I know I have felt it. I know I have been there. I know how it ends BUT I wanna go there again.
Recently I met a boy, he was cute, funny, kind, sweet and after our date I realised he just wasn't for me. Maybe its because of all the factors I just set forth. I decided either way that it just wasn't worth pursuing. I was not going to contact him again.
I sat and thought of this and realised that because of his ability to be nice to me I just didn't have the ooomph to go meet him.
That was a Friday.
Saturday and Sunday kind of rolled into a weekend blur and by Monday I realised this boy hadn't contacted me either. That wasn't how I wanted to play it. I was supposed to be flipping him off not the other way around.
Now I want him!!
Which got me to thinking why is it that the 'Thrill of the chase' always feels so good even though the reality is normally a let down. When we actually reach our destination, we have this person so perfect in our head that they rarely, if ever, are the person we want. So why chase the dream if it wasn't what we wanted in the first place?
I from personal experience know the answer! I didn't think the date went great BUT I did think he had nice qualities. So now because he hasn't contacted me does that mean that I am not so great or that my qualities are bad or did he meet a better person and forget about me.
Do I want to believe 'He's just not that into me' or is his air of mystery and aloof a beacon that maybe I missed something. Maybe he's not the person I thought he was and I dismissed him too quickly. More often than not I will believe the latter which ensues the craziness.
I may not want him but I want him to want me and the fear of rejection propels me to new dizziness.
Suddenly this boy is all I can think of. It's as if he went from being Captain Sparrow to Johnny Depp in 0 to 60. He's appeal has shot through the roof and all because he didn't text.
Girls always complain that men don't treat us right and we can never find a decent one. 'All the good ones are married, gay or dead' is what I often hear and there I was on a date with a really nice guy and I didn't like him till he treated me mean. The sad reality is that women love the excitement, the not knowing what comes next, the unpredictability. We think he must be worth it, if he can afford to be so picky then he must be great in bed etc. It's sad but true.
Game On!
So which character will you be, the Chaser or the Chased?
Are you going to be the one that starts the flirtatious game of texts and come to bed eyes or are you the one that wants him to 'stalk' you and woo you? If you are the first then your the Chaser and the second your the Chased.
The game rules: (I will say the male is the chaser for this experiment, the female the chased)
The Chaser will feed you sweet compliments, will wine and dine you, will make you feel warm and fuzzy while complimenting you and making you feel like your the only one in the world for him.
The Chased will lap it up, feeling secure in the attention of the Chaser, she will be falling at his feet in order to receive more attention. She will expect him to be in contact alot and make her feel like she is the best thing in the world.
These seem to be big differences between the both but in reality they are both the same!
Everyone wants to feels wanted. The Chaser feels wanted because he is giving the Chased what she needs and the Chased feels wanted because she is receiving the Chasers attention. The silly thing is that when the Chaser catches the Chase he will no longer want to spend his life feeding her ego so either the Chased gives up the attention seeking or both move on and thats when you get the age old saying 'The thrill of the Chase'. Basically it boils down to being wanted by the person who doesn't want you.
So what your really doing to each other is chasing a dream left in the ruins along time ago! So have fun while it last!! I am off to send a text (",)
Friday, October 2, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Save me from Single
Everyone has someone, Laurel had Hardy, Morecombe had Wise, French had Saunders, Ant had Dec, Beavis had Butt-head, come on even the 'Lone' Ranger had Tonto but me I am single, as in very, very single, out of the dating game single, actually thinking of a convent single.
Some things creep up on you unexpectedly. They make their way into your life without you knowing and being single is my cross to bare. Its not that I've never been not single and as I've said before it's not even that I want to change my status from being single but I am jealous.
I'll explain this properly in order for people to understand.
Recently I was invited to a wedding, not just any wedding but my best friends wedding. Ecstatically happy I was for her UNTIL I realised I was going to be the only singleton going. You see when you get to my age you realise that your email is full of Spam about loosing your hair or worse, your libido and your phone is full of pics of your friends new babies and your not getting invited to 21st anymore, it's now 30th etc. You realise that while you forgot what age you were everyone else grew up.
I am not jealous that she is happy or that she has a husband who adores her, I am jealous because her whole life is mapped out.
She has plans!
A house or actually a home, a husband, a good job she loves and here I am wondering what colour I'll dye my hair.
She's a grown up now and I still have Peter Pan syndrome and as much as I want to slow time down so I can catch up, time waits for no one!
How come a wedding invitation became such a life changing eye opener for me?
My other friends going seem to have grown up too, the are in long term relationships - even if they don't marry, they have had a practice run of growing up while I am busy trying to figure out a way to flirt with the delivery guy. I know I have in the past too but after the last one I decided I wanted out, I just didn't even know myself I would mean it so literally. Now I have no idea of where to even start.
Dates aren't a problem, I am everyones best friend so I could've taken a date its just it would always be my friend and I don't look at friends as potential boyfriends. (see friend boy. Its a nono)!!
So as a singleton I went, I had a ball and ended up having great fun with my recently single man-friend (nothing happened and I didn't put out - ask him, he'll tell anyone that'll listen) but still it opened my eyes to the fact that I still act as if I am in 3rd year of school, only now I have a REAL grown up legimate ID for the clubs!
How did my life move at a different pace to my friends and am I on the brink of becoming bitter about it?
I mean I say I don't want a boyfriend and I think I mean it but I also hate having a crush.....
At present I have a serious one and its madness, my whole days are consumed with liking this boy.
I no longer have control of mind: My mind constantly wonders off to whether he likes me, if not, why?, whether he looks at my social networking site, if not, why? and when I don't see him, I do what all girls do, eat myself into a chocolate oblivion.
I am very, very annoying: I know this, yet I am impervious to stop myself. I drop his name into every conversation even when the topic is not even remotely about him. I hear myself say it and cringe yet I do it again and again and again a thousand times a day.
I over think everything: I wonder did he smile because he was glad to see me or did he laugh because he thought I was funny or was he being polite, did his comment mean anything other than sign here please!
I can't work: It's simple, my boss may have to box me because when he comes in I am so giddy for the day I feel like Amy Winehouse on crack and thats just high on life and when I don't see him I am thinking, I wonder does he even know I exist. Even now I am wondering if he ever figured it all out, would he smile and be polite or fuck me 50 ways from sunday or just pretend he never knew....
Having a crush really has me worn the fuck out... I am thinking maybe I don't need to grow up at all!!
I mean after writing this a thought just struck me, being TOO single where you can't say if an ex is an ex, I mean we go on lots of dates but we are not dating, we're dating but we're not together, we're together but we're not a couple, grown ups have to deal with all that so maybe I'll bury my head in the sand for a little while longer and play Peter Pan for another while :)
Do I really need to be jealous when someone has what I am myself not even sure I want?
Do I really care whether a boy smiles or laughs at me?
Maybe some day the point will hit me straight in the face and I'll smile about this insistant rambling :)
Some things creep up on you unexpectedly. They make their way into your life without you knowing and being single is my cross to bare. Its not that I've never been not single and as I've said before it's not even that I want to change my status from being single but I am jealous.
I'll explain this properly in order for people to understand.
Recently I was invited to a wedding, not just any wedding but my best friends wedding. Ecstatically happy I was for her UNTIL I realised I was going to be the only singleton going. You see when you get to my age you realise that your email is full of Spam about loosing your hair or worse, your libido and your phone is full of pics of your friends new babies and your not getting invited to 21st anymore, it's now 30th etc. You realise that while you forgot what age you were everyone else grew up.
I am not jealous that she is happy or that she has a husband who adores her, I am jealous because her whole life is mapped out.
She has plans!
A house or actually a home, a husband, a good job she loves and here I am wondering what colour I'll dye my hair.
She's a grown up now and I still have Peter Pan syndrome and as much as I want to slow time down so I can catch up, time waits for no one!
