Rain.

It's raining outside. It is 12:50am, I've always been fond of the sound of rain drops colliding with the window sill, the 'ssshhh' of car tires on wet cement, the fresh scent floating in the air. The smell of bark, the glistening grass and the earth; black-brown, soaked, & thriving with life...
Rainy days are perfect for 'la grasse matinee', hanging out in your sweatpants, watching re-runs of Louis Defunes 'les gendarmes' (all of them), or cuddling on the sofa with a juicy book.
I remember waking up on rainy mornings, my ex curled around me, like a question mark. His hands around my waist, his chin resting in the crevice between my neck and shoulder. When the light was still an uncertain blue outside, the rain singing so sweetly, and my love so close to me; These were the days my heart felt like it may fail me. Such happiness was a sin, such bliss filled me with guilt...
I'd wake up and do pancakes. We topped them with blueberries, I'd feed baby girl, and his brother's 2 girls. I'd talk to the sister in law, we'd laugh, do the dishes... He would go on the terrasse, smoke and sip on his coffee; black, no sugar, no milk. Baby girl would try to follow him but he'd never smoke in front of her.
'Daddy?' She'd say, quizzically, looking up to me with her blue-if-it's-a-boy eyes.
'Daddy be back shhhooon.' I'd say in my baby voice.
Other days, I'd get up at 6am, jump in the shower and get ready to go to work. I'd leave him, still sleeping, his body still warm.

I find solace in the sky's outpour; The threads of my life are finally coming together, I'm happy when I wake up, when I eat, when I breathe, when I write... I look forward to meeting new loves and fussing about my make up before a date. Even more; I am happy that when I wake, I am only responsible for my own happiness & not someone elses. for the past few years, I was carrying other men's burdens (& it seemed like I chose men with truck full of problems) & my back was too heavy, I couldn't concentrate on my own contentment.

Baby Steps, Baby steps...

Love is Stronger than Pride.

I'm wearing his shirt. That night, I remember he was making food for Baby girl, I was so happy & in Love.

I was washing my hair tonight, & whilst in the bath, I remembered certain episodes with my ex that anger & shame me. In my love for him, I did a lot of stupid things, perhaps as much as most women do when in love. But there`s a difference in admitting to my stupidity, than owing up to it. It`s easy to say (in darkness) I did `idiotic `things, than to actually be honest & open about what these errors truly were...
I borrowed him a lot of money, invested in a business idea (with my tuition money). When making a weekly budget, I`d calculate his bus pass (when he quit his job, again, because he was depressed etc...), I`d buy food, cook for him, clean; I was his maid, his lover, his mother, all wrapped up in one, with a ribbon on it.
One day, I woke up because I sensed his daughter had awoken, I went to get her at the top of the staircase. She didn`t want to go back down, as she wanted `meelk` (milk was baby girl`s life at the time, she could live on it! Now, it`s `chickeen, I wan chickeen.`) I was wearing a top and panties, so I didn’t want to prance around his brother`s house nearly naked, as well, I was off to work and I had 30 minutes to get more sleep. I went back downstairs and woke up my ex, and asked him if he could `please give baby girl some milk.’ He complained, told me to do it, I persisted and waited until he got up and fed her. This small incident turned into a big affair. He was SO mad at me, said I didn’t want to feed his daughter, that I couldn`t be a good mother to her etc... I remember crying over it. I was so upset. He made it seem like I would have let baby girl starve, because she wasn`t my flesh & blood.
Another time, I was sad because things weren`t good between us; we were fighting so much. We were walking on the street & he looks at me & says; `You are so ugly, you don`t smile anymore`. I burst out in tears, again. There were so many instances when I put up and kept shut, out of fear of getting him mad. Like when he belittled me in public, telling me to `shut my mouth & not interrupt him.`, when he made displaced comments about me being so `white’ or when he called me crazy when I tried to communicate with him, when he threw my cell phone against the wall when I refused to listen to him... These are such little things, but they made me wonder if I was in a good place, or in a potentially destructive relationship.
Perhaps, what hurts me the most out of everything that happened is when he accused me of trying to trick him & get myself pregnant by him. We were nervous, as my period was late. I told him that I could do it, have the baby, I`d figure things out. I didn`t want to say `we`, I wanted him to say it.
Instead, he assured me he`d be there for the child but he`d leave me because I did it on purpose. I told him `go, I don`t need you. I can do this alone` I knew he was scared, & he didn`t mean it, he had one child already & he barely made rent each month. In my head, I was just like `The ONLY time I need you to be there for me, & you make it all about you. `
Bu it wasn`t all bad.
There were aspects of him that were so good, so pure... He was a good listener, he took care of you when he could, presented you to his family & friends, made sure you were comfortable, made sure you ate. He was smart, very wise, yet he lacked the expertise to apply his knowledge in his own life. He was funny too, such a good dancer & even a better lover. He knew how to talk, he was so smooth. I think he's one of the very few people in my life, that listened to my problems with such intent & goodwill.
There are certain things that transpired between us, which in time were almost holy. Moments in which I saw a life path in the whisper of his words, & a soul mate in the depth of his trust & support. It is always those you keep near, who will be the dagger to your heart.
I feel that if I keep what shames me inside, it will keep me from truly healing & letting the ice melt.
So here it is, I did some very stupid things indeed; Love is stronger than pride.

