moving on…

what you ask for will come with patience and no expectations,even when you dont know you are asking. I am not bothering with grammar and typos. I am in a hurry. always in a hurry these days. always fighting being in a hurry by procrastinating and poorly prioritising whatever will bring a moment of peace into my chaos.

I am living with two cats in caravan, going to Massage Therapy licensing classes (that is a whole rant in there, can you tell? fuck the system). I almost want to say I got here through a series of unfortunate events, but I have never really looked at “bad things” in a bad way. Every experience makes us who we are meant to be right? so whatever is going on with me is supposed to be making me a better person? more compassionate and understanding of the general human condition and the complications every life needs to experience at some level. so many people have it worse than me. but relatively speaking I feel like I am being sucked into the drain of a cesspool…and my “positive outlook” is just hoping the drain leads to a water filtration system and not a leach field.

How detailed do I get? jealousy spite restraining order divorce papers psychoanalysis depression  guilt and anger fighting the possibility of joy, peace and a new life…


I frequently fantasise I am really a succubus…a dark creature due to the eternal life that must be fed with the life energy of those she seduces…Many stories talk of the succubus hiding in society moving from place to place to hide the death she brings (but what if those deaths were metaphysical? the people live but empty, bitter, broken for the rest of their meagre, ugly lives, a fate worse than death.) How much pain would the demon endure leaving the shells of the people she loved and devoured emotionally? she would have to move on. the more she loved them, the more she would need to leave them because she would not want to see them left crippled by her draining energy. Sounds like a real narcisstic, energy vampire to me. she loves and gives love but the love she gives is a deception and distraction for the love and energy she steals.  if she truly became to love someone she could not stay and watch herself destroy them. so how does a succubus begin a new life, recreating herself?

of course I remember being a child in the 70s, so I know my life is not eternal in this realm, I began this life not too long ago and it will end, thank god, eventually.

I am a mom. Ever since my first child was born, when I was 19, it seems I fit into this “mama” stereotype. everyone wants to see me as their mother…but it came before that…I mothered my mother, caring for her as she worked, wanting to pamper her on her days off…always wanting to make sure my mommy would be ok. In a way I even mothered my father a bit emotionally. telling him he would be okay when life was making him feel like a fuck up. some how caring for people feeds me. I think it boils down to, ‘if I give you the love you need (nurturing, sex, a shoulder to cry on a cheerleader-not my best, i never made the team) then you will NEED me and, out of your own self preservation, you will want to take care of me, and love me, so that I will keep feeding you. it is a vicious cycle… not exactly co-dependency but definitely, at minimum,  symbiotic relationship.  but then, it has always felt like the only time I get love is when I give it.

except the other night…the Angel, came when i had a migraine, just briefly…unexpectedly…he throws my whole perception of existence into a whirlwind. If I could contain the whole of my being in the moment our lips are pressed together, well, that is it isn’t it? that is perfection. nothing else matters.  How long could we maintain a static kiss?  it is there I want to spend eternity…and then again he is quiet and doesn’t tell me why he visits when he does, what he wants from me, when I will see him again, and yet I get more and more enthralled by him…i want him completely. i want his child, i want his soul, instead, it seems, he is devouring mine.

“the Walrus” a chef and musician…a new friend…a new victim…i am scared for him. I watched him. i waited. when i was away from the Master’s control (aka, the EX-and by the way he chose the pseudonym years ago), pushed out in an effort to punish me, i pounced. It was a deep feeling the Walrus had what I would need and I could feed him like he has never been fed. I try to be honest. I try to give a warning. “I will not be yours.” “I might hurt you.” ” Please, be careful with how you feel about me.”  He is so sweet, and lovable, and he does love me in wonderful ways. I feel sorry for him that the angel has stolen my kisses, locked away my expectations, but the Walrus is more of a companion and friend, never ignoring more, never giving me doubt of the joy he shares with me and how big I make him feel….that was an epiphany for me…he told me I made him feel like a “big man”, which in my mind he always was, but so too have others been to me, never has one told me that I made them feel as important and as special as they made me feel; he makes me feel just as special, and stronger not weak or in need of coddling like the Master…the Angel? well, he makes me feel … dangerous but vulnerable… like a scorpion when it has shed its exoskeleton and the sharp point of the stinger is too soft to penetrate anything, all the strength in the creature is just a ghost growing stronger with patience and time but still in the most vulnerable of conditions after every growing pain.


so I am confused and overwhelmed. I am loved, and feared. I am lost, not seeing my children, not feeling like as much of the mother I once was- because I only accepted this nurturing side of me through my children. I am found, seeing that I can grow, stand on my own and still accept a helping hand. I can nurture not just with sex, not just as a caring mother, but I can accept myself and all I have to learn and teach, give and receive in grace…i am trying to grow up, with out growing old and being torn down.

The new psychoanalyst I am seeing told the ex and myself that he believes the diagnosis of “bipolar” has become an over-used, over-simplified catch all category to dish out drugs. Thank God some one says it is normal to be moody and handle copious amounts of stress the way I have. Me, bipolar? fuck you.



One comment

  1. socialworkerangela · October 27, 2016

    I feel your post today. If that makes sense. It spoke to me thanks for sharing


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