a spooky short story

We knew the old house contained mysteries. Of course, these two young boys knew more than I did. I was just along for the ride. Did they know what was in that house?

When we heard the noises, we ran. Closed ourselves into a room and laid flat on the ground. Like we were dead. The panic in the boy’s voice as he screamed at us not to move was the only warning I had.

I laid on the floor and watched. It came slowly at first, then all at once. Long, gnarled fingers stretched under the door, feeling. Grey and slender like decomposing twigs. The fingers extended under the door and arms stretched over my body, moving up my feet, my, legs, my arms. Feeling for movement and bringing terror at every touch. I tried to stay still, but my hyperventilating breaths caught in my throat as I tried to suppress them. The knobby fingers felt around my throat, closing in. There was no way to hide my rocketing pulse. Like a switch had been flipped, the fingers suddenly tightened and the hands of that faceless monster strangled my last breath.

Or they would have, if I had not remembered this was a dream. I woke with my heart pounding, immediately knowing I was safe. It was just a dream.

Monsters aren’t real.

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weariness

anger leaked out of me

melted into a puddle at my feet

fatigue settled into my soles

into the marrow of my bones

 

too tired…

…to do anything…

…about anything…

so just let it be.

it’s been a while

“It’s time for me to speak again” – Girl in Pieces

Yes, it’s been a minute. I feel as though I’ve been losing myself a little the past few months. I can hardly recognize myself anymore (nothing new there, I suppose).

I need to start writing again. Perhaps I can remind myself who I am. Writing has always been my creative outlet, something I enjoy and am good at. It’s so satisfying seeing the words splay out in front of me, so easy to come by when the words that come out of my mouth are awkward and mangled. Just bad, bad, bad. I did grow up with a speech impediment. It’s mostly gone now, but my confidence is gone as well, only slowly building. Very slowly.

I still struggle with the same demons; I don’t think they’ll ever leave me. That’s comforting in a way, making recovery that much harder. They just warp themselves to fit into the new dynamic my life takes on. I have a different job now, a relationship, new interests…. I am always changing, expanding, sometimes contracting. But the demons are there, some days fiercer than ever.

New heights, new depths.

I’m a baker at a scratch bakery now. I start at 2am and usually only work 6 or 7 hours a day, but it’s hard, exhausting work. I’m learning a lot and making a lot of mistakes. I’m glad at least that I don’t have to deal with customers. I don’t like people looking at me. I’m afraid they’ll see what I see.

I’m trying to let go a little, be less hard on myself. I know I make things harder for myself than they need to be. I have to just let things be if I’m going to stay sane (enough). I recently learned about the Tao concept of Wu wei. I’m going to start reading up on that, but only if I want to ūüėČ

Hindsight

Hindsight is a bitch. Reading through old blog posts or journal entries is always… interesting. Did I really write that? Was I really so naive?Experience is indeed the greatest teacher. I have changed so much in the past few months even though I essentially feel the same. I’m sure I’ll be saying that again three months from now. Who knows where I’ll be in three months? I sure as hell don’t.

I wish I could still believe in some universal power that is looking out for our best interest, but I’m pretty sure we are alone and life is random. There is beauty in that also. Enjoy the day that is in front of you. Carpe diem and all that. Crash and burn.

I could list off a whole bunch of wishes for my life right now, but, on this day, I am alive. I will survive.

As for a summary of the factual details of my life this year: got fired from the office job (on St Patrick’s Day), did a couple odd jobs, got an office job that I quit a week later, and now I’m working “part time” in a bakery at a grocery store (“part time” because I worked 51.6 hours the other week but get no full time benefits). ¬†I feel like a failure, disappointment, uninsured drop-out, etc. Why the hell did I get a college degree? I’ve always been so hard on myself. Honestly this is the most challenging job I’ve ever had and I’m kicking ass. Most days. I think. At least I am trying to live life. This is just how it goes.

I guess jobs are the only thing I’m willing to discuss at the moment. More to come later?

irregular

(1/2)

i feel like i am drowning but maybe that is just life

in the deepest ocean and on the longest road

i am sinking, i am running, i am reeling

 

why don’t they love me like i love them

i need them to hold me but they are not here

they never were and that is so like me

 

there is a woman who lives inside me

she says she loves me and her name is rose

i don’t know how to find her most of the time

but she suggests that I should be a little more kind

 

(2/2)

i always thought i was kind

i thought i was so many things

but lately, i think of me and i think of nothing

 

when i am like this

i don’t look people in the eye

i am afraid of what they might see

i am afraid they will see what i see

nothing

 

there is a certain beauty in sadness

at least there is something there to look at

something to hide behind

when you can’t hide behind a lie

 

two poems

#1

 ‚Äčlondon you got me thinkin

i already know ya

but you don't know me

and i don't know you

even though i see your people on the green

what does it really mean... anything?


 for all your parks

and all your roses

what do you have to show

but for your masses of gray

transporting, mowing through the jungle

concrete in the main

 

#2

There are no words coming

No words to fill that hole

They are gone like a skeleton

Crashing to the floor


 A bone crawls

See it in the darkness

It is the littlest of bones

A finger perhaps


 It crawls across the floor, skriitch-skraatch

Skriitch-skraatch

Trying to make purchase on the wood

Grasping for others, an answer, a word


 Skriiitch, it comes to a stop with one hollow tap

And then silence engulfs it, no words surround it

No words ever come, gone with the bones

A skeleton that just can't take form

Growth Is Essential

My life used to make sense.

