Feels good to be back!

Love one another and you will be happy.  It's as simple and as difficult as that.  ~Michael Leunig

The Mr and I are... well, wonderful - to be frank.

Little Tyke is gone again, and this time it feels like we are doing it right. We're taking advantage and making the most of it. It almost feels like we're dating again.. fun, spontaneity, can't-get-enough-of-each-other-ness. It's back and it's strong. Part of me feels like I should be ashamed/embarrassed that it's the departure of our son that has spurred this on. But I'm done with that. I'm done with guilt. I'm done with denying myself the right to feel good about what's good in my life.

We are blessed. Blessed to have parents (and in-laws) that are there for us and willing to do what they can to help us out. Blessed to know that although our son is not with us, he's in a place of love. Blessed to have the opportunity to almost start again; get ourselves right before we have our baby (back again). What is there to be ashamed of there? The only room for shame is ahead of us - in assessing, at the end of it all, how well we've used this opportunity we've been given. Will we be better parents? Will we be better spouses? Will we be better people? For now, all I see are blessings and we should be - above all - grateful for them.

I've rarely (if ever) been filled with such a sense of power over my own destiny. I've known it for a long time, and anyone who's *ever* read this blog can testify to that, but now I see it. I feel it - definitively and conclusively. I've decided to stop being afraid and start being free. It's already working. By changing me, I've seen (albiet in very small ways so far) how much I can change my life.

When it comes to me and The Mr, I guess I just never truly realised just how big a contribution I've been making to whatever inadequacies I felt there were in our marriage. But I'm done with that too. I know what I want and I know it's possible because that's where we started off to begin with. There's a reason why I married that man and why he married me, and I think we're finding each other again. But we're finding each other as a married couple in 2010, instead of trying to be the girlfriend and boyfriend we were in '05.

What really blows my mind, though, is that as different as 'we' are now, we are actually still the exact same people. We spent the whole of yesterday just drinking vodka and listening to music and talking, then lying in bed and watching movies... just the two of us. That's exactly how we used to spend our days when we were dating - sharing the things we love (including each other!). What felt great was it wasn't some pre-planned 'date night' that all the experts say married couples should have. It was two people who absolutely love each other's company just having a good time.

It made me realise how much time I used to spend longing for what was instead of living what is. It's been here all along, I just didn't recognise it because it doesn't look the same as it did five years ago. It's actually better!

Here we (she) go (comes)

I told my mother-in-law that my house was her house, and she said, "Get the hell off my property."  ~Joan Rivers

She's coming again... Oh god! Not again.

I look at the smudges and tiny fingerprints on my windows, the build-up of dust on the propellers of my fan, the toy that's fallen behind the TV stand, the tangle of wires in my study and I know I will be judged on each and every one of them. I know it won't matter that I was going to get around to them. It won't be an indication of how busy and tired and stressed I've been - only exhibits A, B, C and D in proving the prosecution's case... in proving that I'm simply not good enough for her son.

Dread. I'm filled with it. I can never be comfortable when she's around. Four years of marriage later and I'm still so concerned about the impression I make. Wondering "what's expected of me" and "am I doing it"? Should I be waking up at 4am everyday like she does; toiling over a hot stove for hours at a time; on my hands and knees tackling wall-skirting grime?

It really grates me that, as a guest in my house, she never just goes with the flow of my household. Her way is not the way we do things; but by her every action she sends a constant and succinct message that, as far as she's concerned, it sure as hell should be. If that's not judgement, I don't know what is.

It doesn't help that - yet again - the visit coincides with the sudden departure of my son. There's a very dangerous association developing there - which I will choose to ignore for the moment (got enough psychological baggage to deal with as it is).

Four days to go 'til she arrives... *Cue deep, heavy sigh*

...full circle...

The Present is a Point just passed.  ~David Russell

I read today that time is like the wind - it lifts the light and leaves the heavy.

I've come full circle... back to the point from which I started. And yet there's been so much in between - so much that I could have never predicted I'd be back to facing the prospect of my son living away from me. I could have never guessed that I'd be trying (again) to start over with The Mr. I could never have imagined I'd be back here again.

For no other reason than that there's been so much in between...

