missrenie: (Default)

 

Friday afternoon finds me huddled on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, fighting off a horrendous sore throat and I crying pathetically over some lame ass lifetime like movie (which shall remain nameless for my own protection).
 

I'm sick from overworking, emotionally exhausted and as I look back on it I blame the bookshelves for turning me into this hot mess. Well I blame me but it started with those damn shelves.
 

I should explain
 


 

Last Sunday at  2 in the morning I am  toiling away at these bookshelves because if I don’t get it done it won’t get done.  Now this is not a new thought for me.  In my last relationship I knew/felt that if I didn’t do it wouldn’t get did.  But there was still that glimmer of hope.

Now I’m completely alone and well without that slim optimistic sliver of “maybe he’ll…” so its all me on hands and knees at two am finishing up the last of the tool-less shelves in coffee brown from Target’s home décor  when it happens…

I flip the page and the instructions have this little triangle.  Inside of the triangle are two little sexless block people almost holding hands.   An indication that this part is a two person job. Suggesting strongly that I would need help. 

I start to cry

I decide that this is a dangerous thing to do when wielding a hammer (tool-less my ass) so after 4 or 5 tears I suck it up, brace the damn things against the wall, maneuver my body into the closest things to a split its been in since second grade ballet and get her done.

For a brief moment sanity seductively flitters past me and whispers in my ear telling me to stop.  I have been up since 6:45am the previous day, I’ve done 5 hour long massages, run a ton of errands all over town which include getting these heavy shelves, carrying them from the store to the car and the car to the house solo. 

But I’ve been working on this “Reorganize the Room” project since 6pm (the previous day),I have a UU service to attend in the morning, work in the afternoon and dinner plans in the evening so I have to finish.
 

It became a call to arms
It became a challenge
And as neurotic as it sounds it became a fucked up analogy for my life.
 

It has to be done. It has to be done now.

No one is going to help me.  I have to do it alone. 

I have to do it perfectly.    My performance is a direct reflection of me

I am not going to pussy out. 

I am strong enough.

 

I finish around 3am with everything.  My room, my closet all neat and ocdly in order.  It’s perfect and beautiful.  My shelves, my fucking shelves with the things I worked so hard for on them.
 

I’m exhausted and half insane and I laugh myself to sleep...since I refuse to cry.
 

In the morning I’m beyond fucked.
My eye’s burn, my wrist is swollen my palm is giving out sharp radiating pain, my right knee is swearing eloquently in french.
I call off service, I call off work but I still try to limp around the house and do chores with my left hand disadvantage.  Since I can’t manage to lift more than 5 lbs with my right.

I blame the shelves ( and not me) all the way…. It’s a long day.  And at this point I am working just because my body doesn’t know what to do with itself or how to stop.  It’s a relief when 6pm comes around because I have to call a truce with myself to get ready for dinner.
 

He shows up. 

This guy.  A friend I have known for almost two years now and he takes me to dinner.  No strings attached, no expectations, just friends and it’s really nice.  And when he pulls up to my house I ask him inside to look to see my shelves cause I am so proud of them.
 

And he looks at them
       And says they are nice
And he looks at my wrist
       And asks why I didn’t ask him for help
 

“But the place was a mess.  I didn’t want you to see it like that”
But I’m a mess and I didn’t want you to see me like that
 
“I would have helped you Irene”

 

I look at him as Muddy waters I Just Wanna Make Love to You sings out from
the cd player on the bottom of one of the shelves in front of us.
 

I really look at him
I do want to make love to him.

For some reason I believe that this guy would have helped me build my shelves stat and he would have done it correctly.  It’s crazy…is the passing thought I have as tears form in my eyes .   This is insane I think as he holds me tightly against him and tells me to let go.  To just let go.  I cry and sob and apologize and swear as he holds the world still around me.  And that song on my shelf is singing into my soul
 

I just want to make love to you.
I just want to make love to you.

 

 

Now I’m fucked. 

Because as I lay there listening only to his heart beat, feeling his hand moving across my hair I looked over at my perfect shelves that I worked so hard on.  Then deeper still  I looked at my life and everything in it. 

And in that moment, and breath, and beat, held tight within his arms I realize with shocking, startling and paralyzing clarity  just how fucking tired I am, how completely and  utterly exhausted I am

 

 

 

of building it alone~

On Flying

Nov. 11th, 2008 12:15 pm
missrenie: (Default)
You'll soar he said simply his hand in mine
How do you know that?  I whispered back choking on my tears
Because I know you... it's what you do.

I  now understand Icarus...

how he could forget the stern warnings of his father and try to touch the greatest star in the heavens.

 

I can feel heat and warmth,

deep pleasure and shattering pain

 

I am aware of touch and taste and sound and me

I can feel

 

and I want to feel it all

the sun against my face

the wind below my body

 

my heart a pounding warriors drum within my breast

so loud sometimes that it frightens me

and makes me fold my wings for a moment

free fall back into what the world considers a comfortable norm

 

I remember a promise I made to myself when I left.

