In the dark

Your best didn’t help anything.’

Those words finally broke the pin that was holding it all together. Those words shred me to ribbons.
Said by my daughter, in a moment of exhausted, frightened, frustration.

As I lean against the bathroom door, gutted, snot and tears running down my face, in this moment, it crashes in how right she is.

My best did not salvage her summer.
My best has not stopped the the nerve damage in her face from making her self conscious at an already precarious time.
My best did not ensure the pharmacy would be able to get the medications she needs to start right away.
My best has not hastened the wait to get them tomorrow.
My best does not reassure her it is temporary.
My best has not changed my work schedule to be more present for my daughter, my husband.
My best has not armed my daughter well for the pressures of this world.
My best has not alleviated my husband’s chronic condition.
My best has not stopped friendships from drifting.
My best has not sorted my clutter out.
My best has not supported my friends in helpful ways.
My best has not defeated my mental monsters.
My best has not gotten me physically back on track
My best has not been a stellar role model

This week has felt like spears coming from all angles.
A long seemingly continuous few days of various life dramas.
Nights of broken sleep.
Then my daughters nervous energy about starting school in classes where she really doesn’t know anyone. Hyperaware of her few chicken pox scars and crooked smile.
Tonight, after a long wait at urgent care walk in, to be given a prescription and a referral, only to be told by the late night pharmacy, we need to go to a different one tomorrow as they don’t have what we need. I tried to soothe my frazzled child. I gently remind her I’m doing my best.

‘Your best didn’t help anything’

Her spear hit the pin holding me together and knocked it loose. It all comes out in a torrent of silent tears, behind the bathroom door, as to not disrupt her falling into a sleep she needs.

I sit hours later in the dark, writing, silent tears again, as to not wake the household that so much needs it’s rest. My head pounding. I feel overwhelmed by life, broken by the weight of it. Punished for reasons I’m unclear on. I’m so tired I can’t help but feel this is all personal.
In the silent dark, I try to let it run out of me, the fear, the frustration, the anxiety, the sadness.
Try to find the pin that was knocked loose, jimmy it back into place.
And hope that by the light of morning, maybe, just maybe, tomorrow, if I can find my way to it, my best just might be enough to help something.

When a motherless mother feels lost

Today I need her

Today I need to know

Can I do this?

I’m a bleeding heart

My soul raw

Can I do this?

How can I navigate her through this?

When this is when my compass died

Can I do this?

My daughter needs her mother

This daughter needs her mother

Can I do this?

I’ll take her hand, whisper ‘be brave’

I won’t let her see me shake

As my hand reaches for a ghost

Can I do this?

Can love be enough when I have no clue

Love wasn’t enough when I had to miss you.

Can I do this?

Salix (story start)

Sandwiched between the cold, wet wall and a rapidly cooling corpse was not the expected place my path to glory was supposed to lead. I really just need a moment to think. For now this bloated flesh bag is keeping me hidden, or trapped- I guess that it’s all a matter of perspective.

When I woke this morning I had an off feeling about this. The cast of the bones confirmed it was so, but it had to be done. I’d given my word. My mission was simple, grab the coin and the map and get out without being seen.

At least she made it sound that way. Simple.

Salix Nigra. The way her name slithered past ruby slicked lips. I’m pretty sure if she had told me to kill the Emperor I would. Her heat entered my meagre room before she strutted in. Not even a knock. The door blew open, and there she was. Cream skin, green eyes not of this world and hair so dark it seemed to disappear in the shadows behind her. In the hollow of her neck hung a sapphire so blue it would put the oceans to shame. Draped in soft folds of fabric, her pleasing shape defined by the soft cotton. I have no doubt there were many gifts and dangers hidden in amongst the folds of her dress. The black leather lacings of her stilettos lost underneath the short hem of her garment. I could not move.

“Are you Regia Juglans?”

“Just Reg.” Trying for my most roguish smile. She seemed completely unaffected.

Are you available for hire?” Her velvet voice sending shivers and heat at the same time down my spine, reaching the deepest of places.

My mouth had gone dry, I managed a single nod.

