roy

his name means king
and he is, of this family
he had a stroke this morning
and at 91 it probably won't be long

Alzheimer's has been gradually
robbing us of him for years
it's been worse since his wife died

that's what he still calls her
my grandmother
"my wife"
with reverence
not possession
but with wonder and love

and now he's sicker
and weaker
and half of him left with her
and she was a quarter of my mother
and this will leave my mother smaller
and my family shattered

it has been fractured since my grandmother died
her death was the bad weld on a well-loved ring
our family has never been the same since
this will weaken us
to the point where there is no repair possible

and i will miss him so so much

repetition

I can't stop thinking about how much I want to not be here anymore.

And I keep trying to think of the fastest, tidiest, least-inconvenient way to kill myself.

Nothing is ever going to change.

Depression

You know, it's like drowning.
And someone just keeps asking, "Have you tried *not* drowning?" and sits contently on the boat, being annoyed that the splashes of me trying to save my own life keep hitting your dry towel.

When someone asks you to give a single, good reason they shouldn't kill themselves, your answer probably shouldn't be, "Well, you're a really good cook."

I'm RIGHT HERE

There are so many times where I've felt very out of place.
It's been constant sometimes and surprising others.
And once in a while I decide that I don't care. That the deliberate exclusion of me from whatever group doesn't hurt my feelings.
Except that it does.

and then the flood

I said it couldn't happen. And then the kitchen flooded.

But this is a perspective I'm trying out: I'm choosing to think of it as 2012 saying, "Hey there, R...; I know you had a FUCKING TERRIBLE 2011, so here's a house full of new flooring for you. You hated the colour of the old stuff anyway and were going to change it in a couple of years, so why don't I just give you a teeny tiny flood and we'll let insurance pay for it? After all, that's why you *have* insurance, right? So there you go. You're welcome."

I feel like I should make a list of my goals this year, just to have them down somewhere.

- I will try to be less judgemental, less hateful, more tolerant. Yes, these are essentially the same thing three times, but I think that with goals like this, it helps to be thorough and it never hurts to be repetitive.
- I will try to focus on the silver lining. Looking at the flood as a good thing instead of bad, I have made a conscious effort to enjoy what I can, because not enjoying anything is exhausting.
- I will keep my faith. That love is maybe a real thing. And that it's possible that maybe one day it will happen to me. And that I don't *need* it. And that some people are just really shitty people who weren't worth my time (obviously) anyway. I've never felt the *need* for love, I just accidentally stumble into it after really long periods of not, and I'm always so scared....
- I will try to hate my body less.
- I will try to install the baseboard myself. And it will look glorious.
- I will try to take at least one plane ride to at least one place I've never been before.
- I will try to recycle more often.
- I will try to keep my savings account at the level it's at right now for at least nine months.
- I will try to learn to forgive. Because maybe I'll never understand why, really, but it would be nice to not have a box of categorised injuries done to me to which I can refer if I'm feeling righteously indignant.
- I will try to write again. Because I FUCKING MISS IT, and having the power of lyrics is like having the sun shining from the palm of your hand and it's warm and close and personal.
- I will try to follow my instincts. Because they're usually pretty spot on and I talk myself out of following them sometimes and that's not fair to me. I need to be more fair to me.

Also, I will try to finish learning French, because language is beautiful and never useless and your brain grows when you know more shit.

turning over leaves and shit

It's going to be a better year because it must be.
It statistically can't be worse than the last.

I'm afraid of this cautious optimism, but I suppose I could call it desperate resignation.

We'll see.

the sinking

I remember this time I told myself not to fall in love with you
and you convinced me to think with my heart not my head.
You worked so hard for me to believe you, we planned plans and made promises and then you left me for your ex.

And I found out, on my own, on the fucking internet.

I talked myself into believing that the last month of spotty conversation and strange vibes was due entirely to your illness and need to be angry about your declining health. I talked myself into believing I was being too sensitive, reading too far into things. I was wrong to do that because I was right that you were lying.

