damascus-may-27-078

The question was posed. “What are you afraid of?”  As in, what am I afraid would happen if I was stripped of all my pretense and all my walls, and all my bullshit?  I would be exposed. Naked. Unsure of who or what I am. I’ve been running for so long I have no idea what it means to rest. What it means to sit alone with myself and actually find one little bit of information about who I am.OK. That’s not totally true.. I have an inkling….  but still I run. Like a dog in the desert. Parched, starving, bones exposed, still running toward a non-existent horizon. Because I am afraid. If I stop, I will have to feel. The pads of my paws are raw. I have many scars. I’ve run through rivers, valleys, barbed wire fences, over ragged hills, past the blazing fires on the side of the road. Shotguns roaring in my ears. My legs buckle, my lungs collapse. I am sprawled on the side of the road panting and desperate for air. But here I am. And the sun is rising. Hot. Unrelenting. I gather my strength and pull myself up. One more dash for home. A home I have to build from the ground up with the last ounce of resolve that remains. Digging, clawing at the ground. No longer able to run. Clawing back to the embryonic state of unlearning all I have learned. Blank. Fresh. Searching for a bit of water and a respite from the sun.  When will it begin? Now? Seems like a good time.

A good night’s sleep.  A new school year. A new morning. A beautiful daughter. A fresh start. A grateful nod to the Universe.  And to friends and family who never let me down.  9/9/09 !!

9 = forgiveness , compassion and success.

Drowning2

I took a blanket and a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes to the beach. I was determined to walk into the icy waters of Puget Sound and either freeze or drown or both. It was past midnight. I chose the most beautiful part of Alki beach.. the very private and lovely Lowman Beach. On a very secluded street, I parked in front of the Rubber Ducky Museum, which is a favorite landmark amongst locals and my daughter especially.  It is extremely precious. Sidewalk fountains adorned with rubber duckies of all styles, tiny water slides into a little pool, a shrine for  the rubber ducky. …. amazingly never touched by vandals.. I thought of how my daughter loved that place  as I parked there planning my exit from the world.

I sat on the beach for a while, drinking straight from the bottle. Smoked a cigarette. And then proceeded to walk into the water. It was amazingly NOT cold. I swam out pretty far from the shore. I turned onto my back and floated, looking at  the night sky and the moon. It was beautiful. Then I remembered why I was there and tried to force myself below the water. I could not. I kept emerging. My self wouldn’t let myself annihilate myself. I floated for a long time. It seemed like hours. Time was frozen. The tide carried me down the beach. I became disoriented. I swam to shore but I was now in an unfamiliar place on the beach. Nothing but rocks and craggy sharp edges. I could not stand. I think my muscles had frozen from the cold. I kept falling and cutting my hands and legs. Hitting my head on the rocks. I tried to crawl. I was getting nowhere. I laid there and decided I would just die from exposure. Then I started crying out for help. There were houses up the hill. Nobody was around. I was alone and cold and wet and bleeding.  I gave myself one last push to find my way back to where I had started and somehow crawled and stumbled back there.

A couple was sitting on the beach by the driftwood logs with bottles of liquor. The girl wanted to help me. The guy seemed incapacitated – he could not get up either…funny…and he kept telling me to come lie down by him. I just sat there crying. The girl had a cell phone and asked who she could call to help me. I had her call my ex husband. I tried to find my purse and blanket which were nowhere to be found. I had no cell phone, no nothing. I figured the tide had taken them out to sea. Time had no meaning. I was lost.

After making the call, the couple decided they’d better get the hell away from me. Certainly I was trouble. They gave me a towel and left. I was freezing. Frozen solid sitting on a driftwood log. I decided to try to go to the street to see if my ex was looking for me. A resident of the hood  was walking down the sidewalk ,  all well dressed and handsome. I can only imagine what he thought seeing me stumbling around the sidewalk with soaking wet sandy clothes and a towel wrapped around me. He asked what I was doing and I told him I had tried to drown myself. He called the only two numbers I could remember. Again the ex husband and the ex boyfriend.  No answers. He called 911. He called his wife to tell her he had found a woman who had tried to kill herself and he had to stay  till help arrived. I went back to the shore to look for my stuff. I couldn’t see or feel my limbs by this point. My glasses had somehow managed to stay on my face but I still could see nothing in the dark. There was nothing.

Eventually my  husband arrived and explained to the good Samaritan that he would take me home. No 911 needed, although they were on their way. He drove me home. He left me alone in my apartment. I took a really long steaming hot shower and then put on my warmest pj’s. It took hours to warm up.

I brushed myself with near death. Stupid. Selfish. Self-centered. Wanting out of the struggle. But then I couldn’t do it. I am still here. And write here for your entertainment. Feel my pain. I want you to. Things will be better in the morning. I’m sure of it.

pawleys

I have a separate dream blog but the dream I just awoke from was so powerful and revealing I have to share here. Basically I was back in South Carolina at the beach with friends, old and new. Lifetime friends, a new man who was extremely hot and promising.. indeed the dream was sex filled and left me longing upon the several wakings I had during the night… I also woke up crying a couple of times. The South Carolina coast, Pawley’s Island, Litchfield Beach and Murrel’s Inlet in particular, are the most beautiful, peaceful and genteel places on earth. Right here in the old USA. I must admit I say that having never traveled outside the US other than to Canada and Mexico. At any rate, having grown up vacationing at  those ” elegantly shabby” beach towns I have a special place in my heart for them. Although development is continuously threatening to encroach, last time I checked (and it’s been a few years)  the beaches remained pretty under-developed and natural.  Clean sand, warm water in the summer, flat, rock free beaches. I mention rock free cause here in Washington the beaches are brutally unfriendly with their rocks, boulders and frigid waters. Pretty yes, but not meant for swimming or getting in to and having the sensual experience of being in the water, being with the water and the waves… at least not for this east coast native.

