GC

So I met this guy a few month ago… Yeah I meet a lot of guys… But this one in particular.

It started off as an argument about whether my jersey was coral pink or orange. It was in fact coral pink.

I told him he was middle class and they all laughed. He was a well educated jet setter and basically a rocket scientist.

And at a table with his friend we got to know each other by guessing trivial things about each other…from each others star signs to our favourite foods.

Everything went well that night…but I never heard from him again.

I guess a woman should be used to that behavior, I was hurt for a couple of days but I moved on. If he wasn’t going to call then he wasn’t going to call.

I found out last night that the same guy died shortly after I met him. A car accident of some sort.

I won’t know whether he ever did intend to call or not. I don’t really want to know.

All I can say is that when the news sank in I was floored. Worse is I was told this before and took it as a joke.

I’ve shed a couple of tears, I won’t lie about that, but the world is a darker place without him.

Am I even allowed to feel anything? Am I allowed to say anything?

He will be missed.

Carry On

You’d think that we would’ve learned all our life lessons by a fairly young age. That we would stop making foolish mistakes, that we would be more responsible.

How far down do you have to go before you realize that you’re drowning?

What catalyst do we require to make a change in our lives?

We are mere specks of dust in this vast vast universe. And our pasts… though we wish to leave them behind, well we have to face and hope to conquer in order to move forward.

And don’t think it is ever too late to change…but you can never erase the scars of yesterday. Is there ever a redemption? There never truly is.

And all you truly are to others is their worst memory of you. And somehow all it takes is a look or a few words to dismantle the fortress that has been built.

What do we do at times like this?

What do we do?

Do we carry on? Can we make our way forward and forget the tainted path we have walked? Can we blame it on our youth or lack of knowing better or our self destructive personalities, or that we were “born” that way?

Sometimes bandaids will not heal the gaping wounds we prefer not to see. Sometimes it’s easier to pretend we are all fixed up.

Here are the lyrics to the song that prompted some of these thoughts:

Carry On – Fun

Well I woke up to the sound of silence
The cars were cutting like knives in a fist fight
And I found you with the bottle of wine
Your head in the curtains and heart like the fourth of July

You swore and said, “We are not, we are not shining stars”
This I know, I never said we are
Though I never been through hell like that
I’ve closed enough windows to know you can never look back

If you’re lost and alone or you’re sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground
Carry on

Carry on, carry on

So I met up with some friends at the edge of the night
At a bar off 75
And we talked and talked about how our parents will die
All our neighbors and wives

But I like to think I can cheat it all
To make up for the times I’ve been cheated on
And it’s nice to know when I was left for dead
I was found and now I don’t roam these streets
I am not the ghost you are to me

If you’re lost and alone or you’re sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground
Carry on

Oh, my head is on fire
But my legs are fine
After all, they are mine
Lay your clothes down on the floor
Close the door, hold the phones
Show me how, no one’s ever gonna stop us now

Cause we are, we are shining stars
We are invincible, we are who we are
On our darkest day, when we’re miles away
So we’ll come, we will find our way home

If you’re lost and alone or you’re sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground
And carry on

The Beast Within

Essentially I think we are all broken or cracked in some way….the extent of the damages depends on what you’ve been dealt in your life….some of us have fissures that will never heal, large gaping wounds that everyone can see. Others have minor scratches.

Part of why we are here…I. Believe is to heal these wounds and if we cannot completely heal them, then perhaps function with them.

As someone with no legs will work his way around his physical surroundings, so someone with emotional dysfunction or baggage, needs to find a way to “compensate” for what is lacking?

We will never be free of pain, of hurt, of sorrow and agony….we will never be completely free of the beast within….that dark part of us…the sorrow…the anger…and even hate is a dark emotion that resides within us all.

We cannot escape this beast…we try to externalize it…we call it a mythical creature…a vampire or a werewolf, even a zombie. Truth is these creatures are within us all.

We all have the capacity to hurt and harm and gash wounds into others.

We all have to accept these dark parts because they are just as much a part of you as is the light. It is only once you can accept the beast within that you can tame it. Use it in a positive way or at least channel that darkness into pursuits that leave others around you a little less unscathed?

How do you want people to see you…be that person…be true to yourself….you can change every day as long as you can look in the mirror and know that you are doing the best that you can.

Does any of this really make any sense?

I’m only a goose looking for that balance.

“Our fingerprints cannot be erased from the lives of those we have touched.”