How come a wedding invitation became such a life changing eye opener for me?
My other friends going seem to have grown up too, the are in long term relationships - even if they don't marry, they have had a practice run of growing up while I am busy trying to figure out a way to flirt with the delivery guy. I know I have in the past too but after the last one I decided I wanted out, I just didn't even know myself I would mean it so literally. Now I have no idea of where to even start.
Dates aren't a problem, I am everyones best friend so I could've taken a date its just it would always be my friend and I don't look at friends as potential boyfriends. (see friend boy. Its a nono)!!
So as a singleton I went, I had a ball and ended up having great fun with my recently single man-friend (nothing happened and I didn't put out - ask him, he'll tell anyone that'll listen) but still it opened my eyes to the fact that I still act as if I am in 3rd year of school, only now I have a REAL grown up legimate ID for the clubs!
How did my life move at a different pace to my friends and am I on the brink of becoming bitter about it?
I mean I say I don't want a boyfriend and I think I mean it but I also hate having a crush.....
At present I have a serious one and its madness, my whole days are consumed with liking this boy.
I no longer have control of mind: My mind constantly wonders off to whether he likes me, if not, why?, whether he looks at my social networking site, if not, why? and when I don't see him, I do what all girls do, eat myself into a chocolate oblivion.
I am very, very annoying: I know this, yet I am impervious to stop myself. I drop his name into every conversation even when the topic is not even remotely about him. I hear myself say it and cringe yet I do it again and again and again a thousand times a day.
I over think everything: I wonder did he smile because he was glad to see me or did he laugh because he thought I was funny or was he being polite, did his comment mean anything other than sign here please!
I can't work: It's simple, my boss may have to box me because when he comes in I am so giddy for the day I feel like Amy Winehouse on crack and thats just high on life and when I don't see him I am thinking, I wonder does he even know I exist. Even now I am wondering if he ever figured it all out, would he smile and be polite or fuck me 50 ways from sunday or just pretend he never knew....
Having a crush really has me worn the fuck out... I am thinking maybe I don't need to grow up at all!!
I mean after writing this a thought just struck me, being TOO single where you can't say if an ex is an ex, I mean we go on lots of dates but we are not dating, we're dating but we're not together, we're together but we're not a couple, grown ups have to deal with all that so maybe I'll bury my head in the sand for a little while longer and play Peter Pan for another while :)
Do I really need to be jealous when someone has what I am myself not even sure I want?
Do I really care whether a boy smiles or laughs at me?
Maybe some day the point will hit me straight in the face and I'll smile about this insistant rambling :)
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Finding Mojo!
M.I.A..Questions, yet still no answers!!
Not for the faint hearted, - I have a million questions and not one answer... so DO NOT read on if you may ponder for too long!!
As this is a 'Guide' to finding Mojo (",)
'Mojo' will make one seem and feel sexy, virile, appealing, invincible and in control.
Alcohol or love usually awaken the 'mojo'.
When ones 'Mojo' is working, it often results in flirting and heavy socializing with the opposite sex (or whichever preferred) (",)
Mayday
Mayday.... we have a problem.
Mojo has gone missing.
I REPEAT.....
Mojo has gone missing.
Somewhere on the battlefields of love, friendship, fondling, kissing and desire, I seem to have misplaced my mojo. I must have put it down and forgot to pick it up, left it by a bedside locker maybe but it's most definitely disappeared. I mean it's not technically real, I can't touch it, I can't see it, I can't actually feel it through pain etc, it's not like I can go to the doctor and ask for a pill to get it back!
So if it's not a possession, how do I get it back or more to the point how do I even know I lost it?
What happens when your Mojo curls up and dies?
Research show's there are several ways to retrieve it:
1. Notice disguised opportunities (I mean I am walking around staring at people wondering are they in disguise and have my Mojo)
2. Accentuate the Positive (how can I be positive when I can't even flirt)
3. Stay connected (My phone never leaves my hand, I AM connected but there is NO ringing)
4. Live in the present (I don't bloody well want to, I miss mojo, he was my friend)
5. Be Grateful (For what exactly, the fact that my mojo has gone and deserted me)
which brings me to my next big fact.......
Why do I need my mojo anyway and is it really someone else's to give me?
While thinking about my mojo I realised, I may not be able to feel it like pain but I know when it is there. I am more confident, more alert, more in tune and normally more happy.
So is Mojo really another word for sexually satisfied because it nearly always has something to do with men.
Is it a man I need to find my mojo or can I find it myself?
Am I only thinking my mojo is gone because my libido has shut down and moved abroad, or is it because my 'lady garden' has become a deserted wasteland and my flowers need water?
It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten some. A long while. A length of time I’d rather not reflect on. I’ve been single for a really, really long time. I’ll put it to you plainly: the last time I had a boyfriend, Jordan's chest was smaller than mine.
Not that I mind being single, I'm used to it but maybe I am getting to the stage where I am.......too single. Is that possible? and is that why my mojo has set sail for greener pastures (excuse the pun).
I decided to try restore some confidence in myself in the hope that my mojo may return.....
So some tips I found:
1. Smile.
This is simple but effective seemingly, no man wants to flirt with a sour puss!
2. Be who you wish you were.
If your not comfortable (mainly because mojo is gone away), then pretend you are, if you pretend to be someone else (no not really an actual person) but a more confident, sexy person, then when your mojo actually returns you will be that person anyway!
3. Be open.
Not meaning be a slut, meaning, don't look but keep in mind that you can meet a man anywhere.
4. Don’t discriminate or Dismiss
Just because he's not your usual type (you know the type you keep going for and continuously makes you weep) does not mean he is not right for you.
5. Look hot.
Make an effort, you could meet a hottie anywhere!
So maybe it's that simple and if I do it then I'll find Nemo.... oops I mean mojo (",)
Not for the faint hearted, - I have a million questions and not one answer... so DO NOT read on if you may ponder for too long!!
As this is a 'Guide' to finding Mojo (",)
'Mojo' will make one seem and feel sexy, virile, appealing, invincible and in control.
Alcohol or love usually awaken the 'mojo'.
When ones 'Mojo' is working, it often results in flirting and heavy socializing with the opposite sex (or whichever preferred) (",)
Mayday
Mayday.... we have a problem.
Mojo has gone missing.
I REPEAT.....
Mojo has gone missing.
Somewhere on the battlefields of love, friendship, fondling, kissing and desire, I seem to have misplaced my mojo. I must have put it down and forgot to pick it up, left it by a bedside locker maybe but it's most definitely disappeared. I mean it's not technically real, I can't touch it, I can't see it, I can't actually feel it through pain etc, it's not like I can go to the doctor and ask for a pill to get it back!
So if it's not a possession, how do I get it back or more to the point how do I even know I lost it?
What happens when your Mojo curls up and dies?
Research show's there are several ways to retrieve it:
1. Notice disguised opportunities (I mean I am walking around staring at people wondering are they in disguise and have my Mojo)
2. Accentuate the Positive (how can I be positive when I can't even flirt)
3. Stay connected (My phone never leaves my hand, I AM connected but there is NO ringing)
4. Live in the present (I don't bloody well want to, I miss mojo, he was my friend)
5. Be Grateful (For what exactly, the fact that my mojo has gone and deserted me)
which brings me to my next big fact.......
Why do I need my mojo anyway and is it really someone else's to give me?
While thinking about my mojo I realised, I may not be able to feel it like pain but I know when it is there. I am more confident, more alert, more in tune and normally more happy.
So is Mojo really another word for sexually satisfied because it nearly always has something to do with men.
Is it a man I need to find my mojo or can I find it myself?
Am I only thinking my mojo is gone because my libido has shut down and moved abroad, or is it because my 'lady garden' has become a deserted wasteland and my flowers need water?
