you hold my hand in your hand
lay your kiss upon my brow
tell me there will be tomorrow
that we’ll make it back somehow
It was the sirens that woke me up that morning 12 years ago…
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dangle treats before me
and i’m on my knees
begging for attention
as your footprints leave a mark,
i never learn you see,
but you figured that out years ago
back when i still believed
once upon a time the stars hung low,
within my reach, even with my eyes closed,
you told me to be fearless
so i followed your lead
till i noticed the cracks in the heavens,
though i brushed it off as circumstance
and tried to carry on,
i noticed one day, the lamp was growing dim,
out of wishes
or just plain used up,
a brand new world where everything is old
and nothing is as it appears,
i fall for the lie and twist it into truth,
misplaced belief because i always look back
in an effort to burn what was,
into my mind,
forgetting all the while,
i am my own torturer
bubbling through my blood,
little pockets of anger
mixed with tiny flakes of metal
from the repeated knife-wounds in my back,
red is what i see when my eyes close
everything turns hazy when they open,
every shade of black brushes through
every word you ever said,
and the joke is on me because i always believe,
in fate in you in the roll of the dice,
while you laugh it off and redirect,
tell me a story that i heard a million times
and i silently paint my smile wider as i concentrate
on that buzzing in my ears,
like a needle skipping on an old 45
it all echoes
same old same old cycling
and me on the floor, passive,
beaten down by proxy
and forgetting my own name,
at my gullible,
nothing more than hope mingled with trust
yet it gets me every time,
at my frozen,
and the flicker fanned to a flame
only to flutter away,
wherever the wind blows,
like a blown out candle,
while underneath we still bubble,
quiet and unnoticed,
me and my rage
I am predictably unpredictable.
Or unpredictably predictable. Maybe both.
Sure, I should take full responsibility for this unwanted state my life has become. Should, being the operative word, which, by the way, I’ve been trying not to use the S-word but I do, much to my dismay, I sadly do.
I know me. Well, kinda, because I am a work of art, not yet complete.
Aren’t we all?
Perhaps predictable is the wrong word. See, that’s part of the problem, I just don’t know much these days.
There’s been too many plates to juggle, so I crashed.
I keep forgetting I’m not a superhero. I keep trying to be everything to everyone and before I know it, crash crash baby.
Only, life doesn’t stop just because my body forces me to stop. Invisible health issues, the kind that I, as well as many others have, don’t give you a free pass when the wheels keep turning and your body won’t let you keep up.
It’s a constant struggle having to hide your fatigue and pain all the time because who the hell wants to whine about the way they feel? Ok, a lot of people do but I’m not on that team. I’d rather paste a smile on and swallow my misery instead of pulling out the fibromyalgia card.
It’s a double-edged sword, I can whine and complain or I can push through and hide the way I sometimes feel when I’m on a downward spiral.
Either way, I’m screwed. Nobody wants to listen to a whining whiner on one hand, and on the other hand, I push myself until I can’t push any more then get called out for not saying how I feel when I’m not feeling well.
Last thing I expected when I went to the doctor was for my blood pressure to be low. 80/60 weren’t the numbers I was shooting for, especially considering if anything, my blood pressure rises sometimes but that’s just because I’m a fiery red-headed Irish woman. I tend to get overly emotional and my body follows. Stress multiplies everything, especially when you’re me, an emotional sponge with codependent issues which lead me to put myself in everyone’s shoes and take on their bad.
Unfortunately, I seem to find it harder to take on their good.
That all makes sense in my head, forgive me if I lost you there. Understandable, since I seem to have once again lost myself.
So I’ve sent out an interior search team, in the hope of getting myself back.
I know I’m in there somewhere, I’ve been picking up little bits and pieces, following clues as if on a treasure hunt. Because I am a treasure.
I just need to remember that when I lose myself.
And it might be a good idea to, this time, brush up on my mapping skills.
Oh! Don’t forget this handy little link to the Summary page where you can catch up, all ‘chapters’ are linked to this page.
Originally posted on The Reclining Gentleman:
Joanne and I have been writing a Fiction Rally these last couple of months. It’s a bit like the fiction relay we were involved in last year but this time it’s just the two of us. To help us remember who is who and what is what, and to act as a “Previously” for any new readers that may stumble across the story, here is a Summary of what has happened so far.
Further chapters will be linked back from here too, so hopefully this little post will serve as THE Go To page for all things Fiction Relay. OK, so here is the story so far. Oh, and spoiler alert. Obviously.
CHAPTER ONE – TRG
Jennifer boards a mid-afternoon train to London – something she should have done long ago – carrying a bag. Text messages on her phone no longer make her angry, just convinced she is right…
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Fiction Rally Part 5 is up and as usual, TRG has got my fingers itching to work on the next part. Please, enjoy, I most certainly did!
