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Posts Tagged ‘love’

He has lines, and I wanted to cross them. I needed to be dirt under his nails, sweat from his pores. There’s something enticing about someone who wants you despite his own guilt, who knows he’ll fuck the whole thing up. A year of ‘look but don’t touch’ and I had to push him.

When he kissed me, there was no hesitance, no slow build. He tastes earthy, salty, but surprisingly sweet. His hands felt rough on my face, his body against mine brand new but achingly familiar, a sense of coming home. He lived a whole life before I even existed, with his own hopes and ideals and fuck-ups and bullshit. There’s something sexy about someone with scars and lines and baggage. Who has experience and prejudice and set opinions, a sharp contrast to my changeable ideals, my fluidity towards life.

Of course it was over almost immediately, not severed completely, because people can be addictive. There is no happy ending here, but also no expectations. I shattered the fantasy. We hurt each other. I’ve never wanted something so totally unattainable like this. It doesn’t exist in reality.

So sometimes we pretend.

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When I crash, it’s like this leaching hole of nothingness, and then frantic manic activity while I try to claw my way out. It’s cigarettes and beer and sedatives and sex. It’s sneaky and insidious and before I know it, I don’t want to get out of bed, the horses’ shoes are falling off and I don’t know what we’re going to have for dinner again. So much of this is internal, and well-hidden, but it’s seeping out, and people are actually noticing. I can’t hide behind ‘treatment’, or ‘just tired’ anymore, and I don’t want to be like this. No-one believes I’m mentally ill, just traumatised, but when does one melt into the other? Where is this blurred line?

Recovery is yoga, vegetarianism and writing. It’s light and warmth, friends and work. Quiet productivity. I just, I can’t keep this cycle going. I can’t get out of it either. It hurts. I got through cancer and separation and abuse and judgement, but this is fucking my life up. It doesn’t feel fair. Like I’ve said before, there’s no balance, there’s no ‘go through hell now and then things will level out’ trade-off.

I know I could do well at life, on my terms, if I could get out of this. When I’m well, I’m dynamic, I get shit done, I’m bright. When I’m not ok, I systematically destroy that, like knocking down sandcastles at the beach. I fought SO HARD for what we have. I took on someone I love when I wanted to just give in, and say ‘you know what? Have the house. Fucking burn it down’. I fought myself and I fought him. I sold things and took out loans and I neglected myself so my son wouldn’t have to see any more pain.

On the surface, it was worth it.

Dig a little deeper, maybe not.

I love this. When I get what I want, I never want it again.

Ash x

ps – if you like me – #cometothepartycourtneylove I have a significant birthday coming up and I can live in hope 😉

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Being single has blown me wide open. A couple of years ago I could never have imagined myself being deliberately, consciously alone, craving that time with myself rather than just as a default, in-between state. My relationships have gotten deeper, including with my son, as we’ve adjusted to life being how it is; feeling full instead of that man shaped space next to me.

It makes me smile when my friends and family crack one liners like ‘someone needs to make an honest woman out of you’, ‘you’re hell on men’, and the ever-popular ‘I can understand you being a commitment-phobe now, after everything’. I’m not alone. I’m not commitment phobic. I’m committed to my friends and my son and my life but mostly I’m committed to myself, and there’s something special about that. It makes me laugh when well-meaning relatives click their tongues and sympathise, ‘the right one will come along when you’re not looking for him’.

Maybe he will, and maybe he won’t. and I’ll be whole either way. I haven’t had an actual date in probably a year and occasionally I’d like to go on one, but then I just do something nice for myself instead. I have a market stall with my best friend now, and I love meeting people and getting to know customers – people reveal so much about themselves when there’s no expectations and no formality. It’s so cool, all these quirky amazing people from all walks of life. I love it.

I’m getting along better with Bailey’s dad, we’re not quite friends, but we’re communicating effectively. I want good things for him. We’re not looking like dragging each other through court now, and I know we could get into a massive argument tomorrow, throw goodwill out the window and try to destroy each other, but I don’t think it will happen. This feels like a genuine shift. I stood up for myself – without shouting, arguing or attacking. And it worked, I think. He can’t walk all over me and he respects me as the parent who sticks by Bailey no matter what, who finds solutions and doesn’t make him into someone he’s not. I respect him as Bailey’s father who loves him, and I leave them to their relationship, even though it’s not my ideal. That letting go is hard, but it has to happen, and I do it again and again.

