Space and Time

My fear of water wasn’t ever something I was born with. In fact, if my mother could read this, she would kick me in the head and tell me to get over (I may print it off and mail to her). I swam, played in the sprinkler and did all the normal activities of youth. I was so relaxed as a child, and I hope to get back that way again.

My first marriage was not the stuff dreams are built on, and in the end, was really bad. I do not write this to smear him, attack him or blame him. The last year was spent in purgatory of emotions, and disdain of reality. This is going to be a surprise for many people, but I feel confident to speak of it now.  Also? I’m not asking for sympathy, pity or any other emotion that is trite. I left. Now I repair.

The last year of my marriage, when he and I would be in the same house, I slept in the bathtub downstairs, where he never went. The steps were low, and he was 6′5. He banged his head every time and therefore, he never looked down there for me and would think I had left.  I was making my plans to leave, I just needed some time to make it go through.

And here is the ugly part of my story, where my mind takes the dark corner. If you feel you can’t handle it, or it is a trigger for you, don’t continue. Please.

I would stare at the faucet, the facilitator of clean water and think what a lovely job to be created for. The hours are long into the night and I do not sleep well. Then one night I had a very ugly ugly thought. I wondered how much water it would take to drown. I was drowning in debt, insecurity, medical things, depression. Yet, how much water would it take to feel the actual sensation of drowning. The feeling of water coming over my body, my shoulders, knowing the inevitable was impending. What would it feel like? Would it take it all away? Make him go away? I wondered that many nights, and envisioned it so much, I could feel the weight of water on me, even while sitting in an empty tub. I would get up and dress for the work the next day, nobody knowing what I had tried not to think about the previous night.

I do not have this feeling of drowning anymore. Life is good, and getting better.

The fear of letting myself go into a complete abyss of water has not gone away yet. Now that I have talked about it openly, I hope it does.

Happy Birthday Joshman!!!

I saw legs today in a mirror and was amazed at what I saw.

a leg that has walked 100 miles

a leg that has walked away

a leg that came back

a leg that has many scars

a leg that has healed

a leg that has stood through pregnancy, funerals, and hospital stays

a leg that wears skirts more confidently than before

And then I cried when I realized I was looking at my own reflection.

I have always been very honest about my struggles with depression.  After my failed suicide attempt, I learned hiding that was dangerous. Yet I do hold back to a  degree, because I don’t want to sound dramatic, or over exaggerate things. So here is an honest look at the past year.

Last August, I did something that some would consider detrimental. I went off all my medications that managed my anxiety and depression. I had support, and knowledge that if needed, I could always go back on if needed. I wanted though, to try to learn new ways of combating emotions that I normally suppress and ignore.

What a year to try this new life. I moved in with a guy who claimed he loved me, and didn’t. I moved out, took a job that had pursued me for a long while, and then reinjured my back, and had surgery. I took that on with the grace I normally do.

And then one final thing happened this year, one thing I promised myself I won’t talk about on here. Something very painful. Something that sent me to the floor of my bathroom crying for several nights. I am only now able to breathe.

All this to say, it has been a crappy year. Very emotionally draining. Yet I am still standing. I am still breathing. The depression hasn’t won. At one point it felt like it might. I’ve had several anxiety attacks. I could have given in and  went back on a whole psychotropic amount of mind numbing drugs. And if I feel like I need to, I will.

But today, I am breathing.

My friend James (hi there!) has written up a fabulous blog post about sex and what the company he works for is try to do for the cause. The basic concept is this, while we are all connected with social networking and such, how are we using that? To just have simple blurts of my cat is licking his ass again? Great. Can we try deeper please?

Sex is an issue that affects each and every one of us. And I do not believe for one second that talking about sex makes people more prone to “do it”. Education and answers are really the only tools that separates us from the animals.

Why are we afraid of people seeing us buy condoms? Why are we afraid of asking the doctor for a birth control prescription? Are we afraid their perception of us will change? I would wager a guess that 70% of the population doesn’t know the proper use of a condom. Maybe I’m wrong. With the rise of STD’s and pregnancies, I don’t think so.

Then there is the religious aspects which I can’t even believe I’m going to touch on, but here goes.

I believe in God and I believe God gave us sex as a tool that no other animal has the right to use like we do. It is intimacy, emotional and functional all in the same body. Yet, we are afraid of talking about it, for whatever reason. Well, I’m not. I can talk about it anywhere (I write erotica, nothing surprises me anymore). I’m amazed, astonished and puzzled that anyone of faith thinks that  educating the next generation is going to encourage them to wonder into it out of curiosity. Just the opposite, IMO. Risk, responsibility, and respect are what going encourage someone to wait till the right time for them. Not sweeping it under the rug and pretending it doesn’t exist.

Bringing this full circle, we are all using some form of social networking. Reading this simple blog is a social network of sorts. Then let us use this tool to get out the education, the information, and hell, just a conversation. Let us find ways to get ourselves involved with a great cause that involves something we all enjoy doing anyway.

If you think I’m unaffected by this, you are wrong. Very wrong.

I take this day to remember all the people who fought for my freedom.

I take this day to remember all the the people who have been in my life and have gone to the other side.

I take this day to remember all the people who have been in my life, but I shut out for lack of maturity.

I take this day to remember all the people who have been in my life but left to go find their own path.

Each person is special, meaningful and  will always be remembered.

All the seasons have a reason. A hibernation, a blooming, a growth, and pruning. The gardener comes in  to prune and  the flowers beg for  one  more day of sunshine.  One  more day to soak up the warmth, soak up the rain. And the gardener relents, thinking one more day wouldn’t hurt. But that day is one too many, for the season was over. The season needed to end for another one to begin.

And so  a night closes on the season. A very long night of darkness, with shadows and hushed voices not quite heard. A long night of wondering, and even a longing for the recent day that ended.  But the desires of the past; the dreams, the promises. Those will be thought before the next sunrises, the next turn of nature.

The future would not be what it is without the previous season, molding and shaping the garden.