In my dream coastal towns of SC, the inlets have marsh grasses, crabs, fish, shrimp. Long docks out into the waterway where you can sit in the little gazebos at sunset and tie chicken necks to a long string, drop them in the water and come up with a crab dinner in about a half hour.  In the morning, take the shrimp nets and drag them through the more shallow waterways and have a fresh shrimp dinner after an afternoon of “heading” them in the shade of  a huge moss draped oak tree.  Take a jon boat to one of the small  inland waterway islets and sit in the silence with nothing but ocean birds and waves lapping at the pure white sand.  Get a hammock and a screened porch and have a cold beer at sunset.  It’s pretty much paradise as I recall.

But I digress. The dream was the usual combo platter of me looking for love, looking for a coffee cup and coffee, looking for a private place to shower (we were all staying in the large, luxurious but still a lovely kind of rustic beachfront house of my childhood friend Christina) and there I was  looking , looking, longing. At one point my friend Barb and I were in some public waterfront place , a marina perhaps, and looked out the window where a crowd had gathered to watch a spectacularly weird occurrence of a huge school of dolphins swimming in the canal out front while the Seattle Mariners and The Sounders where also doing some choreographed routine along the bank of the canal. The Mariners, the Sounders and Dolphins!!! All at once?? I had to have pictures, but had a hard time capturing the dolphins on camera, they were always just out of my lens view. Why a baseball team and soccer team from Seattle were in there,  I have no idea. I don’t even go to the games or consider myself a fan in any way .

Bottom line. The coast of SC is where I have always planned to retire. My life is currently at a crossroads. I woke up mumbling and crying “I have to go back. I have to go back.” As in, I have to leave Seattle and return to my home. I think I do.  This could be part of the alcohol free, new antidepressant, good night’s sleep cocktail I am enjoying, but I think not. I think my core psyche comes out when I’m not smacking it down nightly. This is just the tip of the iceberg.

Now I must start looking at how to realize the dream of heading to Pawley’s Island. The only thing I have in Seattle is a job (a hot commodity these days, I know), a few friends and a reputation. Stagnant. Inertia. Much work to do.

patchen3

If you give up and surrender then change can come into your life. I have to give up all of my beliefs, all of my concepts, and start over. Re-learn the world. Like a toddler, I will simply stumble around in a gleeful blissful state of not knowing anything. Because everything I have learned, everything I have believed in, everything I thought I knew has been wrong.  I believed I had a chance of  an increase in my hours at work. I believed that I might be making more money and be able to improve my living situation, I believed that things couldn’t get worse, I believed that I had a chance.  Well I’m not getting more hours at work, I’m not going to be making more money. In fact, I’ve even had an hour cut from my schedule. It’s just an hour, but still.  I believed that I could pull myself out of this hole of depression and madness. I believed that I was funny and attractive. I believed that I could carry off faking it a little longer.

It’s all off the table. I’m going to surrender. And I think surrendering to some form of god is the only thing left for me. I don’t know which form of god. But I have to give myself up to something bigger than myself. Let someone or something else take over for a while. Cleanse my mind, my soul, my body. Wipe the slate clean and start over. What am I talking about? I don’t know . I’m on the reference desk and slightly sedated with the help of some valium in order to make it through the day without a constant stream of tears running down my face. Crying is cleansing but it also wrecks your makeup and makes you look like a crazy person on the reference desk.  I bought some Lotto tickets.  I’m taking my dog to the rescue people next week. I’m going to have my paycheck garnished by several creditors. But in the end it’s only money. My daughter has relatives who can care for her if I cannot. We’ll just wait and see what happens.  I like valium.

watermelon

Good Lord. Lost my mind for  a minute or a few years. Whatever. Reading back over this shit blog makes me feel like a smart misguided idiot.   I think I got it now. Thank you karma, thank you pain. Thank you joy. Thank you for letting me hate myself forever. Thank you for the nonstop challenge. Thank you for lettin’ me be mice elf again…..     thank you for life.

crazy-cat

I am once again revisiting  the eternal struggle to wash my brain of  the boy.  To find the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The ups and downs of  this relationship have been documented in this blog for a long time.  I am not clear on why I cannot get over him. It’s been 2.5 years of continuous and alternating pain and joy.  It’s like fucking Brokeback Mountain for heterosexuals.  We’ve gone from being sorta together (boy don’t do monogomy), to being totally cut off, to being fuckbuddies, to being homemade porn stars, and now back to crazytown.  He has a new fling. A freaking 26 year old. Not that hot, but obviously she’s got something he wants for now.  I am having fucking NIGHTMARES about it all. 

While the boy is charming and funny and smart, his life is a total trainwreck.  I should be glad to let someone else deal with his drama for a while.  Would I really want him if he was mine to have? Why am I so attached? So obsessed?  There is obviously a connection there that strikes a deep and primal chord in me. The only way I can explain it is that pain and drama are so heavily ingrained in my psychological makeup, that he is the perfect fit for that very self defeating, masochistic chink in my brain.  He fills a part of me that thrives on this stuff and it makes for a very powerful addiction.  Add to that:  I just love being around him. And the sex is perhaps the best I’ve ever had. The perfect trifecta for addiction. I feel like it is going to kill me. I cannot let that happen. What the hell?  I need electro shock therapy. I need to move to another country. I can’t believe I am back here again. I guess I never really left.  Writing about it is therapy for me. In which case, I should be doing a lot more writing……..