Back to Life

 The trip is over. I need to kill fifteen minutes before my next meeting. So, here we are. 

I'm in an odd state with jet lag affecting me more than ever. I have not been able to get my nights straight and can't seem to stay awake past seven which has me awake at three. Buh. 

I'm very officially back at work today, Monday. It's so unfortunate that it is the way it is right now. I don't look forward to the mess and the making sense of the mess of people. But this is very much what needs to be done right now - and there are so fucking many cooks in this kitchen. I get exhausted as soon as the smallest thought about it all enters into my head. I

It's sad. A place I used to love so much is just a haunted reminder of a thing that is gone. 

Five days later? 

Wish You Were here is singing from my TV via Spotify. Of course, I think of you Jimmy. How dreamy we were, or was it just the time that was dreamy. You and I couldn't have been more unalike. This album, for all the time it played in the background while we slept, reminds me most of that time it was my birthday and your roommates birthday. You all threw a party for him, and you, for the first time I was aware of, cheated on me right in front of me. Do you remember? I imagine you don't, if for no other reason than you were drunk. I walked in the bedroom while you and your not girlfriend were having a lover's quarrel. I politely said "excuse me, I just want to get my coat." You both, politely?, waited for me to leave before you resumed. How excruciatingly awkward. Her name was Honour, of all things, and she was everything I was not.  

I'm the kind of revenge seeker that requires absolute proof, and I will wait ever so patiently for it. I didn't call you out on anything in the moment because you could have provided some weak denial that gaslit me just enough. Plausible doubt. So, I waited. Who knows when I had stopped drinking - in a sea of drunk 17-19 year olds living like it was their last night on earth, and they were going to take it down with ferocious intent - I was stone sober as I waited for the moment of absolute proof. 

I stayed in the background. Nobody even talked to me, all these people that were supposedly my friends too. I was an actual ghost watching a movie. I was the representation of kind, soft, and good and nobody wants to see when their invested in debauchery, jagged, and bad. So, I quietly trailed behind everyone as the party moved from your house to... somewhere I never ended up. I walked behind you and Honour. You were laughing and signing. I waited for any transgression. You had no clue or desire to know where I was. 

And then your and Honour's hands joined, the lovers. We were at the corner of Fernwood and Bay St by this time, a stones throw away from the apartment I lived in with my kind, soft, and good mother. I can still see this image, this night, so clearly in my minds eye. 

"JIMMY!!!" your name came out of my mouth as a deeply vile screech. I screamed at you from the bottom of my broken heart. You let go of her hand and slid into a bush (of all things to do) so as not to meet my eyes. Drunk and ridiculous. 

I don't know what I screamed after that, but I screamed and ran away from you for fucking ever and ever. It was the weekend of your roommates birthday, which was two days before mine. It was my actual birthday. The year, the night, I turned sixteen. 

But, it wasn't forever and ever, was it? No, it was just the beginning. And now, here I am and there you are. Will you survive? Have you survived? Or are you dead somewhere as I type this? Why is Wish You Were Here playing on my TV? 

Back to life this post is titled. As if I ever left it. All these years later and I'm still the kind, soft, and good person. The one that seems so kind they must be naive. But I never was, I just knew exactly what I wanted. Or, exactly what I didn't want. I didn't want you, not the life you lead. Not the life my future and later husband of twenty years lead. 

I remember my sixteenth birthday fondly. I remember you with a wry smile, silly Jimmy, cheating on me. I love that I got to be a ghost on that night. I loved watching you all when you refused to see me. I'm sure it hurt more at the time, but still I'm sure I remember a small part of me delighting in watching my life unfold in real time and the fact that I got to be so clearly present for it. Ahh, what a gift. 

To this day, I don't know what drew us together or why I still feel connected to you, like we were meant to be but we just got it wrong in this lifetime. You weren't ready to settle down on a farm and have babies, so that was that. I went off and became a professional in the tech world. 

Remember last year when I drove past you at a bus station. I called out your name. You had a hood on and I couldn't be sure it was you, but somehow I knew that body. You looked and called out my name, "is that you" you asked. "Yes!" I felt that answer inside me more than anything. Yes, it's the me that you knew all those years ago, I'm still here as if you were the only person who ever really and truly knew me and now, you could see me too. 

I cried as a I drove away, cried with  a mix of joy and sadness. My name on your tongue - is that you - trailing after. Yes, it's me and it's you, too. 

Day 16, Portugal (to Greece): Take the Stairs

 It’s my last day with my friend. Last night two of her friends joined us and it was a celebration. 

How fun to be across the world and have two other friends drive up as if meeting for coffee across the world. How lovely. 

But how drinky they were. How very drunk they got. How very in excess they felt. A gluten of laughter and wine - I wanted to apologize for the laughter and the space they were taking up, these ladies of life. 

To my surprise, every server we had thanked them for brining this energy and said, “Please come back! We love how much you are enjoying yourselves.” 