And now that I'm standing on the other side, all I know is that I've always known it - everything that I needed to know I already knew. Maybe there is something to be said for being dragged through hellfire. Maybe we really do need to come face-to-face with everything we never thought we'd survive just so we know that we can. Maybe that's the push we need to stop surviving and start living. I pray only that is what it is for me, because if I ever had to re-live the past 3 months again... then I just wouldn't know anything anymore.

But the best thing about coming full circle, is that coming to the beginning means you've finally reached the end. And, even better, reaching the end means another beginning. Onward. I am blessed to be given a chance to do it again and I pray that I for as long as I am able, I will always chose to do it again, and do it better with each turn.

Fair is fair

It is the spirit and not the form of law that keeps justice alive.  ~Earl Warren

Sometimes I just want to run away. It gets too much. I feel like I hate my life; like I could have done so much better. But now it's too late. I'm stuck. Trapped.

I hate it when those days come around.

I hate feeling like I want to run away from my husband; from my child. They don't deserve it. And it's definitely not because of them that I feel that way. I saw it in The Mr's eyes today. He had seen it in me. The last time that happened, was also the first time I'd ever heard him even hint at 'forever' not actually happening for us. It scares me, because it controls me. When it takes hold, it's this overwhelming destructive force - laying waste to everything in its wake.

I'm watching him pace around the house as I write this. Tension hovering between us. I still feel the feelings, but I've come far enough to at least recognise them now. I at least know enough stop it. I can not; will not make my family casualties of the internal battle that rages in my own mind.

It's just not fair.

Scars

I read something today. It cut me. It reminded me of an injury of my own - moments long past and wounds not yet healed... This is what I had written about it all those years ago:

To he who scarred my soul, I write this poem.
The one who took a heart of gold and tarnished it to reach his own goal;
The one who borrowed and stole pieces of an identity that wasn't his own;
And patched a disguise that he wore as a robe to add credibility to the lies he told.
To he who scarred my soul, who thinks that I do not know;
That the colours he in time disclosed were the same hue and tone as a heart of stone;
And all the times I was made to feel alone, were manifestations of an emptiness of his own.
A desperate man, out of control. Needing to break me down, just for him to feel whole.
To he who scarred my soul, and left me reeling from the blow.
Who tried to turn this queen into a ho, prostituting my pride for just the chance to be in his zone.
I was a fiend and he was my dope; sprung off the way he made me moan.
The one who had me trapped in a primal hold, feeding off a need I rarely ever showed.
To he who scarred my soul; who took a bud as it was about to grow,
So he could stifle its beauty, thinking it would never know; thinking it had nowhere else to go.
And for longest of times, I travelled his road - in agony as I dutifully carried his load.
But now this bud wants to be a rose, and now he'll reap the harvests of what he sowed.
To he who scarred my soul, your sins will be revisited upon you tenfold.
Hel hath no fury - you know it, you've been told, and soon you'll regret ever having been so bold,
As to ignore a truth that is that old, and think that you could go on living by your own code;
To assume that, for you, the rules would be froze, that your devious ways would go unexposed.
To he who scarred my soul, to he for whom the bell now tolls,
The time approaches when you must stand without cloth or robe, wearing nothing but the lies you've told.
When you must account for your turns along the road, and for how you've used this life that you've been loaned.
And by that time, my testimony will be known; and by your deeds, your fate will be cast in stone.
To he who scarred my soul, who left me in the dark and cold.
The one who had my heart as his home, and then tore it apart as if it was his to own.
There are pieces of me that you grabbed and stole - pieces that I'll never get back I suppose.
But one thing that I know is mine alone, is the power I've gained now that I'm in control.
So to he who scarred my soul, there's one thing you must know;
You may've made me bend, but you could never make me fold; That's one victory that I'll always hold.
Wounds heal and so will the one you left in my soul, though I may carry the scar until I'm old.
And for all that time I'll live in hope, that some good will finally come from this mark on my soul.

On growing up

Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.  ~Chili Davis

I had to laugh at myself the other day. Chatting to my crazy friends, I quipped "Wow. I can just imagine us twenty years from now - as grown ups - talking all this smack. What will our kids think?"

