Hope Is Leaving

I'm going to change this trajectory before the universe figures out I'm taking too long and decides to create some havoc in order to make this change happen. 

I had a horrifying thought this morning or was it in the middle of the night? I broke down in tears thinking about all the ways I can't be my parents daughter. I know I'm their daughter but this feeling that envelops me every time I'm around them projects a kind of other worldly reality. Not fantasy. I feel big. Large. Wide. Tall. Expansive. 

I don't require their comfort in times of sorrow. I don't require their acceptance when I'm feeling rejected. It feels like I'm operating from two places simultaneously - here on earth and from the ether. 

It's not that I don't belong. It's that they don't 'fit' with me. I don't fit with them. I have to shift spaces around inside me to have a relationship with them that I can feel proud to say they're my parents and I, their daughter. But then I ask, "Who am I"?

Oh God, I see all the ways my mother suffers. I have it, too, a kind of suffering that never leaves, embedded in my very being. I need to transform it. She's resigned to it. But there are times, like me, I see how badly she wants to break free except unlike her, I know what it looks like...to be free. 

My father is so small now. He keeps comparing himself to the pope - how he's the kindest person, how he envies and despises no one. He keeps insisting he's a good person. He yells it in the hopes we hear him. I just cry a little cry from within because it's obvious he's dealing with a sadness he doesn't know how to express...maybe even one he doesn't fully recognize is dictating his reactions. 

It kills me, as it strengthens me. How can that be? How did it come to this? I hate having to admit that's all there is, all there'll ever be. Do you get that? There is no more growing upward and forward. It's moving forward only to head backwards, downwards, into the grave. Hope is leaving this place.

The Cafeteria

I had a dream of you this morning. I was sitting in a large cafeteria. I couldn't tell you where I was. I know I've never been there in my waking life. All the tables were white with grey tinted walls. 

I saw you coming towards my table. Suddenly, I felt nervous. You sat in front of me. I felt awkward because you weren't your usual self. You were quiet and the gods know, you can talk! 

I had a pamphlet in my hands about sleep apnea. You caught wind of that and asked me why I had that pamphlet. I smiled at you, folded the pamphlet and put it in my purse. I was embarrassed about the fact that I use a sleep apnea device and wanted to conceal that from you. 

You turned your back to me and started talking to three women at the table behind you. I felt so alone. I don't know how this happened next but you had some subs with you and you offered them to the women and I wondered why you hadn't offered one to me. I was heart broken.

Then you got up from the table and I believe you mentioned you were going to the men's room. I wasn't sure whether to wait for you or not. You hadn't said good-bye. 

So I waited but during the chaos of people passing through after lunch was over, I may have missed you coming out of the washroom. I waited near the door but you never appeared. I wondered why you hadn't said good-bye. 

I thought about how wrong I was about you, how you weren't the person I thought you were. I recalled wanting that person back - the kind, generous and thoughtful one.

Is this a premonition ? Is this what you're doing now? Making an exit when no one's looking in the hopes no one notices?

That's okay, you know. I've been told I've grown a solid pair of balls over the years compared to the fragile men in my life. 

From the ether, I'll say a little prayer to remove this burden from me. Because I'm good, you know? I'm really good. You don't know how good I am.

If this dream is a premonition, may you feel really bad, really soon. Because that's what you'd deserve.

Pretending

I think you're going to bail like a scared little boy. You'll tell yourself you're being honourable. But, you're not. You're not honourable. Only vulnerable. 

You'll make up some excuse about how busy you are, how something came up, how you can't get out of it. I know who you are. It's okay. Really. It's all okay. You are who you are. And I just have to accept that I was right, that I called it right from the start. You're just a guy. A guy who pretends to say something important. None of it is actually important.

How many benefits of the doubt can you give a person? 

The love of my life is in physical pain and it's only my heart that hurts. So, let it hurt, Oh Lord. I can handle it. I'll take it all in. I'll let it transform me into a beautiful person, into a more dedicated and loyal servant. 