This is not a mistake I will ever make again. This is the last time I trust anyone with my heart. And I'm not going to think with anything but my head ever again.

concrete oak

my heart is big and hard and heavy
and when it feels lighter
it hurts more when it sinks
and I have to repair the cracks and refortify
without knowing if this was the last storm
or if the ship will come home.

Dagny

I want to say that I'll be seeing you around

but I won't because you're gone now.

You're flesh and bone and vacant soul.

And I keep wishing I had said more when you still could.

And I wish I'd known you better because now you're reduced to legends.

I wish that you weren't the last thing my grandfather had from before he had us

because I'm sure this will take more of a toll than he is able to pay.

You looked too small, so frail in that bed.

Your poor feet you could no longer feel.

And all your family from around the world had come because that is what you meant to us.

That the world is small and you go to where you are needed, if only to bring the soup.

You mean tire swings to us, and skinned knees, and crokinole, and fights between siblings, and hidden chocolate stashes, and mysterious houses to us.

You meant fun and laughter to us.

And you meant a hug whenever we needed it whether we knew it or not.

You're another dead woman I feel I've made a promise to. A promise you'd never have held me to in the first place.

I should have kissed you more. I should have heard more stories.

2011 fucking sucks

My aunt is in the hospital. She will die this week.

She is my grandfather's last surviving sibling. Her death will usher him out with her.

My mother's first husband just died. He was also my father's best friend.

It's killing both of them.

My mother is sick. And keeps getting bad news. I worry that she's going to get cancer and die too.

And there's nothing I can do because I am working so much.

I'm working so much because I need the money.

I'm behind on everything.

I keep spreading myself thinner and thinner just to keep up appearances. I wonder when I'm going to break.

This has been the worst year ever and it's not even winter yet. It's going to get colder and darker and more lonely for me, and how selfish is it that I'm so concerned about how I feel about everything?

Fuck.

are these values pre-assigned?

I feel like I'm walking down the up-escalator and I can't turn around.

If I stop, I'm going to fall flat on my ass, but I can't ever seem to get to the actual bottom.

So all of that pushing away I did? Yeah, it worked.

Sometimes I think I just want someone to fight for me to be in their life.

I don't want to deliberately cause strife, but it's hard to be around people who seem to be ambivalent to you when all you do is care about them.

No one is fighting for me.

Everyone seems eager and satisfied to pass me by.

Even the people who said, "Fine, if you need a break, I'll leave you alone for a few days, but I'm going to call you."

...That was 5 months ago. And then those people forgot my birthday, which would be forgivable if it weren't for bloody facebook. And the daily activity I watched from the people who said they'd call but never ever did.

I know these types of tests are unfair, but I think it's also unfair that I have to conduct them at all. I try to make my friends feel that I value them and I get nothing in return.

My sister's boyfriend is half-living here, half-out of province and when he's in the room it's like I'm invisible to her, even if we were mid-conversation. And I think that's worse than being ignored completely in the first place.

Someone once explained it as "expendability" and that's exactly what it is.

But what does it mean then, when I readily admit that every person I meet, I actively prepare for the day they're no longer in my life because they are inevitably going to leave and the only thing that makes it easier is expecting it?

trying to slog through

The weight of this is wearing me down.

I don't know how much longer I can carry it.

Why can't everything either be easy or stopped completely?

I don't want to cry anymore.

I don't want to wait anymore.

I don't want to be anymore.

What's the point of all of this if I don't enjoy anything?

I haven't laughed in so long I might have forgotten how.

And if I haven't forgotten, I'll feel guilty about it because it will mean I've let my guard down, that I've let something affect me.

I have a list of things I need to do and I'm almost done.

ticking

All of my time is spent waiting lately.

I wait for the time when I have to get out of bed.

I wait in traffic to get to work.

I wait at my desk until I can go home.