I laughed. At 28 years-old, I'm still not a grown-up? I sure as hell don't feel like one. What is a grown-up? The idea of it still daunts me. There just seems to be so much attached to it. What does it really mean? I find it terrifying. It seems as if in order to truly be 'grown-up', you have to let go of some(every)thing.

Everyone's familiar with the bible passage that says, "When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things." Is that what's expected of me? To put away childish things? But what if I *like* my childish things? 


What if I'm still insecure and like to be affirmed? What if I still want to have it easy; party all night;  Does that make me any less of a 'grown-up'? That phrase in itself implies a definite state - unmistakable and completely measurable. Almost like you need to have taken on a new form, like a catterpillar to a butterfly. The end of the cycle; fully evolved. 


But is that what it is really? Why a grown-up? How about a grown-higher?
Do we ever stop growing up?

Growth

God has entrusted me with myself.  ~Epictetus

Somebody I follow on Twitter inspired me to write this - but more importantly, to share it.

The longer I run, the more I am willing to let catch up with me;
The more ground I cover, the less the race means.
The further from fun, the more like unadulterated bliss it will be;
The less it is fantasy, the more surreal it feels.

Reckless is cautious; and down somehow becomes up.
The answers turn obvious, when you learn to fill your own cup.

The years become welcome, when growth proves itself boundless;

The urge to control dissipates, though you paint you your own canvas.

The noise of urgency succumbs, to a love that is soundless.

And self becomes all you hear, when age finally overcomes brashness.

Getting there is in remembering why you went

Some things have to be believed to be seen.  

~Ralph Hodgson

From this episode forward, the role previously played by 'Hubby' will be played by 'The Mr'. (It was recently pointed out to me that hubby is one of the least sexy things a lady can say to describe her guy)

The Mr and I have really been working hard at this partnership thing. We're both very aware of our triggers and respective neuroses and are starting to become acquainted with each others' too.

I got to thinking... of the many, many, epiphanies I've had (of which only a *few* are included in this blog - trust me), this is the one I've most believed, affirmed, held on to and fought for. I don't know... I'm feeling a little bit of pride here, I have to say. Inside, I'm all like "I've finally found something I finally effing know for sure!" It's proof that this life has not gotten the better of me and I do have a solid core.

I never stopped trying to make it better. That doesn't mean there haven't been times when it got worse. We'd slip into our comfort zones, step back into our roles - but eventually I'd snap out of it and drag him with me. The best part is, he did the same. I was strong when he couldn't be and when I was weak, he wasn't.

That's what it's supposed to be, right? We had a long discussion this weekend about roles and how we assume them, what informs them. His upbringing was textbook, classic. Mother, Father - homemaker, provider. My story is a touch unconventional in comparison to that. I knew only of two individuals, living and doing everything separately - including parenting me - almost a duality of being.

I think I realise now that my child-like mind decided a long time ago what my adult reasoning is finally starting to believe: marriage = one whole. If it's made up of two parts, then they must be equal halves. They just have to be. That's what my own experience, that of friends, and that of my parents' friends has shown me. It's the only way it will work. I'm proud to know it's a belief I've had for that long and a belief that I still hold on to. I'm starting to think there could actually be a real person in here somewhere. *fingers crossed*

Good to know, but far from being the final destination. There's work yet to be done. I mean, this is me we're taking about and self-indulgence is a known vice of mine. It too often leads me over-step the halfway line - seeing myself as bigger than the marriage. I usually check myself on that, but my response-times are not so hot.

The system still has a few kinks in it too. We still use our trusted mutual ritual of bottling up and exploding, but the explosions are getting more frequent and less intense. They used to be blood-letting sessions, now they're just emotional conversations.

Slowly, slowly.

The quiet after the storm

God's poet is silence! His song is unspoken,
And yet so profound, so loud, and so far,
It fills you, it thrills you with measures unbroken,
And as soft, and as fair, and as far as a star.
~Joaquin Miller

And now... silence.

Everything I shouted from the roof tops, the dark secrets I let spill from my lips. It all lays there in a tangled mess, and it seems almost as if it has done nothing but stun us into complete silence. Not that we aren't dealing with it. We are. Steadily, working through all that needs to be fixed, and doing it together. But there is an unmistakable air of things unsaid.