It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten some. A long while. A length of time I’d rather not reflect on. I’ve been single for a really, really long time. I’ll put it to you plainly: the last time I had a boyfriend, Jordan's chest was smaller than mine.
Not that I mind being single, I'm used to it but maybe I am getting to the stage where I am.......too single. Is that possible? and is that why my mojo has set sail for greener pastures (excuse the pun).
I decided to try restore some confidence in myself in the hope that my mojo may return.....
So some tips I found:
1. Smile.
This is simple but effective seemingly, no man wants to flirt with a sour puss!
2. Be who you wish you were.
If your not comfortable (mainly because mojo is gone away), then pretend you are, if you pretend to be someone else (no not really an actual person) but a more confident, sexy person, then when your mojo actually returns you will be that person anyway!
3. Be open.
Not meaning be a slut, meaning, don't look but keep in mind that you can meet a man anywhere.
4. Don’t discriminate or Dismiss
Just because he's not your usual type (you know the type you keep going for and continuously makes you weep) does not mean he is not right for you.
5. Look hot.
Make an effort, you could meet a hottie anywhere!
So maybe it's that simple and if I do it then I'll find Nemo.... oops I mean mojo (",)
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Espanol (",)
I am sorry I have been on sabatical for a while, I was in Espanol working on my tan (it's red and blistered and coming along nicely thank you)
So I packed up my flip flops, my Cheryl Cole sunhat, my too small dresses and "I boarded a train and I caught me a plane" and flew my newly skinny ass (months at the gym) to Espanol....
4 Girls, 5 cases, 1 week, 1 apt, 1 car, 1 plane and more importantly no where to run!
We set off on an adventure, a holiday of holidays and we prayed we'd make it back alive... no screaming matches, no claws out, no gouging of the eyes or pulling of the hair, no tantrums, no boys and no MOBILE PHONES!!
The thing about girls is mobile phones cause chaos, we are not happy unless we attracting attention, even unwanted attention! We want someone to text us but when they do we bitch about it so the phones were to be left alone!
Touchdown in Malaga:
Getting off the plane, one of the girls pushes me, I slide down the tarmac and give myself some form of carpet/tarmac burn to the Knee. The claws are out as I kick her case and all her clothes topple - an eye for an eye!
1 hour into this adventure we are still rambling around the airport carpark looking for our car, 'puedele me ayuda' but no one can help me!! Ok finally find it and now can't find our way out, this is a disaster waiting to happen!!
But I need this break, it's been a long month for me. My nieces anniversary, my dad's 60th birthday had he been here , my best friends anniversary and the one that hit me hardest :( My niece's killer being released. Yes she has served half her three year sentence, a whole 547 days behind bars :(:( It's a feeling of resentment and confusion. So this trip was a way to forget it all.
Have you ever seen those guinness book of records programmes where they fit 15 people in a mini, well sending 4 girls on holidays to one apartment is pretty much the same. Too close, too confined, too confused, add alcohol to the mix and you get too cocky........
We unpacked on our first day (literally threw my clothes in a drawer), grabbed a very large bottle of vodka, a couple of cans of red bull and hit the pool, 45 minutes later I am floored, I think I am Pamela Anderson in the water, without the Hoff to save me if I drown and I am singing till my hearts content... Oh god was it great to forget it all :)
In the week there, I ate, ate some more, ate again, drank, drank some more, drank again (managed to walk into a CLOSED patio door and knock myself out), lost purposely on cards so I could drink the shots :), saw how the other half lived :( (In big yachts while driving Ferarris in Puerto Banus) and met some great and fun people.
But do you know what mattered more to me than the people, the sun, the pool, the drink, the food, the place or even forgetting my life, it was that I was there with 4 friends who I was sure would kill each other but we didn't, we laughed so much we sounded like screaming pornstars, we cried so much I think we may have actually bust some bladders, we danced till the early morning, we slept till the late evening and we talked about all things girlie, about all things we cared about, we missed, we regret, we forgave and most of all we wanted.
So the holiday abroad: €100
The drink consumed: €300
The food consumed: €200
The memories I keep forever : Priceless!!!
For anyone out there that misses a friend, take my advice it's better than any drink or drug or any other high you want to feel when they pick your spirits up. Pick up the phone and swallow your pride :)
When life hands you lemons...........Don't make lemonade.
Just call your friends, grab a bottle of tequilla and pass around the salt ;)
So I packed up my flip flops, my Cheryl Cole sunhat, my too small dresses and "I boarded a train and I caught me a plane" and flew my newly skinny ass (months at the gym) to Espanol....
4 Girls, 5 cases, 1 week, 1 apt, 1 car, 1 plane and more importantly no where to run!
We set off on an adventure, a holiday of holidays and we prayed we'd make it back alive... no screaming matches, no claws out, no gouging of the eyes or pulling of the hair, no tantrums, no boys and no MOBILE PHONES!!
The thing about girls is mobile phones cause chaos, we are not happy unless we attracting attention, even unwanted attention! We want someone to text us but when they do we bitch about it so the phones were to be left alone!
Touchdown in Malaga:
Getting off the plane, one of the girls pushes me, I slide down the tarmac and give myself some form of carpet/tarmac burn to the Knee. The claws are out as I kick her case and all her clothes topple - an eye for an eye!
1 hour into this adventure we are still rambling around the airport carpark looking for our car, 'puedele me ayuda' but no one can help me!! Ok finally find it and now can't find our way out, this is a disaster waiting to happen!!
But I need this break, it's been a long month for me. My nieces anniversary, my dad's 60th birthday had he been here , my best friends anniversary and the one that hit me hardest :( My niece's killer being released. Yes she has served half her three year sentence, a whole 547 days behind bars :(:( It's a feeling of resentment and confusion. So this trip was a way to forget it all.
Have you ever seen those guinness book of records programmes where they fit 15 people in a mini, well sending 4 girls on holidays to one apartment is pretty much the same. Too close, too confined, too confused, add alcohol to the mix and you get too cocky........
We unpacked on our first day (literally threw my clothes in a drawer), grabbed a very large bottle of vodka, a couple of cans of red bull and hit the pool, 45 minutes later I am floored, I think I am Pamela Anderson in the water, without the Hoff to save me if I drown and I am singing till my hearts content... Oh god was it great to forget it all :)
In the week there, I ate, ate some more, ate again, drank, drank some more, drank again (managed to walk into a CLOSED patio door and knock myself out), lost purposely on cards so I could drink the shots :), saw how the other half lived :( (In big yachts while driving Ferarris in Puerto Banus) and met some great and fun people.
But do you know what mattered more to me than the people, the sun, the pool, the drink, the food, the place or even forgetting my life, it was that I was there with 4 friends who I was sure would kill each other but we didn't, we laughed so much we sounded like screaming pornstars, we cried so much I think we may have actually bust some bladders, we danced till the early morning, we slept till the late evening and we talked about all things girlie, about all things we cared about, we missed, we regret, we forgave and most of all we wanted.
So the holiday abroad: €100
The drink consumed: €300
The food consumed: €200
The memories I keep forever : Priceless!!!
For anyone out there that misses a friend, take my advice it's better than any drink or drug or any other high you want to feel when they pick your spirits up. Pick up the phone and swallow your pride :)
When life hands you lemons...........Don't make lemonade.
Just call your friends, grab a bottle of tequilla and pass around the salt ;)
Friday, March 27, 2009
When a not-so-Stranger calls!
Today my phone beeped, vibrated, lit up, sputtered and practically wailed at me... Nothing new I would think it's just a text except opening the text there was a number and no name.
Ok still nothing new or surprising. I can deal with this, so I go to open it up, now at this stage I can hear you asking yourself, "what the hell is this girl on about? It's only a bloody text, its not like it's gonna kill her" BUT you see I know this number or at least a lifetime ago I did and I know I shouldn't open the text because I won't be able to resist. I know I should just delete it without even reading it, I know that curiosity killed the cat but I want to read it so bad my hand is shaking as if I were Shakira on speed. It feels like an eternity and my breath seems shallow when the words finally appear.
