...when it was like September... something and something and something and -ember...
I can't belive that this was my life three years ago, with the beginning of the end of my love for myself (or, the next part of my book, or whatever you want to call it) beginning to happen in my relationship with Raf, awkwardly, terribly, pushing past the warning signs-ily, as I faded out into the sunset. Not in a good way. I almost started to cry remembering it all, the movies in my frontal lobe, and how my mom picked me up from the train that day. But I digress. And I don't mean to say that Raf was wrong, or that he did anything to me, or anything like that - it's just the first glimpse in my blog of me giving the keys away. More on that below.
Start at the bottom, by the way, so you go in the order of how the month went.
I am quite sad that CMJ is not in the budget this year. But wait - I live in Seattle. Oh, right. I almost forgot. MY LIFE IS AWESOME.
So, yeah, three years ago to the day, CMJ, watching "Drive Well, Sleep Carefully" at Michael's, referencing MSCL, and so forth. It's good. I can remember that Wrens show like it was last night, especially the part where it's so good that it's like, literaly killing you, and it just keeps happening and happening and happening. Not breaking the orgasm machine. And now every day is like that, practically. What took me so long?
Then we cut to September 2006. Wherein I am unable to leave a relationship I shouldn't be in, I can't free any of the hostages, I don't see it, I can't face it, and I start trying to convince myself that I am okay. For pages, and pages, and pages.
There is no entry for this time last year. August is as close as I got. And nothing after that, for months and months and months.
And here we sit, kids. Here we sit. I live here now. Don't look back (in the good way, you know, like the Boston song) - as I fill my planner with which shows to attend, make lists of tickets that need to be picked up, plan elaborate girl-only artist date nights at brilliant venues, and hope to whatever the Universe can hold that I never lose those pieces of me, ever again. I'm in the middle of writing about things in my life that are unmanageable with my new sponsor. I have to come up with three. The first one this morning was all about how I get whole and then hand over the keys to someone else, in fits of something that's part denial and partly totally real and tuned in, and then how I spend somewhere between 1 1/2 - 2 1/2 years trying to fix something that's broken beyond repair. First, the relationship, and then eventually, me. And I emerge, scarred, older, wiser, with more exposed wiring... and then the writing starts again.
I feel like entering my life with this knowledge is somewhat akin to entering having money with the frame of mind you have when you have no money. You make it work. You get creative. You do amazing things with less than you ever knew you could. And yet, you get a little money, and that frame of mind becomes ever so elusive, even though you love it and want it - you give it up, or pass it up, or do something easier - you say, "fuck it", on some level, and make yourself a couple of quick promises and drop the money before you can change your mind. Somehow, the marriage of the broke resourcefulness and the time of having more than just enough seems elusive - but wonderful. And obtainable, with a whole lot of elbow grease - literally, and figuratively. You who know these ways will know the elusiveness, and grease potential, and beauty, of which I speak. Now let's put all that in "I can shoot sparkles off the ends of my fingers if I just try hard enough" time, and apply it to evolving in a healthy relationship - well, now that - that could just about move mountains.
I hope to eventually look back and laugh, and be wistful, and remember when I didn't know how to do all of this, from the place in which it is all, in fact, happening.
Streaming in multiple formats, and ready in so many ways for the Salon of Shame,
Victoria (with a flourish)
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