She moved silently like a cat- leaning in I could feel her breath in my ear, the rich smell of amber burning deep into my soul. “You come highly recommended, for jobs of a delicate nature”

Oh to taste wine off of those lips…..”Y..y..erm…Yes.”

“Oh Reg, I need your help, I am in danger” at this, she steps back from me and teasingly pulls a handkerchief from her pale cleavage. I immediately feel a rise of anger at the thought of anyone harming this ethereal creature.

Dabbing at her eyes, long lashes glistening impossibly with dew. “all I have in this world my Father left for me. A rare gold coin and a map. There were these men…” a sob escapes her soft mouth.

What followed was a heartbreaking tale of a young woman taken advantage of, and these brutes making off with her property. Her eyes stayed steady on mine, even through the tears, so easy to get lost in. It was hard to resist the urge to bury my face in her hair, just to inhale the sweet amber smell of her. Have it surround me. But no time for that now.

perception reflection

What do you hear when my lips part?

A passionate sigh

An orgasm not yet moaned

A banshee wail

A soothing word

A hard cut

Lies you want to hear

Truth you don’t

What do you see when you look in my eyes?

Passion and fire

Monster damaged shadows

Gentle loved reflection of who you are

Cold calculation

Uncried tears, waiting

Fool

Ancient knowledge

What is your instinct when you touch me?

Treasured

Owned

Used

Thrown away

Imprisioned

Gift

Freedom

Choices we make

We choose how we react to any situation. That is our control.

Sometimes it is hard not to take what the universe throws at us very personally. Especially when the monsters in your head can twist much to that bent.

I am not proud of my reactions this morning.

I snarked at some well intended things and was not very understanding to another, and perhaps unkind/cold to another friend who is in distress.

I am tired, I am dealing with the things that hurt, my monsters are loud.

But my things/needs to not supersede anyone else’s. Yet I want to scream ‘what about me? I have shit to, incase it matters!!’

In these moments I feel lost, in my heart I want to offer gratitude, love and compassion- despite the deficit I feel. I used to be able to choose that almost instantly- despite the monsters.

This morning I did not / could not make that choice. My monsters whisper that no one makes that choice for me, so why bother for anyone else…… I am overwhelmed, overthinking and overtired. These are not meant as excuses, just a framework for how my monsters can take over.

I know I will owe apologies but I believe I am entitled to some understanding.

For now, until this current storm passes, and my tears dry, my choice will now be to be quiet ( the adage, ‘if you can’t say anything nice….) to try to do some good somewhere today, and hope that those I was not the best to this morning understand and choose to kindness, compassion and understanding in my direction.

Always choose kindness when you can. Try to remember it’s rarely personal, trust that you do count, you do matter and love yourself first, even when the monsters seem to be the ones in the drivers seat.

✌🏻

Filled Void

The greatest art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain. – Lord Byron

The heart, soul and brain all work differently.
The brain makes a decision
The heart may fight it/ jump on board
The soul may cry/ sing

To make the decision to try to truly be present in ones life is hard. Not jumping to the future, not visiting with ghosts of the past. The here, now.

Can be lonely, with out others to be here, now- as they all seem to be other places. But do we base our existence off the recognition of others? Why? ( is it just me? It is, says the monster of invisibility)

It’s hard to sustain ( but what will happen if we don’t over think the what if’s, cries the monsters of uncertainties)

It’s a strange freedom to try for ( but you do not deserve that freedom, it is for others more worthy, cry the monsters of the past as they try to chain you down)

What is the present sensation? Calm? Connected? Cold? Pain? Love? Distrust? Amazement? Distain? Joy?
Why is this sensation present? Feel it…. let it move through…. learn what you can…… let go.
So easy to say. So hard to do.

Between two worlds life hovers, like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizons verge. – Byron

On With It

Dry your tears

There’s no time for this

If no one looks too close

If no one listens too close

Find the steel in your spine

Find the steel in your smile

You lead

You’re empty

If no one looks too close

If no one listens to close

The cracks won’t show too bad

The cracks will hold another day

You animate the body

You mourn your soul

If no one looks too close

If no one listens too close

Dry your tears

There’s no time for this

But I am not ready

Today on my mind is pain.