It's a tension that wafts in between us at times, like a shifting fog. Never staying for long, but it hovers thick and heavy while it's there. It's interesting, because in a way it's also kind of a good thing. One thing we came to agree on during the long heart-to-heart (that I needed so badly a month ago) was that to be better to each other, we also had to be better to ourselves. Part of the silence that now prevails is just the two of us, each taking the time to look inside so we can better see what it is we are projecting to the outside - to each other.

I see that now. For the past two weeks, I've been looking at it very differently (and to my detriment). I realise that I had been acting like a small child, who opens one eye and peeks up from his morning prayers to check what the other kids are doing. I did my 'work' and when I was ready, I peeped up at him and got frustrated that his head was still bowed.

I huffed and puffed (in my own head, of course) about how he had retreated from me after he had said we'd do it together. All the time, I never stopped to think that perhaps I needed to just take him at his word and rather try keeping my own head down for a little longer and checking if I didn't still have stuff I needed to refine.

There's a road that we committed to when we had that talk - a road that we promised to travel together. For me to doubt the sincerity of his promise now would serve no purpose, especially when - in actual fact, his actions have shown only that he fully understands what I told him and that he knows what he needs to do.

I said before that all those titles were too big for me to hold on my own. I've told him that. He understood. So time to stop complaining. He's my full partner now, like I asked . It's ok if, every now and then, he just chooses to be a silent one.

Sick of Me (Happy New Year)

Learn to... be what you are, and learn to resign with a good grace all that you are not.  ~Henri Frederic Amiel

It's been a minute. Kinda scary actually. So much has been done, said, forgotten. To reflect on it all now, in hindsight, would be all too revealing. And the truth, as we all know, is often-times the bitterest pill of them all.

But, it's a new year. Fresh starts, clean pages and all that. So reflect we must.

By the time December hit, I was utterly exhausted. What a f*&#!ng year! I'm not afraid to say, I'm glad it's over. A cyber friend of mine asked an open question last month on Twitter. "How did you find 2009? Good, bad or ugly?" My response: "2009 was faultless. Me in 2009? Bad." And that is the heart of it. I was at the edge of some weird precipice last year (and I probably still am, considering 'last year' was a mere 8 days ago). Face-to-face with myself as a mother, as a wife, a career-woman, a friend, a whole person - for real and for the first time. The new me. And I didn't handle meeting her very well.

My blog-post history speaks for itself. Epiphanies and falls. That's the story of 2009 for me. So tedious. So much so that I don't even have the energy to fill in the gaps since my last post. Apart from Little Tyke coming back, everything that's happened since is just more of the same really. I will not even try to recount or even summarise the past few months' events.

Even to make a resolution for 2010 seems pointless - I know all I need to know and all I need to do. I've learnt and failed at it all already. So consistency is the way forward. It's the only way. If this is to truly be a new year, I must do new things.

I'm frankly sick of myself. Sick of knowing what to expect. Sick of expecting too little. I'm sick of seeing different sides of the same person pulling in different directions. Sick of losing control when I know I hold all the control. Sick of knowing better without doing better. Just sick of it!

Tonight, after work, I'm going to speak to Hubby. I'm sick of it. I'm laying it all down for him... every failing, every frustration. I want him to see me. I want to force myself to be seen. I'm sick of it. No more hiding from myself, no more running from the world. A few months ago, I would have been terrified. Perish the thought of being exposed - the horror, if anyone should see that I really haven't gotten it all together - not one bit. But now? Now, I'm just sick of it. I'm not ok. I don't want to pretend that I'm ok anymore. Wife, mother, career-woman, financial manager, head-cook, housekeeper, organiser and general household manager is too big a title for me to take on any more.

I'm sick of it. I want to do it. I wish to God I could do it, but I can't. I just won't anymore. It's destroying me and because of that, I will start destroying everything around me. I'm sick of it!

So that's how my new year will begin... with simply getting rid of the old shit. No resolutions, no future plans. Just a blank slate and a clear conscience. I figure it can only get better from here.