I don't know whether to smile or cry, whether to toss the phone or hug it tightly.
Frankly I am not even sure if I am hallucinating and the text is real.
You would think I just got a text from Vin Diesel or Paul Warwick but it's neither. It's worse than that... It's HIM!
There are two boys in my life I live in hope never text me again and at the same time I wish everyday that they would. You see both hurt me and both mean the world to me.
If they text I am powerless to not answer, it's like the will in my brain and body leave and my hand and my heart just write back. It's like I know these two people are bad for me but both are a drug.
One boy is what I would have called once upon a time my best friend. He's disappeared now, I am a figment of his imagination, someone who he thinks he may have cared about once but who hurt me so much in the course of our time that i'm pretty sure he never did. He is a person who turned his back on me when I really did need him and not even with reason. Each day I will him to text me just to show that I mattered but I think if he did I'd be too hurt with his excuse's that I'd hate him. I've had to delete his number from my phone and stop myself from texting him a million times because it's like anything, when you get used to talking to someone everyday and then they are gone, it's a hard habit to break. Sometimes I hear my phone beep and think it will be him but it never is now and my pride and hurt won't ever let me contact him again. Sometimes I want to ask him is he happy or ok or does he miss me or think of me but my anger won't let me do that. He, I really do think may be best left where he is, till one day he wakes up and realises he lost a friend that genuinely cared for him and he lost her for no reason at all!!
The other is my first love, the boy that makes everyone else dim when I see him and its not even that he's fantastic or anything, it's just because he is my first love, my first everything including my first heartbreak. Infatuated is a word I would use when I think of him and yet 11 years later I am still the same. A single word, a single thought, a single text can make me shake, loose control of all rational thought and that's what he's just done. I have not heard from him in 2 years and today he text to say 'hey and that he was thinking of me', like that is the most normal thing in the world and what is really worse is that I am powerless to not answer, I want to ignore it and think, 'well really after 11 years we need to grow up and grow apart' but my brain tells me 'after 11 years he still cares enough to text'..
Silly irrational thought really, that will surely lead into another 2 years of my life twoing and froing in all directions and us back where we started 11 years ago because we know where this starts and we know this ends.
Every few years we make contact, we do this whole friends thing which turns into a not so friends thing, then we tug at each other for the bones of two years and walk away, both bitterly disappointed and resentful that 2 more years are gone and yet we are still not any wiser.
This has been the sequence for 11 years. We stop, meet other people and then inevitably we get sucked in again, it's like one big giant hurricane that never seems to end, except now its getting tiresome.
I am 27 years old and should know better, he is 34 and we are still playing this silly game and yet here I am, twenty minutes after the first text, willing my phone to beep, waiting to play this game that I know will hurt me but I can't stop....
So anyone out there that has been here before, please just pray I make it out the other side smiling :)
Ok still nothing new or surprising. I can deal with this, so I go to open it up, now at this stage I can hear you asking yourself, "what the hell is this girl on about? It's only a bloody text, its not like it's gonna kill her" BUT you see I know this number or at least a lifetime ago I did and I know I shouldn't open the text because I won't be able to resist. I know I should just delete it without even reading it, I know that curiosity killed the cat but I want to read it so bad my hand is shaking as if I were Shakira on speed. It feels like an eternity and my breath seems shallow when the words finally appear.
I don't know whether to smile or cry, whether to toss the phone or hug it tightly.
Frankly I am not even sure if I am hallucinating and the text is real.
You would think I just got a text from Vin Diesel or Paul Warwick but it's neither. It's worse than that... It's HIM!
There are two boys in my life I live in hope never text me again and at the same time I wish everyday that they would. You see both hurt me and both mean the world to me.
If they text I am powerless to not answer, it's like the will in my brain and body leave and my hand and my heart just write back. It's like I know these two people are bad for me but both are a drug.
One boy is what I would have called once upon a time my best friend. He's disappeared now, I am a figment of his imagination, someone who he thinks he may have cared about once but who hurt me so much in the course of our time that i'm pretty sure he never did. He is a person who turned his back on me when I really did need him and not even with reason. Each day I will him to text me just to show that I mattered but I think if he did I'd be too hurt with his excuse's that I'd hate him. I've had to delete his number from my phone and stop myself from texting him a million times because it's like anything, when you get used to talking to someone everyday and then they are gone, it's a hard habit to break. Sometimes I hear my phone beep and think it will be him but it never is now and my pride and hurt won't ever let me contact him again. Sometimes I want to ask him is he happy or ok or does he miss me or think of me but my anger won't let me do that. He, I really do think may be best left where he is, till one day he wakes up and realises he lost a friend that genuinely cared for him and he lost her for no reason at all!!
The other is my first love, the boy that makes everyone else dim when I see him and its not even that he's fantastic or anything, it's just because he is my first love, my first everything including my first heartbreak. Infatuated is a word I would use when I think of him and yet 11 years later I am still the same. A single word, a single thought, a single text can make me shake, loose control of all rational thought and that's what he's just done. I have not heard from him in 2 years and today he text to say 'hey and that he was thinking of me', like that is the most normal thing in the world and what is really worse is that I am powerless to not answer, I want to ignore it and think, 'well really after 11 years we need to grow up and grow apart' but my brain tells me 'after 11 years he still cares enough to text'..
Silly irrational thought really, that will surely lead into another 2 years of my life twoing and froing in all directions and us back where we started 11 years ago because we know where this starts and we know this ends.
Every few years we make contact, we do this whole friends thing which turns into a not so friends thing, then we tug at each other for the bones of two years and walk away, both bitterly disappointed and resentful that 2 more years are gone and yet we are still not any wiser.
This has been the sequence for 11 years. We stop, meet other people and then inevitably we get sucked in again, it's like one big giant hurricane that never seems to end, except now its getting tiresome.
I am 27 years old and should know better, he is 34 and we are still playing this silly game and yet here I am, twenty minutes after the first text, willing my phone to beep, waiting to play this game that I know will hurt me but I can't stop....
So anyone out there that has been here before, please just pray I make it out the other side smiling :)
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Move over Mother T..
I did something good today.
I am not a saint by any means, I am not even sure sometimes if I am a nice person (I mean I know I can be better). I do alot for other people but those other people are nearly always someone I care about.
I am not one of those people that goes and raises awareness for important things, nor would I be any good at collecting money on the street. I once wanted to volunteer to help others, to show people that all these tragedies that are thrown our way in life are tests to see what kind of people we will become but after alot of searching and not knowing where to even start volunteering, I gave up. I sometimes pass people begging in the street and give them some change but I am not one who dwells on their sorrow.
But Today I made someone smile. I did a good thing and you know whats even better I felt so good for doing the small thing!
Today I ventured into a fast food outlet (do not judge me, I have been at the gym nearly every night recently), While waiting for the snooty cow with graces beyond herself behind the counter to serve me, a homeless man came to the counter. He asked the manager behind the counter how much two muffins were (€1.90 each incase your wondering), he counted out his change and was short 10 cents which he promptly told the Manager he could only have one. I couldn't believe that the Manager was going to take back the other one for 10 CENTS, yes just 10 CENTS!!
So I passed over the 10 cent. The man profusely thanked me and went to take a seat BUT the glare of some people in this restaraunt was enough for the manager to step out from behind counter and tell the man that Muffins were for take-away only. If you or I bought a muffin I could have sat there for hours eating it and reading a book but because this man had nowhere else to go, he was told leave.
Now as I said, normally I probably wouldn't have batted an eyelid, not that I wouldn't care but I try to stay out of any situations that do not concern me. But today I actually felt my breath catch when I heard the Manager say this. I felt so sorry for this man and he only looked at the Manager, apologised and got up to leave.
