The new year has finally started. Not a huge turning point from a lot of angles, but a select few perhaps. While the turn of the clock really doesn’t signify more than the fact that a few more minutes have expired, some see it as the magical unicorn of hope. The time to start afresh, move forward, leave the old behind. And while it may just be all rubbish, why spoil the moment for those who believe? If something can give someone hope…as long as hope isn’t the only thing they have, as long as it’s paired with something realistic, then let it.
As for me…I’m on both sides of that fence. I’m cleaning out some old baggage, and opening new chapters too. Not ‘new year, new me’ stuff, but I just want to do better things for, and with, the ‘me’ I have always been. Most of you don’t know much about who exactly that is. You have heard my rants, opinions, memories, whinging, goals and motivations, but not a great deal about the ticking mechanisms, or where those thoughts come from…so here’s a little insight to start the new years reading…
I believe in giving things your all. If you are going to jump into something, why not head first? Sure, you can take calculated guesses as to how deep it may be, but if you’re going to jump regardless, then just jump. If I am not sure about something, I’ll procrastinate and fuck about with it. But, I am passionate about the things I love or believe in, and there is no halfway with that. In loving, fighting, helping, fixing, there is only ‘do or do not do’. Why half-arse it when you can whole arse it?
I have been so, so, so fucking hurt. And I’m not talking like the, ‘oh we were together for a while, but it didn’t work out’ kind, but deep down, to my soul, betrayed on every level, never recover, kind of hurt. 14 intermittent years of hope, love and forevers, wrapped in “I love you’s”, disintegrated into nevers, by empty promises and deceit. The last year came paper-thin close to ending me, mentally and physically (and no I’m not just being dramatic).
I am not as naive, gullible or stupid as a lot of people, and a specific few, think I am. Sure, I let a lot of things slide for the ones I love, but more often than not, it doesn’t mean that I don’t know the truth. I’m sure there have been plenty of times, that a well spoken lie has served its intended purpose, but each one inflicts doubt and hesitation. And many…well, often I choose to let hope persuade me to believe what I want, over what could be…
I still believe in true love. Even with all the cracks and fuck-ups (hey nothing’s perfect right?), I still believe in true love, soulmates, destiny of path and all that other hippy shit. The problem is that I may be the last living soul on the planet that does, which puts a small hiccup in the plan. Unfortunately you can’t do it alone.
This man, this dark and hurtful man, I love. Denying it would be the most transparent veil of a lie I could ever tell. I no longer try to understand it more than I do, and I expect it will never change. I have no intention to try and do so. But I need to somehow learn to love myself just enough…to know that what he gave me was not love.
Love is about taking chances, and showing strength via weakness and vulnerability, honesty, respect, taking responsibility, keeping promises and not giving up. If he ever really wanted it at all, he gave up. Maybe long ago. I have not given up. I just gave in, because I had to.
I text/message back fast. I always have my phone in reach. Not because I want it to ring, but because I want ‘my people’ to know that they have someone. Someone who is listening, and cares…enough. I may go off grid for a while every now and then, when it all gets too much (sorry for the last two weeks), but everyone needs somebody, for when they need somebody. And don’t ever try to kid yourself, that that’s not you. We all do.
Although I feel dark, broken and twisty, I can still be ridiculously and surprisingly optimistic. It’s like this huge conflict of hope and hopelessness. I think I just need to see that somehow, something can change or get better, because I need a light ahead to keep going. When a part of me gives up completely, the other half drags it up by the collar (like that sober friend that carries you out of the club?) and refuses to let it stay all the way down.
I can’t take all of the credit for that however, I owe a lot to my dogs. They have given me a reason to stay grounded, stay coherently (sometimes) sober, and well…just, stay.
I love art, music and dogs (and in no particular order). I have dogs, I help dogs, I foster and rescue dogs, I stop and pat random dogs. Dogs.
I do commission artwork (lots of dogs), tattoos, as well as whatever takes my fancy at the time. It helps me focus, takes my mind of other things, and lets me feel productive and worthy of something all at once. This year I am concentrating more on it, and have three commissions in the works currently.
Music is my soundtrack to life. I have a stupid number of playlists for every mood and occasion. It plays 99% of every day. I find both solace and happiness in it, in listening to other people tell their stories.
I have a total love/hate relationship with myself. There are days where I look at myself and shudder, hating on everything I see, and days where I shrug it off, and accept that I am who I am. I refuse to apologise for it any more, if I piss people off, intimidate them, annoy them, or offend them, just by being who I am. I am almost 40, and beyond pandering to people, who would only accept the romanticised version. I know I could be fitter and healthier, and when the time is right (very soon), I will be. I don’t see someone beautiful in the mirror, often just plain and messy, yet I am told otherwise from time to time. The bad stuff is often easier to believe. I’m working on that.
I have a lot more patience than people assume I have. Sure, I can be spontaneous, impetuous and reactive. Yes, I can get bothered if some things don’t happen straight away, or the way I thought they would. If I’m willing to do something without hesitation, it’s difficult to watch others wait. But if a game it all is, then a game, you play with strategy. One chooses their battles, makes alliances, researches the facts and perfects their timing. Never underestimate the other players.
My people are ‘my people’. My friends are odd, broken, experienced, tough, survivors, weathered, scarred, beautiful and just a little twisted. The most common traits include love of animals, warped sense of humour, inability to tolerate stupid fuckers, capability to speak their truth openly, staying up late on school nights, and lack of judgement toward others for their differences (sexuality, colour, race, fetishes, etc). They are open-minded, intelligent and passionate. They have tattoos and sailor mouths, but respect when necessary. They are not offended easily, partake in devil drinks and love music. They analyse, dissect, empathise, question. These are my people. I could count them on two hands (I’m lucky). And I love them.
So there you go Kids. A whole heap of stuff from the more intrusive, slightly uncomfortable to write, ‘all about me’ section. Maybe if I ever do this again, it will sound chirpier and less ‘meh with more ‘yay’. There’s a whole year ahead..and then another one..and another.