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My friend is continuously putting the sad face emoji under my blog posts.

STAAAAAHP.

I’m not sad.

Don’t be sad for me, I did this on purpose.

Yesterday’s blog post was full of Pollyanna optimism. Not sadness.

I’ve had monumental moments of sad. Had one that lasted a whole month recently, but in there were belly laughs and adventures and an adjustment period of epic proportions, plus shark week and the realization that I can’t go home.

Cut me a little slack would ya? Fuck.

The fairy tale doesn’t start Once upon a time and cut straight to happily ever after. There are dragons to slay and sleeping princes that need waking up with a kiss. There are trolls to fight and riddles to solve. I am somewhere in the middle, writing the story as I go.

Every bit of profound sadness I get hit with just gives me a greater appreciation for the good things.

Even the tiniest high feels like soaring because of the things I have been through.

There was a meme that circulated around once upon a time. I didn’t save it so I must paraphrase…

Someone asked me why insist on taking the hard road
I answered “why do you assume I see two roads.”

That hit me like truth.

Because it is my truth.

No question mark, just the way it is.

I don’t care if things get hard, anything worth having is worth waiting and working for.

I used to take the easy road, built many paper houses on that street, so I know it exists, but it doesn’t work for me.

The easy road was staying put, not moving forward, battling to remain in a state of mediocrity with a dash of oppression for flavor. It was not being my clumsy, silly, romantic, sexual self. Instead being a watered down version of me that no one expected much from.

Fuck it sucked.

All those years wasted.

He met me way back then, the sad face friend.

I was in hell. That was my sad place.

Is that what you want for me still?

Because I don’t.

I have no desire on god’s good anywhere, for any worldly reason to play safe. Everything I want is on the other side of fear.

I understand your need for comfort and routine but that is not my way.

I will be the first to admit I do ridiculous, reckless things.

“Am I mad?” asked Alice

“You are here aren’t you?” answered the Cheshire cat

Its risk versus reward. Plain and simple.

And I am an ‘all in fly by the seat of my pants kind of girl’. And honestly? This is how I like it.

In the 5 years since my becoming I have felt, witnessed and experienced phantasmagorical things.

And I have felt profound emptiness.

Like when I left here.

I tasted something, felt something. And it was so new and magical everything else tasted like dust in my mouth by comparison. I had to come back and try again. In my mind there was no choice. Not if but “how” and “when”.

I figured out the how. Now it is a matter of when.

So yes, I took a huge leap into the void. A trust fall, and it took me a bit to land, the abyss is infinite after all.

I was given the option once to take medication to even me out, and I refused.

Had I accepted the blue pills I would probably still be stuck where I was, comfortably numb.

In limbo forever.

No thank you.

The offer of pills came from me admitting out loud that there were times when I wanted to kill myself. But the curiosity of what might come next kept me here. Curiosity killed the cat but kept me alive. Do you understand?

Besides, that was years ago, somewhere along the easy path.

Some part of me knew something good was coming and whispered it in my ear.

The same part of me that roars now “do the thing” “kiss the boy” “you got this”.

The darkness is where I learn and explore and regroup. I don’t mind it.

I am grateful for the juxtapositions and every minute of my weird little life.

I have many a man friend back home and 90% of them, at one point have stuck their dick in crazy. My job is to handle the fallout.

Tend to the wounded.

Sometimes they do it a few times before they realize yes, the stove is hot and you will get burned and all the hot sex in the world isn’t worth their sanity. Then they do it a few more times.

I get it to a degree. I myself, was once crazy. Mistaking possessiveness and jealousy for love. Being a sneaky little twat was my whole wheelhouse, it’s all I knew. Got over it after high school, then back slid like a motherfucker years later when I was married. All my old CSI training and nagging and manipulating came back harder and better.

Mind you he was cheating and lying about it the whole time, but I chose to stay even though I knew what was happening beyond all doubt, that’s on me.

Drama can be addicting when you don’t know better, there’s the adrenaline rush from fight or flight. Jealousy can feel like love if you don’t know what love is.

I didn’t know love back then. Now I do, and I wouldn’t trade its calm acceptance for anything.

I will never again be with someone who makes me that fucking crazy.

I am not that girl anymore. I kept a few pieces though, she’s now my inner bitch and on occasion she is absolutely necessary, she’s well trained in the art of war now. Especially when it comes to him, I am protective, not possessive.

I am something to behold when I am angry.

I was using my powers for evil. I see that now.

These days I reside in the lovely balance between do no harm and take no shit.

I am not saying I am sane, how could I be, I am here.

Since I got here my guard was way down and I got sucked into some crazy shit without even realizing it.

People pretending to be someone or something they are not and I was too sad to notice.

Holding on hope is exhausting.

I actually feel kinda bad for these girls who think drama is a hobby. Like no sis. Read a book, knit something, figure yourself out. It’s pretty smooth sailing on this side of things. Try it, you might like it.

