Sober & Single : Day 35 #100daysofwriting

I'm afraid of falling in love. I'm three months away from two years of sobriety and I'm still afraid. Yes, this has everything to do with alcohol. Alcohol made me feel brave and numbed my nerves. I don't think I was a real person when I was drinking and I'm not all that sure of who I am now.

 

I have friends who love me, for whom my sobriety isn't a big deal. But when I think about telling a guy who is chatting me up I feel afraid. I either feel ashamed or like a gangsta. I'd rather shout it and then run away. It's like I look down and see all my cracks. I don't know how to keep my support meetings a secret... How many vague after work activities can someone have? How many "friends going through something"?

 

I also eat when I'm uncomfortable. It is my only vice. This makes me stress over my weight and then I feel like I'd rather eat what I please than conform.

 

I try so hard not to care about being single. Sometimes I go online and make an effort but I get so bored. How does anyone have the patience?

 

I'm so busy and tired, but lonely in a way too. I wish I just didn't care.

Searching : Day 16 #100daysofwriting

I look for you
In memories
In dreams
In dangerous ally ways of my mind
You haunt
You tease
You descend
Only to leave

I thought tonight
As I drove through
Darkened suburbs
Lazy love songs in my ears
I thought I saw you
A glimpse of you
In the distance
You languished
Lazy in the doorway
Of a 24 hour Pick 'n Pay
I searched the aisles
Grabbing at clues
Pieces of you
Humdrum demands
Still pounding in my head
Buzzing on my phone
I left clutching my clues

Back in the road
You promise to meet me at home
I search for you
But neighbours shout
And you flee
I'm left with my melting clue
My ice cream
And a packet of biscuits

**** I feel the poem ends here but I still want to explain - I'm in need of rest, relief, happiness, peace. I'm exhausted and run down. I'm emotionally low. I feel like I'm searching for my happy. That's what this poem is about. Feeling lost.

Crash. - Day 2 #100daysofwriting

Crawling up my bonnet
Boots crunch
Gravel against glass
Face up
Back down
Scream out
Rain pelts down
Soaking me to my soul
Wet dissolves fabric
Flesh to metal
Freezing
Shivering
Screaming
The sky is a horrible colour
Drained of love
Drained of purpose
Stars are hidden
Rain falls
Face up
Back down
Screaming
On the top of my lungs
Top of my car
The edge of my world
My mind
My tether
Missing you isn't even it
I loathe you
My blood screams
I want you
I hate you
I need you
Both comforter and executioner
Crawling
Screaming
Soaking
Lying
Words pound
Worlds crash
Blood screams
Boots crunch
Rain pours

Should I?

“You said you would, so really you should,”
 “I should? I should? Why should I do anything?”
 

There’s an exhaustion in my bones. Sometimes I just lie on my bed feeling like I can’t move, but then I get up, and do something big. Big like cooking a ton of food to freeze. Is it a bizarre type of laziness? Being prepared?
 

I feel inspired to write at the most inappropriate times and sometimes consider carrying a little tape recorder around with me so I can dictate my thoughts as I drive. I suppose my phone would suffice. But I don’t and my thoughts often just float away. My creative being is sort of squatting inside me as I get on with the shoulds, until creativity becomes a should, a something to be scheduled and controlled.
 

As I sit on my bed, with a newly discovered cover of “Black Hole Sun” on repeat, I’m tempted to grab a canvas and just drag paint covered hands across it. I want to attack a canvas. I want to lean off the balcony and give out a primal scream. I want the parts of me to realign. I’m even sure that I knew that I was out of line until I typed it right now. I’ve been describing my mood as lonely-antisocial all day – weird, I know that I’m actually just on a depressed wave. A weird limbo of needing rescue without being able to shout loud enough for it. But no means do I need people to phone me or rush over to my flat. I’d love it if someone abandoned a tub of ice-cream on my welcome mat. If someone drove me through the drive thru for a MacFlurry and then dropped me at home. I think I’m also feeling financial strain – I get down when I feel like all my money is for petrol. Food is a drug, spending money is a drug; spending money on junk food is the ultimate relapse… or the closest to a relapse that I could allow. If I had wine, and technically I do, would I drink it? No. Smoking has never been my thing so sinking back into a smoky cloud of herbs doesn’t appeal. I don’t feel like acting whole with a lipstick smile while I pull my tummy in… so I can’t be bothered to indulge my sycophantic needs in the company of men. I feel too selfish to listen to stories about anyone else’s life so that rules out the rest of humankind. So this leaves food and money, and we’ve established those are a no go. So I’m a junkie without a fix.
 

So I’m a junkie without a fix. And in this moment I feel relief. I’m a junkie without a fix.
 

With a wry smile, I remember why I love to write, it's like an emotional purge, and now I can get on with my life.

