I’m at the edge of the precipice again… Last time I stood here I wrote that letter to Ben knowing full well the chain reaction of events would lead to a devastating level of revival towards healing, believing if I pushed past the point of transparency I’d find my way back, and I did… Now here I am again, and the clock is ticking. Just a few more days and my possessions will be in storage, I’ll have a family gym membership so I can shower, and a tent so we can sleep on the air mattress… In truth it’s all my fault, but Alex begs me to see otherwise… But it is. Once again I made the mistake of trusting people with something that could have fallen apart (and did). Instead of budgeting to live with someone, I should have moved out in February after fixing the car, but I really thought I’d be in a different position. By the same token however, I don’t want to be in a shelter. With a tent I can say I’m camping with my kiddo, and in truth it’ll end up being a spiritual journey inward wrestling with these emotions, which is probably what I need. Where the weather is warm enough, Sy too will be warm and fed and happy, and as long as he’s clean, healthy, and happy, then who cares. I just need to make sure whatever family gym I sign up for has a pool for us, and considering all the shit I’ve been getting for my weight lately, it’s not such a bad idea, though not the reason I wish to change my temple.
To my grandmother and the asshole online who reminds me so much of Josh, fuck both of you. “Do you know how many times carol made your grandmother cry?” Why no, I don’t, because for the past 5 years she should have had enough distance between us to not talk about me on a daily basis. To put fault on me for her tears is the prevention and inability to take ownership of ones emotions, and I don’t give a shit if she comes from a different generation, I’m proud of my curves. In the right outfit I look amazing! As for the online guy who was claiming to be this amazing guy, labeling yourself as “alpha” tells me how sexism has negatively impacted who you are, and if you acknowledge I’m amazing but can’t look beyond something you’ve never seen, then maybe you’re 38 and single for a reason. That’s fine that you have your own taste in women, but I need a man to love my soul where it matters, and clearly you ain’t it.
Crap, I meant to grab my charcoal and my sketch book… I’ve started reading the artists way, and it’s a little tough to stomach because the spiritual principles remind me of the Christian conditioning I endured, but I’m tying to stomach my way through it (when I’m not feeling dizzy from the immense eye rolling). I also got her book right to write since I am a blogger, and it seems like there’s so many ways to get published thatbitnwould be nice to get a book out there… Meh. Who knows. At this point I need to make space to write more personalized letters to the people and situations I’m wounded by to purge this emotional energy out of me and drain the dam of tears that’s pressure cooking at this point, but it’s been tough to find time and make space when alone time is being zapped away.