I got  hit with a hurricane of batshit insane.

The weather and the women here are fucked the fuck up.

I came back to this island for a few reasons. 75% the boy, plus the ocean, the money, a fresh start and I must say, I love how most of the men out here behave.

There is something about the way the women raise their sons on this island.

I hear stories from a lot of men about how close they are with their mamas and it warms my heart. These mamas are ferociously protective and take absolutely no shit.

The result is these grown men with manners and chivalry bred in the bone.

The girls here though…

What in the actual fuck.

It’s an island full of fucking harpies. Except I don’t want to insult harpies.

They have teeth and claws and I swear the boys pay all their bills so they have nothing to do all day but sharpen them and stick them where they don’t belong, into the hearts of these good men.

Do y’all not know what love is?

Love is not stealing paycheques and passwords. Its actually giving a fuck about your man beyond what he can do for you.

Love is calm and supportive and being a safe place. Not batshit choo choo crazy train.

The motto out here seems to be a perverted version of stand by your man. It’s a fucking abomination.

Stand by him unless he’s out of town and then suck as many dicks as you can or until you find one with more money.

I can’t swing my purse on George Street without hitting 5 guys his missus has fucked, and it’s not a big purse. And he still stays with her.

I don’t get it.

I find it both flattering and frightening the sheer number of men who meet me and feel compelled to tell me how calm I make them feel, how easy it is to be around me, how soothing I am. This is a good thing considering my chosen vocation, but it breaks my heart.

The world is a cold, hard place, everyone knows this. Life is pain.

The person you choose to walk this earth with should be sanctuary.

A warm safe place

Anyone who has read all of these things I write might remember I was born backwards.

Full truth is I was breech, back down on my way out. I turned myself around in the ambulance and came out feet first.

So, in effect, it is my birthright to do everything backwards and the hard way.

I still do that.

“The ghosts of all the Women you used to be are all so proud of who you have become…” Nikita Gill

Well fuck, there it is.

I am a collection of old versions of myself. And all of us had to learn the hard way.

It’s okay.

Everything is fine.

I don’t know exactly when it will be fine, but its coming.

I already know.

This isn’t the first time I have been through this, but I know it will be the last.

I sat at the bar the other night playing cards and chatting with the bartender. He is amazing and about 20-25% of the reason I am here. About 80% of the reason I haven’t bolted in the night after all things that happened my first while here.

I would say “thank you”, but he won’t read this. He doesn’t want to go wandering around in my head, and since sometimes I don’t either, I don’t blame him.

He is getting married to a woman he was friends with for years. Said he wasn’t attracted to her until he was.

For a minute I thought, ‘how cool would that be, to go through life without knowing someone is gonna be of paramount importance at first glance.’

Then I remembered, the grass is not always greener, sometimes I have just neglected to water my lawn or it’s actually Astroturf.

I have met a more than my share of beings on this little blue and green ball flying around a yellow sun whom, the minute they spoke or I saw them, I just knew they were to be tangled in time with me somewhere. That I had something for them, to teach or to learn or I was just meant to love them.

This is not to say that I haven’t dated the wrong people or not had bad friends for a time here and there. I have. Especially in the time before my soul became quiet. After all the mayhem settled my intuition grew exponentially.

And truly, even the bad ones had lessons for me. Even if it was big glaring statements of what I didn’t want.

So I am sitting at about 100% success rate.

Especially when it comes to love.

I have experienced love at first sight twice in my life. Wherein I did things backwards, fall in love, figure out the how and why after.

I am currently struggling with the how right now. But, if I look back at the lessons upon motherfucking lessons I have learned, that isn’t exactly my job, to know the how. I showed up and I am not leaving. I will take my opportunities to speak and tell the absolute truth.

Learned all that the hard way at 13 years old. The first time.

I used to think it was a curse, that I would just ‘know’, ya know? It makes me weird, I have a hard time explaining it to people, except the important ones I guess. They get it eventually, like “huh Sarah, you were right”. I haven’t been wrong yet. I think it’s a blessing. Even when it takes them a while to catch up.

And it does.

The universe does not work on my timeline, which usually isn’t so much of a timeline as me internally stomping my feet shouting ‘but I want it now…now I said.’

And I am forced to wait.

But the things I wait for are the good things. The significant things.

I do not know about everyone else, I can only speak from personal experience, but the universe has been pretty generous with helping me run into ‘my people’. The ones who say ‘me too’ in a rousing chorus when I tell my truth. I love them, I truly do. I walked this earth so very lonely for so very long and may gods bless the internet for making it easier for us tribes to find each other.

Then there’s that next level soulmates union.

I wonder if because I meet all my tribe with such jubilation that the gods find it amusing to give me more.

I met someone last time I was here and I just knew.

I was asked today if I thought things would work out with the boy.

I do.

It’s not a matter of if, just when.