Originally posted on The Reclining Gentleman:
Jennifer and Daniel are on a train. Jennifer’s purse isn’t. Lilly is her in her flat. Daniel isn’t. To find out more, visit the Summary page here. To read on, read on…
The smaller of the two gold hands on Lilly’s watch was now straying towards the four, beginning to obscure the end letters of the manufacturer’s very exclusive, very expensive Swiss name. Lilly placed the empty martini glass on the kitchen counter for her underpaid Latvian maid to clean and tidy away, and picked up her phone. Being kept waiting, being kept uninformed as to why she was being kept waiting, was not only rude, not only disrespectful, it was boring. She had places she needed to be. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, her day was empty, but she was not prepared to sit indoors waiting for projects like Daniel to arrive, or at least to…
View original 713 more words
It was a dark and stormy night and- nah, it was a gorgeous sunshiny day that seemed like a dark and stormy night. Only without the dark and without the stormy.
So here’s what happened:
I’ve been looking forward to today for weeks, a lovely Birthday Brunch at a lovely restaurant with an even lovelier friend, a beautiful and talented force of nature named Maryanne who I met right here in the Land Of Pressed Words (if you haven’t read her yet, go, read, but come back here too!) http://maryannemistretta.wordpress.com/.
I don’t get out much these days, I’m still in the midst of an existential crisis because I’m a Mama’s Girl and still haven’t been able to find much to help pull me out of the slump brought on by losing her. I know, I have to pull myself out of my own slump but it’s a long way up and I’m getting closer.
So I was extremely excited to take a nice drive to Avon-By-The-Sea for brunch with Maryanne and a few of her friends.
I woke up smiling, had my mandatory three cups of tea, looking forward to the drive south and a lovely afternoon.
As I started my car and pulled away I noticed the gorgeous white puffy clouds floating slow through the bluest sky and the temperature was perfect, no humidity, just warm sunshine and a beautiful day.
I’ve never been to Avon-By-The-Sea before but know the general area, to be on the safe side I programed the address of the restaurant, “Seed To Sprout”, into my GPS, filled up my gas tank and went on my merry little way. Happy.
I left early enough to give myself plenty of time since it’s a Saturday.
Apparently 4am may have been a better time to leave.
What usually takes me 15 minutes took me 50 minutes.
And in the words of Alice Cooper, I still had a long way to go.
The Garden State Parkway was instead The Garden State Parking Lot. Another 40 minutes go by and I get to give the lady in the booth $1.50 for the pleasure of moving 5 feet forward. Everywhere I look I’m surrounded by cars, mostly SUV’s because otherwise my low to the ground car would’ve allowed me to see further.
The Parkway isn’t moving. At all.
I try Route 9. Go ahead, laugh. Another parking lot only this time I can see for miles. And it’s just like the Parkway.
I know! Route 18! Only not so much.
I’m on the road, because I certainly wouldn’t call that driving, and I still have over 40 miles to go. In 10 minutes.
10 damn minutes and I’m nowhere near the town, never mind the restaurant.
I did something I did not in any way shape or form want to do; I called Maryanne.
Did I mention she’s an Angel?
I wanted to give her an update, I knew I’d be lucky if I got there by 1:00 and I didn’t want to show up without warning more than an hour late.
In the most angelic, understanding, warm voice I’ve ever heard, she said, amongst other calming things, “turn around”. And she spoke in such a way that I knew it was ok. I mean sure, it sucked. I wanted to be there so badly, I looked forward to this for weeks. I had birthday presents! This wonderful woman I admired, this ball of energy who gives new meaning to the idea of believing in yourself and getting things done was the last person I wanted to let down.
But I knew she was right.
I’m Irish and stubborn and wished I had Lola, Agent Coulson’s car in Agents of Shield because Lola can fly. Or one of those big trucks with the wheels that are bigger than I am tall so I could just roll over all the cars in my path and, uh, no, maybe that’s not such a good idea.
Anyway, common sense prevailed, Maryanne soothed me and left me in an unfamiliar state, not guilty.
Because I always am.
So turn around I did, as much as I didn’t want to. We made plans to make plans and all will be well.
Things happen for a reason, maybe there’s a reason I wasn’t meant to be there today. Maybe it was something as small as being home with my husband, his very close Aunt passed away this morning. He told me to go see Maryanne, he knew how much I wanted to go and said there’s nothing I could do about it anyway so I should go have a good time.
Even though I did attempt to go, to do something I wanted to do desperately, I’ve decided there’s a reason I wasn’t able to get there. I may never know that reason, but maybe I’m not meant to.
What I do know is this: Maryanne and I are rain-checking this one.
I have presents!
Lola. And Lola can fly.