April 8, 2017

Sat at a franchise wing place playing that TV bar trivia thing, and we had 15 questions straight on Greek mythology.

I think I got 12. Missed one about Pegasus.

I got Echo and Narcissus right. She faded away because she loved him too much and nothing was left of her but her voice. I know how she feels.

I know the 12 Herculean tasks. Completed a few.

Sometimes I forget who gets his liver eaten daily by vultures and who has the rolling rock.

I got that one right. Prometheus and Sisyphus respectfully.

One must imagine Sisyphus happy. Albert Camus

Oh Albert, all due respect, NO HE FUCKING ISN’T.

I should know. Neither am I.

I just looked up why Sisyphus was punished. He was a fucking asshole. Killed a lot of people, chained Hades so no one could die, stole a river nymph and tricked Persephone into a pardon. He was a fucking douche bag of a king and husband.

Even at my worst.

No not even at my worst.

My Gods are the old ones. I have said this before. The ones that displayed human emotions joy, pain, revenge.

What did I do? Why have you forsaken me?

Not even at my worst.

Yet Like Sisyphus I am bound to hell. (Sad Cat Diaries)

I was bawling all the way home.

I will bawl again before this is over. Wait for it…there it is.

In my habit of doing things over and over even when they make me cry, my new ear worm is Kaleo All the Pretty Girls. It’s on repeat. It’s not getting easier, especially the end…

I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait for you. Over and over and over.

Not funny, none of this is funny.

But for now, a little dark humor.

What do Camus, Einstein and Britney Spears have in common.

Me at the moment.

Einstein said Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

Part of the crying is me realizing I might be kinda insane. No matter what I try it turns out the same. And yet tenacious me keeps trying.

Camus is asking me to decide if I am content with picking different rocks that all have the same roll.

Half the time I barely get them started up the hill lately before they roll away on me.

Bullets/boulders dodged perhaps?

I am not happy.

So, how do I get out of this loop?

Persephone pardoned Sisyphus. But she herself was bound to hell through the winter. Sounds familiar too. Can we imagine her happy? I think so. Prolonged summer days made all the sweeter by months locked away. She is both the patron god of spring and all things pretty and the queen of hell. If the goddess slipper fits, don’t mind if I do.

Speaking of hell…

Went to buy a used car alone. Mercury/Hermes/Daddy has already entered shadow phase, but I love my job and wanna keep it so. Herculean task unavoidable and accomplished. Got turned down for credit, the name on my credit score is that of my first ex common law husband. Beattie. The fuck you say?

Hit me baby one more time.

He was a drunk. And not a fun one.

He did hit me, I left after the one more time.

So that’s Britney out the way.

Which begs the question what of my old ones? The men I dated in the time called before. They were not godlike at all. And to be completely honest I wouldn’t spare a drop of piss if I found any of them on fire. I don’t feel bad about, I am sure they feel the same.

I didn’t love them. I didn’t know how.

Maybe that’s my sin. Thinking I know anything about love.

I am getting better, or I thought I was. Do the insane have bouts of lucidity where they realize they’re nuts or is it just one long boat ride along the river of Denial…hmmm.

“The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart.” Again Albert I gotta disagree here.

My heart hurts and this is becoming its natural state of being.
How long can a bruised thing last before it rots?

Maybe I am Ariadne alone on an island waiting on Dionysus.

Sail on by, sail on by for now
They play naked in the water
You know it’s hard, heaven knows I’ve tried
But it just keeps getting harder.

Summer is so close I can almost taste it, the sun will hang in the sky like a golden apple and I’ll play naked in the water and pretend winter isn’t coming.

“You have seen my decent now watch me rise”.

No, fuck you. Where were you when I was falling fucker?

You saw me tripping and you just let me fall?  What the fuck is wrong with you?

No I couldn’t catch myself…my hands were full catching him and him and her and that guy over there and oh ya the dog and I was driving with the other hand and moving something heavy.

Fuck.

I am not a juggler. I am just a girl.

You don’t get to watch me rise. Get off my Instagram, don’t read my blog, Facebook is on lockdown.

I revoke my invitation.

No sanctuary for you. I cannot. There is no room at the inn.

 

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I wrote that a long time ago. 363 days ago to be exact. Can’t remember why nor about whom. I don’t care to.

Past has passed.

No one is coming to save me.

The opening sequence for Florence and the Machine’s video for What Kind of Man reminded me.

Him: I heard you talking in your sleep last night.

Her: What were you doing?

Him: I was watching you, you seemed sad

Her: Why didn’t you wake me up?

Him: I didn’t want to intervene, you seemed like you were suffering somewhere else and I didn’t think it was my place to drag you out of it so I just let you be

Her: So you just let me suffer?

Seriously, what kind of man loves like this?

I’ve had more than my share of them, no more.

There is a term for those people, “fair-weather friends/lovers”. Only want to be around when conditions are favorable. I have systematically eradicated them from my life, the leeches too. I was musing yesterday that if I had back all the money I had spent rescuing other people I could easily put half down on a condo. Maybe more.

I lived for a long time with little to no self-preservation.

I preserved others for sure, I was a human life-preserver, if you were drowning I’d come get you and keep you afloat.

I don’t regret it per say, but the hurt from being used and turned away when I was in need would be overwhelming if I chose to dwell on it.

So I don’t.

I’ll be waving my hands
Watching you drown
Watching you scream

Clumsy, Our Lady Peace

The times I drowned alone with others just watching from the shore were equally painful.

There are 2 prevalent attitudes…
1- Those who have suffered and think because they did, others should as well.
“I didn’t have it easy, why should you.”
2- Those who have suffered and will do anything in their power to make sure others do not.
“I didn’t have it easy, let me help you.”

Guess which one I am.

The amount of money I earned and never saw a penny of at the farm was a lot, the amount of mortgage I paid out for a house I was constantly cast out of was beyond ludicrous.

Today marks the 5^th anniversary of me having to pay out $1500 to my ex to get my dog back, I paid $700 for her in the first place even though she was supposed to be a birthday gift. Ex hubby had a penchant for ‘what’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine’. And ‘forgetting’ when I handed over my paycheques.

But enough about him.

Alice is snoring on the chaise lounge right by the heater in my cute, clean apartment. I have a nice life that I built on my own from old lessons and sheer tenacity.

I am surrounded by friends who ebb and flow with me. Picking each other up out of harm’s way or whatever messes we find ourselves in and gently setting each other down. Rising and falling like the tides, mostly floating. And so it goes.

No one can take these things from me.

Same goes with my semblance of self.

The things I have become.

I am incredibly self-aware. I know exactly what I am doing 99% of the time and I know why.

I also know my shortcomings and I work to tame them, lest they have a negative impact on others. I know I am prone to being late so I set several alarms and all clocks are set to slightly different times so I never know exactly what time it is. It’s kind of fun to time travel between the kitchen and the porch.

And I am still late sometimes.

I still falter and fall too. There are things I cannot control, I have a handle on my emotions most of the time, but on occasion they hit like tsunamis and all I can do is grab onto something and hope.

Or this

‘My mouth is a fire escape. The words coming out don’t care that they are naked. There is something burning in there.‘
Andrea Gibson

Fires and floods, acts of god and mama nature.

I am what I am and a massive part of that is authentic. I allow myself to feel what I am feeling, I let it come and confront it as is.
I don’t hide or seek outside help or validation.

I spent 40 something years trying to love myself… I don’t have that kind of time to convince someone else. (Unknown)