I haven’t been writing much. I have a bunch of tabs open but I can’t seem to finish anything.

This one is gonna come out a little weird. It’s been a weird week.

I got to play fairy godmama last night.

It was Diamond’s turn to cry. I still cried, don’t get me wrong, I am not sure if I have managed to keep my eyes dry 4 days out of the 4 weeks I have been here. But she got her turn and hugs and love.

I broke down later.

Sometimes it’s easier on me when someone else is sad. Makes me protective, gives me a job to do ya know? Gets me outta my head.

She wanted to sober up and make a hundred bucks. I found us a table with two nice men and ta da wish granted.

For both of us. Even though I didn’t know I needed one.

A man sat next to me and told me my soul was ready to move to the next life. I smiled way too big and my eyes leaked a bit, happy tears though.

Messages from the ether were coming in hard and fast last night.

I woke my Guru up out of a dead sleep. He had stuff to tell me.

Him: Why did your face just wake me up? Yeah, yeah, I get it. But that ain’t it.

Me: Message from the ether?

Him: What were you JUST doing?

Me: Drinking. Talking about beer pong.

Him: Maybe stop.
Or fucking completely dominate the proceedings…I sense some experimentation with your social platforms…you know what?…You are SO NOT in control of your environment right now, Chickie-Pie…
Still… you crash and nearly burn so fuckin’ elegantly…I love you
Deal with it.

Me: Fuck
That’s astute

…

I was also talking to someone who isn’t the boy

Him: Dreams. That’s all I wanna hear about. When they happen. Here.

Me: You told me to stop doing what I was doing. That I’m not in control. I know I’m not.
I don’t even know if I want to be. This whole thing has been a trust leap and free fall
I haven’t landed yet

Him: You just can’t fucking resist free fall…and your mystifying hypocrisy… is, you’re afraid of the landing. Why, Z-Baby? … You’re beyond feline pliable… But, what a cold hard heart of fear you embrace. Fuck you. Feel me? Fuck you.

Me: No no. I’m digging it. Freaked out for a bit. I okay now

Him: I Love You. For what that means, here. Now.

Me: Love you too
Am I allowed to land?

Been flying forever

Him: Nope. You haven’t finished revisiting a list.

Me: Okay

Him: There’s one name there. Jesus. Take Your Fucking Time.

Me: Do you know the name?

Him: Darlin’ … Why the fuck would I know the name? He’s a thorn, a whisper, a stomp, and song… And you meet so many of them…because, freakily enough, you WANT to…and my love goes on…

Me: Got it. Just checking. Sometimes my messages are exceptionally specific

Sent this this morning…

So ya

He messaged me an hour or two later. Also a random man told me my soul is ready to level up

It was a weird day

I sat in the bar last night trying to hold a tiny girl together and attempting to decode these messages I was getting from the cosmos.

Actually, I gotta back up a bit. I dreamt of the boy yesterday. He said I was celestial and he didn’t want to drag me down to earth with him. Him holding me was holding me back. And in my dream I said I didn’t care, he was my choice, held him anyways and all the anxiety went away. Then I woke up.

I forgot half the dream, then Guru posts this

And it all came back.

Then everything got weirder.

I actually slept proper the night before, that dream kept me asleep, I didn’t want to wake up.
Had dinner plans with a girlfriend and just a rather fabulous day in general. By the time we went for food I was feeling like my sea witchy powerful self. Got to work, did a rather good show, sober even.
Just felt better. Then Diamond teared up and I helped her.

And then, oh the fucking and then…

So once upon a time, in October, I thought I could sneak in one last visit with the Giant before the Last One wifed me. I woke up in the morning, stuffed my panties in my pocket, drove home and found myself blocked without warning or reason. But I knew. I did this.

Sabotage.

And it’s happening again.

Here is why I cried last night.

Giant messaged me and said “so this is how you felt when I left you.” and I crumbled.

I don’t want to hurt anyone like I have been hurt.

There was way more to it than that. He wants to see me, I left too soon, he misses me, I was right about everything.

He has his eye on a new girl and I said I would be happy to help, he doesn’t know what to say to her and I have all the words. Last time I helped pen a love note, they got married.

I want him to be with her.

In all honesty, he was the hardest thing for me to leave behind. So difficult in fact that I haven’t let go all the way. I see that now. Still trying to sneak in one more visit.

He was cussing me for being so far and I said I had to be.

He is so close to perfect, but deep down I know he isn’t mine.

Giant asked me if I’d met my person, and I told the truth.

He asked me if I am sure, and I answered 100%.

I said the boy’s name.

And that is when Giant said, damn this is how you felt when I left.

Ya babe. It is. and I am so fucking sorry.

Me: You were the worst. Never cried like I did over you. Like I sprained my soul.

Him: I’m learning

Me: I tried to tell you. I get it now, we weren’t done back then. I dedicated a book you. You get that right?

