July 16, 2011
Dear ***,
It's been a while since we've talked, and that's probably my fault. I know your not the most social creature to begin with, you're not the one to reach out to people, but you are always happy when they do. This is a fact that I haven't forgotten about you and at times, I'm sad I let our friendship fade to the level it is at now - random comments to each other on Facebook. To be truthful, I'm not sure how we could be friends on the same level these days, as things have completely changed in my life. I haven't been to the pub in a weeknight in, well, ages and my weekends are spent chasing my little one around. No more beers by the river, no sleeping in till dinner time on weekends, no spending nights out till the wee hours anymore.
I do keep up with you when I do see you and of course, Facebook has allowed everyone to keep up with (or stalk) people in a completely new level. You are one person I regularly stalk. I do so not only because I regard you highly as a person and I believe you are one of the few people with a very true heart, but I do so because I worry about you and keep up with you in hopes I see the day you smarten up and move along.
I know that sounds harsh, so let me explain.
I love you, you know that. You are, like I've said, one of the few people I met with a heart so willing to give and help that it leads as an example of pure empathy for me. You are tough, you are strong but your core is so soft and loving that I worry about it being crushed. Its people who are strong on the outside who are hurt the easiest, I know this as I tend to have the same hard as nails exterior and soft, sensitive inside that you do. I believe that's why we got along so well those six to eight months we spent all that time together drinking and talking. I learned a lot about you then, things that I still keep close to my mind and heart.
To be blunt, I hate to see you get emotionally taken for a ride, which appears to be the case.It has been the case for years. You were blinded by an insane amount of attraction years back and to this day, it holds you captive. Your willingness to give the shirt off your back to those in need has really perpetuated this relationship of take. There is no real balance between the two of you - the really never was after you stopped dating. You seem to hold on, keep her at arms length, hoping for a chance, hoping to be the fall boy when she gets her heart broken, hoping to be there when she falls to catch her, help her, love her and in return, hope she would love you back in the same way. I know what its like, I've been that person in a relationship and it's a very hard place to be in. Its self-mutilating, and it is very, very hard.
I suppose being on the outside of this relationship you two have, people would just see it as you being a caring, loving, maybe slightly enamoured friend, but as I've been there at the very start of this relationship and know both of you well, I have some insight that makes it hard for me to watch this.
Part of me thinks you keep so close to her, keep being her fall to guy in the hopes that she will see the light, realize how wonderful you are for her and stay with you, love you and keep you happy.I know for experience that this won't happen, I know from my understanding of the both of you that this won't happen. I've been in the same situation, I've done it to myself time and time again and I've only come up battered and bruised. I've only come up hurt more. Of course I could never let my enamoured know how much this hurt me, how angry I got when they would fall back on me after a relationship broke down, only to leave me in a blink the moment a new and more exciting conquest presented itself. It's a tired cycle and it happened again and again and again for me and I see it happening again and again and again for you.
And trust me, its not that she doesn't know how you feel. She knows, she understands completely but she is not cut from the same cloth as you. She, despite her sensitive outside, knows you will always be there, understands the deep feelings you have for her and has no issue abusing that friendship as she sees fit. I think that is the part that hurts me the most. I hate to think the worst of anyone and I hate to believe someone would be as cold and calculating as she is but truth be told, I've not only witness it from this far back, I've seen it up close when we all used to be friends, when our big group spend time together often. I've seen this cycle perpetuate itself over and over again between the two of you and it hurts me every time.
The last time I saw the two of you together was a few months back, at a club. She was there with her new beau and you and I sat at my table and observed and wondered about the whole situation. I could see in your body language that you were uncomfortable and a bit upset. How could you not? She was carrying on with this guy right across the table from you. Ever since that evening I couldn't stop returning to the relationship you share with.
You would argue, as I know you would, that she is not at fault, and that she loves you. And I know this is probably true, that she does carry some love for you and all that you give her, but she also knows that no matter how much she emotionally abuses you like this, you'll always be there for her.
That's some strange, very fucked up power to give someone, specially someone who may not be the most moral candidate for power like that.
I know I've said a lot of things that could be regarded as harsh and cruel and that is not something I take lightly. I don't like to be considered those things, not ever. But this is something that I have been thinking about, been stewing on for years. It hard for me to even admit that this crosses my mind because really, its none of my business the relationship the two of you forge together and many may think this is vengeful on my part, but truth be told, its not. She can be capable of love, of understanding, but she also can take for granted those who provide her with the most strength and support.