There’s this sense of freedom and possibility that has come with being single for me, once I got through the (horrific, gut-wrenching, sickness inducing) pain of separation, that is. I’ve been able to get to know myself, be authentic and uncompromising. I think our education system would put my son through pain, so I pulled him out and he stays home. I lived at the beach for a year because I felt like it. I came back because I thought it was our best option. I sell hemp products because I believe that’s important. I didn’t have to debate with anyone about those decisions. I didn’t have to consider anyone’s feelings except mine and my now 7 year old son’s.

I’m not shunning the idea of a relationship, but I’m loving where I’m at, especially after how long it took me to get here. This has been the hardest, most worthwhile work of my life. When I have a bad day, I know it’s just a day, and I don’t need anyone to fix it for me. I had never experienced being able to soothe myself. I’ve always been with someone or pining over someone or had a fall-back person. This whole ‘love yourself and life is not bullshit’ thing actually holds some credibility, who knew?

Sunsets are just as beautiful alone.

Ash xx

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Last night, I had the strangest dream (I sailed away to China, on a little rowboat to find ya). No, I dreamt I was dead, really dead, and I could see everything and know what happened, but then there was God, and I realised I’ve been wrong all these years, and oh fuck there is a God, and what happens now?

Even asleep, I knew I wouldn’t have done much differently anyway. Actually, a god-like figure in my life probably would have just given me someone else to fight with, to pull back from, to blame for my own shortcomings.

Anyway, I could also see everyone I love, and some I don’t, and what was going to happen in each persons life and how inevitable it all is. It was devastating watching people throw themselves on fires of drugs and dysfunction and burning nothingness, having no idea.

Hmm.

So, this morning, I got up, went to work. Didn’t feel like doing too much, so came home and felt shitty. Last week I blitzed the place, washed the horses, worked everyone, premade feeds, scrubbed waters. I have a feral pony here, supposed to be in work, I’m probably doing a quarter of what I should be.

This is recovery. This is coping.

Turns out it’s not all physical. My brain throws out the weirdest shit some days and I get these thoughts that go around and round, oh God, is there a way I can be made to do mainstream treatment, what if my car blows up, I have no money, blah blah blah. I got so used to living with anxiety for actual reasons that now my brain looks for them. Things are actually good! And getting better, and I’m so grateful.

Ash xx

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Hey guys, seems time for a life update yeah?

So, you’ll never guess what. I’m still off mainstream treatment, and still holding steady. I have good days (like yesterday) and very flat days (like today). I’ve lost some weight (I needed to, and should keep dropping naturally I hope) and my cycle is slowly becoming regular. My skin is looking better, I haven’t needed a nap in the afternoon in ages, and I’ve slowly started riding again 🙂

My best mate lives with us now, it’s awesome. Saved my ass financially too. And sometimes, she makes my bed ❤

Everything is so up in the air but I’m fighting in the only ways I can to keep our house and lifestyle, and that’s that. Underneath that, I’m stable. I have shitty horrible days but I’m ok. I know myself. I’m single and actually good with that to the point of wanting to stay that way. Bailey is just a livewire, bright and happy. He’s developed a real sense of humour (god knows he’ll need it) and his creativity has been shining through. We’re still ‘homeschooling’ (legally, though truth be told we tend to edge more toward unschooling these days, not that we try to fit into any particular category) and I can’t see us re-entering mainstream education any time soon. It just works for us. I regret putting him into school in the first place, I had that spot in my tummy where you know something’s not right but I just I don’t know? Wanted us to fit in? I guess school is just the thing to do, and there aren’t a lot of options here.

Everything is geared towards people entering the mainstream education system. Doesn’t mean it’s bad, just not for everyone I guess. 

So yeah, that’s us. There’s been a lot of friend drama, house drama, financial drama but I feel removed from it all most of the time. It doesn’t matter. It’s highly likely I’ll end up walking out of this house with nothing to show for it but that’s ok. If I’m here for one year or ten before starting over I’m just going to make the best of it. We like it here. It’s cruisy and I have the best work and friends, but I find gorgeous people anywhere i go and Bailey seems the same. I want to stay here as long as possible, because we’re set but when it’s time to go, I won’t grieve. 