I'll shift my focus to what's right here in front of me - my hands on compression stockings over my husband's leg, the ointment on his healing wound, the towel over his body as I help him out of the shower. Because the Lord knows that when it's all said and done, these will be the precious moments I remember with an ache in my heart, despite the fatigue and lethargy right now as I write this. I'll recall myself in a moment of joy and laughter with my beloved. The rest of it won't matter. The rest of it is history.

Like this memory of you right now. You won't matter. You'll be a fleeting thought, someone who was just passing through. Like so many others who touch our lives as they're busy making other plans. Some of us talk so much and say nothing. 

You must be one of those people..

Sorry

I'm sorry I failed you. I'm sorry it's come to this, like this, in this pathetic way, under these sheets I want nothing more than to swallow me whole.

I'm sorry I'm not like Lee. Or Jeanne. Not like Young or Ben.

I'm just me dreaming of love and romance. I know it's old and worn out. But what can I do but keep dreaming about the only thing that ever made me feel closer to...you?

I'm sorry I don't know how to row this boat. I'm sorry I feel the need to force a smile or pretend I'm happy.

I'm sorry I can't seem to find my way out. It's a labrynth of unfathomable proportions. You know how far and wide a thought can go until it finds a place to call home.

I'm sorry I'm so weak. I'm sorry that what's here with me now is not enough. It's not enough. I'm sorry I don't know how to live, to think, to be. There must be a flaw in the design. I ask you often, "Why did you make me this way?"

In the land of forgetfulness, it must be a kind of mercy. Otherwise, even the slightest twinge of remembrance might give way to hysteria. 

The way I was wrapped in a white cloth, spinning in the air, seeing the flash of light as my picture of sadness was taken, it will all forever be imprinted on the very fabric of my being.

I can't escape this knowing in what can only be described as...futility. I don't know how to transform this, how to make it more bearable. I don't how to play in a body that's slowly wasting away. I don't know how to unsee. I don't know how to live with what I've seen. I don't know how to appreciate this moment knowing what waits for me at the other side of this second, minute, hour, day, month...countdown.

Forgive me.

My Silence

When I wasn't invited to her yearly holiday party and then suddenly I was, by accident, you said that a relationship was a two way street, that if I happened not to be invited, I shouldn't take it personally because I didn't make an effort to be in that person's life. Therefore, I shouldn't have any expectations.

If being close to you or your sister means that I have to divulge every detail of my life, then no thanks!

Unconditional love is accepting. If you got me, you'd know I like my privacy, my quiet time, that I'm not flashy, that I'm not interested in petty talk or gossip about all those family members that happened to make the cut. Do you understand what I'm saying? I will not play the game and I certainly won't worship your ass-hole sister. She doesn't want me around because I won't make her my god or the centre of my world.

I see who you are now. I see who she is. You always made time for me. You understood that I wanted to spend time with you and not your sister and her silent husband. But, you haven't shown me the respect I deserve the last few years.

You're not good at keeping your word. And then the rest of us are the bad guys? Maybe that all just meant that I wasn't important to you. Remember what you said - we make time for those we value. You don't value me. 

We spent time together for your birthday. I made it a point to buy you dinner, to catch up in our usual way. And then my birthday comes around a month later and you send me wishes a few days late. Better late than never, I thought. 

You said you'd take me out and then you went silent. And you did it again. I make it a point to send you holiday gifts...and I stopped starting last year.

This year my birthday came and went and I didn't hear from you at all. I'm glad I confronted you about that. You think this is petty? It isn't. I've been working out these feelings of abandonment since I was young, these feelings of never being fully embraced by all of you save one or two but even they're write-offs!  Now I see how different we actually are. I'm a diamond in the ruff, fool!

I don't want to be invited to your sister's holiday party. I just wanted to be accepted for who I am. And you know I'm good. You know it. I'll never forget how she failed to thank me for her 50th birthday gift...except when I prompted her 3 months later! I won't forget how she didn't send condolences for any of the deaths of my in-laws. And I get it! We are not close. We do not have a relationship! If I have to reactivate my facebook account for people to send me birthday wishes or condolences, then they're not my friends. 

So yeah, when I saw how disrespectful your sister can be, I relished not sending her birthday wishes for the first time this year. If I had pulled the kind of shit she pulled on me, I wouldn't have heard the end of it. She can keep being who she is. What goes around, comes around...and that gives me great pleasure. And the kicker? I never have to lift a finger.