With love....
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Forgivness
January 6, 2011
To my dear, defunct therapist:
We never talked about forgiveness when I was having my sessions with you in the summer of 2010. Why didn't we? I suppose we never got to that point as we were still dealing with my current emotional issues. I suspect if I had gone on and continued to see you past the free sessions provided through work, we might have touched on that subject.
I kind of wish we had because I'm stuck in a moral dilemma. I'm holding an awful grudge and its one I really don't see growing out of any time soon.
It's strange because the person has given me a heartfelt apology and I know they really meant it. They also have been treating me with great respect and love since the incident, but somehow, I just can't shake it and I don't feel I will any time soon.
I am wondering, oh my defunct therapist, if this will pass? Will I one day be able to just dump this along with so many other things?
I better...
If not, I think you and I will be having our monthly meetings again...
Regards,
Me
To my dear, defunct therapist:
We never talked about forgiveness when I was having my sessions with you in the summer of 2010. Why didn't we? I suppose we never got to that point as we were still dealing with my current emotional issues. I suspect if I had gone on and continued to see you past the free sessions provided through work, we might have touched on that subject.
I kind of wish we had because I'm stuck in a moral dilemma. I'm holding an awful grudge and its one I really don't see growing out of any time soon.
It's strange because the person has given me a heartfelt apology and I know they really meant it. They also have been treating me with great respect and love since the incident, but somehow, I just can't shake it and I don't feel I will any time soon.
I am wondering, oh my defunct therapist, if this will pass? Will I one day be able to just dump this along with so many other things?
I better...
If not, I think you and I will be having our monthly meetings again...
Regards,
Me
Sunday, October 31, 2010
What the heck?
October 30, 2010
Dear W,
Today has been less than perfect, that's for sure. I'm not feeling myself today, I haven't been from the first moment I woke up. I probably should have better communicated that, but it seems like things were too far gone to go back to that and let you know.
What happened today? How did things get so carried away? We reached the peak of the mountain and instead of us starting the climb back down to normality, things just leveled at the climax and that is where we've been stuck, all day.
I do feel we've calmed - both of us, since this morning. I'm still hurt, but I not as worked up as I was. I'm not sure what got me going. Why was I so stressed out over those little errands?
I think life in general is just stressing me out these days. I feel stretched way to thin, I feel like I work very hard and get no where. I feel detached. After this week, I will be taking a break from things and will be taking it easy. I am promising myself this and hope it works out.
Tomorrow is Halloween. The day is going to be busy. I hope it will also be better.
I love you
Dear W,
Today has been less than perfect, that's for sure. I'm not feeling myself today, I haven't been from the first moment I woke up. I probably should have better communicated that, but it seems like things were too far gone to go back to that and let you know.
What happened today? How did things get so carried away? We reached the peak of the mountain and instead of us starting the climb back down to normality, things just leveled at the climax and that is where we've been stuck, all day.
I do feel we've calmed - both of us, since this morning. I'm still hurt, but I not as worked up as I was. I'm not sure what got me going. Why was I so stressed out over those little errands?
I think life in general is just stressing me out these days. I feel stretched way to thin, I feel like I work very hard and get no where. I feel detached. After this week, I will be taking a break from things and will be taking it easy. I am promising myself this and hope it works out.
Tomorrow is Halloween. The day is going to be busy. I hope it will also be better.
I love you
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Apples, Cinnamon, Sugar, Flour, Butter
Dear S,
I made Apple Crisp last night. I've always found the process soothing. It's simple, I usually have the ingredients hanging around and I feel something incredible every time I make it. Apple crisp will always remind me of you.
I was young when things weren't that wonderful for you, but I remember it clearly. I was working my first job, I was 16. Sometimes, the memories are so clear of the events in your life at the time that I wonder if they really belong to me or if they are second hand - I saw them somewhere, a movie or something and imposed myself on them. I think hard and long and always come to the conclusion that no, these are false memories, they are true and they are mine.
It was hard for me when you were in the crisis center. The tension at home was excruciating and beyond my coping skills at that time. I took every work shift I was offered at that time. I didn't want to be in the house, but out doing something that distracted me from the fact that you weren't around and you were in a safe place because you needed a safe place. That scared me more than anything. I mean in moments of pure agony I think of you and wonder how you had to feel to want to destroy yourself so completely.