To Untame
To Rename
To Reclaim me

 

I struggle I resist I push back against the glass ceiling

and there is a rain of sparkling glittering diamond shards around me

His accuracy is a bitter sweet taste in my mouth

As I break through

As I fly beyond

As my mind, my spirit, my body join as one

 

 

 

It's a good day to kiss the sun

 


 


missrenie: (Default)

I haven't broke down...
just a couple of tears here and there.

I thought I was functioning and functioning well.  Work, massage, exercise, social life, water intake, weekly chores...

One of my weekly chores is grocery shopping.  I decided to treat myself to trader joes and whole foods.  I came home toting two reusable cloth bags stocked with greens and goodies and went directly to the  fridge to put them away... but I couldn't.

I couldn't because they wasn't any space for them

There wasn't any space for them because I still had food in the fridge from last week

Which was odd because I haven't gone out to eat lately.

I dropped the bags on the floor and sat down infront of the fridge to think while my roomate's pitbull Tank decided whether or not he liked fresh my fresh burdock root… he didn’t

 

The numbers in my head just didn’t add up and I had to resort to pen and paper to figure out just what I had been eating for the past two weeks.  Turns out there were whole days where I didn’t eat at all.  And most days I had homemade hummus and veggies, no breakfast, no dinner…

This at least explains the reason why I have been so light headed

 

Some how I had swung from miss compulsive over eater to miss missing meals regularly.

The disturbing thing was that I wasn’t disturbed.

 

So I talked to Dre

And I figured out

That I am trying to end all my toxic relationships, all my controlling relationships, all my limiting relationships… including my oft fucked up relationship with food.

 

So last night I tried again.

I sat on the couch with a small container of roasted veggies and after three bites I broke down crying.  Really crying…

 

Me crying,

fucking sobbing into a bowl of shitake mushrooms for christ sakes!!

I gave up, drank a liter and a half of water and called it a night.

 

This morning I went to the Dr. to see about my ankle and found out that I dropped 3 more pounds over the weekend.  It’s not like I can’t stand to lose the weight.  But I don’t want to give myself a complex in the process…  I really don’t need another one.

 

I made it through the meal today...mushrooms and all.  Even though every time I reached for the bowl I ended up grabbing the water bottle instead… it took me an hour to eat.

 

 

(fucking sigh)





missrenie: (Default)

I must be feeling better
I have to be.
I know this because I want to strangle my inner child.

As I lay in bed this morning watching the sunlight ooze through my venetian blinds the little bitch started in on me.
Weapon of choice: Show Tunes. 
I hate it when she sings show tunes.

By time I roll off the futon she is halfway through The Sun'll come out Tomorrow.

Much to my dismay I found myself skipping around the house humming Heart don't fail me now, courage don't dissert me from Anastasia
The drive to work was accompanied by Mulan’s To Be a Man… changed to To Be a Single Woomannnnn
And as I made coffee I was fucking Sleeping Beauty singing a disturbing & raunchy rendition of Someday my prince/princess will come

It's not even nine o'clock yet and my inner child has joined forces with my inner teenager.  We’re into pop now… Destiny’s Child Survivor.  Even the inner doom-cookie- goth-light- wannabe  is starting to chime in with Within Temptation’s Stand my Ground.

 It’s a god damn, girl scout, gurl pop, pussy power campfire in my head and the inner victim has not been invited… actually she can’t even be found.

 I looked for her since she’s really good at shutting the other voices down.  She usually unleashes a flood of tears in biblical proportions that drowns everyone but the little heifer is mysteriously mia.

 This works out just fine for the inner hedonist whose wailing I Don’t Give a Damn About My Reputation/ One girl Revolution(Battle Mix)/ Fuck Yeah while swinging the inner child by her pigtails 

 

(le sigh)

It’s going to be a long day

But at least it will be a good one


~~thanks Kwame :)




missrenie: (Default)
I'm temporarily in this place.
this fuck awful place in my head.

I'm coming down from my break-up high, moving high, i'm so fuckable high
I bi-passed solid ground
I slipped directly of the cliff  and into the pit.

I'm holding on though, bloody nails and all, screaming obscene curses at myself for wanting
just to be held
just for a little while

I wish I was stronger,
that this want to let go while someone holds on wasn't so dominating
I plunge myself into work, into working out... I've lost 12 pounds.  But this heavy pain is still there.


Nothing's gonna heal it save time
Shopping, eating, working, new relationships... those things are just temporary bandaids

It's gonna bleed through.

fucking sure as hell isn't gonna do the trick either
if the past two weeks have taught me anything
if the past six years have taught me anything

its that I'm so tiered of being fucked
and I'm so tiered of being fucked over

But despite all that, and everything I wrote I above it.  I know these three things.

I will heal.
I will be happy.
I will be whole.

I am determined to be so
I deserve to be so.

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November 2011

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