I was actually sickened to the pit of my stomach that our society could look on someone with such content. The lady beside me was muttering something to the sound of 'good riddance' to her friend.
I saw him walk, shoulders down towards the exit, when something took over me. I had just been handed my food by the snooty cow behind the counter so I walked (no actually practically ran to the exit), I handed the man my bag of food and told him to sit down and take his time to enjoy it.
I knew all eyes in the place were staring at me but I just didn't care.
People get down on their luck, not everyone who is homeless or drunk or on drugs are dangerous, I am sure I live near many 'normal' people that have homes but have problems with drink and drugs and are basically just down on their luck.
When I left I remembered a film called 'Pay it Forward' about a boy who does a nice thing for someone who in return has to do a nice thing for three other people and so on and so on and it made me think that if I posted my day here and told ye all how fantastic this feeling is, then maybe just maybe someone may read it and smile at the next person and maybe someones day will be brighter. Or maybe they will just remember that a smile cost nothing and no matter, where the person is, no matter what they look like, no matter how they smell, that person is 'Somebodies Someone'.... That person has someone somewhere who loves them.... and maybe someday it could happen to your 'someone' and you would at least like to think, wherever they are, someone smiles at them!
The is a true story... FACT!!
I am not a saint by any means, I am not even sure sometimes if I am a nice person (I mean I know I can be better). I do alot for other people but those other people are nearly always someone I care about.
I am not one of those people that goes and raises awareness for important things, nor would I be any good at collecting money on the street. I once wanted to volunteer to help others, to show people that all these tragedies that are thrown our way in life are tests to see what kind of people we will become but after alot of searching and not knowing where to even start volunteering, I gave up. I sometimes pass people begging in the street and give them some change but I am not one who dwells on their sorrow.
But Today I made someone smile. I did a good thing and you know whats even better I felt so good for doing the small thing!
Today I ventured into a fast food outlet (do not judge me, I have been at the gym nearly every night recently), While waiting for the snooty cow with graces beyond herself behind the counter to serve me, a homeless man came to the counter. He asked the manager behind the counter how much two muffins were (€1.90 each incase your wondering), he counted out his change and was short 10 cents which he promptly told the Manager he could only have one. I couldn't believe that the Manager was going to take back the other one for 10 CENTS, yes just 10 CENTS!!
So I passed over the 10 cent. The man profusely thanked me and went to take a seat BUT the glare of some people in this restaraunt was enough for the manager to step out from behind counter and tell the man that Muffins were for take-away only. If you or I bought a muffin I could have sat there for hours eating it and reading a book but because this man had nowhere else to go, he was told leave.
Now as I said, normally I probably wouldn't have batted an eyelid, not that I wouldn't care but I try to stay out of any situations that do not concern me. But today I actually felt my breath catch when I heard the Manager say this. I felt so sorry for this man and he only looked at the Manager, apologised and got up to leave.
I was actually sickened to the pit of my stomach that our society could look on someone with such content. The lady beside me was muttering something to the sound of 'good riddance' to her friend.
I saw him walk, shoulders down towards the exit, when something took over me. I had just been handed my food by the snooty cow behind the counter so I walked (no actually practically ran to the exit), I handed the man my bag of food and told him to sit down and take his time to enjoy it.
I knew all eyes in the place were staring at me but I just didn't care.
People get down on their luck, not everyone who is homeless or drunk or on drugs are dangerous, I am sure I live near many 'normal' people that have homes but have problems with drink and drugs and are basically just down on their luck.
When I left I remembered a film called 'Pay it Forward' about a boy who does a nice thing for someone who in return has to do a nice thing for three other people and so on and so on and it made me think that if I posted my day here and told ye all how fantastic this feeling is, then maybe just maybe someone may read it and smile at the next person and maybe someones day will be brighter. Or maybe they will just remember that a smile cost nothing and no matter, where the person is, no matter what they look like, no matter how they smell, that person is 'Somebodies Someone'.... That person has someone somewhere who loves them.... and maybe someday it could happen to your 'someone' and you would at least like to think, wherever they are, someone smiles at them!
The is a true story... FACT!!
Friday, February 20, 2009
Monsters INC
You can't remember pain when you’re a child.
If you sit and think now, you'll realise you could never remember the pain of your first tooth, of your first fall, of grazing your knee as a child. You also don't remember when you were sick, how your mother held you close and sang you songs. Throughout life you'll remember these things surely had to have happened you but you just don't remember it actually happening and that I think is by the Grace of God!!
I remember the day she was born, hours of labour and phone calls and wondering and then we were told we had a niece. A cuddly doting smiley child with long lashes, tanned skin and an infectious smile and it was the start of something wonderful.
She was the first grandchild, the happiest thing to have entered our lives in a long time. I remember the whole family smiling and bursting with pride fighting to tell anyone that would listen about her first smile, the first time she crawled, the first time she held her own food, the things that made her happy and sad. We couldn't get enough of her but sadly this world was beyond her, it was not big enough for an angel in disguise. Not long enough for Maeve.
She was 11 months old when her life ended and ours turned upside down.
For anyone that looses a loved one, the pain is a searing heat in your chest, a burning sensation never to be quelled by laughter or tears. It never leaves you, its always there, for someone to loose a loved one in a tragic senseless act of murder, the horror is so much more different.
The realization that someone who you trusted, someone who God put on this earth to love, someone who was loved and had loved could hurt your family and rip them to pieces is un-comprehendible.
Daylight breaks for me each morning, the sky turns blue and cloudless, or grey and rainy albeit each morning may be different, it is still always the same.
You wake wanting answers, you wake wondering and you wake drained and tired and void of all rational thinking. You wake with pain.
In March 2005 my niece was shaken so hard by her child minder that she died from massive head injuries, an over-extended neck (snapped), blind, bleeding of the brain and eyes, a haemorrhage (all consistent with SBS).
We never got to see her first day at school, we never got to hear her sing or see her dance, we never got to see her running on the beach, but most of all, we never got to say goodbye.
The hardest loss of all is the never knowing. I want to believe Keran, I want to think that maybe it never happened, and then I could preserve Maeve in that tiny bubble of hope, that she didn’t die in pain. That the doctors were wrong and she just slipped peacefully in a deep sleep and never woke. That her time on earth was fulfilled, that her true meaning in life was to bring happiness to those she encountered and that she had done that.
But I don’t believe Keran.
In my life Doctors, teachers, guards etc were of a higher regard for me. They were professionals that helped you in life (some times this is not the case).
But I don’t believe that in March 2005 all of these professionals conspired to make me believe my niece was murdered. They told the truth and the only one with anything to gain by lying is Keran.
She shook her for reasons unknown and as she will never tell the truth, those reasons will never be known. She was a professional, a modern day Mary Poppin’s but she took a life and will have to live with her conscience for eternity.
I remember after the trial the media going on about the judge’s comments: “Your reputation as someone who parents can confidently leave their children with has been shattered. You are going to have to live the rest of you life knowing that Maeve died in your care".
They were going on and on about if the judge believed she was guilty he would have said ‘that Maeve was murdered by you’ but I understand what and why he said that.
It is hard to understand why someone so normal would kill, maybe it wasn’t intentional, maybe if she told the truth then we would know but because she won’t then she has to live the rest of her life, with the knowledge that Maeve died in her care’. She has to live with a far greater weight than many; she has to live with her conscience!
Only Keran knows what truly happened my niece and for that, in my eyes that warrants no forgiveness. Maybe if I knew what actually made all this happen or saw remorse or maybe just if I was a bigger or better person I could forgive her but sadly I can’t and I am not sure I ever will.
To ask yourself the question, then you need to read this:
http://justice4maeve.blogspot.com/2008/03/imagine.html
Now could you forgive?