Visiting you there were highlights for me. The house was peaceful and I remember doing a big jig-saw puzzle with you one day. I also remember you telling me that you made Apple Crisp the night before. You marveled at how easy it was and how wonderful it tasted and with a huge smile, I remember you saying you would probably make another dish of it that night.
When you came home from the crisis center, our house was full of the scent of fresh Apple Crisp. I suppose the act was therapeutic for you, or maybe you just craved the homey taste of the dish. I really don't know because I never asked you. Why did you always want to make Apple Crisp in those first weeks at home?
When I start to peel the apples, when I mix the flour, brown sugar and butter together and dash it with cinnamon to make the top crumble, I always think of you. I miss you, I'm proud of you and I love you.
Love,
A
I made Apple Crisp last night. I've always found the process soothing. It's simple, I usually have the ingredients hanging around and I feel something incredible every time I make it. Apple crisp will always remind me of you.
I was young when things weren't that wonderful for you, but I remember it clearly. I was working my first job, I was 16. Sometimes, the memories are so clear of the events in your life at the time that I wonder if they really belong to me or if they are second hand - I saw them somewhere, a movie or something and imposed myself on them. I think hard and long and always come to the conclusion that no, these are false memories, they are true and they are mine.
It was hard for me when you were in the crisis center. The tension at home was excruciating and beyond my coping skills at that time. I took every work shift I was offered at that time. I didn't want to be in the house, but out doing something that distracted me from the fact that you weren't around and you were in a safe place because you needed a safe place. That scared me more than anything. I mean in moments of pure agony I think of you and wonder how you had to feel to want to destroy yourself so completely.
Visiting you there were highlights for me. The house was peaceful and I remember doing a big jig-saw puzzle with you one day. I also remember you telling me that you made Apple Crisp the night before. You marveled at how easy it was and how wonderful it tasted and with a huge smile, I remember you saying you would probably make another dish of it that night.
When you came home from the crisis center, our house was full of the scent of fresh Apple Crisp. I suppose the act was therapeutic for you, or maybe you just craved the homey taste of the dish. I really don't know because I never asked you. Why did you always want to make Apple Crisp in those first weeks at home?
When I start to peel the apples, when I mix the flour, brown sugar and butter together and dash it with cinnamon to make the top crumble, I always think of you. I miss you, I'm proud of you and I love you.
Love,
A
Monday, August 23, 2010
Me, Myself and I
To myself,
Ten years ago you were 21. Think hard, what was I doing back then?
-I was in University, getting close to finishing my arts degree. I think this was the year I was in my advanced creative writing class. I had a huge crush on the strange bald funny man (funny how that hasn't changed) who sat next to me. I remember driving him home a few times after class and will never forget the day he came to class wearing a sparkly 70s style T-Shirt that said "Worlds Greatest Grandma" on it. GRANDMA. He killed me, and had I met him when I was 26 or older, I would have slept with him.
-I was a drinker. I was getting away from the weed at this time and moving more towards the bottle. Both were still pretty prevalent in my life, but the drink was winning, for sure.
-I started spending my Saturday nights at Loaded Club, a mod themed night in the dark and gross looking upstairs of the Collective, which is now an American Apparel store, which I refuse to set foot in. I have issues supporting anyone whose adverts look like child porn.
-I was seriously getting involved in Buddhism. I was learning the eight fold path and studying a lot on my own.
-I was changing. I was still living at home, but not for much longer. A few years after this, I moved in with my sister, which didn't last too long. Soon after this I moved into my first apartment by myself. I miss that place. Sure it verged on ghetto but I adored it.
I never thought life would be like this ten years after the fact. Amazing how things can change. I never pictured myself tied down, with a partner and a child, but here I am.
Amazing how things have changed. The best I feel is when my child is happy. How crazy is that? I was so selfish at 21. Ten years later, my biggest joy is sneaking into my son's bedroom at night to watch him sleep.
I never thought I'd be here and I am slowly learning to enjoy this. I'm a good mother, at times. I provide for my family, I fucking bake. Sonja was right, I AM Martha Stewart.
So where will I be in ten years? What will my life be like at 41? Will it be much different? Kiddo will be a 'tween,' thought I am sure by then they will have some other crazy name for it. What kind of Mother will I be? I want to ensure I'm calm, that I'm respected by my son, but also loved. I want to be his friend, his confidant and his security. I will be his law. Trust me, this kid will have to work hard to get any thing past me.