At this Junction of my life, I chose to live amongst the flowers, not the thorns.

This Saturday, I was at my friend's daughter's birthday party. I was waiting for this event impatiently as my X and his daughter were to attend.
I was nervous, a bit scared, curious to see if my emotions would unravel at his sight.
The past month, I had been hitting the gym twice a week, obsessing over small details; I wanted him to see me, have a sudden epiphany, regret that he didn't try harder, that he didn't beg me to stay with him. If you ask me, He was the problem, not I.
I was so hurt when we broke up, so confused, so angry. I felt so STUPID to have invested so much emotions, so much money, so much energy into someone...
But then I saw him.
& throughout the night, I was reminded why I fell in love with him in the first place. He was still funny, silly, simple...For the past 5 months, I've hung unto the bad memories, dwelling on his bad qualities; it was easier this way, nurturing my hate towards him helped me overcome my love for him.
Seeing his daughter was something else. I bought her a pyjama and a playdough spaghetti factory, but when it came to giving it to her, I just felt so silly.
She didn't remember me. She asked me 'what's your name?'
Every word was like a small needle puncturing my heart. I know she's just a child, but I hoped she remembered all the weekends I have spent with her ; teaching her to dance, feeding her, cleaning up after her when she was being potty trained...
As heartbreaking it was, her loss of memory was also a relief. I could move on without leaving Babygirl behind. I wouldn't be hurting her feelings, she had already made her goodbyes, her child eyes will meet, forget, new people, new places, new situations.
I will always remember the joy and learning she had brought in my life but it doesn't feel as real, with her amnesia.
As for her father, I didn't cry, I didn't regret, I didn't feel my heart breaking...again.
We were polite, even exchanged some jokes. I'm going to be good from now on, I am closing that part of my life, I'm making peace with my mistakes.

Right now, I am in bed. Sick. There seems to be a virus going around; your throat gets swollen, your body aches, your nose is stuffed.
The good/sweet news is that a friend was so kind, he sent me sushi and flowers 2 days ago, and a chocolate cake today. Awww.
:)

Column 10: Day & night.

Is it normal to feel a void whenever he comes back, through a meaningless call or rushed text message, in my life. Is it normal that my world is destablized with active knowledge of his presence, the awareness that somewhere, with someone, He is recreating moments I thought would remain intimate & secret for eternity. Is it normal that, I would willingly put myself in hot water, just to be near a man that reminds me of him. A man that could potentially leave me broken like a doll, because he has all the qualities & abrasiveness, my X once possessed.
Is it normal, that I feel taken back with anger, that he closed our joint account without my presence. I thought that, bank procedures would prohibit single decisions, that we would both have to terminate a stupid account, who the fuck is crazy enough to make financial decisions after so little time, with awareness of his frugality. Me. Of course.
Of course, had I known I could have closed the account, I would have done it the day after I cut my hair, painted my heart black, iced my fucking soul. But. I hate that he's done (yet another)something without consulting me, without at least, letting me know that another bridge has burned.
There's still the car we had bought. Most likely, abused by winter, but still parked in his brother's drive way. Still rusty, but magnificent in its symbolic emblem.
Little car, did you know you used to be a carrier of hope? That, I thought that you'd help him get back on the road, fool him to believe that he could rebuild, acquire autonomy through you?
But I was wrong. It was all for naught.
I feel used. I feel like my love has been taken for a weakness. I feel like we broke up in October, then yet again November, & I cannot spend a day without thinking of him...
Day & night, loneliness is my second skin.
I know that there's much worse in the world than heartbreak, I also know that, one day, I wll wake up & feel silly for ever giving him the time of day. But I also know, that when it comes to loving again so freely, I will not, I cannot.