Him: Yes I do a little more now

Me: I want this girl for you so I can let you go.
I want my boy
He’s my person
You were so close
So fucking close
My lesson is that I don’t get to choose.
I just have to roll with it.

If you love me let me go.

Not complaining, evaluating.

I had to take sleeping pills to drop off last night. Probably the twelfth night ever in my life. I took 2 days off, I was shook as fuck and I promised myself I wouldn’t drink.

Woke up with a feeling that absolutely mirrors a hangover, except from the pills. Oh the agony of insomnia and irony.

I think I’m losing my mind this time this time I’m losing my mind.
~Beastie Boys

I’m not losing my mind. I am digging through it and doing some exploring, some of it is not pretty at all.

I’ve been through so much worse.

Not the best mantra.

I’d very much like to get outta my head now, please? I lost the key somewhere.

And my favorite earring from NOLA.

Bummer.

It may yet be found. The key too. All the things. If they are truly mine, they shall return.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r3RRrLE5IOQ

I am the key to the lock in your life…I am the pick and the axe.

And right now I am climbing up the walls ~ Radiohead

I can get a new lock and a new key, I can turn that earring into a pendant. I’m resourceful.

Overwhelmed and undercharged. 15% battery and I am hanging on by my fingernails.

I am ready to rebuild any time now universe (do you hear me?) as soon as the earth stops shaking. I forget how hard it is to trust the ground after an earthquake, especially one I caused myself with my own upheaval. I did this.

You know I almost miss my explosive rage. I would crack and there would be this amazing release.
In the moment it felt so good to explode. To hit and hurt so someone else felt as shitty as I did even for a moment. So I didn’t have to be alone in pain. I wonder if the earth feels that way.

But so much collateral damage. Unnatural disasters.

It’s been years since I snapped and there is still fallout.

I am more of a controlled crumble now.

I almost miss blaming everything on everyone else.

So much easier than looking inside and finding my fault lines, then tending to them before I cave.

I have to slow way down on the drinking and if I can’t slow down, I have to quit.

That thought has me quaking in my stripper boots.

Did you know I was not drunk in a bar until I was 26 years old? I danced sober for 2 years. How in the fuck did I manage?

I quit drinking the January before my 19^th birthday.

I started drinking at 15 or 16. I would get black out drunk and rage. I was so angry back then. I was the squeaky wheel screaming for grease.

Any attention was better than none.

Now I don’t really want any attention to be totally honest. I get shy when people notice me. It’s harder here because I am supposed to be shiny and new. Not feeling my shine. Like I deserve any attention at all.

It’s hard to accept accolades for just barely holding myself together.

Got my period the day after a meltdown #2 and though hallelujah it is finished.

Nope, one more, forgot about the rule of 3 for a minute there.

And the Lord said let there be another earthquake and there was and fuck it sucked.

Last night was hard.

Had to happen, I could see it as it was unfolding. Didn’t make it any easier to watch.

Didn’t stop the aftershocks from keeping me awake imagining scenarios.

There was a fight yesterday, and I finally saw how I used to be, right in front of me. Like an ugly mirror.

The witnesses said I had great composure. How do I admit that it wasn’t exactly calm keeping me quiet, in reality I had so much shame I was choking on it. Like that I suppose.

I heard my own voice in the screeching cyclical arguments and the twisting of truths.

How did I ever exist that way?

All that anger? All that blame thrown everywhere but where it belonged?

How am I not a pariah of my own making?

How did anyone put up with me?

And better yet, why?

In the time called before I would have had her up against the wall by her throat 5 minutes in.

Dealt with the fallout as it came.

But I am not that girl anymore.

I am the one who looks inside and tries to figure out how to get better.

And fuck it is like work.

No wonder not everyone takes this path, it is a lot of uphill, but the wide open spaces are glorious, if memory serves. It does, too well.

I have to forgive that girl I was then too, make peace with my rage.

Everyone else has.

It is not enough to deny that part of myself. I was angry. From lack of love. Love from where it should have come from and love for myself. I felt disposable, why not behave that way?

Push everyone away and then blame them. All out of fear that they were leaving.

I would have run.

But by the grace of god some of them stayed. Something in me must be worth loving, so I should probably find that part of myself and be as much of that girl as I can.

I can’t remember when I realized no one was coming to save me.
No one is coming to save any of us.
I do remember being terribly afraid for a minute, then relieved.
Light and enlightened.

It is an equal amount of work to blame everyone else as it is to look inward. And both ways are messy I suppose. Just at the end of the day when I set about rebuilding from the rubble, I can feel like I accomplished something instead of waiting around for someone to fix it for me.

If I accomplish my own successes, own my own failures and muster my own happiness from inside, it cannot be taken from me.

There really is no such place.

All the girls in the middle hear alternately that the west or the east is better. All the girls west and east hear tales of the middle and the opposite coast.

Every place is what you make of it really and so far I have made a mess here.