The joke's on me though. I saw who you were years ago...when you made fun of me as I tried hard not to stutter. I was learning, without the help of any speech therapist, how I might be able to create a kind of fluid link between the first two words...That's when I saw how good I really am, how kind and sweet and innocent...to the core. And how cruel you all truly are.

Mark my words...high priestesses go silent and are more powerful for it.

You'll See

If I can grab hold of that twinkle which appears from time to time when I'm lucid, I know I can overcome whatever's got a hold over me. Or maybe this is just how life rolls sometimes. Maybe I'm just weak. Maybe wanting is creating this suffering. Maybe resistance is the true culprit.

How do I let go or give in? And how do I know the difference and when to do either? A thought crossed my mind...I think I'd be perfectly fine to be on my own. I'm the high priestess. I'm a witch...standing in my kitchen in the middle of a forest that no one would dare go to. I'm her...staring out the window, catching wind of a herb, concocting some poultice to soothe this aching heart.

People are cruel. I'm cruel. I don't know why. If it's in me, it's inside you. But not today. Today, I am alone in this place, in my kitchen that's adorned with plants and surrounding space, with warm turkish carpets. There's no room here for greed, power or lust. I have everything I need, anything I could ever want.

Here, I am content with what I already have. I take my time getting to know myself in this lot. There is no you. There is no him. There is no her. Nor them. It's just me and a fire. It's just me and some birds. It's just me and the rain. It's just me and the moon. It's just me and some sparkles of sunlight. It's just me and my pen, my paints, my brushes, my inks, my books, my thoughts, my love.

Do you know how sacred this place is? Do you know the power I have in my hands, this power that comes from God, himself? Do you understand that the problem lies in wanting all the wrong things? Do you get that you've forgotten the truth about things? Do you understand how insensitive and monstrous you've become in the name of the American dream, the first world dream? Don't you see how you've failed? How nothing awaits you on the other end when it's all over and you cease to take in another breath?! 

I take an herb, some resin and oils...and I muster up whatever grace that's left in me to bring about the rise of good over evil. The fake mighty will fall once again. Some of us have always known the truth. You'll see. Unfortunately for you though, it shall be too late.

As for me? I'll still be standing in my kitchen going about life in the usual way, giving thanks to this opening, this opportunity, with a smile in the corner of my mouth.

Dragon Blood

I remember why I stopped going to 'alternative' cafes and crystal shops. The people who work there, minus one or two, are total flakes. Please forgive me. And the guy that served me? What a moron. When someone's got it, they've got it. Sincerity oozes out. It's unmistakable. I just finished paying $13 for an oatmilk cappuccino and a small cookie and he couldn't even muster up some grace! Never again. These guys ruin it for the healing movement. 

I've been there, done that. He reminded me of a guy I worked with at a vitamin store many years ago. Pre-Covid, you might have thought these guys were odd then but during Covid, you came to realize just how completely enveloped they are by conspiracy theories! Total right wing nuts! Not lefties, at all. They lack compassion and are so far up their own asses, they've forgotten just how elitist they are, all those things they claim to be against. 

They are in total denial. They think going to a retreat is going to shield them from their own stupidity. All that fake positivity is toxic. Why did I come here? They sell magical room sprays...but I can bet my life that they have no real understanding or desire to learn what those oils together, along with an intention, can really do. It's all just superficial nonsense.

I asked this guy to confirm the cost of the room sprays, whether they were all $20. And as he made his way around the counter to the shelf to check, he said, "The price is on the bottom." I picked it up and said, "Great, thanks." And do you know what this ass-hole said, "That's what the sign says." That alone almost made me walk out. I should have.

I said, as I headed back to the counter to pay for my order, "Well, you know how it is with signs. They're not always clear." He must have heard my tone and proceeded to be nicer. Too late!

Pretentiousness and I do not mix. Back in the day, I would have swallowed that kind of arrogance and pushed down my voice...because secretly, I thought these people were better than me. Not anymore. 

They're all just wearing masks. Like me. I should pity them. Time to head home and use my dragon blood...