So this is a promise to myself to stay on the right track. Don't fall prey to things that can damage you. Stay true and focused and express true love to all, at all times. My family will survive.
Love,
Me.
Ten years ago you were 21. Think hard, what was I doing back then?
-I was in University, getting close to finishing my arts degree. I think this was the year I was in my advanced creative writing class. I had a huge crush on the strange bald funny man (funny how that hasn't changed) who sat next to me. I remember driving him home a few times after class and will never forget the day he came to class wearing a sparkly 70s style T-Shirt that said "Worlds Greatest Grandma" on it. GRANDMA. He killed me, and had I met him when I was 26 or older, I would have slept with him.
-I was a drinker. I was getting away from the weed at this time and moving more towards the bottle. Both were still pretty prevalent in my life, but the drink was winning, for sure.
-I started spending my Saturday nights at Loaded Club, a mod themed night in the dark and gross looking upstairs of the Collective, which is now an American Apparel store, which I refuse to set foot in. I have issues supporting anyone whose adverts look like child porn.
-I was seriously getting involved in Buddhism. I was learning the eight fold path and studying a lot on my own.
-I was changing. I was still living at home, but not for much longer. A few years after this, I moved in with my sister, which didn't last too long. Soon after this I moved into my first apartment by myself. I miss that place. Sure it verged on ghetto but I adored it.
I never thought life would be like this ten years after the fact. Amazing how things can change. I never pictured myself tied down, with a partner and a child, but here I am.
Amazing how things have changed. The best I feel is when my child is happy. How crazy is that? I was so selfish at 21. Ten years later, my biggest joy is sneaking into my son's bedroom at night to watch him sleep.
I never thought I'd be here and I am slowly learning to enjoy this. I'm a good mother, at times. I provide for my family, I fucking bake. Sonja was right, I AM Martha Stewart.
So where will I be in ten years? What will my life be like at 41? Will it be much different? Kiddo will be a 'tween,' thought I am sure by then they will have some other crazy name for it. What kind of Mother will I be? I want to ensure I'm calm, that I'm respected by my son, but also loved. I want to be his friend, his confidant and his security. I will be his law. Trust me, this kid will have to work hard to get any thing past me.
So this is a promise to myself to stay on the right track. Don't fall prey to things that can damage you. Stay true and focused and express true love to all, at all times. My family will survive.
Love,
Me.
Monday, June 28, 2010
The Muse
Brother T,
I'm watching you, on a cold but sunny day, skipping rocks. The date stamp on the video is this past April. April - it was cold, wasn't it? But it was also beautiful in April.
I was never able to skip rocks. I always wanted to but something about the motion just doesn't mesh with me. I grew up in the country, but never spent time at the lake or around any body of water. I think its something you need to learn young, that you have to start training your body and mind at from a small age. I'm to old to learn to skip rocks.
Now your making cake. I remember that cake. I remember, as intoxicated as I was, that you asked me to take the first piece. I still have it, sitting on a shelf in my bedroom. My piece of birthday cake from arts birthday.
Those videos seem so long ago. They are what, five years ago? It's been a lifetime since then, I think.
We've had a crazy relationship, one that baffles me but also one that I value. We both know this. This city hasn't been the same since you moved away, since I became a mother, since life changed everything about who we both were back then.
It's fine, really. It's a progression. I was young then, when I first met you. I felt beyond my years, I know I acted like I was far more that I was. What the heck did I know? I was 26 years old then and I thought I knew it all. I knew nothing, nothing at all.
It pains me now, at times, to look back and see my naive personality. I knew much but I haven't lived. When I first met you, I was started to live this crazy, young adult life. It went beyond my time with you and went on until my son was born only a year and a half ago.
I wish I often had the Bates Book. I debate asking you to send it back so I can read it, work on it, get creative with it and then send it back to you. You pushed me creatively and that damn book showed me I could do these things, I could be an 'artist' of sorts, that I could provoke people and make them think.
Art is subjective, for someone like me. I don't feel I'm 'good' at it. I can't draw, I don't paint, I am unable to play any musical instrument and my writing, as of late, has been weak at best. I lack motivation. But when I had you in my life, it was a constant. I never doubted my artistic outputs and I pushed myself so fucking hard.