So. God. Next time, I feel my heart pound out of my chest, next time, I smell flowers blossoming in winter, next time I hear roll drums; I need complete reassrance.
Because I refuse to put my heart in a man’s palm if you cannot justify who you are, if you do not prove to me, that this man knows what he wants from me. That this man loves me, & not only the support and comfort I have offered him this far. I need to know that this man loves my mind, that he respects my emotions, that his goal is my well-being and growth. I need to know, God, that he will not take advantage of my weaknesses, that he will not impose his will on me, that he will not take and take, without offering anything in return...
Because. Honestly. I am drained.

Column 6: Paint it Black.

I see a red door and I want it painted black

No colors anymore I want them to turn black

I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes

I have to turn my head until my darkness goes…

I wanna see it painted, painted black

Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky

I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black

Paint It Black, The Rolling Stones

I finished reading 'Paint it Black' by Janet Fitch. A couple months ago, I was half way in before I closed it & put it on a dusty shelf. I was amazed by the author’s precision & word flow. The inane way she made me feel like I knew what the protagonist was going through. It was too gruesome to continue. I felt darkness settle in the pit of my stomach & a desperate frown decorate my face. For my sanity, I had to stop reading.
It’s a story of depression & suicide. Josie falls in love with Michael & they move in together. Michael spirals into depression & kills himself. Josie is left alone, heart broken; trying to grasp the why’s of his suicide.
Of course, there’s much more to the novel. But this is the part I can relate to.
She’s trying to deal with his depression & she sees him going down but feels so small & frustrated that her love isn’t enough to save him.
Her thoughts & musings are so authentic. I’ve been in her position; on the sideline, watching a boyfriend being devoured by depression.
I want to hug Josie & let her know things will never return to normal, the carelessness & love will never flow back into their couple. I also want to take her hand & guide her to the door, somewhat instill the notion that she doesn’t have the power to save him.

With my X...
He was struggling against the huge abyss that is depression .He had lost 20 pounds from an already paltry figure; atrophied muscles and the knee joints that jutted. I borrowed his belt and rocked his jeans. Even his sweaters looked fitted. It didn’t help that he chain smoked, the smell of tobacco and mint gum was always present on his skin and clothes.
But I didn’t mind. Oddly, I loved his slim figure. The wide shoulders and the tiny waist, that formed a reversed triangle like the pyramids in Egypt. Of course I was scared, terrified even. I was concerned about his health. How much abuse could your body take before it started to rebel and grow tumors, before your lungs collapsed or your muscles began to deteriorate? When he was upset, he smoked and starved himself. He said he couldn’t keep his food down

It was all around us. The darkness; like a thick black fog that swept in & out of our lives. A single phrase could cripple him as much as it could heal him.

Every day was uncertain; would I find him so down he would barely acknowledge me or would he be like the man I fell in love with? There were the mood swings, his lack of desire for anything; sex, food, me. He was always tired & wanted to sleep & he would quit jobs every month.

Sometimes, he pulled himself together & laughed with others. I would watch his phone conversations; jealous yet happy there was still a spark in him. It seemed that frowns & ennui were mainly reserved for me. Perhaps because he knew that he had me. He was so sure I would always be there.

The ugly thing about depression is that it turns your lover into a stranger. He says & does things that don’t resemble him & you feel guilty because you used to make him happy.
But now it’s all gone. The darkness is more oppressive; the good times are few & far between. Somehow, when he’s laughing & loving you, as scarce as it has become, it is enough to make you forget about the bleak times.
One good day beats a bad week. When the sulkiness returns & he becomes of ice, you are left to deal with it. You know that when you feel like sh*t, he doesn’t even feel guilty. He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about anything. The darkness has won.
I wonder if I should have just chuck it up. I knew that sometimes he felt like his soul hurt him. Yet, when he was mean & insensitive, I took it personally. I thought it was about me even though I knew only months previous, his whole life was dismantled.
Reading ‘Paint it black’ makes me feel guilty. It renders my head wobbly with ‘maybes’; maybe I should have stuck around & somehow forced my happiness on him, maybe if my love was stronger, maybe if I fixed the holes in his life, maybe I should have put up with it. After all, isn’t the best time to love someone when they are down? Can’t everything we love be saved?

When your Lover is depressed; your life gets ugly. You are dragged to the bottom of a very dark well & you find yourself grasping for air, while trying to simultaneously swim your way back up & pull your lover to the surface. But he’s too heavy. There are rocks tied to his legs & arms. Do you drown with him or save yourself?