All those who really know me, know that my accidental choice of a career, Massage Therapist, beautifully turned into a life passion. I have been gifted to be with clients in birth, death and all states in between.

The honours I have been trusted with: life stories, vulnerability, knowledge- sacred and silly, wisdom, hurt, healing, fear, and joy. It has been such a cool, hard, interesting path. I have seen people and their perceived weakest (but the strength it took to get through it was amazing), their strongest, in pain, in triumph.

Once I realized that this is where I am at my best service, where I can do so much good, I realized this is also one of the most satisfying things I am capable of.

It has brought me to a place where I am entrusted with teaching the next generation of Massage Therapists. I have met some exceptional talents and hearts entering this field. I try to translate the wisdom I have gained over the years to them. To be humbled by what you are witnessing, whether it is an elite athlete getting back to sport, a mom reducing her pain to be able to play with her toddler, someone on their 4th battle with cancer, a Fibromyalgia patient being able to have a pain free day, or an over worked dad actively practicing self care to reduce the stress on his body and mind, or someone losing the ability to follow their passion and reimagining and finding the courage to change the life plan. There is a raw honesty we get to observe. We do our best to help the body get as well as it can. It is amazing.

The people I have touched, the marks they have left on me. I have whole families that I have been blessed to watch for the better part of two decades. I have celebrated and grieved in equal measure. Never once considering my own time may be finite.

Pain.

The therapist has become the patient.

It’s funny, I have had mental illness for most of my life that I have been dealing with, I am open and honest with all those in my life about those battles, but the other battle I have been waging for just over two years now, I have not been completely open with how I am dealing with it.

I am 46, the last 4 years are the healthiest I have ever been. I weigh 200+ pounds less than I did twenty years ago. I exercise quite regularly, I eat so much better than I did a decade ago, I actively work at my mental health. Two years ago my body told me that I was defiantly not young anymore. I have aches and pains, some related to the everyday, some to my anxiety disorder, but hey, I have access to some of the best massage, acupuncture and chiropractic out there, so healing and management are easy peasy.

I started to show signs in my right shoulder of tendonitis. Not surprising statistically, given my age, gender and career choice. I am so very lucky to have a very insightful Massage Therapist of my own. As I began to get my own regular therapy for it we realized as we ‘dug’ deeper into the tissue it was so much more. There had been long buried childhood trauma there. It would take work but I was hopeful to be fully back to myself in time. It is a blessing when a therapist can calmly walk this journey with you. To observe, compassionately adjust and continue momentum. I was making great headway, modifying certain things like exercise, but healing was happening and it was not really interfering with my job. Eight months ago I fell, redamaged the shoulder, increasing the injury and setting the recovery time back.

There was a little twitch in the back of my head that I needed to get a closer look at what was happening in the shoulder. I discovered there is damage that is permanent. So much that can be progressive in it’s destruction. At some point I will be faced with the very real possibility of surgery. But it will never be the same. There is now always some awareness of pain, sometimes it is background noise, sometimes it is so much at the forefront I can’t think. It is weak in certain ways, it makes sounds, it gets hot, it gets stuck. It now has begun to interfere with my job.

I am so lucky that I have more skills to explore and I don’t think (hope) I will have to fully stop being a massage therapist. But I am facing change. I was hopeful for a long time that with a few minor adjustments and strengthening I could be mostly back to myself. Over the last couple of months, the schedule I have been trying to keep and the daily demands I need to fulfil have shown me that I need to be realistic about what I need to/ can do.

Self care has been only consistent in the actual getting of massage, which keeps me working, and I have come to discover after missing the odd regular one that it has an incredible impact on my mental health. It is amazing to me to have had the academic/clinical impression for years of what massage is capable of but until it is experienced out of need I never really understood what a life line ie can be. I am trying to get back to how diligent I was before this happened, but I know it is hard to step out of the defeatist mind. It hurts so I can’t, well if I can’t exercise I will eat the sweet junk food that brings short term comfort, I will be angry and I will begin the cycle again.

I try to exercise but am frustrated that I can not do what I could two years ago, that it fatigues faster and can not lift what it could. Where I could see six or seven clients in a day comfortably, I find now a max of four unless I am willing to compromise the quality of what I do and create a discomfort that gives me a hard time sleeping. Add that into some of my teaching responsibilities and that number I am able to do decreases.

