Moon Musings

Why shouldn’t I write here?  Underneath mother moon, so full she looks likely to burst.  She shines down upon me, inspiring me, my cancer self ruled by her glorious power.  The waves crash beside me and I can see just fine, so why not?  The sea.  My fucking one true love.  Just being in it’s presence, hearing its gentle lullaby soothes me.  

Here I sit, asking myself: Is the reason I feel alienated from my co-workers because I alienate myself?  I spend a lot of time with Nick and probably miss out on potential bonding time.  In retrospect, maybe I spend all this time with him in an effort to get out of the hostel.  I like the people I know and the snobbish ones, I don’t care to know.
And Nick.  What the fuck should I do about Nick?!  He has kids!  But we did finally discuss them…

It was one night night, after he sleep sex attacked me (it’s like he’s sleep walking, but all he does is feel me up and mumble gibberish) we both ended up wide awake and talking.  As much as I dislike being woken from my sweet slumber, we end up having our best conversations in the veil of darkness, partially awake, partially in a dream.  It was during one of these conversations that the subject was broached.  He said that he would like to have kids, someday in the future.  I responded, “I was under the impression you already have children…”
He got really quiet and finally said, “Yeah, I didn’t know how to tell you.  I was going to, that night at the brewery but then you and Jill started talking about how you would never date a guy who had kids and what a turn off it was…”
I apologized, but scolded him for not telling me something so monumental.  Yet, since my discovery and now that I have had time to reflect on it, I feel okay about it.
He began telling me about his ex-wife who he met at his time as a Youth Councillor through his church.  She was a recovering drug addict and 6 years his senior who convinced him to rush into a relationship, marriage and kids… Things got violent apparently on her part, although she accused him of such behaviour as well.
“This doesn’t change the way I feel about you,” I told him and knew I meant it.
Maybe because they’re not physically present in his life, it’s easier to cope with.  Or maybe it’s because I still don’t see a future for us, even though I kind of, sort of, want to believe it could be possible.

It’s all so confusing for me.  When I’m with him, I feel amazing; I’m confident and relaxed and completely myself.  When we’re apart, I’m relieved and yet, I miss him.  Like I said, it’s all very confusing.
The other day he referred to himself as my boyfriend and even though I keep saying I don’t want to label it, I felt tingles.
Deep down, I know I’m just filling some big hole in my life.  Wow, I had completely intended to write ‘his life‘ but instead I wrote ‘my life‘.  Isn’t that telling?  Total Freudian slip.  There you have it.  We’re both using each other in the same way.  And perhaps, just for right now, it’s okay.  This thing we have may be fleeing, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be intense and raw and beautiful all the same.  Perhaps, knowing it has an expiry date is what makes it so easy to love so honestly and openly.

Oh Nick, what are you doing to me?  Did we meet in another life?  Or several?  You’ve got me such a fucking mess.


Never Too Late

I’m depressed.  It’s gotten to the point where I have to admit it, at least to myself, because  it’s effecting my life so profoundly.  The worst part about being so sad is that I have no reason to feel this way, my life is great and I’m about to head off on this great adventure.  I should be over the moon, but instead I’m quite the opposite.  When I’m not working, I feel anxious and reluctant to be at home.  I think about all the things I could do with my free time, about all the things I need to do before I leave the country and the closer it gets to the date the more I procrastinate.  Instead of getting organized I binge drink and chain smoke and indulge in copious amounts of weed only to pass out into a restless sleep void of rapid eye movement.  On the nights that I actually go to bed sober I toss and turn, restless, my mind goes over my to-do list and I start to panic.  When I finally fall asleep (perhaps at 3 am?) I have crazy dreams.  In the morning I stare blankly at my own reflection and wonder who the girl looking back is, because she’s not me; she has huge black pillows under her eyes, her skin is riddled with acne, hair unwashed and unkempt and she never smiles, not once.