Love & Loneliness #100creativedays Day 26

Love... is multifaceted. Yes. That's it... Many faced. I love The Squire. I love my parents. I love my kitten, Arizona. I love flings (the chips, not the slutty kind). I love the smell of almond shower oil...
Some of these things love me back, one at least sees me as a source of food and affection, and the others... Well they're things! Do I love them directly proportionally to how much love I get back, well, yes and no. Family - yes, we have family love for each other. Arizona - who knows? She's getting very cuddly with The Squire, and I'm sure I love her too much. Chips and bath products... Let's call that an unrequited love, where I get all the fuzzy feelings and their creators get richer.

Unrequited love... Now there a whole big topic of its own. I had a huge crushing pile of unrequited puppylove for my high school crush for about... Well, let's say up until his wedding this year? The passion was strong within me for a good 6 years or so, with occasional pangs that grew into a nostalgic fondness over the years. This really was unrequited and never consummated.
What about that tiny torch that I'm carrying now? For someone who is a dear, dear friend but not at all meant for me? Honestly, there are two that come to mind. The one is homosexual and the other loves another. I did say "tiny" torch, so calm down... It's probably not YOU.

This brings me to loneliness, and how many people don't actually understand how loneliness is multifaceted too. I hate admitting to feeling lonely. My kind of loneliness can cover me while I'm in the middle of a crowd. I can be at a party with all my friends and feel completely lonely. Is it a symptom of depression or my own selfish need for affirming attention? Who knows, but often pulling myself out of a social situation makes me feel less lonely!

There's the loneliness of literally being alone because you're shut off from the world or someone important is gone and there's a hole in your life - this seems more socially accepted somehow.

There's also that loneliness that comes in the middle of the night. It's dark and ugly and whispers nasty lies in your ears. It's the loneliness of singleness, that tries to convince you that together is better than alone. Sometimes this loneliness creeps along to parties, or shopping centres. Where strangers stroke your carb-swollen belly and think you're part of a breeding couple. Or couples slink around doing couple things like holding hands and smiling smugly. All the while the lonely lies try to convince you that you'll never be one of them...

Ok, this got dark, I feel like Gollum. The point that I'm trying to make is, that company and love are relative. You can't tell someone not to feel lonely or unloved just because they are surrounded by people. They need to find the love and fulfilment by themselves, in a higher power or purpose. So stop being flippant. Not all love or loneliness is equal, and it is all quite real when you're feeling it.

Insignificant? #100creativedays Day 11

"All that happens means something; nothing you do is ever insignificant." - Aldous Huxley

Sometimes I forget about the things I've achieved, the battles I've fought and the blessings I've received. This isn't supposed to be an emotional ramble, rather just a manifesto of sorts to remind myself that I do manage to be great, creative, loved and brave everyday. Every.Single.Day.

I was beating myself up about the weight I've put on over the last few weeks - too many good times, too much stress, too much temptation! The 18th of May marks a year since the Squire and I launched into our Dukan way of life, and I was lamenting the fact that I am not at my lowest weight. The Squire reminded me that I was still 10kgs lighter than a year ago!

I still feel like a hot stressful mess. I'm afraid of meeting new people and having to explain my sobriety... Close on 7 months of sobriety. I should be proud of myself, not afraid, I've been courageous and the whole thing is a huge testament to God's guidance in my life.

I sometimes feel lonely and long for the loves I've lost. I seem blind to the incredible love and support of friends and family at times. The utter devotion of my sweet Arizona, who right now is snuggled up against my leg on the couch.

Even with this challenge to "be creative" everyday for 100 days, I sell myself short and forget that writing is creative. That it is a gift, that some people can't even compose an sms, let alone write a paragraph. I forget because I just like writing. I forget that a lot of people are not open like I am. That I am brave, not stupid to open myself up. I am honest. I am not a victim.

I am grateful for the people in my life, the people who have crossed my path, all the experiences - even if I want to scrunch up my nose and discard certain experiences - I am grateful that nothing in my life is, nor am I, insignificant.

Lonely Biscuit

Brother worked late last night.... and now tonight too....  I, the little loner, am sooooo lonely and at a loose end. I wanted to ask someone to go to dinner with me, but I actually loathe trying to make last minute plans, especially seeing as I'm sans car at the moment. I have a lot of friends, but somehow still seem to have nights where I don't know who to call, or who I feel like being with.... so ridiculous. I wanted something low key, so ended up making myself a pizza, cracking a bottle of wine, starting a bit of a "Lie To Me" marathon, while dabbling with work mail. So current state is - couch, wine, show, laptop.

I feel a bit insecure - not about work now, just in the way that I teared up over someone's wedding video today, and got misty eyed over Granny. And I wish I had someone to cuddle on the couch. Gone drug free today, so my shoulders are seized up to my ears. Bleeeeeergh.... and I'm denied my kitten.
Maybe it's time to design my own footy pyjamas with a special wine pocket - like a straw into a pap sak type set-up.... who needs a boyfriend when I can be drunk 'n comfy?