Sunsets and stars. Bonfires. Hugs and true friends and the smell of rain. I can have the important things anywhere we go.

x

 

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‘Who knows, and does it matter?’ I scratched a pattern on the sheet. ‘I don’t think I need to define it. I’ve been there. Straight. I’m straight. But then I’m not.’

She yawned, luxuriously, not bothering to cover herself as she stretched. ‘Maybe it doesn’t matter. I just think that I deserve to know. Is this real?’

‘It’s as real as anything else.’

*******

All of my relationships have been with men. Nice, not so nice, tall, blonde, funny, smart, but all of them men. Writers and labourers and dealers and doctors. So would you assume I’m ‘straight’? Does it matter?

All of that, relationships and rules and limits, seems so far away now, almost alien. 

It took me so long to drop the labels. I wish they didn’t exist. Sexuality, to me, is gorgeous and intrinsic and can be so, I don’t know, fluid? It’s so hard to put what I’m trying to say into writing. I wish no-one had to ‘come out’, and we would just love who we love and that’s it. Isn’t it odd to have all these expectations and boxes and contracts. I understand the level of relief some people must feel when their sexuality has a name and is accepted. I’ve just always felt sort of…straight-jacketed, I guess… by labels, but it seems like society is so uncomfortable and overly invested in people not having one, and I’m insecure enough to let that bother me still.

Some experiences just are what they are, whether it’s a lasting enduring love, a passing attraction, or one intense night with someone. I don’t want to over-think and label everything. It truly doesn’t matter, and life is swirly and confusing and connections with people are special. 

I still can’t touch what I’m saying. I’ve slept with people I’ve loved and disliked and felt ambivalence towards. I change. It changes. Needs and wants change. Can your sexuality change? I don’t know. Do people have a true base sexuality that fits into one of five (? that I can think of) categories and are the layers on top a nature vs nurture type deal? Why does it matter? People do care who you sleep with. No one ‘comes out’ as straight. 

Freedom in all ways can be so intoxicating, and sometimes it seems like there’s no rules left. 

So beautiful.

x

 

 

 

 

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I’m struggling, badly.

I hate writing these posts, but I hate not writing them more. I’m doing nothing with my life, I feel genuinely incapable of letting go of objects, people, and situations that I know are weighing me down. I’m fairly sure I’ve become symptomatic, some days.

I still have good days, a few in a row, and it’s them that keep me going and striving towards some kind of life. Ironically, my cancer count has continued to fall after stopping mainstream medication and there’s something that makes me think I won’t have cancer forever, that I will reach full remission. I can’t describe what that ‘something’ is but it just feels like something I know, like the sun will set tonight, a deep faith. I’m not religious, but if I was, I would think that God is looking after me in this way, and that everything is going to be ok.

Being in the middle still sucks though. Some days I even consider sending Bailey to school, just to give myself a break, but when my brain fog clears I know we’d both be worse off. I’ve grown more and more disenchanted with our education system, and more distrustful of government systems in general – I think having so much go wrong medically, learning about treatments available elsewhere that are illegal here, seeing a close friend being treated incredibly poorly by the Education Department, having my privacy severely compromised more than once has all taken its toll. Being screwed financially over and over doesn’t help either.

It’s alienating, feeling at odds with society in general, but also strangely freeing. Not my circus, not my monkeys – and all that.

I try not to write about Craig much anymore, but let’s just say he’s a letdown as a father and a human being. On the same day he told me that Bailey hasn’t been doing swimming lessons because of ‘too many bills’, he bragged about his new motorbike. It was Bailey’s birthday a couple of weekends ago and he was so slack. I have protected Bailey’s feelings more and more but unfortunately I can’t keep lying for and making excuses for him.

It’s a horrible lesson to learn that your parents aren’t who you want them to be, but unfortunately I think Bailey will have to start seeing Craig for how he is now, and that’s going to hurt both of us.

We’ll be ok though, we always are.

Ash x

 

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