What now? What's happened? I use my son as an excuse as to why I don't write as much as I should. What is my excuse for that writing being crappy once I do finally take the time to sit down and pound something out? I'm at fault, really, for being so out of practice. I made a pact to myself a while ago to write EVERY day, to carry my journal around with me always, like I used to. Do you think I have done that once since I made the pact?
I keep re-making that pact, telling myself to just get on the wagon again, start over. Bring that journal with me everywhere. Take the time to write in it, or to blog, or to create something written. To be truthful, I'm removed from the art world. I'm still here, I'm lurking. My 'fame' has kept me in some circles, has allowed me to do things and go places that I need, but I'm not putting anything out there anymore and I need to change that.
Sure, you would argue my show is a creative outlet, but to me, I've even let that slide a bit at times. I'm in a constant state of adjustment these days.
Fuck it. I need to regress a little bit, retake my writing vow and remember how much I created when I first met you. I always felt this need to bring something artist and created to the table whenever I saw you, but I also knew if I didn't bring it, or if I was lacking in anyway, you would never make me feel bad about it.
Remember that night you wanted to take those swords out on the king street and have me film you swinging them around outside the Pub? As drunk as I was, common sense kicked in and I said no way. You never made me feel like a goody-two-shoes, or anything less than your equal. For that I love you.
I miss you, Brother.
ALY
I'm watching you, on a cold but sunny day, skipping rocks. The date stamp on the video is this past April. April - it was cold, wasn't it? But it was also beautiful in April.
I was never able to skip rocks. I always wanted to but something about the motion just doesn't mesh with me. I grew up in the country, but never spent time at the lake or around any body of water. I think its something you need to learn young, that you have to start training your body and mind at from a small age. I'm to old to learn to skip rocks.
Now your making cake. I remember that cake. I remember, as intoxicated as I was, that you asked me to take the first piece. I still have it, sitting on a shelf in my bedroom. My piece of birthday cake from arts birthday.
Those videos seem so long ago. They are what, five years ago? It's been a lifetime since then, I think.
We've had a crazy relationship, one that baffles me but also one that I value. We both know this. This city hasn't been the same since you moved away, since I became a mother, since life changed everything about who we both were back then.
It's fine, really. It's a progression. I was young then, when I first met you. I felt beyond my years, I know I acted like I was far more that I was. What the heck did I know? I was 26 years old then and I thought I knew it all. I knew nothing, nothing at all.
It pains me now, at times, to look back and see my naive personality. I knew much but I haven't lived. When I first met you, I was started to live this crazy, young adult life. It went beyond my time with you and went on until my son was born only a year and a half ago.
I wish I often had the Bates Book. I debate asking you to send it back so I can read it, work on it, get creative with it and then send it back to you. You pushed me creatively and that damn book showed me I could do these things, I could be an 'artist' of sorts, that I could provoke people and make them think.
Art is subjective, for someone like me. I don't feel I'm 'good' at it. I can't draw, I don't paint, I am unable to play any musical instrument and my writing, as of late, has been weak at best. I lack motivation. But when I had you in my life, it was a constant. I never doubted my artistic outputs and I pushed myself so fucking hard.
What now? What's happened? I use my son as an excuse as to why I don't write as much as I should. What is my excuse for that writing being crappy once I do finally take the time to sit down and pound something out? I'm at fault, really, for being so out of practice. I made a pact to myself a while ago to write EVERY day, to carry my journal around with me always, like I used to. Do you think I have done that once since I made the pact?
I keep re-making that pact, telling myself to just get on the wagon again, start over. Bring that journal with me everywhere. Take the time to write in it, or to blog, or to create something written. To be truthful, I'm removed from the art world. I'm still here, I'm lurking. My 'fame' has kept me in some circles, has allowed me to do things and go places that I need, but I'm not putting anything out there anymore and I need to change that.
Sure, you would argue my show is a creative outlet, but to me, I've even let that slide a bit at times. I'm in a constant state of adjustment these days.
Fuck it. I need to regress a little bit, retake my writing vow and remember how much I created when I first met you. I always felt this need to bring something artist and created to the table whenever I saw you, but I also knew if I didn't bring it, or if I was lacking in anyway, you would never make me feel bad about it.
Remember that night you wanted to take those swords out on the king street and have me film you swinging them around outside the Pub? As drunk as I was, common sense kicked in and I said no way. You never made me feel like a goody-two-shoes, or anything less than your equal. For that I love you.
I miss you, Brother.
ALY
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