I wait in traffic to get there.

I wait until it's time for me to go to sleep.

Every day.
Even on the weekend, I wait for it to be Saturday morning.

I wait for it to be time to sleep again.

I wait for Sunday to be over.

All of this waiting and clock-staring and I accomplish nothing. Nothing is worth the effort anyway, so why bother trying?

There's no hope in my life.

I keep saying goodbye to people like it's the last time I'll see them because they're going to come to their senses and walk away from me pleasepleasepleasego.

All of this waiting is exhausting.

And I'm tearing through my library of unread books, reading 4 or 5 a week. I don't know what's going to happen when they're gone.

I'm going through the motions though. Laundry, dishes, vacuum, groceries. Not because they need to be done (although they do), but because it's just what you do. You just do these things. These are the things that mean you're "okay" and "sane" and "everything's going to be fine because look at you carrying on" but that's a lie.

And being lied to is harder than not being spoken to at all. It takes more effort, and I already mentioned that I'm exhausted.

an unexpected attack

Yesterday, after the last, there were more messages sent and received.

M: Harsh...not playing your game of negativity. Hope you find happiness, and stop lashing out at someone clearly trying to make amends.

R...: This is not a game to me. And if you wanted to make amends, you'd have done so prior to your conscience requiring it just before your departure.

M: Forget it. This is stunted growth....

R...: I want you to know that you broke my heart. Unless you actually want to talk about everything, never ever contact me again.

M: Piss off. You're bitter and hateful to me. I don't need your shit. I clearly tried to rectify the situation, and you can't get by your own hangups. I have nothing to prove or justify to you. I was and am still trying to be a good friend, so fuck yourself for turning down an opportunity to make things right.

R...: You are the one who said you weren't up for it; don't put your cowardice on me. I've been nothing but honest and forthright with you from the get-go; if you can't handle it, that's your hangup, not mine. I'm not going to pave over everything that happened just because you want to pretend that it didn't. That is not the mark of a good friend and neither was your behaviour over the last 6 months of our friendship. Your resistance to even casually try to see things from my perspective shows you to be selfish and immature. Before you call me names, you should self-evaluate. I cared enough to want to fix everything that was wrong, not just start over just before you leave town.

M: Good luck to you. You'll need it.




I have no idea what would make someone I loved want to treat me this way....

so my phone rings

and it's him.

THE him.

And I'm half-hoping it's a fucked-up pocket call.

And I let it go to voicemail, because, well, obviously.

He left me a message. An actual message.

Nearly a YEAR to the fucking DAY I told him I never wanted to talk to him again.

He's asking me if I want to go for coffee because he's "looking to leave Calgary this summer."

I can't feel my skin, my heart is in my ears.

I can't reach anyone who might care to get any advice on how to respond, so it sits for 4 hours. The elephant in the phone booth.

My sister says, "Text him." The "conversation" is as follows:

R...: Um, hi. Your call caught me off guard; I didn't expect to hear from you ever again. What do you need to talk to me about?

M: Not much, just saying hi! I'm moving to TO soon so I wanted to make some peace, whatever that means.

R...: It's going to be a tricky conversation; if we're going to talk, I feel like we need to talk about everything. Are you sure you're up for it?

M: Uh...maybe not. I'm in a good space right now, so not up for confrontation. Either way, hope you're well. Take care.

R...: I don't want a confrontation either, but it's going to be difficult to talk after a year of absolute silence. I'm not trying to make things harder for you, M. But they're not easy for me either.

R...: Walking away from our friendship took a lot out of me and I'm *still* trying to figure it out. I'm not sure what you expect from me. If you can't respond to this, then I'm sorry you tried in the first place. Have a wonderful life.

M: Let the past go. It helps with everything. I've had to learn this the hard way. Sorry you aren't over things but someday you will be.

M: I'm tying loose ends, and you were a good friend while I was here. Ignoring that is wrong on my part.

M: Sincerely, I wish you well.