If you sit and think now, you'll realise you could never remember the pain of your first tooth, of your first fall, of grazing your knee as a child. You also don't remember when you were sick, how your mother held you close and sang you songs. Throughout life you'll remember these things surely had to have happened you but you just don't remember it actually happening and that I think is by the Grace of God!!
I remember the day she was born, hours of labour and phone calls and wondering and then we were told we had a niece. A cuddly doting smiley child with long lashes, tanned skin and an infectious smile and it was the start of something wonderful.
She was the first grandchild, the happiest thing to have entered our lives in a long time. I remember the whole family smiling and bursting with pride fighting to tell anyone that would listen about her first smile, the first time she crawled, the first time she held her own food, the things that made her happy and sad. We couldn't get enough of her but sadly this world was beyond her, it was not big enough for an angel in disguise. Not long enough for Maeve.
She was 11 months old when her life ended and ours turned upside down.
For anyone that looses a loved one, the pain is a searing heat in your chest, a burning sensation never to be quelled by laughter or tears. It never leaves you, its always there, for someone to loose a loved one in a tragic senseless act of murder, the horror is so much more different.
The realization that someone who you trusted, someone who God put on this earth to love, someone who was loved and had loved could hurt your family and rip them to pieces is un-comprehendible.
Daylight breaks for me each morning, the sky turns blue and cloudless, or grey and rainy albeit each morning may be different, it is still always the same.
You wake wanting answers, you wake wondering and you wake drained and tired and void of all rational thinking. You wake with pain.
In March 2005 my niece was shaken so hard by her child minder that she died from massive head injuries, an over-extended neck (snapped), blind, bleeding of the brain and eyes, a haemorrhage (all consistent with SBS).
We never got to see her first day at school, we never got to hear her sing or see her dance, we never got to see her running on the beach, but most of all, we never got to say goodbye.
The hardest loss of all is the never knowing. I want to believe Keran, I want to think that maybe it never happened, and then I could preserve Maeve in that tiny bubble of hope, that she didn’t die in pain. That the doctors were wrong and she just slipped peacefully in a deep sleep and never woke. That her time on earth was fulfilled, that her true meaning in life was to bring happiness to those she encountered and that she had done that.
But I don’t believe Keran.
In my life Doctors, teachers, guards etc were of a higher regard for me. They were professionals that helped you in life (some times this is not the case).
But I don’t believe that in March 2005 all of these professionals conspired to make me believe my niece was murdered. They told the truth and the only one with anything to gain by lying is Keran.
She shook her for reasons unknown and as she will never tell the truth, those reasons will never be known. She was a professional, a modern day Mary Poppin’s but she took a life and will have to live with her conscience for eternity.
I remember after the trial the media going on about the judge’s comments: “Your reputation as someone who parents can confidently leave their children with has been shattered. You are going to have to live the rest of you life knowing that Maeve died in your care".
They were going on and on about if the judge believed she was guilty he would have said ‘that Maeve was murdered by you’ but I understand what and why he said that.
It is hard to understand why someone so normal would kill, maybe it wasn’t intentional, maybe if she told the truth then we would know but because she won’t then she has to live the rest of her life, with the knowledge that Maeve died in her care’. She has to live with a far greater weight than many; she has to live with her conscience!
Only Keran knows what truly happened my niece and for that, in my eyes that warrants no forgiveness. Maybe if I knew what actually made all this happen or saw remorse or maybe just if I was a bigger or better person I could forgive her but sadly I can’t and I am not sure I ever will.
To ask yourself the question, then you need to read this:
http://justice4maeve.blogspot.com/2008/03/imagine.html
Now could you forgive?
Friend-boy
I have many male friends and recently one transformed from friend to boy and became a friend-boy!
What is this I hear you ask, well each person will have a different name for him and for some it will be total strangers that you continuously see for sexual ramifications but know nothing about, for others it will be ex boyfriends who treated you badly but made you quiver and for people like me it will be the Holy Grail of Stupidity and be a friend who you choose to see in a new light and sleep with!
So I talk to this boy everyday, I tell him my deep dark secrets. He knows which boys I like, when I wax, what makes me happy and what makes me sad, he is my confident, so why change it so I could get frisky on a Friday?
Max was the one I called when I stubbed my toe on my bed and ending up falling on my roasting hot GHD, burning my knee and crying like a two month old waiting to be fed. Needless to say he laughed down the phone and told all the lads at the bar what happened his hysterical friend.
He was also the one I called when my dream wedding was pulled from underneath me and I was dumped and he was the one that threw tequila slammers back my throat while screaming ‘God knows he got off lucky’.
He was the one that was there waiting when I arrived at his door the night my father died, and he was the one that tenderly rubbed my hair till I cried myself to sleep and never once mentioned that I wearing two odd shoes and had mascara on my nose.
He was the one that held my hand when I went to the hospital for tests on a suspicious lump and he was the one that cheered loudly when it turned out to be nothing.
He was the person I aspired all my lovers could be like and he was the one that hurt me most.
Max is gone now.
I loved Max, he was my dear friend and any girl who knows her Gucci from her Gukki will know that you should never mix love with a fun loving friend. Its not that Max never wants to settle down, it’s just that Max never wants to settle with me and I’m ok with that, he was my best friend after all but I stepped over that involuntary border and became a friend with benefits, the only thing I got wrong was that the benefits were the one thing that changed us.
I never wanted to be with Max, I still don’t but Max just doesn’t see it like that.
After our very drunk toss and tumble Max did everything the following morning but pay me, he practically snuck me downstairs in his shared accommodation and marched me outside to a waiting taxi (he didn’t even offer to drive me home incase someone saw), his texts became very straight and less sarcastic incase I read some innuendo of recapturing a forgotten moment.
There are no more funny moments of when I text to tell him I am drunk and dancing in my underwear to Destiny’s Child while holding a curling tongs and pretending to be Beyonce (minus the tan – after the Oprah Winfrey comment), there are no sarcastic texts that tell me I am no longer an old maid and when I hit 30 he’ll gladly marry me. There is only awkward silence (Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk to you again). He rings once a week to ‘catch up’ and show he hasn’t forgotten me, but he speaks of no importance, he doesn’t tell me how some girl arrived at his door after numerous texts and demanded he make an honest woman of her, or how he met a married neighbour who used to change his nappies and now wants to see how ‘big’ his grown!
Those days are gone and I have no one to blame but DRINK (Ok. Ok maybe at a push I could take a little blame myself), you see I don’t want Max as anything more than my friend and I don’t regret what happened but I don’t want it to continuously happen either and without either of us speaking about it we have drifted about as far apart Paul McCartney and Heather Mills.
Now when we meet there are awkward glances, tedious hugs and small talk. I want to shake him and scream I am not in love with him and as he knows me better than anyone he should already know this……But I am afraid of his reaction, because what if he tells me he doesn’t want me as a friend anymore?
I mean having him, as a vague and distant friend is better than not having him at all surely!!
Friends and Boys may make good ‘friends’ or good ‘boys’ but don’t mix the two together, they are about as lethal as mixing Vodka and Mobile Phones – that’s always going to get you in trouble
What is this I hear you ask, well each person will have a different name for him and for some it will be total strangers that you continuously see for sexual ramifications but know nothing about, for others it will be ex boyfriends who treated you badly but made you quiver and for people like me it will be the Holy Grail of Stupidity and be a friend who you choose to see in a new light and sleep with!
So I talk to this boy everyday, I tell him my deep dark secrets. He knows which boys I like, when I wax, what makes me happy and what makes me sad, he is my confident, so why change it so I could get frisky on a Friday?
Max was the one I called when I stubbed my toe on my bed and ending up falling on my roasting hot GHD, burning my knee and crying like a two month old waiting to be fed. Needless to say he laughed down the phone and told all the lads at the bar what happened his hysterical friend.