I knew who I was. I knew where I came from. I knew where I was going. I knew what I was living for. I knew all this with a surety that was beyond questioning.

But then¬†life changed and suddenly the belief wasn’t there anymore. And neither were the answers.¬†What I have now is a “God-shaped hole”¬†and it makes me doubt the choices I have made.¬†Change isn’t easy. I start¬†obsessing over thoughts like “at least I was happy then. Was leaving a mistake? Am I destroying my life? Do I even deserve to be happy? What if they’re right and I am going to hell?”

But then I have to remember that I wasn’t happy. I remember the first day I didn’t want to be alive. I was in sixth grade. I proudly declared to my parents my brilliant realization, “you know, the more time I’m asleep the less time I have to be awake!”¬†I thought that was a¬†jolly good¬†thing. Maybe that simple declaration was innocent enough, but I remember the dread that¬†accompanied it. Just looking out the window¬†hating the fact that I had to do it all over again the next day, and the day after that,¬†and the day after that, for¬†the rest of my life. Life¬†stretches on forever when you’re young.¬†What’s up with all those people proclaiming how short life is??¬†Maybe every sixth-grader had those feelings, I d’unno. Like I said, I don’t have any answers.

Looking back now, I would say that overall I was happy. I had a great childhood and a very fortunate, blessed life.

There are a couple things about the past (in my own experience) that are worth noting:

  1. We tend to view the past with rose-tinted lenses.¬†Makes sense, right? Whoohoo, coping mechanisms! Go brain! I think we’re all glad we’ve forgotten some of the shit that went down. But that doesn’t mean your past was all safe, healthy, and happy, so even if you remember it as being better than where you’re at now, that doesn’t mean it¬†will be¬†good for you to go back. At least, for me. Speaking for myself here. I don’t know anything about you.
  2. Humans are creatures of habit, just like any other animal. We¬†like to fall back to the familiar. So while our past may not have been all teddy bears and rainbows (this may appear to contradict above point, but nah, I can¬†clearly view my past as totally great and totally sucky at the same time), at least it was familiar. When you’re lost in unfamiliar territory, you will give your right leg to get back to¬†what you’re familiar with, even if it sucked balls. At least you were adjusted to it and equipped with the tools to find your way. Now that you’re in new territory, you need new tools.¬†But why¬†buy new tools when you can just use the old ones you’ve had for years, even if they’re broken and¬†don’t work quite right? Right?

No, not right. Wrong. Life is all about getting out of your comfort zone and stretching the limits…. or busting them altogether.¬†Growth is a good thing; it is absolutely essential.

I am going through unbelievable emotional turmoil over leaving the church. I feel scarred, angry, guilty,¬†and not without a couple mental disorders and at least one personality disorder. In a way, I’m leaving behind my¬†old identity and forging a new one. But that old identity was a lie, a lifestyle taught to me before I could decide for myself, so I can’t go back.¬†I can’t go back to how I was before any more than I can be anything more than who I am right now. Does that make sense? No, probably not. The point is, I am me. I’m healing and moving on. I am living my life for myself and seeing where¬†it takes me.

I’m finding that life is hard, it’s just hard. I have¬†a belief system in flux, debilitating communication problems, no safety net, and a minimal knowledge of pop culture, hip¬†wine selections, or words like “hors d’oevre”. I feel totally unprepared for this new life in the city. I’m lost, incompetent, shy, foolish, awkward, ignorant, yadayadayada. Two-hour-long panic attacks at work aren’t fun. Most of the time I want to die. And I still can’t stop pulling my hair out.¬†But I am learning. I’m getting out of the basement, or closet, more apt, and experiencing life.¬†I am being brave enough to continue living, and showing up to work every day and trying. For now, that is enough. I am enough. Someday¬†I will be a badass. Someday I’ll find¬†something I love that I will make a career out¬†of.¬†Someday I’ll meet someone who can love me in return. Maybe these things happen gradually, over the course of a lifetime… ¬†I surely won’t learn all there is to know, “I know that I know nothing” (perhaps the only belief I do live by),¬†but I will come to¬†know my true self, not the version of myself that others believe I am. At least, I will live my life getting to know myself, as I don’t think the point where I can close the¬†book¬†titled “Andrea” and store it away¬†on the “finished” shelf actually exists. So, is it a learning experience, or a creation experience? Am I writing my story, or only reading to find out what happens next?

Yet another question I don’t know the answer to. That is quite exciting. No matter how long I live, I will never run out of things to learn. I am looking forward to my next endeavor – getting to know a few of the different religions of the world (I say a few because there’s nearly 10,000 different religions on this planet) – there is so much I don’t know!

I wish my family and friends could understand, but I know that they won’t. That’s okay. I can’t control anyone else’s experience but my own, and I’m learning to be okay with that. I have to find my own truth and go after it. It’s not my design to hurt or point fingers at anyone. Just know that I am doing the best I can and that¬†I am fully responsible for my own experience. I love you all and I am grateful for what you’ve¬†given me!

 

PS – on a lighter note! – I am going to London for a week at the end of April! I’m so excited I’ve bought no less than¬†five books¬†about England and I’m going to¬†rewatch all my favorite British TV shows and movies in preparation… It’s gonna be bloody brilliant!