It’s not hard to fall when you flow like a cannonball January 22, 2009

I’m striding to work. Both hands loaded with my previous night’s sweat and blood. I begin to pick up the pace after my cautious crawl downhill. “Isn’t the ground pretty, so sparkly…”.

 

It’s a big day for me, my future rests on one man. Inspector Hatchet. I made sure to practise batting my eyelashes and flashing sweet smiles in the mirror before stressing about what one must wear for such a man. I went Katie Holmes in Dawson’s Creek on my ass. “The wholesome, safe, reliable look would be right up his alley”, I decide.

 

All primed I gather the fruits of my labour giving them one look over to be sure to be sure. Turning the key and blaring Kings of Leon down on my iPod I bounce down the street brimming with confidence. “Today is gonna be a good day”.

 

I smile at randomers, juggle bags from one shoulder to the other and wave at a grinning toddler thrilled with his rattle in the backseat of a car. I turn the final corner where my future awaits me when  my skirt ends up around my ears.

 

I had become so distracted by everything and nothing that I had failed to notice a thick patch of ice on the sloping path. I fell like a tonne of bricks, flat on my back, legs in the air, a la John Dorian. It takes me a minute to realise what had actually happened.

 

Quickly, I tuck my Bridget Jones’ out of the public eye and attempted to pull myself back up. “Phew, no one around”. Red cheeks tame down. “Shite, no one around!”. Can’t get up. I slowly gather myself together and in a daze spot a ledge close to where I’d crash landed. I slide myself down the path a little and grab a hold of the windowsill. With every last morsel of might I drag myself to my feet and edge my way to an ice free patch on the path.

 

I begin to feel every last milimetre that made contact with the ground, drawing my attention away from my blackened coat and skirt. I trudge up the hill to work, the debris on my tights loosing from my pained stagger. Tears trickle down my cheeks as the sting reaches my eyes.

 

In the gate. A collegue smiles. “All set for the today?”. I try and I can’t answer. I had a date with the packet of painkillers and a soapy towel.

Sometimes you have to get lost to find yourself January 21, 2009

I ran away. I often run to avoid the difficult things life throws in my path. I let my feet look after the problem gagging my heart and head. I rushed love and hurt out the door. I slammed the book shut on recent chapters in my life. I switched off my mind and body and drifted into my numb oasis in my little land of nothing. All feeling and sentiment paused, the rewind control removed. I tucked memories into far corners of my clouded head and closed the door on the creation of new ones.

 

The holidays passed in an insignificant blur. The night became my mistress and the day a distant stranger. Close friends battled to keep me afloat with gentle smiles and encouraging hands. They were rewarded with empty grins and forced validations of my well being.

 

Woke up. Dragged myself to the bathroom. I caught my reflection in the mirror. The lack of sleep had aged my face, it looked pained and swollen. For the first time in a long time I greeted me in the mirror. This person staring back didn’t look like me. Her nails were bitten, her eyes puffy and dark, her skin grey. She bore through me as she studied my face trying to find something familiar. A smile creeped onto her lips. She’d found what she was looking for. Me.

 

The wall is still there. The bricks are taking their time to loosen, but amidst all the hardness I found myself peeking back. It wasn’t a reflection I’d seen before but in there I found a glimpse of what I once was, someone I’d been estranged from for longer than I’d realised.

 

I’m lucky. I’m lucky I’ve found the hammer to start slowly breaking down that barrier. The hammer that has made spaces for possibility to re-enter my life and holes that spy on hope. Our defences are kicked into gear when we hurt, walls are thrown up and people we care about are often left on the outside looking in. Strength rarely makes it inside those walls and only gains entry when those bricks start to come down one by one. Some bricks are lighter than others, some weigh on you for days and other tumble down on top of you. Each of those blocks was cemented in heartache, a heartache that must be faced everytime that hammer sounds.

 

I would never be me again if I continued to live with a hardened heart, I’d be parting with any possibility for happiness. Right now I feel more awake than ever, I’ve just rejoined the human race. The troll lifestyle just didn’t suit me. I’m finally letting myself admit how I truely feel to myself and others. I can be me again now, be that happy or sad, confused or clear headed, wired or mellow.

 

No more pushing problems under the carpet. Getting up and facing it even if it’s blubbering into a pizza at 6am with your best friend looking on with her penny’s worth at the ready then so be it. Life goes on and I’m not going to miss it for anything. Better to feel shit sometimes than not to feel at all.

Believe it or no January 5, 2009

 

Fighting through the bitter cold, up the cobbled hill. Hat. Check. Gloves. Check. Coat. Check. Scarf. Check. Fabulous new handbag I just spent a fortune on still decorating my right shoulder. Check.

 

On we marched in the search for the entrance to the castle that inspired the infamous Hoggwarts. The shadow of Christmas still cast over the city as red cheeked locals enjoy their last day off before returning to the grindstone tomorrow. The cloud of last night still following us up the hill, it’s not quite ready to leave just yet. The one ‘o clock gun fires. The morning after blur scared away. Glad to see the back of it we continued on up the hill dragging each of our four who were refusing to co-operate after the torturous weekend of bar crawling we subjected them to.

 

Left or right? Right. Another hill. We’d come this far there was no turning back now. Then it hit us, just another corner and we were there, this monstrosity, my dream home! (Well to be honest if I had a cannon in my own home I think that’d suffice). So we picked up our tickets, took pictures of happy couples who’s cameras were full of pictures containing only one of them in front of every stone building they came across and began fiddling with our audio thingymagiggies. We had a listen, a look, a goo and a gaa before deciding all castles are pretty much the same.

 

I’m now sitting in the pretty lobby of my hotel. My travel partner is suffering with a case of the Winter Aids and is sleeping soundly so I figured I may aswell venture out of our cosy little room and wait for this evenings entertainment to arrive on this not so comfy chair. There are benefits to the surroundings here though, the modern decor and blazing fire come second only to the hunky ozzy to the left who has been smiling and chatting away to me this past while a charm the poorly snoozer in the room just doesn’t have right now, bless her.

 

Well my phone has just sounded to let me know my entertainment is making his way around the corner and must be greeted with a pint. To the bar I must go…