Bucket List, Fuck It List, that song Sorrow ....

"Sorrow found me when I was young ..."

I've been listening to 'Sorrow' by The National. I better not listen to it too much or I'll end up over indulging in pain. I'd rather just accept my pain and not soak in it like a hot pool of old skin and dying sperm. Accept my pain. It's only pain after all. 

But man, you have to admit that 'Sorrow' is a perfection of song. It captures that hollow, haunted feeling I sometimes experience when I'm tired of my emotions. That's when I know I need to have some kind of 'perspective shift'. Swim. Walk. Sing. Notice what is.

A few things have happened recently that I can't blog about because they involve other people. Ridiculous drama. Dramas in pajamas. 

I've been coping pretty well with my sadness over The Rooster, and in the meantime another challenge has arisen that I couldn't have forseen. In addition to this surprise challenge I've been pouring most of my spare time into helping mum with her move into a new flat. I have helped her find a new place to rent in the same area. It has plenty of light and a lovely view!

It is when someone needs help or kindness that we find out what love really means to us. Love isn't all roses and sunshine as 'they' say. It does require action, not just reaction.

I think that's why The Rooster situation was shocking. When I said I loved him, I meant it in a deep sense. He gave me a birthday card (in November) that had a really cute picture of a tree with two quirky birds and the caption "Love is a work of Heart". Inside it just said "I love you ". I'm sure it was true at the time.

In addition to my genuine puzzlement at what happened with The Rooster, I've now had this bizarre experience that left me feeling quite disconnected from my body. 

I realised that the situation was creating a lot of confusion for me and I needed to just strip things back to basics. I asked myself last night "If I had two years to live, what would I do?". This is my kind of bucket list fuck it list.

I would let people know I love them.
I would forgive people for being dicks and then projecting their shit onto me.
I would forgive myself for being frightened yet sometimes strangely bold, for wanting to be adored, for not being enough, for being 'too intense',and for being needy and talking a lot. Rob says I'm not needy. I told him what happened with The Rooster and all that went down, and he said "rubbish, you are not needy. Everyone needs to be loved and get a bit of assurance if they're feeling down. That doesn't make you needy. It makes you human." So that was lovely of him to say. 

If I didn't have long to live, I would go and visit Becky in New York as soon as I'd saved the money and sussed it out.
I would hang out with nice people with filthy senses of humour. I would learn the guitar and make up songs. I would help my mum to find somewhere nice to live and encourage her to paint again. I would think about doing a bit more study in an area of interest. I would walk more, dance more, sing more, wear all my best clothes every day. I would go to the Polynesian Spa in Rotorua. I would try to record the songs I'd made up.
And guess what muthafuckas? I'm already doing it. I am already working on everything I would do if I only had two years to live. But lucky me. I might live till I'm 88! As for my 'drama' that knocked me in the last few days, I have dealt with it by making sure I am deeper in my own presence, or the presence of that which can't be named.

Sorrow may have found me when I was young, and like the song, it seemed it won many times. But not this time. 

Go to Thailand? Live in A Bus? Become a School teacher?

Hobbity Feet under water on Waiheke

8th March 2013

I thought about taking a teaching job in Thailand for a year. Cos I could if I wanted to. I could just go. As much as I like the idea of sudden and swift change after a stunning heart break, I would like a measure of stability if possible. Stability comes from within, but seeing as how I've got this human condition, I like the illusion of something solid. That's the biggest learning of late - my acceptance that nothing is solid. Instead of making me cynical it has deepened a level of faith in 'things unseen'. 

 A few weeks ago I really hoped that a few lovely emails and texts from The Rooster meant we were working towards a reconciliation. Then he suddenly stopped communicating completely. 

If that wasn't enough of a mind fuck, his sudden exit from FaceBum without warning definitely spelled things out. I'm no longer a person he considers when making decisions, not even ones that will hurt me. I can make up all sorts of things about what that means, but that's a recipe for going mental. If I start to label it and 'story it up' then I create too much unnecessary pain. As if pain were a house we inhabit and keeping adding to. An en-suite of grief. A parlour of pain. A drawing room of disbelief. I looked back over photos of us and tried to see something in his eyes. An indication that this person wasn't ready. A clue. A sign. If it was there, then I was blind.

Now on an entirely different note, like me, you may have wondered how you might possibly pay no rent. There are, of course, Homeless Person options. Sometimes I think of what I'd do if I were actually homeless. Stay in a bedding shop until closing, hide and then hop into one of the display beds. Wake up early, hide again, then sneak out. Creep into tennis clubs and use their showers. I have also wondered about docked boats, weather you'd risk trying to get into one to sleep. We don't have a lot of homeless people in New Zealand, but that could start to change. The cost of housing (to rent or buy) is really out of proportion to wages. People who work are struggling, let alone people who are on the welfare system.

Lou and Johhnny went to New York to see Becky over Christmas, and Lou told me that even organic food is affordable in the US of A!
If I want to eat organic food and live in a non shit hole, then I'd have to be earning at least $700 per week. The thing is, if you try to find an affordable non shit hole to reside in, you do have to move quite far outside of the city centre and then the cost of petrol stops you going anywhere. I'm not complaining. I'm just saying that this is how it is. I don't get stressed about money issues too much anymore. What's the point? You have it or you don't. The bill might get paid in time, or it won't. One day money comes, the next it goes. 

I've also been enjoying clothes and creativity lately. Mix up anything and see what happens. That's my advice. I keep finding amazing things in op shops, and now I really do have more than I need. It's a bit silly. I don't go anywhere that justifies the kind of wardrobe I own. My actual life and the life of my clothes are not in harmony. Perhaps I'll start wearing that red silk blouse to the supermarket.

Anyway, I have also thought about living in a house bus, but man, those things cost a shit load! 

Other ideas: after finishing my requirements for Hypnotherapy, I could do a Health qualification that leads to becoming a Gestalt type therapist. I could also suck it up and do an extra year's study to become a primary school teacher. Are there many other women out there like me? Getting 'older' and yet you still feel like you're bobbing around in an ocean of possibilities, wondering how other people manage to be so grown up?

Rest assured, you are not alone! 

What if I became a school teacher, lived in a massive house-bus, studied health part time, played my songs in bars, wrote my book, made my own clothes ... oh .... hang on ... getting all ADD on your ass sorry.

What I really want is to get paid for Hypnotherapy, which I am really good at. What I really want is to live in a secure enviroment that I can fit all my pretty things into with ease. What I really want is a boyfriend who means he loves me beyond lust and infatuation. Watch this space babies. Watch this space. xxxx