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From the ghost land of the easy life.

04 January 2007

once, upon a time i could love myself, yeah... :
It's a new year. Some of my favourite bloggers are experiencing good times and some bad. Matthew Good has spoken out about his bipolar disorder and I commend him on that. It's possible my Ex had that, but he refused to seek help of any kind and after a few years in a desperate relationship with someone so unstable and violent I left. If he had tried just once to get help I would have stayed, because I did love him. It's not just misplaced loyalty and finding the paralells in him that fit with my fucked up family and memories of grwing up.

So how do we heal? Some would find it unconscionable that I left someone who had any kind of sickness. Some would think I'm whining about being the victime of a violent drug and alcohol abuser. Some will think I'm looking out for myself and did the right thing. I've thought all of these things myself, so it's only natural that others would think the same. It's all about the spin really. Was my life as a married woman that bad? Not really, being married is a desirable thing for me still because to me it equals stability and I covet that. Being married to the man I was made me physically sick, emotionally unhealthy and was all kinds of mental fun in the panicked, terrifying and paranoid ways.

Why I am bringin this up 14 days before my birthday? Because it matters. I have a sense of holiday loss starting on New Years Eve, 20 years after my dad's death and now I can add to that what might have been in a marriage I really wanted to make work, but left because I didn't sign up to live in a war zone. No one has a perfect life, I really do know this. I make people cringe and look at me funny telling them tales of my growing up. I guess I'm very tales from the dark farm, that's why as a family unit we aren't close. Would someone else find that attractive? So far, not really.

I just got back to the point where I can walk some what normally on my own 2 feet. Sure that was mainly my own fault, but there's a lesson in there somewhere right?
If all of life is teaching us what we need to know, shouldn't we contemplate the lessons a little bit? In the grand scheme of things I know this is sort of a bitch blog. I don't come here to extoll the virtues of truth beauty and shiny happy. I have very rarely written anything when I'm not unhappy in some way. That's just how my muse rolls. Forcing me to get the crap out of my head so I can be something resembling shiny and happy. Apparently my shiny happy isn't all that lustorous. But hey -> I have good teeth :)

So looking back on the last year I didn't do too bad. I got into a roommate situation that seems now like a bad idea. It ebbs and flows on the obsessive neuroses front round here, and we're all kinds broken so it's comfy. I'm being questioned relentlessly about the wiseness of my choice to move in with still other roommates. Less of us, semi relationship of a friend type going on. I know you should never live with your friends. I do, but the gains kinda outweigh the cons for me at this moment. Am I worried a bit that I'm just jumping from the frying pan into the fire? Oh hell yea, but sometimes you have to make the mistake to find out if it's really a mistake and if it's a mistake then you know.

Yea I'm a stealer. Live with it. Am I stoked about my birthday. Yes, I've officially made it to more then twice as old as I would have been if my father had lived to my 18th birthday and enacted his plan to kill me as promised for all of my life. I'm not exactly bathing in the normal reality pool but I'm kind of swimming in new cleaner waters and wondering why I've been thinking all of this life stuff is crap. I get cynical for the holidays and this year I also got a bit convinced that me for me isn't really that pathetic. Why me???? Is so much more pathetic. So if I refrain from the former and go with the YAY ME thing for a while I think I can make it through another single valentines day as a single with a severely dark past. Maybe this year I'll start actually writing all the stories I have to tell. Lord knows my dreams say it's time.

Keep blogging.
ghost writer Ambrrrr at 12:51 PM

MenTal fUrbAll