Looking In…

…But never seeing out again.

With me, everything is “Private” – Private to the point I don’t share when I am in serious need of outside help, understanding or advice. I don’t even share when I’m in pain, because… you guessed it… it’s “private”.

I don’t share readily – the one person I share the most with is my boyfriend and even he feels I’m closed up half the time. He doesn’t press me… He knows I’ll share, eventually… partly. I think he knows I never share completely, and I justify it as ‘reasons’, but really… “private”. He knows how I am. Clearly he’s accepted it. (We don’t share a household. I would have to be far more open in that circumstance because I would have to be.)

As I told him today, one of the reasons I am so ‘closed’ is, his is the only opinion that matters. I don’t want him to know when I have trouble because I don’t want it to alter his opinion of me. I should know better than to think it does, but that’s the way I feel about it.

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That Thing Again…

…Or The Places Where We Come Back To.


I didn’t realize it hasn’t been as long as I thought since I last posted. Fact of the matter is, I forgot I even HAVE a blog and I last remember updating in June.

It’s really been a rough several of months. I seem to keep saying that, but perhaps it’s because it keeps being true.

I am finding my self in a condition, in a place, I never imagined I would be in. It’s terrifying to me. I feel that every little thing is final, and indicative of something much larger, however my logical brain knows that can not really be the truth.

I also find it really, universally, unfair – because I never took anything for granted, I never felt myself above anything or anyone else’s circumstances.

I know, also, I can not move forward with that mind set. It isn’t a matter of what is right or fair or even HOW it happened or laying blame; it’s a matter of realizing where you are and making a decision rather you want to be there or not and what you have to do to change it.


The Screams We Silence…

…And the ones we let go.
Laying here at 4am, I realized something about me. 

I am thinking of a pain, a pain I took from someone else and told him he didn’t have a right to it. I very selfishly made a shared pain my own, to no real end. 

I took that pain, and I opened the bin of feeling and I shoved it down, stuffed it way down to the bottom. 

I covered those feelings with life and escapism, alcohol and bad dreams. 

I figured I could always outrun it without really trying. 

Sometimes, sometimes it manifests as two and a half weeks driving around Ireland, solo, pretending I am escaping another, fresher pain. However, I know one is related to the other because I created it that way and never really denied it.


It’s running off to Iceland for two weeks…

…next up is Greenland. 

And I get why.

Because when it’s cold, with a chill that sometimes remembers to cut through you, you are numb. You don’t have to feel. You can scream out over a frozen tundra and it won’t echo back. Frozen, blue and silent too. 

You get used to it.

I did this once, with a different pain, to the mountains of Greece. Camping and adventuring. The problem, however, with mountains is…

…they echo back. They will tell your secrets. It’s as if your pain won’t let you escape. 

You can’t escape it anyway. 

Let Me In…

…Let me out.

Just so you know, I know.

I’ve always known.  I know what you did.
And, after I saw you, I know YOU know I know.
Your awkwardness and bee-line to be anywhere else, except in that space, told me everything I needed to know.
Your reaction showed me your guilt and your shame.
You wear it like your new skin, which really, is just shedding of your old skin
– your true skin,
Who you are underneath the stories and masks and pretense of goodness.
Decent people don’t wear virtue as a means to an end.
So quite pretending that’s a label you can wear
It’s haute couture to your thrift store design and I’ve never been so bold (or tacky) to directly ask.
I can’t even take when it’s given. 
I am so broken by experience I can’t trust what’s in front of me, what’s in the moment or even what I know to be good.

It Is In The Silence….

…Or, the place we hear the screams the loudest…
…All the places we hear the screams.

People always say they care…

….And such a phrase is supposed to matter.

However, I’ve noticed the silence more than the shouting (especially when I am the one shouting).

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Slow Yoga And Daddy Issues…

…Or, so-called personal short-comings…

So in yoga you learn to release your ego to gain your greater good. I think, sometimes, in our dealings with others, it is ego that gets in the way. Dealing with those who test us, teaches us… or so they say.

Maybe people test us so we can learn what bothers us about ourselves, rather it be a trait we have that we don’t wish to see amplified, or one we *wished* we possessed.

So, this brings me to the topic of today’s post…

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The Scariest Things…

..Are those which we hold inside.

I have had a lot of shit happen to me over my life – a lot of (maybe) negative shit that people sometimes say “I can’t believe that happened” – But, the truth is always stranger than fiction. Always.

I generally get over  (“find the good”), I have forgiven a LOT – I have forgiven things that would NEVER be on other people’s radar, ever (nor should they be).  I had a roof stolen.. no, seriously, ACTUALLY, let that sink in… I HAD A ROOF STOLEN – those are word that should ever be spoke, let alone be someone’s reality.
(I am sure, at some point, I did in fact write about this – I am not revisiting it now – if it exists, it’s likely under the ‘forgiveness’ tag) – this is not the current issue…

.. the issue is the thing I might hate you for….

….and I rarely use the term hate, and *never* lightly…

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