He was also the one I called when my dream wedding was pulled from underneath me and I was dumped and he was the one that threw tequila slammers back my throat while screaming ‘God knows he got off lucky’.
He was the one that was there waiting when I arrived at his door the night my father died, and he was the one that tenderly rubbed my hair till I cried myself to sleep and never once mentioned that I wearing two odd shoes and had mascara on my nose.
He was the one that held my hand when I went to the hospital for tests on a suspicious lump and he was the one that cheered loudly when it turned out to be nothing.
He was the person I aspired all my lovers could be like and he was the one that hurt me most.
Max is gone now.
I loved Max, he was my dear friend and any girl who knows her Gucci from her Gukki will know that you should never mix love with a fun loving friend. Its not that Max never wants to settle down, it’s just that Max never wants to settle with me and I’m ok with that, he was my best friend after all but I stepped over that involuntary border and became a friend with benefits, the only thing I got wrong was that the benefits were the one thing that changed us.
I never wanted to be with Max, I still don’t but Max just doesn’t see it like that.
After our very drunk toss and tumble Max did everything the following morning but pay me, he practically snuck me downstairs in his shared accommodation and marched me outside to a waiting taxi (he didn’t even offer to drive me home incase someone saw), his texts became very straight and less sarcastic incase I read some innuendo of recapturing a forgotten moment.
There are no more funny moments of when I text to tell him I am drunk and dancing in my underwear to Destiny’s Child while holding a curling tongs and pretending to be Beyonce (minus the tan – after the Oprah Winfrey comment), there are no sarcastic texts that tell me I am no longer an old maid and when I hit 30 he’ll gladly marry me. There is only awkward silence (Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk to you again). He rings once a week to ‘catch up’ and show he hasn’t forgotten me, but he speaks of no importance, he doesn’t tell me how some girl arrived at his door after numerous texts and demanded he make an honest woman of her, or how he met a married neighbour who used to change his nappies and now wants to see how ‘big’ his grown!
Those days are gone and I have no one to blame but DRINK (Ok. Ok maybe at a push I could take a little blame myself), you see I don’t want Max as anything more than my friend and I don’t regret what happened but I don’t want it to continuously happen either and without either of us speaking about it we have drifted about as far apart Paul McCartney and Heather Mills.
Now when we meet there are awkward glances, tedious hugs and small talk. I want to shake him and scream I am not in love with him and as he knows me better than anyone he should already know this……But I am afraid of his reaction, because what if he tells me he doesn’t want me as a friend anymore?
I mean having him, as a vague and distant friend is better than not having him at all surely!!
Friends and Boys may make good ‘friends’ or good ‘boys’ but don’t mix the two together, they are about as lethal as mixing Vodka and Mobile Phones – that’s always going to get you in trouble
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
A letter to my Dad!
To my Dad,
I remember it all like it was yesterday. . The searing pain that seemed to slice through me like a knife, the pain that caught my breath, the pain I thought never existed but even now I can feel that pain like it was yesterday.
I can remember everything in that moment and how it was all taken away. I remember the sudden loss and the almost unbearable grief that took over. I remember the tears that were to follow for a very long time and I remember the questions.
See remembering is easy but then I try to find you in my memory, all I can find is the pain.
I feel like I’m drowning but the water never fully pulls me under, I keep catching my breath and for that second, that instant when my lungs burn from the air, I feel ok and then it engulfs me again.
Not seeing your face or hearing your voice or having you call my name is torture.
Every time I walk into a room I am reminded of something you said or did so I now no longer want to go there, each space holds a memory and I lie awake and cry at night cause slowly but surely that memory is fading and what if I forget them, I sometimes close my eyes and realize your not there and I can’t see you anymore, not just physically but in my head where I thought you would always stay, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night just because I can’t see your face anymore or I can’t hear your voice or I think I can hear you crying and then I remember, I only have a picture to remember you and your voice is long gone and those tears that I thought I could hear dropping, they were mine!
It feels like when I laugh I should feel guilty because I miss you so very much.
Worst of all I now know the meaning of ‘my heart shattered into a million pieces’….. it feels like if I look down I can see each piece on the ground, like I am bleeding as I walk but no one can see it but me and every time I look for the blood or a piece of my heart, its missing and that one more memory has been snatched away from me……
I sometimes wonder what makes pain go away, I’m not sure anything. I remember someone telling me ‘Time heals pain’ but I am not so sure, each day brings back that pain, the unimaginable pain and it never goes away. It lingers in a different shade or question or thought each day.
I keep thinking of old times when on a Sunday at dinner I would tell you that your red lemonade had spiders in it instead of bubbles and I would drink it till it were all gone and you would laugh but I can’t hear that laugh and I remember those moments but I can’t see your face.
I remember seeing your face in the hospital, the fear in your eyes is something I will never forget, you weren’t peaceful and calm like you would expect when someone is dying, everyone wasn’t there and you were panicked but you couldn’t hold on and I had to leave the room… Everyone spoke to you as if we were at home but I couldn’t, I froze, I wanted my friends, I wanted to be as far away from you as possible so that it wasn’t real and that’s what I did… I hid out so I didn’t have to look at that fear ever again.
When I close my eyes every night I don’t see your face but I see that fear in your eyes.
And then the guilt arrives like a rainstorm flooding in and I can’t catch my breath again, I didn’t/couldn’t even go to see you in the funeral home. I know why now, it is because I was afraid of the fear again, of seeing the pain in your face, everyone said you looked so peaceful, they sat and talked and said their goodbyes to you but me…. I did nothing… stayed away like a coward so that I could get on with it.
Now each time I close my eyes I don’t want to open them again because I’m not sure which is worse, dreaming of you and hurting or realizing your not there and hurting.
You see till someone can feel my heart beat slow enough to stop in my chest every time I think of you and realize the panic I feel then they will never understand how I feel.
I want to shout and scream and cry and sleep all at the same time because now your gone its only a select few memories that are the ones to always return, they are what I live by, they are my thoughts when I’ve had a good or a bad day and they are the ones I hope will never fade away.
They are the ones that get me through the days so everyday does not feel bad.
So there you have it….
Dad, I want you to know that you are always in my heart and always in my thoughts. Actually I will rephrase that, you are my heart and you are my thoughts.
I love you always with all my heart.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I remember it all like it was yesterday. . The searing pain that seemed to slice through me like a knife, the pain that caught my breath, the pain I thought never existed but even now I can feel that pain like it was yesterday.
I can remember everything in that moment and how it was all taken away. I remember the sudden loss and the almost unbearable grief that took over. I remember the tears that were to follow for a very long time and I remember the questions.
See remembering is easy but then I try to find you in my memory, all I can find is the pain.
I feel like I’m drowning but the water never fully pulls me under, I keep catching my breath and for that second, that instant when my lungs burn from the air, I feel ok and then it engulfs me again.
Not seeing your face or hearing your voice or having you call my name is torture.
Every time I walk into a room I am reminded of something you said or did so I now no longer want to go there, each space holds a memory and I lie awake and cry at night cause slowly but surely that memory is fading and what if I forget them, I sometimes close my eyes and realize your not there and I can’t see you anymore, not just physically but in my head where I thought you would always stay, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night just because I can’t see your face anymore or I can’t hear your voice or I think I can hear you crying and then I remember, I only have a picture to remember you and your voice is long gone and those tears that I thought I could hear dropping, they were mine!
It feels like when I laugh I should feel guilty because I miss you so very much.
Worst of all I now know the meaning of ‘my heart shattered into a million pieces’….. it feels like if I look down I can see each piece on the ground, like I am bleeding as I walk but no one can see it but me and every time I look for the blood or a piece of my heart, its missing and that one more memory has been snatched away from me……
I sometimes wonder what makes pain go away, I’m not sure anything. I remember someone telling me ‘Time heals pain’ but I am not so sure, each day brings back that pain, the unimaginable pain and it never goes away. It lingers in a different shade or question or thought each day.