I am not proud.

But this is as close as I have come to home since I was part of a hand-picked group of girls chosen to revamp a club. That was my heyday. Made more money than god, no rules, no extras and I did amazing stage shows and was paid accordingly.

Before the accident, before the massive decline in the industry.

I know it’s not coming back and that is okay.

I came back.

This is my swan song.

I have 2 years left in me and then I will be “Sarah the writer”, probably bartend too. But I got about 2 weeks left in me if it keeps going this way.

You put a bunch of people with not enough supplies to go around, on a tiny island and whaddya get?

An episode of Survivor.

I don’t like games and alliances. That was my marriage. Sneaky backstabbing, head games galore.

Twisted lies and utter horseshit as I sat on the couch trying to maintain my Zen.
My mantra?
Its okay, I know what I said and I have the screenshots.

I thought I left that world behind, but out of the frying pan into the fire.

Truth be told, I would rather be in the fire, it is warmer there and I have a chance to be reborn from the ashes.

For now I am a dentist pulling teeth and a firefighter, putting out the flames as they erupt.

And an impatient, slightly charred phoenix.

But I have to remember.

My last boss sat me down at the bar one night and told me I had a small army of girls willing to do whatever I said, called me Mama Billy (my old dancing name), high priestess of the place, queen of everything, master manipulator, he went on for about 3 minutes straight. I know he was trying to make fun of me and be insulting, but there was some reverence in there and a whole lotta ‘I have no idea how to deal with you’.

Work with me then, not against me.

Bless him, after a year of fighting me on everything, he decided to start using my ‘talents’ and I gladly let him. Everything simmered down for a good long time.

That has also been indicative of a lot of the clubs I worked at, especially the last one with its iron clad hierarchy, Halo at the top and the rest of us in an unpredictable pecking order underneath.

I was Queen B, which made her Queen A.

She ruled her changeroom and I took care of the girls in mine. For the most part we had a good system going after we ironed things out. But we are both gone and all kingdoms fall apart sometimes. It can’t be helped.

I was so happy to get out of that microcosm. When it was bad it was very very bad and when it was good…it still fucking sucked.

I almost reposted https://www.ourladyoflustandgrace.com/open-letter-to-the-girls-i-work-with.html

But then I realized the butthurt is real and I remembered my last up down relationship and the fact that they take everything personally and cannot seem to grasp dates and times.

I made a couple good points in that article though. I remember why I wrote it. I had 2 girls at work that needed saving, but they were bitey venomous things. And I remember the parable of the woman and the snake. She helps said snake, gets bitten and the only explanation was “you knew what I was when you picked me up.”

I have been down this road before. At work and at home. I know how it ends.

I don’t need anti-venom if I don’t get bit. My snake charming days are behind me.

I know exactly what that was. I just didn’t hear the rattle until it was almost too late.

I am out of practice and have forgotten how to play the game. I was hanging out with a girl who I did not realize was something akin to bipolar on an upswing and she crashed and tried to take me with her.

She lied to me and about me. I cannot abide.

I am on a one strike rule. Unless you are fucking me and it’s good, then the number strikes I will allow seem to rise exponentially with the orgasms I get out of it.

Speaking of…

No sign of the boy.

I had hoped he would come after I told the ocean I was home, and him and it was his birthday.

That was a massive let down that took days to recover from. And another meltdown. Fukushima sized.

No real money yet but that is typical for here this time of year. Sometimes you can know exactly what you are getting into and still get slapped with the reality of it. Sometimes you can ignore all the signs and get slapped with that too. Hugs and punches baby, not enough hugs and too many punches.

I really do need a hug and a $1000.

Been drinking too much, the stage fright is real. So is the shyness.

Ya know, the usual.

This post seems to be about as scattered as I feel right now. Which is a lot.

The voice in my head keeps telling me to hang on, spring is coming. And I know this to be the truth. I have been here before, kneeling and reeling from way to many kicks when I was already down.

But I got back up every other time and I will again.

Fall down seven times, stand up eight.

The fun thing about being me is that eighth time, I get to fly.

When I get dragged this far, I know something wonderful is coming.

I’m realizing how hand shy I really am.
Unless I’m touching you…Ima think you’re a ghost.

Left myself that reminder in my Facebook memories.

Sadly, things haven’t changed much, ghosts in the machines, haunting me.

Lost fuckboi nation having a party in my inboxes

“I got new rules I count em”

Fuck

Been out of my room 5 times today, there is an ancient 90’s stereo ghetto blaster type thing in the kitchen of the cathouse, always dialed to a top 40’s station. And I swear to the lord 5/5 times I have been to said kitchen, I got new rules I count em hits my eardrums. It’s starting to resonate and make some sense.