Everyone around me is trying to be so encouraging. “You have other things you can do.” “It’s not like you have to quit all together.” I know this is meant to make me feel better but it doesn’t.

I have worked very hard to build what I have, the relationships I have, the business I have. I know that cutting it back is not the end, but it means I am not going to be the therapist I was, the one that these people have all come to rely on. I thought it would also make me feel better if I built in some referrals that could fill in for me if my hours are too restrictive, I believe I have made great recommendations, but can’t help feeling like I have failed these people somehow. And what if I am wrong, and it proves that I actually can no longer massage at all? what about then?

It will also take time for the new skills to generate any income. So what am I supposed to do there? Bills, mortgage, school fees and life doesn’t wait.

I know people are meant to be kind, encouraging and supportive, but when I try to express genuine fear, disappointment and grief over this forced change I am given the ‘there, there’ treatment. It is well meaning I know. But damn it! This fucking sucks.

I hurt, my hands get stiff, my shoulder burns and aches so much. I’ve been so proud of what I have accomplished in this realm and do not feel like I am done yet. There are times, as I try to envision and get excited about what comes next that I feel the hot tears well up, the deep sadness in my heart that takes over everything. Add to that the frustration of the chronic pain. It can drive you mad. I cry. By myself, but the tears spill fast. What I need is for this to be seen, not with a bright side at this moment, but allow me to grieve, to be angry, recognize this fucking blows! Let me be disappointed, hug me, be empathetic, be disappointed with me- I will feel better when I have made peace, but I am not there.

I love my career, I love what I have built. I am fighting as hard as I can to maintain my place here, to take care of those that have honoured me with their trust. I know in my heart they all care for me as well. Today the pain has defeated me, made me tired, made me unsure. Tomorrow I will get up and try again, keep trying for as long as I have it in me. It is a big part of who I am.

My Daughter

So bittersweet, the moment was.
You called for me.
That sweet face, my little baby girl peering out at me with glistening eyes. Mama, I need you.

Earlier, your eyes glinted with exasperation when I offered to help you with your hair. You’re old enough, you don’t need me. You can do it all yourself.

A while later, you caught my eye, I saw your face. You mouthed the words, to come with you. So vulnerable you looked.
I hold your cherished face in my hands. Wiped your shocked and surprised tears. Reassuring tones from my heart to yours. Yes, my sweet, a little piece of childhood is done, but it will be ok.

I feel the little piece of ice pierce my heart.
My baby, my baby. My heart.
Now before me, no longer the child playing with dolls.
But the beginnings of a young lady. We can not go back from here.

You still reach for me. My baby. You are crossing a threshold, we acknowledge together. You squeeze my hand. And thank me, for helping you feel safe, loved and supported. I am grateful that this is how you feel entering this transitional moment. That this is the space we have created together.
I wanted to cry, to lament, please bring back my baby, what if there were things I did not teach, what if I missed important things. How is it over so quick?! How can I guide her when I’m not ready?!

Yet….. My heart swells with pride, this sweet, funny, talented, kind, young lady was growing into her promise as a human. Gracefully, inquisitively, loved.

But my babe you will always be, in the eyes of the woman you will become.

Friends, Choices, Monsters

Sometimes I admire people who appear to have a lack of empathy, a lack of concern for others.
There are times I wish I could not feel, worry, care or hurt. Times I wish I could scream fuck this and fuck you and not care where the chips land.
But I’m not. I crave understanding ( and to be understood). The why, the how, the scope of experience that created the situation. Motivation for causing pain. Motivation for dropping seeds of deliberate discord in situations.
I try so hard to understand why I spend time on these considerations, when it seems very few around me do, other than wanting to use my anxiety disorder as an excuse for how they treat me. But rarely as a reference for understanding and empathy.

This often plays into my anxieties when I can’t get answers, my monsters will twist and pick apart a situation, creating a space for me to want to make it better at huge cost, and/or creating such paranoia that the train derails into not trusting anyone’s motivation in my life.