My anxiety is not entirely due to my travel woes, I feel anxious about dying alone without ever doing anything with my life and having no one to blame but myself.  I’ve been so insecure lately especially concerning my appearance.  Stress has destroyed my skin: my cheeks are covered in acne, I’m talking huge cysts that cause me physical pain.  I’ve seen dermatologist after dermatologist and everything they prescribe is only a temporary solution.  I’ve always struggled with breakouts, but never like this.  I feel so helpless so I pick endlessly at the pimples; it’s as if I’m punishing them for invading my face.  It’s gotten to the point where I hate leaving my house because I don’t want people to see me.  I hate serving and having people stare at my face all day, because I constantly feel like they’re judging me.
I bemoan the fact that I haven’t gotten laid in what seems like a lifetime, but the truth is even if I had an opportunity to have sex I would probably turn it down.  I don’t feel sexy, my confidence is at an all time low and I don’t want to be in such a vulnerable situation.  I think about the last couple men I’ve been with and how badly they disappointed me and I just don’t want to put myself through it again.  So instead I bitch and complain about how I can’t even give it away while making no real effort to do anything about it.  Story of my life…
What’s wrong with me?  I wanted to be this strong confident woman who was happy being alone, who was patient, who didn’t need a man to have a fulfilling life.  Will I ever become her?  Or am I doomed to make the same mistakes?  Can people ever really change?  Or maybe I’m just too lazy to put in the effort necessary to become a better me. I don’t know anymore.

Last night, unwilling to go home, I slammed a bottle of wine and literally cried to Kennedy.  “Wahhh life is tough, feel sorry for me, my life sucks.”  The usual.  This morning I woke up with a start.  My mouth was parched and I was sprawled across Kennedy’s bed.  Flash backs of my antics began to flood my hazy brain: constant crying, whining, general self-pity.  I was supposed to get a ride with Kennedy to the lodge so I could retrieve my abandoned bike, but I was alone.  She had left without me.  I tried to recover my missing phone and fell into hysterics.
Don’t fall apart over this stupid shit I lectured myself.  Pull yourself together woman!!!
I resolved to make today a better day.  I put on my jeans and located my phone.  I washed my face and tried to make my appearance somewhat presentable.  I filled up a plastic water bottle and started down the street, thumb pointed out towards the passing cars in the hopes of catching a ride.  A parks worker picked me up and, to my delight, did not attempt to engage in small talk, but instead drove me to my destination in silence.  I rode my bike home in the pouring rain letting the water wash over me.  When I got home I made a pot of coffee and sat down to eat a real breakfast.  I took a long shower and organized the chaos that is my bedroom.
This is why I’m depressed, I told myself I eat greasy restaurant food every day, I drink and smoke excessively, I’ve stopped exercising, my surroundings are bedlam, I don’t sleep enough and I don’t take any time for myself.  This needs to change.  You owe yourself more.

Work was fairly slow and I made it through the day in pretty good spirits.  I came home and had a real dinner and now I’m here: sitting in my warm bed, writing out my thoughts, working through my issues while a near-hurricane storm rages outside.

It’s never too late to try again, tomorrow’s always a new day.


Strange Dreams

I’ve been having strange dreams lately…

The other day I awoke to sunlight streaming through my window.  I sat up slowly and stretched out, thinking to myself I think I just had an intense dream, but I can’t remember what it was about.  I struggled to remember for a few minutes and then suddenly it all came flooding into my mind at once, overwhelming all my senses and causing me to yell out, “OH MY GOD!”
This is what I remembered:

I was at my house with my roommate Shannon and a bunch of her girlfriends, hanging out and having some drinks.  I was sitting outside having a smoke when this guy climbed up onto my back deck and emerged from the thick shrubbery.  He introduced himself casually and said he lived in the neighbourhood and could hear us partying so he thought he would come by and check it out.  At the time it didn’t occur to me to think it odd that he just climbed onto our deck as I live in a friendly neighbourhood where everyone knows everyone, no one locks their doors and people just enter each others homes uninvited and without knocking.  This mysterious man had no distinguishable features, no name, he was a faceless figure, and was more so a presence than a person.  As I began talking to him, I realized that he was a person of interest in the disappearance of an Aboriginal woman in the community as he was seen with her before she went missing.  Although there was no evidence to tie him to any crime, many people in town believed that he had murdered her.  I felt very uneasy around him as he continued to say some very strange and disturbing things to me (the whole interaction was very reminiscent of the time I met “Alex” in my post Negative Nancy.)  My roommate stuck her head out the deck door to tell me that she and her friends were headed out and they would see me later, completely unaware of the fact that my companion was a possible murder suspect.  Horrified at the idea of this man knowing that I was going to be home alone, I told him: “I think I’m going to go join the girls.  Have a good night.”  He remained seated and made no effort to leave so I closed and locked every single sliding glass door and drew all the curtains tightly shut.  I turned off every light in the house to create the appearance that I had left and then locked myself in my bedroom, too scared to actually leave the now empty house in fear that he might attack me.  The remainder of my dream is kind of a blur, but basically it was a bunch of scenarios in which I would go back in forth between believing he was guilty of heinous crimes and believing he was an innocent (albeit really strange and socially awkward) dude. At one point in my dream I was with both of my managers and begging them to let me stay over at their house (they’re roommates in real life) so that I could avoid this person who seemed to be following me everywhere I went.  I was actually dating my one manager and I can distinctly remember this overwhelming feeling of vulnerability that lessened slightly when I was in his arms.  The dream ended with me walking past a hotel and looking up to one of the very top floors and there was this man just staring down at me, completely unmoving and I screamed at the top of my lungs and woke up.

When the dream came back to me, I sat in bed recalling all the details in absolute horror.  Why did I dream about being stalked by a scary guy?  What could it mean?  Was it some sort of warning?  I thought about the night with “Alex” and shuddered.  The whole dating my boss thing, what did that mean?  Was I secretly in love with him or something?  I’ve always felt he harboured a little crush on me, was my subconscious telling me to try viewing him in another light?  I felt overwhelmed and sauntered upstairs in the hopes that someone else was home that I might confide in.  I made coffee in an effort to calm my nerves and sat sipping it while still reflecting on my nightmare.  Shannon came upstairs at one point and I began to relay my dream to her, still at an utter loss on what it might mean.

I continued to think about it all day and all night.  When I got home from work, I smoked a bowl and contemplated it some more.  I thought about what Martha Beck says about dreams in her book Steering by Starlight (I’m not exaggerating when I say that this book changed my life so I refer back to her advice on a daily basis.)  Beck says that in order to understand your dreams you must see the dream through the viewpoint of the symbols.  It seems silly, but it actually involves narrating the dream as the symbol.  So in my case I said: “I’m scary and ominous, I look over your every move and cause you anxiety and fear to the point of paralysis.”  But as I continued this exercise I was still at a loss on what this man represented.  I climbed into bed and began to forget about it as I started to drift off.  As I was on the verge of sleep, the answer came into my head.  It was so loud and clear it was like an explosion and it was one word: Doubt.

Doubt.  It seemed so obvious and fitting.  Doubt is always in the back of my mind; doubt is what keeps me from making a decision; doubt is what makes me fearful; and doubt is what pushes me into relationships I don’t really want just so I can grasp onto some sort of buoy in the rough seas of life.  The fact that both my managers were in my dream says a lot as I feel doubtful in my current positions and doubtful of both of them as leaders.  I doubted I could ever muster up the courage and strength to travel and follow my dreams and I doubted I would ever make it overseas to teach English.  In fact, as I write this, it still seems doubtful that I’ll ever do any of the things I’ve set out to do.  It’s that doubt that stalks me and makes me paralyzed in fear.  And the whole overarching theme of: Is this man guilty or is he innocent?  It relates back to: Can I do it or will I fail?

Such a profound and life changing moment in my life.  What started off as a frightening dream has become fodder for some serious self-reflection.  I guess I really need to work on having more confidence…