One, don’t pick up the phone
You know he’s only calling ’cause he’s drunk and alone
Two, don’t let him in
You’ll have to kick him out again
Three, don’t be his friend
You know you’re gonna wake up in his bed in the morning
And if you’re under him
You ain’t getting over him

I’ve got new rules, I count ’em
I’ve got new rules, I count ’em
I’ve gotta tell them to myself

She isn’t wrong this Dua Lipa.

And maybe I keep hearing it because I am not listening.

I read somewhere once upon a time that you can be shown all the signs, but unless you are ready, it doesn’t matter.

An angel of the lord could appear in my kitchen and say “what up dummy” and give me a good shake and I would still drag my feet on some things. I think this is just part of being human.

This is a new situation for me. I always forgive these men who leave me. Welcome them back when they come scratching on my door in the middle of the night, but this is new. He wants to pick up where we left off, calling me wifey, making promises and I don’t know if I believe him or if I even want him to.

It’s like some kinda déjà vu and I don’t know how to say no.

I got new rules. Or I should.

I gotta talk about the Last One and then I have to talk to him.

Actually maybe a little chat with all the ones who have been popping up in my inboxes since I made the decision to walk away from my old life and start a new one.

Mostly I just wanna say Fuck You. You weren’t around when I needed you, you don’t get to come running when I don’t.

Fair weather fuck friends.

The old DJ from work, immortalized in Monday Night Lights…”too bad you are leaving especially now that I am single as fuck.”

Really? How am I not swooning from the romance there, Jesus wept.

Another guy from another job “Now that you’re going away I can tell you I had a crush on you”. Wasn’t a secret sweets, and I ignored it because I wasn’t interested.

High School Sweetheart thinks that now he’s divorced I should drop this life I want and built to come running out there to him. No. I am sorry, but no. 3 years ago I decided to let that go and I have no desire to pick it back up.

Legs broke? You can’t get on a plane?

Why is this always on me?

I waited 26 years 20 of which I was raising a child so sorry if I didn’t uproot my child’s life for a “maybe, we’ll see.” And sorry I didn’t stick around after you gave the generous offer of working in my province 2 days a week so we could fuck and then you could go home to your family. You know that life you built and chose and I stayed out of and respected. Just asking for the same courtesy.

Those are easy to walk away from. HSSH a little harder than the rest but see above where I have had 3 years practice.

I know why I came here.

Wait, back up, I know why I came here the first time.

A month prior to my first trip the Last One disappeared, leaving a massive hole in my soul. I was inconsolable. So much so that when Panda said ‘let’s get on a plane and work in buttfuck nowhere’ I just shrugged and said okay. Went through the motions. She was trying anything and everything to get me out of my head. And it worked. Maybe a little too well.

I felt whole here, complete and happy deep down in my bones.

Two weeks later as we were leaving, I cried.

Walked around the house like a ghost still, just for different reasons.

Home wasn’t home anymore, I left too much of myself here.

And now I am back.

Still wasn’t feeling quite right but I have realized, I dragged too much of my past with me into this future.

Time bent for me, just backwards.

I have been on a loop.

Then I read this…

Gemini (May 21-June 20)
No one can be somewhat pregnant. You either are or you’re not. But from a metaphorical perspective, your current state is a close approximation to that impossible condition. Are you or are you not going to commit yourself to birthing a new creation? Decide soon, please. Opt for one or the other resolution; don’t remain in the gray area. And there’s more to consider. You are indulging in excessive in-betweenness in other areas of your life, as well. You’re almost brave and sort of free and semi-faithful. My advice about these halfway states is the same: Either go all the way or else stop pretending you might.

http://www.freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/20180301.html

This is beyond astute, it’s super astute. It is ultra-mega supreme truth.

Oh Rob, how do I thank thee? Let me count the ways, or maybe I’ll just do as you say. The best show of gratitude is follow through.

I keep going back to that last card reading I had. First comes sacrifice, then comes love.

I have to let go and make room for the new.

The book is delayed because of a typesetting issue.

I don’t know what my excuse is.

Or maybe I do.

Whenever I am feeling like my soul is sluggish I look internally to see what I am doing not wrong exactly, but what have I not done that I could be doing.

I am behind on some things and ahead on others.

I got here a week and a day before I was supposed to.

Like today should be the day I drive to the ferry.

Never been a fan of the word should. But ya.

Shoulda woulda coulda.

I’m behind on wedding photos. Getting settled in seems to have stalled somewhere around 80%. This magical new routine and new life that was supposed to be easy, hasn’t been easy at all.

I’ve not had a successful week. Flipping my schedule was harder than anticipated, my budget was way off. There are more girls here than I thought there would be, and less customers. And the Last One showing up threw a wrench in everything.

It shouldn’t.

Logical me knows I have to let go. It was in the cards. Sacrifice comes before Love. But I thought he was already gone. And my heart doesn’t want to hurt him.