There is plenty of ideas out there that it can be a conscious decision. Hanging on or letting go is something to be decided- you are only stuck if you believe you are. Let go of attachment. Let go of resentment. Let go of hurt. Sounds easy. But it’s far from that.

Friends: reason season lifetime

My life in the last few years had been a whirlwind of self discovery, change, growth, dismantling and creation.
Hitting middle age and deciding to break out of toxic patterns and explore myself and the world around me has been fraught with more pain ( and beauty) than I thought.

I’ve always adored that I had a close knit crew around me. We would get together often, laughs, drinks, interesting conversation, shared life events. I believed these people would all do their best to support me as I believed I did for them.

The flux was hard, but I relied on my sisterhood to keep me standing. The long-standing friendships, the new ones being built.
We are a few years past the marked start of my passing into what I feel is my rightful version of Womanhood. So much unforeseen. While I relied on my ‘sisters’ to be my sounding boards, I believed they also understood the scope from where I was speaking. That if they believed I was far misguided in my journey they would nudge me in the right direction, not insinuate themselves into it covertly and create far more destructive vibrations.

In amidst much stuff going on, I was made aware of some things that had been put into play. These well placed and seemingly ‘concerned’ statements as well as bolder actions created a much more uncomfortable situation that did not need to exist. That, in hind sight, I should have dealt with far less humorously than I did.
I had to first deal with a fall out that came with the immediate situations. I pushed passed the hurt I felt at the time to find my footing.
But I soon realized that what had happened made me question many things. Question myself and how I am perceived. I found myself having to explain who/why I am in ways I never thought I would. I took for granted, that as people got to know me, it would be identified that my life had shaped me into a deeply feeling, dramatic, sometimes intense human. Never setting out to harm, confuse or bring ill-intent, just working at connections, depth and discovering parts about myself that I thought were pretty interesting. But all of this was framed poorly and misrepresented. When the far reaching scope came into focus I was embarrassed, humiliated and beyond hurt.

I initially tried to apply understanding and compassion- what was going on in this person’s life that warranted this interference? Was it all a misunderstanding? Considering they had mostly withdrawn from me long before this all took place, I could not fathom why they spoke from an unknowing place.

I tried asking, this being very hard for me, given my anxiety issues, but I tried. This was met with a nothing, no defence, no denial, no explanations, no outright admission, no compassion for the position I was in, or the amount of trouble this caused in my life.

So, I made a conscious decision of letting it go, there would be no answer, no resolution. Separate as best I could. Trust the healing with those that desired it.
I have to grieve the friendship that meant so much to me.

Yet it’s hard, because the spiderweb connections that bind us are still very present. I tried to do the adult thing and not ask for sides to be taken. But I think in the process I have underplayed how much this has shaken and wounded me. I was (this is a piece of my anxiety) hopeful that others that are around me would rally, be protective and let it be known it was not acceptable. I was (am) not looking for any grand gesture, any big confrontation on my behalf, but I never asked, it never happened.

The hurt surfaces every so often. I try to not get into the victim mentality. Sometimes the lines of the web seem purposely tweaked, so I’m made aware of the ties that still bind, I can’t help but feel that this is a personal poke. It awakens the hurt, anger and humiliation.
I can see where it has shaken my trust and perception of myself, others. My circle, my clan I adore, feels wobbly.
In light of this and a few other issues, my once open door, full table and social house has closed down to almost nothing.

I miss it, them, the beauty of my whole village coming together, the sense of belonging. I second guess motivation, perception and intent. I panic if I think mine has been misperceived.
There are still many in my circle I love, and would ferociously defend, and hope that they feel the same.
Even though I have made the decision to no longer fucking care ( as I screamed at the ether)- putting into practice is much harder than I realize. It is continual reminders, self talk and forgiveness. To be ok with still feeling hurt, angry, and grieve. To work at no expectation that anyone else will care that this is how I periodically feel. Someday I hope to be done with it. Someday I hope I heal from the wound. I hope that the shakiness I feel will subside and my confidence will return to what it should be. I hope to take my power back.

I believe in sisterhood
I believe in kindness
I believe in love
I believe to not compete but to uplift
I believe to build up not tear down
I have to believe