No Regrets

There are times in my life that I’d love to go back to, times that I would like to go back to my younger self and tell her it is going to be okay, that the pain is going to make me stronger, that it will add to my character, to make me a better person.
There are also times where I have wished that I could go back and right some wrongs, and make different choices. Not that I regret the choices that I have made, but I do think I may have been too cautious, that there are in fact walls, walls that are a lot higher than I thought…I’d even go so far as to say that I add to those walls every day…..there aren’t a lot of people that I trust and I am damn scared of getting hurt and being hurt. But it happens and its a part of life. And we. Have to move forward.
The hurts that scare me the most?
The unavoidable ones.
I’d always been a daddies girl. He was a pretty quiet guy, he wasn’t perfect, but he was a good person. He’d also been pretty healthy and health conscious, other than the fact that he smoked and had a few drinks now and then.
In the end of 2007 he began having health issues and in a few short months was misdiagnosed repeatedly until he was booked into hospital with severe joint pain. In not even two days we had our first major scare, when they diagnosed cancer(after extensive testing) and on the 7th of April 2008 suffered multiple pulmonary embolisms(blood clots to the lungs), of which he was very lucky to survive according to a cardiologist.
He was in and out of hospitals for the next few weeks, either for testing or for transfusions or blood tests and for treatment plans for the cancer which had metastized throughout his body(Non Hodgkin’s B Cell Lymphoma a very rapid spreading cancer as it travels via the lymph through the body).
The evening before he died I remember visiting him and treating him to a foot massage. I also had a bit of a motivational talk with him about him beating the cancer.
The following morning, 26 April 2008, he passed away in his bed in front of my mother, my brother and paramedics.
I had been called by my mother earlier that morning to say that she was getting my dad back to the hospital as he was taking another turn for the worse. I was on my way to work with my ex, and instead of going through to see him, I told her that I would go to hospital after work to see him.
An hour later I got the call from my mother telling me to get myself to his place as soon as. But it was already done. My father had passed.
When I arrived, we waited until the paramedics came out and gave us the official news. I was with my little sister in the car at the time and all I had to see was my mother and brothers body language.
It was nothing short of devastating. And for a moment I cracked. My world shattered. But I had to piece it back together again immediately.
I was 6 months pregnant at the time. And as much as I wanted to give into the darkness I had to pull myself together and look after the child that was growing inside of me. It was probably the hardest thing to do. I had been smoking 8 cigarettes a day while pregnant, but the week after and leading to his funeral that number went to a staggering 40 a day. Something I am ashamed of but the only way I could emotionally cope. I couldn’t drink myself away as I might’ve done otherwise. The pain was raw wound that never really healed until long after I had had my daughter, when every now and then I could give into a grief that I hadn’t been able to express.
I still do wish that I had hugged him a little tighter, stayed a little longer, spoken to him more often, visited more and told him I loved him. I sometimes wonder if it would’ve made a difference going that morning when my mother first called.
But I believe that when a person dies and how that person dies is not an accident.
There is nothing anything of us can do to prevent death. and there is nothing we can do to change the past.
The best we can do is do our best now, to make our lives worth it…to make theirs worth it.

 

Tattoo Befok

I decided to get a tattoo on Saturday morning. I already have three. One on my lower back, the nape of my neck and one on the “trapezium”muscle on the side of my neck. My sister was not amused by this seemingly sudden decision, but was it really?

I have had this particular tattoo on my mind for at least six months now. You can ask anyone with tattoos, that they have at least one new tattoo that they would like to add to the existing one/s. Tattoo’s or more so the process of getting a tattoo is addictive.

From my own experience, from the stenciling of the tattoo, to the first bite of the needle into flesh, to the exquisite pain of having the outlines done to the dull ache of shading in, the pain is just as much a part of the process, and as the endorphines flood your system a sense of calm and tranquility come over you, so that at the end of the process you are in state of bliss, similar to being high on other substances.

Is it really an addiction? I consider an addiction something done in excess and hazardous to your health. As far as I know, and I stand to be corrected, but no one has died getting a tattoo(granted the neccessary health and safety procedures have been followed). And is it really so bad to be “adorned” with body art. In many cultures tattoos are a sign of strength, courage, maturity and honour. Yes, you do get prison tatts, gang tatts, etc but even here these are part of an initiation.

For me, not only is tattooing an artform, but a map, or documentation of my life. A way to express myself, perhaps even more so than my writing does, because a tattoo is intimate, it is something that you wear proudly on your flesh, it is not only a part of you, but it is you.

It’s your dreams and aspirations, your children, your family, your rebellion, loves lost and loves found, their your inspiration, your interests and hobbies.

You will always remember what, where, when and why you got each tattoo. What state of mind you were in when you got it and whom you were with.  Tattooing is the hardcore form of scrapbooking.

So, my sister was not amused by the fact that I wanted to get another tattoo, s0 she called my mother up and told her in no uncertain terms that I had lost it and was about to get another tattoo. My mother has never been fond of tattoo’s, the last one I got she said was a “tramp stamp” until she saw that I had had my daughter’s name done. My sister has one tattoo and my brother has three. So my mother on hearing I was going for my fourth one asked if she could speak to me. I was waiting for to lecture.

But to my surprise not only did my mother ask what was getting, she suggested a few alternatives to the stars I wanted.

I was able to arrange an appointment that same morning with Aubrey Rudman from Style Ink Tattoo’s to do my latest “artwork”. Off we went and had it designed, where even my daughter, at the age of three and half suggested I colour two of the stars in pink and blue. Now there is no arguing with child so I did as I was told.