I had a dream last night that I couldn’t get my shit together in time to leave, that there was too much left hanging, that I hired some help and all they did was overcharge and rearrange everything I’d already arranged, and I couldn’t pay the bill. My stuff was in limbo. Help arrived just before I woke up. And I saw some beautiful lamps, let there be light.

I think I have mastered the art of patience, I speak fondly and frequently of the long game. But sometimes, like right about now, as the predicted forecast for this week looks like some binary code for who-knows-what 1-1-0-0-0-1-1, I must accept that I am in Atlantic Canada and I left early spring behind.

The universe knows what is best even if it isn’t on my timeline.

I think the same thing happened when I finally hit send on the manuscript for the book. I thought it would be easy to sell 500 copies, make my money back and a cushion.

As it stands it’s more like 100 and they were more expensive than anticipated. And then there is the delay.

“If you build it he will come.”

I believe this with my whole heart, I do. But I forget poor Kevin Costner had to almost lose everything, drive to the other side of the country and deal with everyone thinking he was batshit insane before everything worked out in the end.

I also have to remember life is not a movie, although I do get my share of movie moments.

I have enough left to pay storage for the month of March.

And maybe that is part of it.

Maybe I have to start from absolute zero.

I left all my cushions behind when I came here.

Unconditional love. Unconditional sex. Unconditional income. My desk my bed my dog my kid my everything, except what fit in the car.

I left my winter coat behind in optimism. Whoops.

5 years ago, I couldn’t quite tell you where I lived or who I was with or what I was doing, but I left myself this note

i live a pretty blessed life.
i always get what i need and sometimes what i want, if it’s good for me and lines up with the direction i should be traveling in.
i am grateful for what i have and the luck i receive.
do what you can with what you have where you are and always be ready for miracles, because magic happens all around us every day, we just need to open our eyes and see it.

Thanks past me.

I know I was not actually in the best place back then, but compared to where I had been it was heaven and Shangri-la and Nirvana all wrapped up with a pretty bow called optimism.

Just goes to show, we never really know what the future holds.

This decision felt light and right and good 99.9% of the time.

And that teeny bit of fear was all past garbage that needed clearing out anyways.

I drove across the country and landed here, in the place that makes my soul happy.

I keep hearing that I am brave, but I can’t imagine not being here. It was an alignment of all my everything.

And maybe I am just early, I drove into the future, makes sense it would take a little while for everything to catch up.

So mote it be.

Well, that was embarrassing.

I have found that y’all love it when I admit my flaws and faults.

This was one of the hardest things I ever had to conquer. I don’t know at what stage in my early development I decided that making mistakes was the worst thing I could do, but I did.

I remember my first school project in grade 2. We were supposed to collect leaves, press them and name the trees we got them from.

I decided in my little 7 year old head my teacher would like it if I made it into a book. Everyone else had Bristol board. I remember feeling a massive amount of shame for not following the instructions. So much so that I am sitting on my bed in the cathouse recalling something that happened 36 years ago with alarming clarity.

I find myself often recalling one thing or another and inevitably stating ‘fuck, I gotta let that go’.

Some things slip into oblivion with ease, others not so much.

I can let the leaves go now. I was a creative and imaginative child. She was a good teacher.

And everyone makes mistakes. Me especially.

I messaged my manager today and apologized.

I hit a wall last night.

Not like a fist through drywall, although I did notice there is one upstairs and I wondered about it. I spent a lot of time upstairs last night and not in the good way.

You see dear readers, I failed to nap before work and ended up napping AT work.

Not cute and not classy.

There was whiskey involved.

There usually is.

I didn’t do a single dance and my stage shows were really lackluster.

The girls were sweet to me and checked on me, expressed concern. I do really like this new group of women I am surrounded by.

I think what happened is everything finally caught up with me.

I traveled 36 hours from home…pretty much because the universe told me to.

Now what?

I was speaking to my girl today. She lives in the wilds of Pennsylvania and we are both feeling a massive haboob. A desert storm without a desert, just swirling dust and no hope. The limbo, the void, the nothing.

The worst.

I am torn between shaking my fists at the gods and stomping my feet saying “I did the thing, now do yours” and having a nap right here.

I am tired, that journey took a lot out of me. It is time to admit it.

Add to it the chaos and magic and sadness between my last visit and coming back home.

I moved myself, my son, went to Florida and Mexico. Had the Giant, lost him and had him back. The Last One came and went and came back again. That Swain boy said he would come get me when I got to his island then I misplaced him too. My heart has taken a beating as of late.

I got a little lost on the way here, like actually lost.

I think that my life is following the same pattern, just on a slight delay.

My body is living in the future and my brain has yet to get here.

I don’t know what to do about the Last One. I feel detached almost. Like I am enjoying talking to him but I don’t trust that it is real or will ever come to fruition. And do I really want it to? Another one of my girls said maybe it was best if I didn’t bring my past with me into this future. And that sounds like truth. But he is so pretty.

