Rising and Falling

April 8, 2017

“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.


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.



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 5th 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)


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  • Matthew Eayre April 8, 2017 at 11:18 am

    I’m going home today, for only the second time since my grandmother died. I feel like there’s something there that I need to find, maybe me, maybe someone I haven’t met yet.
    I have been alive for almost forty years and I have been lost for most of those years.
    This comment doesn’t seem connected to what you wrote, but it is. I’m going home today, to see if I still live there. If the wind and the waves will still know my name. Once I told you to send my love to the ocean, that she would remember me… I hope she still might.
    I’m close enough to go home, just because. It’s been too far away for so long that I can’t really believe it, until I see it through the windshield. I’ve spent so much of my life hating where I was, hating who I was, I’ve wasted so much time trying to make friends with myself and I just won’t waste another minute. I’m going forward, I’m going back home and I have every intention of finding whatever it is I’ve left there, and taking it with me.

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