I find happiness for them, but it is not my life. This trip has shown me grace in appreciating the nature of my biological make-up. My nature (vs nurture).

My body wakes up early, so I curate a life that makes sure I find that agreeable. I don’t fight it by forcing myself to live a life that compromises feeling at my best when my body comes to life.

I’ve seen on this trip the choices I made early on that, appeared to me to be, unpopular or boring, and I’ve seen - appreciated - that I was brave enough to make them anyways. I thank younger me for trusting my intuition on what was best for me. 

A thought came to mind today: Those that lack the burden of wisdom and accountability for themselves in this world are the privileged. 

Today’s people of tomorrow talk a lot about privilege. Like a number of other mistakes in their language of choice, they are wrong in how they see privilege. They would see me as privileged, yet I carried the burden of knowing nobody was going to do a god damn thing for me. They would have let me die on the streets if that was the choice I made. It doesn’t really matter how pretty that street is,  how pretty your deathbed is or is not, death is death. To wake up and understand with the grace of surrender and learn that you and you are alone are accountable to you is the accomplishment of a lifetime and not easily won. 

Sure there are those that are born into a different type of privilege, such as money, but I can imagine that their life’s pain is relative. We all struggle with connection to a life lived well. 

I don’t live a life of privilege. I am well because I life a life aligned to my highest nature. That is not a privilege, it is the name of the game. It is what I am supposed to do. It is… my job.  

My dream right before waking up today was me getting into an elevator. On that elevator was a man, probably my age, he had a husky, strong frame but looked like a easy going traveller type, casual business like. The door closed and he said, “What would you ask of me?”

Surprised, I responded curiously, “Sorry?” 

“We keep crossing paths,” he said, “there must be a reason for it, what is it that I can do for you?”

I found him interesting, intriguing. I had a delighted cosmic smile and I entertained his idea. He did look familiar perhaps? 

Then he moved towards me, I can recall is thin, navy blue puffy jacket with some white insignia on the left breast. He was tall and obviously stronger than me. He cornered me and said, although we had not met before, “I will call you…. [my name]” as he cornered me, as if he was my destiny. 

In the dream, in the elevator, I said, “oh fuck”

It was then I realized I hadn’t pressed the button for the floor I needed and that he had pressed the floor -1. As we arrived at that floor,  he pressed the stop button. I was stuck. 

I made a move under his arm to not be cornered, but I was still caged so he just calmly turned around, knowing he had his prey, and began to unbutton his pants. He knew what he wanted from me… and I knew he was going to shove that thing in my mouth.

I wasn’t so scared though. I began to press at my Apple Watch, trying to trigger the emergency function while wondering if we were down to low in this elevator to have service. And if there was no service, my brain was doing the math and I just calmly acknowledged the probability of outcomes with, “fuck…” because I knew the worst case scenario was that I going to endure yet another asshole fucking me - and that I would survive it. 

I don’t know quite what to make of this message. I did wake up with a big mental note of being aware of my surroundings (had he been following me around? How did he know my name so that he could pose as my cosmic destiny) and - at the very least - not taking any elevators.  Also, perhaps a gentle reminder that no man (or - no one, no other ) will be the key to my destiny. That’s a lie. 

Day 14 & 15, Portugal

 I don’t have much to say, this trip has been a pretty perfect adventure, and here’s to it staying that way. Today we head on to Lisbon where I’ll have my last two days my friend before I head to Greece. It’s been a very lovely travel time. We’ve been well suited travel buddies. 

The question for me is how much is this improving my headspace work stress wise? It’s been very nice to be away from the chaos. As in an infinite amount of very’s. I’m not sure my brain has completely returned to something sustainable, the looming return to chaos is ever present, but I’m not worried about it. It just exhausts me in advance.

It’s day fifteen now, the next day. I fly to Greece tomorrow and my inner brain knows that this leg of the journey is coming to an end and I’m grateful. I can’t wait to be in once place for more than two days. 

My friend has two of her friends joining her today, so I will be with them for one night and, man-oh-man, am I projecting a lot of nervous anticipation. Their energy together is very frenetic. It’s an energy that sets off all my alarm bells. I cannot relax around it. So, my last night, I’m afraid, will be one of high alert.

Also, for funsies, while pulling my suitcase off the overhead bin on the train, I dropped it on my face, my occipital bone to be exact. So I have an eye headache, swelling and bruising. Very light, but sore nonetheless. Oh, to be in that little house by the beach with, hopefully, sun and heat. And to be with my friend who’s quiet and contained - not frenetic, not unpredictable. 

So far on this trip, we have drank a lot of wine and eaten, and I’ve enjoyed it. It’s been low key for the most part with a couple of nights of excess, but in a good way. The two that are coming have a history of way more excess then I’m used too. I’m hoping they’ve matured a bit more on the hard core drinking and the night is somewhat chill. 

When I’m in Greece, the drinking will return to a single class of wine at night for me with lot’s of walking/hiking during the day. Healthy stuff. Nice easy pace. Calm.