My usual course of action is to look at the stars to see if there is any cosmic fuckery afoot, but Mercury is rather direct right now, so that ain’t it.

But I think I found something to explain what is happening, beyond the blatantly obvious going through a massive life change in February.

And that is part of it. We’re in the emptiness. Blue moon in January, Blue moon in March but the dreaded February? Not a thing.

This is a time to rest, the cosmos says so.

In a week it will be March, there will be the first of two full moons and the icy grip of February will lessen.

I know everything will become clear, like I know spring will come.

But in the meantime, I need a nap, then maybe some divine intervention.

Still haven’t heard from the Swain boy. And I am ready to publicly admit, he is 75% of the reason I am here.

I have done much more foolish things in the name of romance.

And I am sure I will again.

This time feels easy and good.

The first day I flew, clear roads, no traffic, just a cool grey day. Second day I struggled with icy roads, lack of windshield washer fluid, so many transport trucks and just general yuck. But then I saw the harbor and it was good, amen. As I pulled on the push door to my tiny warm cabin on the ferry bringing me here, everything was alright again. The ocean rocked me to sleep and I woke up refreshed and determined. I watched the sun come up as we left the ferry. Saw the second eagle that last day too, that ‘10 hours of driving to get me the rest of the way home’ day. That section of the drive that I was dreading but was the easiest part really, because I knew I was coming home. The roads were dry, I played leap frog and slingshot around at least 100 transports. Got tucked in with some good ol’ boys in pickup trucks hauling wood and skidoos. Reminding me of the boy in a good way. Stopped for gas and heard the accent again and it was so very good.

I made it.

I surprised myself on the journey. Pushed through Quebec and into New Brunswick the first night. The roads were clear and I was running on pure adrenaline. I finally got to a hotel 14 hours after I had left.

I was unaware, however, of how few and far between the towns are in that particular province.

I drove around a quaint little town for about 45 minutes trying to find the hotel, up narrow pothole covered and ice sheet streets, everything seeming to be the mythical place of our forefathers 5 miles uphill.

But I made it. And the woman checking me into my very lovely room old me I was brave.

Am I?

There is a fine line between bravery and foolishness.

I didn’t really plan this part of things at all. I planned the rest of it almost to death. Even drew a picture of my room so I knew what to bring. I bought a map in case I lost phone signal, but really I was just winging it. Never let my gas tank get below half, blindly followed the GPS onto a logging road after waking up in a much shaken snow globe.

I caught myself twice realizing what I was doing, leaving the only province I have ever lived in and driving 3 days away into an uncertain future. But those thoughts dissipated as quickly as they came. And I just kept driving.

I ate what a normal person would have consumed in a day over the 3, I spent in the car.

Fasting before feasting I suppose.

My back is still spasming and I have to work tonight.

I shouldn’t say ‘have to’, I want to.

I am ready to get this part of my life started.

And I really need a desk, I am sitting on the floor, typing away. Laptop on a trunkful of smokes I brought.

I feel like I have hit a giant reset button on my life and it feels clean and good and fresh. So do I, extra-long shower last night and I dyed my hair.

Time to come out of my cocoon.

There are a few things I wish I had done before I left.

I forgot to change my address and so the socks I ordered are in limbo somewhere.

The shoes I ordered came in today, the day I was to start this. I got my google calendar notification as I was writing this.

It simply said ‘leave’.

But I already left.

I was too exhausted to go see Giant one last time. My forehead aches to be kissed still, but we closed the circle with bacon and eggs in the place we had our first date, and I remembered what he ordered. I am not gonna lie, he looked like heaven and sex walking. My god.

I truly did not know I possessed that much strength, to walk away like that.

But then, somehow, I ran.

I bailed a week early, I was too impatient to leave. And of course there was cosmic fuckery.

I keep getting that line from Kill Bill in my head “You didn’t think it was going to be that easy did you?”

The Bride’s answer echoes of my own “For a minute there I actually did.”

There has been an abundance of smooth sailing, lots of serendipitous pushes in this direction. My son landing his dream job and finding a great apartment in the city of his choice.

Panda and my inability to get along like we used to.

My general discontent with a house I built for a man who disappeared. I could never sleep quite right in that room.

But, in the way that sometimes storm swells come up outta nowhere and interrupt smooth sailing…

The Last One came back the night I left Ontario. Part of the reason it took me so long to find the hotel. I was pulled over on the side of the road trying to pick my jaw up out of my lap.

He said he was planning on coming over Monday, romantic gesture. And when I said I didn’t live there anymore he demanded I turn around and come back, offered to pay my way and let me live at his house.

Lead me not into temptation.

Or do. Its fine.

Everything is fine.

Nothing is gonna fuck up the eagles juju.

I forgot to mention, the two times doubt started creeping into my mind about what I was doing, overhead flew two bald eagles.

My 3^rd and 4^th sightings ever.

I know I am doing the right thing by being here, the birds and my gut say so.