i am heavy with sadness. the beasts i've been running from are close behind me, panting hard...it's all catching up after years of what feels like living as a deranged woman in an asylum, forgotten. like Camille Claudel. i don't know if you saw the film. i love the part when Camille discovers her over-bearing less-talented ego maniacal ex-lover Rodin no longer wants her. in her heavy skirts over long roads she stumbles to Rodin's home and with a guttural wail throws herself on his front stairs, like they said it'd be in hell, with weeping and gnashing teeth. WHOA- DAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!! WHOA-DAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!
i can say this about moving, know why you're moving before you do it. now that it's over if i'd known what was coming i'd have done n-o-t-h-i-n-g. so, you figure it out. or plan what you can and let god figure out the rest.
i need to ramble a bit today as I'm brewing up another head of steam and it usually goes like this then maybe i reach something coherent. a subtitle from '30 days to a simpler life' reads "get it written not right." the authors refer to their ability to diverge, deflect, ramble, and procrastinate when all you really need to do is write, not necessarily get it right. that's what editors are for....
back to Camille and the stalkers, mine that is. if you're a fan of the now defunct series "six feet under", you'll remember that David, the 'gay' brother spends an entire episode held captive by a sneering-nasty-faced- punk who robs, assaults and finally baptizes his prey in gasoline. alas David petrified by the attack goes a little crazy. although it was a smidge wearisome, i understood while helpful people surround him, he is unable to find peace until HE faces his nemesis. and it takes time.
let me tell you what's happened in my life in the last two years. marital separation and abandonment, financial ruin, divorce, a new career, a great friend suddenly died, my fat, funny hooker-of-a-cat died of an uber-aggressive blood disease, the only therapist who really helped me died of cancer, i grew to hate my career choice, two days before i moved my grandmother died, i moved, i was in a car accident, and a few days ago a strange intimidating man rang the door bell at 4 am begging for money. that's not everything, there's more but why bother. the point is this: i have little white spots appearing on my arms and legs, a result of stress I'm told. that's not the point either...the point is that this is my process of becoming awake. of shedding old dead skin. of coming alive to the possibilities in my life that I've neglected and abandoned. when I weary of accepting mediocrity and stop believing bald faced lies about who I am and what are my capabilities. some part of me wants to believe that all this madness is a result of a whacked world. i also want to believe that life just gets harder, that we are our choices, that 'our sins will find us out'. i want to believe that I'm doomed, fated to weigh myself down with stones and walk into the waters.
and guess what? I'm still angry. I'm angry that my parents neglected me. I'm angry that they cared so little about my education. I'm angry that I feel like a dumb slow idiot. I'm angry that people who find me attractive treat me like I'm 'attractive' and not smart. I'm angry that I've accepted these assessments as truth. I'm angry that i took 'no' at face value in many circumstances and rather than trust my real guts I fell back in shame and terror, a cripple. I'm angry that I've been either self-conscious and shy most of my life, you wouldn't know it to read this but it's true.
i'm tired of running.
i've read when you sense you're being followed and are in a relatively public place you should turn and confront your 'stalker' loudly, in order to draw attention to him/her, to shame them into disappearing.
my blog may be the place i shout against my past, my fears, my hopes even. to bring to light, relief, strength
and courage.
i'm tired of running.
Comments