Stars have always represented to me the search for truth, to always reach high, that nothing is not accomplishable. That no matter how bleak or cold or dark it is, there are always stars to guide you on your journey through life.

And why Seven stars? Well in Hebrew, the number seven is from the root word meaning complete or full.  Seven is linked to spiritual perfecion, which is what we all strive for. Apparently your body completely renews itself every seven years. I’m 28 now, a derivative of seven. Seven also in some cultures means study or knowledge.

And why on my ribs, well why not?

And that’s the way the cookie crumbles.

Fakes and Lies and Abuse

The world is not a friendly place. We are constantly battered by disaster, violence, disease, death, corruption, dishonesty and aggression.

And in this world we find many “fakes”. People mascarading as something they are not, people with hidden agendas, people out there that wish to only better themselves at the expense of others.

My question is, how do these people live with themselves? I’ve given it much thought(okay, the last couple of minutes thought), and I have drawn a few quick conclusions.

There are those out there that do it for self preservation. These are people so scared that their truth may be either too much for people to bear or something they find repulsive or they will be judged. The person with a debilitating illness, a woman or man that has been raped or a drug history. The list in this case goes on. These people, at least in my eyes, act out of fear. And in the end can we really judge them? Can we scorn these people for keeping what seems to them to be a devestating truth?

It sounds all a little soap opera-ish doesn’t it, and we have seen that the truth always comes out in the end. The problem is when you deliberately “lie” to cover up the truth you are hiding. There a thin line between right and wrong. And if you know about it do you come out with it? Is it your place to when it is someone elses cross to bear?

Are we entitled to judge these people? Are we entitled to judge anyone?

We then come across those that only wish to further their agenda, when the secrets they cover up are harmful to others and their lies are malicious and dangerous. These people do not act out of fear but out of self fullfillment, they only wish to better their own lot in life at the expense of others. These people are greedy, they seek power(whether it be emotional or material). They are always putting someone down to look better than those next to them. They have very little regard for others and will almost always blame others for their incompetancies. They live by their own rules so deadlines, appointments and agreements are most often ignored. When they are on top, everyone needs to know about their success, and when they are down they blame everything and everone around them.

These people are emotionally abusive, they are poisonous and draining. These people cause damage almost irrepairable to those that are in their lives. They break you down, they can anniliate your judgement, your self esteem, so you are left to question every move you make, even long after you have left their grasp.

The worst part with these people is that they are charming, lovable and cunning, they say the right things at the right time, they are everything you have imagined and more. They deliberately mislead you with promises that never come true.

In my experience some of the signs of these people is that the are not affectionate, physical closeness where they have to give of themselves with nothing in return is not something these people cannot do. They take and rarely give, and when they do it will most likely be material in nature as they tend to believe they can buy themselves out of/or into a situation. They never take responsiblity for their actions, someone else always made them do it, from the time they have a car accident to the time they hit a spouse. Their apologies are meaningless. They believe the world is out to get them and no one understands them. They will only help you when it benefits them. They seek to single you out from your loved ones, so that you are solely reliant on them. They want you under their microscope as much as possible.

These people are emotional abusers, they are borderline sociopaths, and they are highly intelligent. It is unfortunate that these people are out there but they are. The sad fact is you only usually fnd out when it is too late. Your friends and family can usually pick up on this behaviour before you do, so it is wise for you to listen to them when giving their opinions.

You are not the only one.

You can overcome. You can leave. You can cut them off. You can build up trust. You can build up self esteem.

You are not broken.

You may have scars, but they are they to show you have survived.

You are whole.

You can always find yourself again.

Because you are still there.

I did.

You will too.

 

 

Pain

Pain is a part of who we are. It is there, sometimes in front of us, staring
into our faces like the devil we fear it is. At other times it is behind us, a
part of our shadow.

It is up to us whether we allow it to be in front of or behind us, we choose
whether to dive into the depths of misery, and its not wrong to allow to allow
our hearts to ache and for our minds to crumble, every now and then.

Some people know life only with pain, many inflict themselves with it,
whether it be emotional or physical. A lot of us run from it, we try to hide
from the tears and the anguish. We cover up and we dodge the misery whether we
are with people or not. We drink, we smoke ,we take drugs legal or not, to put a
blanket over something we are too scared to face.

I’ve had my fair share of pain, everyone has, we all have our own stories,
our own baggage to carry. We are all damaged in some way. We all have a chink in
our armor. A sore spot that wont heal, that every now and then rears its head.

Pain has a face, and that face is your own. Pain is who you are and you need
to express it. We cannot deny it, just as we cannot deny the physical pain of a
cut. We need to acknowledge it, welcome it, sit in the depths and wallow within
it. Do it at home, at night, alone, this type of pain needs no company, this
pain just needs to be heard, its not about being comforted and told it is going
to be okay. Anguish itself, tears, the true aching inside, once you’ve felt that
you know you are alive.

Pain is an emotion as powerful as joy and anger yet we deny it all the time.
We know what it is like to be happy and to express it. We know what it is to be
angry and to vent it. So why deny pain…when to release it, will release us?

Give in.

Let go.

Feel.