I keep thinking of old times when on a Sunday at dinner I would tell you that your red lemonade had spiders in it instead of bubbles and I would drink it till it were all gone and you would laugh but I can’t hear that laugh and I remember those moments but I can’t see your face.
I remember seeing your face in the hospital, the fear in your eyes is something I will never forget, you weren’t peaceful and calm like you would expect when someone is dying, everyone wasn’t there and you were panicked but you couldn’t hold on and I had to leave the room… Everyone spoke to you as if we were at home but I couldn’t, I froze, I wanted my friends, I wanted to be as far away from you as possible so that it wasn’t real and that’s what I did… I hid out so I didn’t have to look at that fear ever again.
When I close my eyes every night I don’t see your face but I see that fear in your eyes.
And then the guilt arrives like a rainstorm flooding in and I can’t catch my breath again, I didn’t/couldn’t even go to see you in the funeral home. I know why now, it is because I was afraid of the fear again, of seeing the pain in your face, everyone said you looked so peaceful, they sat and talked and said their goodbyes to you but me…. I did nothing… stayed away like a coward so that I could get on with it.
Now each time I close my eyes I don’t want to open them again because I’m not sure which is worse, dreaming of you and hurting or realizing your not there and hurting.
You see till someone can feel my heart beat slow enough to stop in my chest every time I think of you and realize the panic I feel then they will never understand how I feel.
I want to shout and scream and cry and sleep all at the same time because now your gone its only a select few memories that are the ones to always return, they are what I live by, they are my thoughts when I’ve had a good or a bad day and they are the ones I hope will never fade away.
They are the ones that get me through the days so everyday does not feel bad.
So there you have it….
Dad, I want you to know that you are always in my heart and always in my thoughts. Actually I will rephrase that, you are my heart and you are my thoughts.
I love you always with all my heart.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
On Doctors Orders
I am sick, I’m not sure if it’s sick in the head, real sick or pretend sick but I am not able to venture far enough from my pillow to guess. My mother keeps pestering me to go see the doctor but how do you tell your mother that your sweet caring considerate 60 year old female doctor is a raving lunatic.
It pretty much like the ‘Tailor story’ by Joey in ‘Friends’, you know the one where he gets ‘measured’! Well my doctor is much like that but in a nicer version.
Every time I see her I have to mention my non-existent boyfriend who I call ‘Frank’ and at present is traveling America, which surprises her as I have been with ‘Frank’ since I was 16 and first wanted to go on the pill and had to have a valid reason for needing contraception. You know, once when I had a slight drunken mishap the night before and I needed the morning after pill, she actually asked me to ring ‘Frank’ and have him come down and explain himself. Imagine your 60 year old doctor demanding to meet your imaginary boyfriend to know how he had got me into this predicament. Did she expect him to say ‘it was at this minute’ or maybe ‘when we did it this way’, although ‘Frank’ can’t say anything as he is about as real as Santa Clause (not real but does come around once a year to unload his presents). Well finally I succumbed to my mothers torture (she was reincarnated from a POW camp, I am convinced, she could mentally torture anyone to do anything and not even lift a finger in doing so).
Arriving at my doctor’s office I felt queasy but nothing prepared me for what was about to happen.
I explained to this kind old lady how my glands felt swollen and that my body joints felt stiff (classic flu symptoms really) but when she told me to the pop up on the bed in the nicest manner, I saw no problem.
Wrong choice, once cornered on the bed in the oldest room in the world she proceeded to remove my bra, shock registered on my face but she ignored and carried on examining my breast (this is for breast cancer I am aware but she does this every time I get sick, even when I am not sick). She has a fear that all young girls are going to die from breast cancer. As if I am not violated enough (I know a little exaggeration as she was just doing her job albeit not at the right moment) she decides that I need to be weighed.
Popping me on a great big weighing scale that has survived since the 1900’s she uses a wall chart (you know the one’s you see when your in primary school to measure your height – on this one even the numbers are fading), she then proceeds to match up my total, weight and height = EVER SO slightly obese!!
SORRY I sputter, (I have been watching my weight ever since Barry, a so called friend in school, told me I could be a double for Oprah Winfrey in her heyday if I didn’t be careful – I also laid off the fake tan around that time too).
Well much to my concern this loopy old woman is after now feeling me up, charging me €50 and is now telling me I am EVER SO SLIGHLTY OBESE.
I ask her to re-check, which she does and comes to same conclusion. Time to put my foot down, I explain to her that yes my weight is correct but the wall chart is wrong as I am not FOUR foot six, I am FIVE foot six, much to her dismay she rectifies her problem and proceeds to tell me I need to eat some lean meat to fatten up my bones.
In conclusion this week I have had the flu (I could have got over it without the help of a doctor or the torture of a mother), I have been on an imaginary trip with ‘Frank’ and I have been felt up, accused of being overweight and underweight and charged for the pleasure.
So next time your sick, stay in bed, drink your chicken soup and save your money.
It pretty much like the ‘Tailor story’ by Joey in ‘Friends’, you know the one where he gets ‘measured’! Well my doctor is much like that but in a nicer version.
Every time I see her I have to mention my non-existent boyfriend who I call ‘Frank’ and at present is traveling America, which surprises her as I have been with ‘Frank’ since I was 16 and first wanted to go on the pill and had to have a valid reason for needing contraception. You know, once when I had a slight drunken mishap the night before and I needed the morning after pill, she actually asked me to ring ‘Frank’ and have him come down and explain himself. Imagine your 60 year old doctor demanding to meet your imaginary boyfriend to know how he had got me into this predicament. Did she expect him to say ‘it was at this minute’ or maybe ‘when we did it this way’, although ‘Frank’ can’t say anything as he is about as real as Santa Clause (not real but does come around once a year to unload his presents). Well finally I succumbed to my mothers torture (she was reincarnated from a POW camp, I am convinced, she could mentally torture anyone to do anything and not even lift a finger in doing so).
Arriving at my doctor’s office I felt queasy but nothing prepared me for what was about to happen.
I explained to this kind old lady how my glands felt swollen and that my body joints felt stiff (classic flu symptoms really) but when she told me to the pop up on the bed in the nicest manner, I saw no problem.
Wrong choice, once cornered on the bed in the oldest room in the world she proceeded to remove my bra, shock registered on my face but she ignored and carried on examining my breast (this is for breast cancer I am aware but she does this every time I get sick, even when I am not sick). She has a fear that all young girls are going to die from breast cancer. As if I am not violated enough (I know a little exaggeration as she was just doing her job albeit not at the right moment) she decides that I need to be weighed.
Popping me on a great big weighing scale that has survived since the 1900’s she uses a wall chart (you know the one’s you see when your in primary school to measure your height – on this one even the numbers are fading), she then proceeds to match up my total, weight and height = EVER SO slightly obese!!
SORRY I sputter, (I have been watching my weight ever since Barry, a so called friend in school, told me I could be a double for Oprah Winfrey in her heyday if I didn’t be careful – I also laid off the fake tan around that time too).
Well much to my concern this loopy old woman is after now feeling me up, charging me €50 and is now telling me I am EVER SO SLIGHLTY OBESE.
I ask her to re-check, which she does and comes to same conclusion. Time to put my foot down, I explain to her that yes my weight is correct but the wall chart is wrong as I am not FOUR foot six, I am FIVE foot six, much to her dismay she rectifies her problem and proceeds to tell me I need to eat some lean meat to fatten up my bones.
In conclusion this week I have had the flu (I could have got over it without the help of a doctor or the torture of a mother), I have been on an imaginary trip with ‘Frank’ and I have been felt up, accused of being overweight and underweight and charged for the pleasure.
So next time your sick, stay in bed, drink your chicken soup and save your money.
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