R...: I got absolutely no closure from the whole situation apart from what *I* was able to say. I got nothing from you other than basically, "Get over it, drama queen." You meant a whole lot to me, and I still mourn you, but I'm happy you were able to get over everything really quickly. It's a pity that you weren't able to call me a year ago to wish me well; maybe this whole thing could have worked out. I wish I were more than just a loose end to you.

M: I get that. But I didn't choose to stop hanging out with you. You made the call. Phones work two ways, by the way. Regardless, your friendship was and is valued.

R...: Do you even *understand* why I couldn't be around you anymore or are you thinking this is still about the catalyst last March? Do you stand by the things you wrote a year ago? Before I can leave it all behind, I need to know you get my point.

*30 minutes later...*

R...: You can't even give me that. You're a coward. Go fuck yourself.



So the pot is stirred and I'm again reminded why I'll never trust anyone with my heart ever again. It's safely back in the lock box behind the fence encased in concrete and lined with lye. Never again will I let this happen to me. Never again will I go through this. I will not allow it.

My head hurts and my heart is broken again.

Thanks so much for that, M. Apparently things aren't hard enough right now, I needed that in forefront.

Sisyphus

I pushed and pushed and pushed and met no resistance and now I'm alone which is a very dangerous place for me to be.

And if I'm at the top of that hill right now and the only place for me to go is down....

December 6, 2009 - the conversation

It started as an argument. You said I don’t value you like I value them. You were wrong and I was upset that you hadn’t given me the credit I felt I deserve. It came down to my having to tell you what I didn’t want to tell you, what I haven’t wanted you to know for three years. And then I told you.

And your reaction was less than what I expected it to be. You weren’t upset, though not reciprocal. You in point of fact told me that you aren’t worth loving at all; that I should love someone who has more money, a car, a “good” job. You said you didn’t have a future, but that you wanted me to be happy with someone. I was so frustrated. Crying from both eyes, as you noticed.

You discouraged me, then kissed me twice, sweetly. Without precedent, and considering the subject matter, I’m now more confused than ever. It’s difficult to explain the relationship to anyone who doesn’t know us both, and more so to anyone who does. They believe firmly that we’ve been beyond that line, that we’ve been “involved” and just never told anyone. That any of the so-called drama between us is of my making and I’m being sensitive.

I’m stuck in this place between what you did and did not say, what you did and did not do, where we have and have not been together. These pieces haphazardly thrown together with your speaking in euphemism and incomplete sentences. Bundles of nerves all triggered and forced to numb. I suppose I’m happy to have finally told you, but your radio silence is a regret. I’d hoped, however naively, that there would be a fundamental change in our relationship that would ultimately keep it exactly the same, if less murky.

But you’re quiet, on the other end of a perhaps unreceived text message. It’s convenient. And tricky. And painful. But there is room for plausible deniability, which is useful.

a bargain

I traded my friends for this depression and I'm feeling like I got a bill of goods.

toxicity

The things I am doing to myself are poisoning me, but I can't stop because I'm in control and I like it.

my pride is going to destroy me

Why can't I apologise for this?

Why can't I just say, "I'm so sorry. You're right"?

Why not this time?

Because I'm ashamed of myself?

I have this immediate refusal to make amends here. Like to do it would be to give up some power, and I don't want to want to keep this power, but I do. And I'm holding on to it so closely, I can't even see what is slipping away, what I'm losing over these stupid things I have done. My knuckles are clenched white and my eyes are closed tight and I'm screaming to block out the sounds everyone is making.

I take every opportunity to make it about how *I* have been slighted. How *I* have been hurt. How *I* am the one who deserves the apology.

My stubbornness won't let go though.

Even though I know I'm wrong.

Even though I know I'm wrong.

Even though I know I'm wrong.

Even though I know I'm wrong.

Even though I know I'm wrong.

Even though I know I'm wrong.

Even though I know I'm wrong.