The dust settles and I'm in Nelson. Feeling very resigned with the idea that this place is just another stop on the lists of stops I've got to make towards my final destination, but I'm a bit wary of the journey. I'm grateful for a few things: the time spent with my daughter this holiday, the opportunity to rest and heal up my body, the studio space I have available to me. Emotionally I feel numb and detached and it's the way to be, homeostatis in a stretch of confusion and aimless wondering.
Home is the constants in my life, the phone calls from the nostalgic mom, my cat, my daughter, my correspondence with my friend. The days are turning into months that are developing into years and I'm nowhere near knowing what I want because I don't want anything. I've let go of care and desire and obsession because it's a lot easier to just not care. There is the cruel reality of being part of an economic system that caters to the few. There's the crueler reality of loneliness and a complete discomfort with the environment I'm in. Single parenthood, joblessness, poor health...no wonder I don't care. I'm actually very at peace lately. I've been smiling more often. Lilo and I are playing. My anus has stopped bleeding. I have more energy.
Perhaps I'm happier because I know I'm leaving so there's the possibility of finding something better down the road. A person I can feel at peace with, someone to share secrets with. A person I can touch and kiss. I've kind of given up on finding that in this place. The men around here are a fucking trip.
And I'm at peace with that. I would like to move out of Nelson in the next year and a half. First I need to scrap up the cash to. But I'm not leaving until I'm a free woman. I want my divorce to finally go through. Then I want to put as much distance as I possibly can from that past. It's silly to still be bickering with a man who hasn't bothered laying eyes on his offspring in two years, or remaining in contact with a woman who nurtures and maintains a toxic abusive relationship with her family...I'm tired of being dragged into it and I've run out of compassion.
I am sitting on a pile of fabric I've been dragging around for months and I'm working on improving my sewing skills. I've been making legwarmers and drawing again. The flow of inspiration is but a mere trickle at this point and I keep thinking this is the reason why I just let my overactive romantic imagination loose last year. It's like trying to build a fire with wet wood, and I'm giving up. It's been years since I've actually fallen in love.
Now the situation I'm in, this in-between, I believe would only end once I leave. I'm done pressuring myself. Done feeling sorry for myself. Done with dealing with the weird social cliques. I've lost nine pounds already. I've got medical test after medical test. The sky is grey and the snow's done falling. I'm probably going to get a labour-type job and bust my ass saving up to move out of here. And if I collapse again, nobody gives a fuck. And it doesn't bother me at all.
I've been staring at treadmills and sneakers longingly. I would like to go for a jog...or even have sex, without feeling like I've just been hit by a car. Getting back to the gym would make me very happy.
I'm going to slowly work on moving to Regina. Get healthier, train to be an officer, work on getting transferred to the East Coast where I will be closer to Virginia. I've woken up from the dream. There's nothing for me in B.C. No one and nothing worth sticking around for.
I ran into Casanova a couple of days ago and we started talking again, but he still seems the same and I have changed. I sometimes think about sleeping with him again, but I'm not really attached to it. He's easy to disrobe and I like the familiarity of his touch. His flakiness is a huge turn-off but I try not to hold that against him, being totally non-committal at this point. But hold up-if I'm so okay with the idea of sleeping with him under those conditions, shouldn't I also be at peace with the idea of getting a fancy rich boyfriend (someone I know actually suggested this) to fuck and pay the bills and make my life easier? My moral compass is in need of some recalibration!
Wait, I forget. No one likes a single mom. Spoiled goods. Ha ha.
Home is the constants in my life, the phone calls from the nostalgic mom, my cat, my daughter, my correspondence with my friend. The days are turning into months that are developing into years and I'm nowhere near knowing what I want because I don't want anything. I've let go of care and desire and obsession because it's a lot easier to just not care. There is the cruel reality of being part of an economic system that caters to the few. There's the crueler reality of loneliness and a complete discomfort with the environment I'm in. Single parenthood, joblessness, poor health...no wonder I don't care. I'm actually very at peace lately. I've been smiling more often. Lilo and I are playing. My anus has stopped bleeding. I have more energy.
Perhaps I'm happier because I know I'm leaving so there's the possibility of finding something better down the road. A person I can feel at peace with, someone to share secrets with. A person I can touch and kiss. I've kind of given up on finding that in this place. The men around here are a fucking trip.
And I'm at peace with that. I would like to move out of Nelson in the next year and a half. First I need to scrap up the cash to. But I'm not leaving until I'm a free woman. I want my divorce to finally go through. Then I want to put as much distance as I possibly can from that past. It's silly to still be bickering with a man who hasn't bothered laying eyes on his offspring in two years, or remaining in contact with a woman who nurtures and maintains a toxic abusive relationship with her family...I'm tired of being dragged into it and I've run out of compassion.
I am sitting on a pile of fabric I've been dragging around for months and I'm working on improving my sewing skills. I've been making legwarmers and drawing again. The flow of inspiration is but a mere trickle at this point and I keep thinking this is the reason why I just let my overactive romantic imagination loose last year. It's like trying to build a fire with wet wood, and I'm giving up. It's been years since I've actually fallen in love.
Now the situation I'm in, this in-between, I believe would only end once I leave. I'm done pressuring myself. Done feeling sorry for myself. Done with dealing with the weird social cliques. I've lost nine pounds already. I've got medical test after medical test. The sky is grey and the snow's done falling. I'm probably going to get a labour-type job and bust my ass saving up to move out of here. And if I collapse again, nobody gives a fuck. And it doesn't bother me at all.
I've been staring at treadmills and sneakers longingly. I would like to go for a jog...or even have sex, without feeling like I've just been hit by a car. Getting back to the gym would make me very happy.
I'm going to slowly work on moving to Regina. Get healthier, train to be an officer, work on getting transferred to the East Coast where I will be closer to Virginia. I've woken up from the dream. There's nothing for me in B.C. No one and nothing worth sticking around for.
I ran into Casanova a couple of days ago and we started talking again, but he still seems the same and I have changed. I sometimes think about sleeping with him again, but I'm not really attached to it. He's easy to disrobe and I like the familiarity of his touch. His flakiness is a huge turn-off but I try not to hold that against him, being totally non-committal at this point. But hold up-if I'm so okay with the idea of sleeping with him under those conditions, shouldn't I also be at peace with the idea of getting a fancy rich boyfriend (someone I know actually suggested this) to fuck and pay the bills and make my life easier? My moral compass is in need of some recalibration!
Wait, I forget. No one likes a single mom. Spoiled goods. Ha ha.
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